Page 29 of Cast in Atonement

She blinked several times as reality reasserted itself: she was standing in the hall that led to the residents’ rooms, and the hall itself no longer contained a glowing orb.

The cohort was absent, with the single exception of Terrano; when Kaylin realized the words were gone, she let go of his hand.

She then turned to Mrs. Erickson, whose cupped hands contained the shivering words—just as she’d done when she first carried them to Helen.

Mrs. Erickson looked worried for the words she saw as people; she looked pale to Kaylin’s eyes, but that could have been a trick of the abundant light. “I’m going to take them to my room,” Mrs. Erickson said, looking up briefly to meet Kaylin’s gaze.

Kaylin nodded.

She liked having a room of her own but felt that Mrs. Erickson might need company.

“She won’t, dear,” Helen said. “They mean her no harm.”

“They took over part of the hall when they meant her no harm. I’m not worried about her safety—I’m worried about the safety of everyone else.”

Helen nodded. “I am informed that Serralyn has been doing some research which she hopes might be of use. In the meantime, I can strengthen the envelope of protection around Imelda’s quarters. I know you feel Imelda is a civilian, but technically so are most of the cohort. You cannot stop her from trying to help these ghosts—it is her very nature.

“I am sorry my own containments were not up to the task. I cannot see them as you—or Imelda—see them; I can see what you see, but Imelda’s vision, as it relates to these dead, is impassible to me.”

Kaylin exhaled. “Do what you can to keep Mrs. Erickson’s room habitable for her.” She stared at the words she couldn’t read, couldn’t pronounce, hoping to consign them to memory. “I’ll head back to the Academia.”

“The Academia?”

“The Arkon—the former Arkon—had some schooling in True Words, and I’m almost certain the Arbiters understand them. I need to know what these words actually mean.” Her stomach started to rumble. “I also need to finish eating.”

Hope was once again draped across her shoulders. She was almost embarrassed about having missed him, he could be such a pain. She’d spent most of her life without a familiar of any kind and would have sworn she’d be fine if he simply chose to leave. Apparently she didn’t really know herself as well as she’d thought.

Hope squawked.

She fed him from her plate. As far as she knew, he didn’t need to eat—but he enjoyed it sometimes.

Mandoran and Annarion came down to finish their interrupted dinner; to her surprise, Torrisant and Fallessian joined them. Terrano did not.

“You heard them first, right?” she asked Torrisant.

He nodded.

“Can you still hear them?”

He glanced at Annarion, who shrugged: Up to you. She didn’t expect an answer; Torrisant and Fallessian both avoided anyone who wasn’t part of the cohort. “Yes.”

“They’re in Mrs. Erickson’s room right now.”

Torrisant nodded. “I can hear them as a murmur. I can almost make out syllables.”

“You knew there was a problem because you could hear something?”

“The syllables grew louder and faster.”

“Can any other member of the cohort hear them?”

Mandoran said, “No. Serralyn’s frustrated. She’d like to be here when things are going, as she put it, pear-shaped. But there are things she’s doing at the Academia that she can’t just drop.”

“Why can Torrisant hear them? Sorry,” she added to Torrisant. “I’m used to talking about you in third person because you almost never come to meals.”

Torrisant shrugged; the gesture was far less fluid than Mandoran’s. Kaylin realized he was trying to fit in, somehow; he was trying to be more Elantran. “I’m not certain.”

Annarion raised a brow at Torrisant, who grimaced. “My family is Immolan. Nine hundred years ago, give or take a few decades, we were a family of scholars and mages. We had some power in the High Court, but we weren’t a largely political family. Most of the time.”

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