"No."

"But Tiamaris called it-"

"He was incorrect."

"Does he know he was wrong?"

"Yes. The borders and their defense are the reason I was...born. They are not, however, the sole reason I was reborn. I want this life," she added, and as she did, her voice softened, and her eyes lost the hard flint of steel. She now looked exhausted. "We've discussed this at length. My Lord felt that the storm-that what he had identified as storm-had not only proved fortuitous, but, in some fashion, benevolent."

This stretched Kaylin's strict definition of benevolent, although she couldn't argue with the eventual outcome.

"He thus argued that the storms themselves ultimately had some greater purpose, and that some faith or trust might be placed in them. He is willing to risk much," she added, voice soft, expression pensive. Then she shook herself, reminding Kaylin very much of one of the women who worked three days a week in the office as she did-which wasn't generally something she thought of when she thought of ancient, G.o.d-touched edifices.

"You know it wasn't a storm."

"Yes."

"But in shape-"

"And in look, yes. There were reasons that my Lord made his a.s.sumption, Kaylin. This," she said, pointing to the now empty and still air in front of her, "was a storm. Can you see the difference?"

The urge to be humorous came and went. "Yes," Kaylin replied. She did so slowly enough that Tara raised a single impatient brow. "The first storm we encountered had no voice."

"Voice?"

"You couldn't hear this one? It was screaming, Tara."

"I told you, Chosen; I do not perceive Shadow the way you perceive it." Her eyes closed for a few seconds. "Nor does my Lord."

Morse joined Tara. The former fieflord's lieutenant had taken one new gash across her forearm, which had destroyed padding but had managed to break very little skin.

"So," Kaylin asked her, "this happen often?"

"Every other day."

Tara frowned. "Morse, it doesn't happen every other-"

"Figure of speech," Morse broke in quickly. Kaylin stifled even the hint of a smile. "Believe it or not, it's better than it was before the fieflord."

"The-oh, you mean Tiamaris."

"I don't mean Barren." Morse spit.

Tara watched her covertly, as if fascinated by the gesture, and then turned back to Kaylin.

"I understood what Morse meant," Kaylin said quickly. "These border attacks happen frequently." She glanced at the People.

Tara frowned. "Illien is still within my Tower, as my Lord's guest. I remember Illien, and I remember the feel of the borders of his domain before...I could no longer sense them. You can cross the border," she added. "And at the moment, it is safe; the storm has driven the Shadows from them, and they will return slowly, if at all today. I do not think you will notice the difference, if you travel farther up the road; the road here has been destroyed by the storm, and it will be a while before it once again looks like the other half of a street, at least to mortal vision."

"It'll-it'll go back to what it once was?"

"Yes."

"The fief's streets didn't. And the buildings that were half consumed or transformed by Shadows-those didn't, either."

"No. That is one of the differences between the Shadowlands and your own. Your lands-my Lord's lands-are solid; they exist.

"The Shadowlands are more malleable; they do not take scars in the same way. Where Shadows are strong, the landscape on that side of the border will respond to the weight of its call, the force of its power. The buildings will shift and change, growing or sinking or fading; the streets will become molten pools or gaping pits. But when the Shadow pa.s.ses, so does the changes it made. "Were I to likewise make such drastic changes in the geography of my fief, when the battle was over, what would remain would be those destroyed buildings, the molten rock, and the fissures."

"Can I ask how you know this?"

Tara raised a brow. "The knowledge was built into me," she finally replied. "And when I close my eyes, I can see the dim and faded image of ancient battles; I can hear their attenuated battle cries." She smiled then, and it was an almost bitter smile. "I am not what you are, Kaylin. Why do you need to know?"

Kaylin shook her head. "I want to know-which is different from need-because it's always a good idea to have as much knowledge of your enemy as possible. It'd be better if any of it made any sense." Saying this, she lifted the sword that was still, against all odds, in her hands. "Take this, for instance. I would swear it was a greatsword meant for a giant when I first laid eyes on it."

Tara said nothing.

"...please don't tell me you recognize this weapon."

"I do not recognize the weapon," was the Tower's reply. It was evasive, and honestly? While Tara had learned many things about interacting with people, she wasn't actually good at some of them. Which, given she could take you apart and find her way-with ease-to the darkest and most painful of your memories, said something. Kaylin, at this moment, wasn't sure what.

"What do the runes on the blade say?"

"Runes?" The Tower frowned. Glancing at Tiamaris, who was now waiting, wings folded, in the still streets, she said, "My Lord, I believe the danger has pa.s.sed for the moment. May we retire?"

His eyes shifted color. "You are injured?"

"No! No. But the storms are tiring."

"I will remain. Morse!"

Morse nodded. It wouldn't pa.s.s muster as respectful anywhere but the fiefs, but since that's where they were standing, it worked. "You want me to keep watch on the construction?"

"The People are here. Escort the Lady home."

Tara pointed at Maggaron, and Tiamaris's brows constricted; they were silent for a long moment, but at length, he nodded.

The Lady's escort was not confined to Morse; Kaylin and Severn traveled with her, at her request, Maggaron walking to their left in subdued silence. Subdued or no, he still wore armor, and he was still eight feetaplus in height; he cleared streets just by existing.

Lord Sanabalis, however, remained-in human form-at the side of his former student. His gaze flickered rapidly over the sword in Kaylin's hands, but he chose not to say a word. Loudly, and with an expression that implied that all the words he held in abeyance would be put to better use later.

The border streets grew smaller as they walked, and the streets themselves were, not surprisingly, empty of anyone that wasn't about eight feet tall. Even the children of the new arrivals remained out of sight. Morse, in the absence of Tiamaris, relaxed. She didn't so much walk as move while slouching.

