Page 127 of Cast in Atonement

Teela was more practical. “Terrano’s not here.” Not a question.

“Evanton said he went to try to do something with or to the Ancient.”

“I forgive your use of extremely rude Leontine; I’m of a mind to add to it.” Teela didn’t ask what Terrano had intended; she knew him well enough to know that it was a pointless question; Evanton wouldn’t know.

“You said you’d know if he was dead, right?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s not dead.”

“He’s going to be dead when I get my hands on him. Sedarias, as you can imagine, is...extremely worried. She’s not the only one; she’s just the most demonstrative. Has the Ancient spoken?”

“Not since we arrived—Severn and I, I mean.”

“It is best that he does not speak,” Evanton said. “Make no attempt to disturb him. And yes, that applies to you as well.” These words were meant for Larrantin. Evanton was clearly familiar enough with everyone else that he didn’t expect them to be reckless or foolish.

Larrantin didn’t hear the Keeper the first time.

He heard the Keeper the second time. The Ancient wasn’t asleep—nothing could have slept through the sharp crack of Evanton’s syllables. He could give a Dragon a run for his money.

Larrantin turned to the Keeper. He offered a perfect Barrani bow. “Forgive me, Keeper. I am a scholar; I was born when Ravellon had not yet become the center of all worlds—well before its fall. We studied Shadow when we became aware of its existence; we studied, we warred, we destroyed whole sections of Ravellon in an attempt to save some parts of it; we failed.

“Tools were created, spells learned, defenses developed—but always imperfectly because we did not understand Shadow; we did not understand where it came from, why it spread, how it corrupted. We knew that it was sentient; we knew it could control and enslave as well as transform. At first, we thought it was an attacker from a different world, but no; we came to realize that it spread from ours. From Ravellon.

“Were there warning signs? There must have been. Something we missed. Something we overlooked. Some change in the environment, some twisting of essential mana. We had theories, of course. The Ancients created the Towers, as you well know. But they did not answer our questions—and their answers might have saved lives, might have preserved great pillars of learning, of knowledge, of study. Whole areas of your faded, ruined city might have continued to shine, to grow.

“I am not interested in the power of the Ancients, but in the lack of answers, the lack of guidance, the lack of information that they must have had if they could create the Towers to stand sentinel against what remained in the heart of Ravellon. You said that the Ancient, dead, nonetheless spoke to you; that the Ancient, trapped in the outlands, had become a conduit of power for Azoria.

“But dead, the Ancient has taken Azoria’s halls, has transformed them. Dead, he has disturbed the elements in their garden—the garden was perhaps the strongest and most ancient of their great works. And in this place—not the research rooms, but these...halls—I can detect the faintest of traces of a familiar and fell magic.”

“I can’t leave you here,” Kaylin said. “And we have to take Evanton home.”

“I am in need of rest,” the Keeper said. Kaylin noted that his robes remained, just as her dress did. “But it will not last. Come. If we must plan, if we must theorize, this is not the place to do it.” He turned to Kaylin, straightening out his clothing. “I did not get lost; I was not trapped. The Ancient did not detain me; I made the decision to remain.”

“You could have walked away?”

“Yes. But the alterations in this environment would continue, and it is my opinion that they would have grown to affect far more than Azoria’s manse. Intimations of that continue. If we cannot contain, if we cannot fully silence what remains of this god, I do not believe any of us will survive.

“Kaylin’s presence as the Chosen of this generation has calmed the Ancient for now, and the Ancient has no desire to destroy; I do not believe destruction or transformation is the Ancient’s intent. In that, it is different from Shadow.”

“How long will we have?” Teela asked.

“Perhaps a week. Perhaps less. My gift is not the dead; it is not the magics of the Ancients, beyond the garden itself. But as you have seen, I have some control over things that must be contained; could we move the Ancient to my garden, as we did the Devourer, I believe I could minimize the damage caused by its decay.

“I cannot. I would not make the attempt. I would not expose the world without to the Ancient in its current state.” He exhaled. “Lord Emmerian.”

The Dragon—still in draconic form—nodded his enormous head.

“You are familiar with Bellusdeo.”

There was a slight pause before the Dragon nodded a second time.

“Kaylin believes that Bellusdeo is very, very protective of Mrs. Erickson.”

“She has her reasons,” Emmerian told the Keeper.

“I assume so, yes. But I believe Mrs. Erickson is entangled in this space in some fashion, and I believe it is in Mrs. Erickson’s hands that our future survival lies. You will have to convince Bellusdeo, if Kaylin cannot.”

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