Page 161 of Cast in Atonement

They knew. They had heard Kavallac.

“We can’t leave you here,” another sister said. “Knowing what we’ve suffered, knowing that you’ll suffer it alone for the rest of our natural lives—we can’t do it. At least we have each other now, even if we can’t interact with the wider world.”

“She’s far too reckless. We might not even live for that long.”

“Caution was never her strength—but we’d be with her, we’d be part of her. Maybe she’d live longer if we were there.”

“Maybe she’d actually have children, which the race needs if it’s to continue,” a fourth sister said. There was a surprising amity between these eight. “But we’ll never know, because if you two insist on remaining behind, so will we.”

It occurred to Kaylin that these eight were very much like the cohort in that regard—but of course they were. The partial names that had animated them from birth had been known to each other. They had lived with the name bond.

“We can’t take the risk. The Keeper made clear that we could be looking at the end of the world if the Ancient is not somehow settled. This is far, far too selfish.”

“Mrs. Erickson has made that decision. Kaylin has accepted it. But if you stand and argue, the time will pass, the opportunity will be lost. Look at Kaylin: she’s not leaving us here, and rejecting her aid just does what you’re afraid of: it wastes more time. But if time is of the essence, we will all step back. We will all refuse what she offers.”

“It’s all or nothing, everyone or no one,” one of the other sisters said. “Shall we vote?”

Another sister rolled her eyes. “Because that always worked out so well.”

A cheeky smile was the response. “Try hitting me. Just try.”

“Vote,” Kaylin told them, the sound of her own voice almost surprising. “Vote and agree that the results will be binding. Because if you don’t, there’s no point. We only have this moment, and you’re all wasting it.”

One of the sisters raised a perfect, gold brow; of the eight, she had not raised her voice once. Until now. “Rejoin.” Even the sound of the syllable somehow felt elegant, elevated.

The other seven voted in short order. Two voted against—quickly—and six for.

“What are they doing?” Bellusdeo asked, her voice shaky.

“Arguing,” Kaylin replied. “I don’t know their names—but two of them think we’re putting the entire world in jeopardy over one single person. You, in case that wasn’t clear.”

The gold Dragon’s smile was tremulous. “I bet I can guess who.”

“They’d be arguing until next year if they had the time. Are you sure you want this?”

“If I could listen to them argue until next year—if I could experience that again—I’d give up almost anything.”

“You heard her,” Kaylin told the sisters.

She then continued the work she had begun. It was not easy; she was trying to evaluate the shape of a soul, and she knew—better than anyone—that she had no standing to do it. She wanted Mrs. Erickson to make the decision, to find a place for all of these people without prioritizing one over the other, to find room for so many lives in one body. Mrs. Erickson could give weight to each of them, could care for each of them, could listen to the needs they were willing to share, and somehow make them feel equally heard, valued, and seen.

Kaylin could walk into moving wagons if she was overfocused on a case.

Mrs. Erickson said, “I’m sure you need to think very carefully when you’re investigating, dear. But you are Bellusdeo’s only friend in this place; if you can’t do this, no one can. Bellusdeo can’t do it for herself; if she could, she would have already done so, a thousand times over.”

The sisters began to fade. “Can you still see them?” Kaylin asked Mrs. Erickson.

“Yes, but they’re becoming quite transparent—like storybook ghosts, not like real ones.”

“At the same time?”

“At the same time.”

She continued then. Her power flagged as the green glow of the marks of the Chosen dimmed. The marks returned to their place on her skin, as if spent. She hadn’t finished. She hadn’t finished yet.

Steady, Hope said. You have the power to finish. You are almost done; can you not see it?

Had she the energy, she would have snapped at him. No, she couldn’t see anything but words; her eyes were now closed.

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