"So. This happens a lot?" Kaylin asked, picking up the strands of their previous conversation, if it could be called that.

"Not the storm. But the Shadows have gone nuts in the last couple of days."

"Since the People arrived?"

"The giants?"

"Is that what they're called hereabouts?"

"Nah. We call them the Norannir."

"Why?"

"It's what they call themselves." Morse grinned. "It's more or less what they call anyone who isn't a Shadow, and we adopted it. The other Imperial guy-"

"Sanabalis." When Severn cleared his throat, Kaylin added, "Lord Sanabalis."

"He's attempting to learn some of their language, and attempting to at least teach their kids some of ours. The kids pick it up faster."

"What else have the Norannir been doing?"

"Anything. I mean anything they're asked to do, if we can make it clear. But...they're not afraid of the Shadow. They hate it, don't get me wrong, but they don't fear it. They don't fear the Ferals, either; they make camp beside the d.a.m.n border, and they watch." She grimaced. "Truth is, they make the streets safer just by living there.

"But our people? They're f.u.c.kin' mice. They scatter at the sight of the Norannir."

"Big surprise. They were generally smart enough to scatter at the sight of you, and you weren't eight feet tall and wielding an ax they probably couldn't lift on a good day."

Morse was willing to concede this, but only barely. "I wanted them to be afraid. I was a threat. Avoiding me? Made sense. But avoiding the Norannir makes none."

Clearly, life in Tiamaris-the fief, not the Dragon-agreed with Morse; she'd never cared much whether people made sense before.

"They'll stay if the Lady's with them, though. They love her more than they fear the Norannir."

"We can probably work with that."

Tara, who had been walking in silence toward the Tower-with the odd stop to look at dirt or gra.s.s-turned to look at Kaylin. She raised a brow to make clear she'd heard the words and wanted details. "The Norannir are going to be living in the fief. They may make their way out in ones and twos-I did, Severn did-but this is where most of them are going to stay. The rest of the People who already live here don't have much choice, and even if they thought they did, they wouldn't say anything.

"But they trust you now." In truth, it had taken much, much less time for that trust to build than Kaylin would have guessed. "If they trust you enough that they're willing to risk their lives in the presence of the strangers, we can work with that. We can make the strangers seem less, well, strange."

"How?" Morse demanded.

"I don't know how much time Tara has, but...these language lessons. Sanabalis has a good idea once in a while; he's trying to teach the kids. What if we do it in the other direction?"

"What?"

"We teach the human kids the Norannir language. Tara can be there to help. It doesn't have to be much, and it doesn't have to be useful right away. But the kids'll spend time with the Norannir, and anything that doesn't terrify kids..."

"Who's going to volunteer their kids?"

Kaylin said, "I don't know. But we won't be the ones asking-Tara will. Besides, not all the kids have living parents. Offer them a meal and they'll come." Morse nodded and they both looked at Tara.

Tara, however, looked ahead to the Tower. "Come," she said quietly. "You asked me about the sword."

"You said you didn't-"

"I don't. I don't, but I can-in the words of the fief-guess."

The Tower doors still boasted no door wards, and this, more than anything else, made it instantly feel like home. Or as much a home as a rising pillar of white stone, surrounded by carrot, beet, and potato gardens could ever be. The doors rolled inward as Tara approached them, but many, many of the fancier buildings in the City had doors that did that, as well. Here, she bowed to Maggaron.

"You will be safe within," she told him.

"What I see-"

"You will be safe. You cannot harm me. And if I do not wish you to leave, you will remain within the Tower for the rest of your natural existence."

He didn't find this as off-putting as Kaylin might have were she in his shoes. Instead, he nodded. "I have no weapon to offer," he added, as if this made sense. Clearly, to the Norannir, it did. Tara nodded.

Kaylin, on the other hand, said, "This sword-"

"It is yours," was his grave reply.

"Yes, I got that. But-did it happen to come with a sheath?"

His brows, which were pale, rose in an arch that almost touched his hairline.

"I'll take that as a no."

Maggaron looked to Tara; Tara said nothing. Together, they entered the Tower, shadowed by Morse. Kaylin and Severn pulled up the rear.

As Towers went, this one-at least in the front-was stable. The foyer looked the same as it had any other time Kaylin had crossed the threshold, and the long wide halls still looked as if a Dragon in native form could comfortably maneuver them. The doors were doubled, and wide, where they could be seen at all. Given the changing nature of Castle Nightshade, this brought Kaylin some comfort.

Maggaron had no difficulty entering the doors; nor did he find the halls themselves in any way cramped or confining.

"Where are we going?" Kaylin asked when Tara opened the doors that led into the main-or what Kaylin a.s.sumed was the main-halls.

"To the mirror," was the quiet reply.

Kaylin managed to hide a grimace, in large part because Tara had already turned and begun to walk away. The mirror within the Tower wasn't an actual mirror; it was a small pool whose still water was reflective. Kaylin's previous experience with said mirror hadn't exactly been comforting.

Tara raised a brow, as if she could hear the thought; given who she was and where they were, she probably could. "I think you will find the visit less exciting this time," she offered.

"Think?"

"You are unusual, so there is always the possibility that something entirely unforeseen could occur."

"This has something to do with the sword?"

"No. Not directly."

"With Maggaron?"

"No. I find him curious," Tara added, "because it is clear to me that he is not immortal; it is clear, as well, that he has a true name. These two things should not be able to coexist."

Kaylin cleared her throat.