Kaylin didn’t recognize it, but knew the utterance for what it was. The word froze for one heartbeat, and then continued its circling motion. It then froze again. Kaylin whispered the name to no effect; it would never be used to control Azoria Berranin. The word leaped off her palm, flying away and fading as it departed.

It would return to the Lake, as almost all Barrani names did when the lives of the Barrani they had inhabited had ended. The Consort would accept it, if she noticed the return at all—Kaylin had never asked.

Azoria’s physical form shed body parts—extra limbs first—as if she were, absent that tenuous connection, slowly disintegrating. But the form reasserted itself in Kaylin’s eyes, the eyes on the stalks that adorned her skull now an odd, pale blue that was almost white.

Can you see her? she asked Severn.

I can. In this place, we can see more of the dead than we could if we were home.

Here, the dead had substance. Kaylin wondered then if Azoria had somehow built it that way, planning for the death that would interrupt her ambitions, her studies, her research. It didn’t matter.

Tell Mrs. Erickson that the end of this show is hers.

As if she had heard, Mrs. Erickson could be seen in the much enlarged doorway, Jamal by her side.

“Jamal,” Kaylin said, raising her voice. “She needs your permission. Because she promised.”

Jamal looked at Azoria, and nodded. “Just once,” he said. “Just now.”

Esme came to stand to Mrs. Erickson’s other side, and behind her, Katie and Callis. All eyes were on Azoria.

“I am the lord of this tower,” Azoria said, voice winter cold. Her Barrani eyes were the same color as the eyes on the stalks above her head. She gestured, and all four of the children froze in place as they were jerked off the ground. “The living and the dead obey me here.

“You are no longer welcome guests—begone!”

The entirety of the floor began to shudder; Kaylin bent her knees and concentrated on keeping her balance. Severn caught Mrs. Erickson as she stumbled. The walls to front and back began to fade in and out; the ground itself seemed to sag.

“Mrs. Erickson!”

Mrs. Erickson faced forward; Severn was behind her, and he managed—somehow—to keep her steady. She faced Azoria—or Azoria’s ghost—and said, her voice clear and loud, “Let those children go.”

Mrs. Erickson had seldom seemed like a person given to fury, but all people could feel anger, and this was clearly her moment. The smile lines around her eyes and lips were repurposed here, as was the timbre of her voice.