“All races have always had superstitions,” Bakkon replied. “Our ghosts are not your ghosts; they are enemies that can cause great damage, but are impervious to any defense we might mount. But we are also aware that we will have very different stories, and I am interested in your ghosts. They are all human, yes?”

Kaylin nodded. “Some of them are dead. But my concern today is mostly about the ones who aren’t—the ones I think are just trapped out of phase.” She hesitated, and then said, “The ones that are dead are... I’m not sure why they’re trapped, but I know if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be here anymore. They’re not alive.

“I saw something—entirely through my familiar’s wing—that might be associated with their captivity. A building—I don’t think it used to be a sentient building—seems to be out of phase in the way the non-dead ghosts are.”

“You feel that this building is related to the non-dead ghosts?”

“Ummm, no. Sorry. There’s too much that’s tangled together, and I don’t understand a lot of it.”

“Or most of it?” Androsse interjected.

Can I kick him?

Severn chuckled. I imagine Kavallac would appreciate your attempt, but I wouldn’t.

Kaylin exhaled. “Let me tell you what my week has been like.”

Starrante and Bakkon listened; Bakkon interrupted only to make certain he understood what Kaylin was saying. Androsse and Kavallac were silent, the latter curious but unconcerned.

When Kaylin spoke about the ghostly building, the Dragon’s eyes narrowed, shifting from orange-flecked gold to pure orange.

Androsse’s, however, shifted to a midnight so dark, they were black; the pupils became invisible. “Please repeat that name.”

“Orbonne Street?”

“No. The former owner of the ghostly building you cannot see without intervention.”

“Azoria. Azoria An’Berranin. She was Barrani.”

Kavallac turned to Androsse, her eyes reddening. She did not interrupt Androsse.

“It is not a name I have heard recently.”

“But it’s a name you recognize? A person you recognize?”

“Indeed.”

Kaylin was silent for a long beat. “You met her.”

“Indeed.”

“When she was a student?”

“Yes.”

“But—but that would make her ancient!”

“She is Barrani, and if the Barrani are in all ways lesser than my kin, they are nonetheless Immortal; the truth of their names is as eternal as the truth of ours.”

“I was told she’s dead.”

“Ah. I had not heard that—but we have been closed to visitors for a very long time; it is not unlikely that someone as dangerously ambitious as Azoria would have failed to survive, but she was not considered bold by others.”

“But by you?”

“Very bold,” he said, smiling. The smile was cold.

The two Wevaran were chittering in the background. It was Bakkon who spoke. “Starrante believes he, too, had experience with the student you have named.”