“And then she...began to devour the words she could reach. She...ate them, internalized them. The words dimmed in her hands and as they did she discarded them. They crumbled, becoming ash. They were lost to us. They would never again enliven those newborns who slept, waiting their call.

“Even now, there is a scar in the bowl of the Lake where she but stood.” The Consort bowed her head.

“How was she defeated? If she drew power from the Lake, if she could absorb the power inherent in words that might sustain you for eternity, how did you save the Lake?”

“The mistake made was the mistake you make; it is inherent in your question. You are Chosen, and the marks you bear have power—but they are not the words granted us by the Ancients. There is no power in them beyond the power to quicken life; there is no power that can be taken by any who are not newborn.”

Kaylin wanted to argue, but didn’t. She understood that this wasn’t an intellectual discussion for the Consort; it touched upon her deepest fear and invoked a lasting horror. And perhaps it should.

But Kaylin was thinking of Starrante and the birthing place of his kind: a place where the tiny, ravenous spiders traversed webs devouring each other until only one remained. The implication: that in the devouring, the remaining Wevaran contained all of the small words or small elements that emerge to become a word, a True Name. Bakkon had been horrified that Starrante had talked about these birthing mysteries of their race.

Kaylin understood that horror now. She wondered if the assault on the Lake had been an attempt to somehow grow strong in the same way, if Azoria meant to become something new, something greater than the sum of the parts—the words themselves.

It hadn’t worked out that way.

“There was a battle by the Lake. We are not warriors,” the Consort said, “but Consorts are Barrani, and we are trained for just such an intrusion, just such an attack. She was driven out; she was injured and believed close to death.”

“She did not attack the Lake with the aid of Berranin.” Teela sought confirmation.

“That was not conclusively proved—and the Lady was near death. The attacker was of Berranin, and Berranin paid the price.”

Kaylin did not argue against what was obviously the harsh application of Barrani law. But if the father and the rest of the clan had had no hand in the attack—and possibly no knowledge of it—they would not meet death in the Emperor’s Empire.

“An’Teela?” the Consort then said, after the silence had lengthened.

“I better understand your fear. But if, in that attack, she did not derive the power she believed she sought, I think it unlikely that she would make the attempt again. She, or any Barrani.”