Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,127

dislodged.

Many of the books you have seen in your life are bound in the hide of dead creatures, Hope said.

The operative word there was dead.

She examined the front cover of the book. It didn’t surprise her to note that there was a rune emblazoned across what she assumed was the cover. It was from the rune itself that the warmth radiated. She opened the book—and nearly dropped it.

As the book itself lay flat, a cover across each of her palms, light rose from its pages, denying the lack of illumination that darkened the whole of the library. That light gathered into a pillar and the pillar itself into something that resembled a man. A Barrani man.

No, she thought. Not Barrani. She almost dropped the book; she certainly closed it, tucking it under her left arm as she retrieved her dagger. Closing the book didn’t immediately banish the man. But if he was emerging from these pages, his solidification stopped at the ghostly. He lacked the color of a living person.

His eyes were the only thing about him that weren’t pale and translucent; they were black. He reminded Kaylin of Hope.

Those dark eyes rounded before narrowing; surprise before inspection. When he opened his mouth, words Kaylin could understand emerged. “Chosen.” There was a slight lift in the last syllable, as if he doubted the evidence of his eyes.

Kaylin nodded.

“It has been long indeed since I have been wakened. I will not ask you the date—that produces frustration on both my part and the part of the reader, since dating systems so seldom overlap.” Both of his brows rose as his gaze moved from Kaylin to Hope.

Hope was silent, but his gaze was anchored to the face of the stranger this book had produced.

“It’s been a long time since the library has been open to—to students,” Kaylin said, her voice as low as she could make it.

“I understand the infernal rules about noise within the library,” the stranger said, obviously irritated. “But surely anyone who gains access here can shroud the noise they make enough that it is not of concern to other students or masters.”

She assumed that his irritation wasn’t her whisper, but what that whisper represented; she was more afraid of those theoretical masters than she was of the man she now faced. Respect in this case being a loose translation of fear.

Or an exact translation, Nightshade said. There is little room for subtlety when the power differential is great.

What is he?

I believe you recognize the form he has chosen to take. He is, or was, an Ancestor. You might ask him what he prefers to be called—but not now. I will not ask how you found the book you now carry, but would ask that you not set it down for the moment.

You think he’s trapped in a book.

Trapped lacks nuance, Nightshade replied. Words can exist within the primal ether—that is, for want of better words, what Killian calls the outlands. Kaylin suffered from momentary mental whiplash. But they cannot be spoken there. When words of power, when words of life—I believe this is what he considers True Names to be—are...summoned? Chosen? Invoked? Regardless, they cannot be invoked within that ether.

She felt Nightshade’s focus and frustration, and was almost surprised that he had noticed the occupant of the book at all.

I could not fail to notice your sudden alarm. I believe, however, this lecture is relevant, and would appreciate no further interruptions. Once the names have been uttered or bound, they can continue to exist in the outlands—but they will lose form and power, the bindings unraveling, if they have no anchor to the reality in which they were first...created. Someone has just asked what the source of those words are.

She thought of the Lake of Life. This did not impress him.

The question itself did not impress Killian, but the student—the boy—received a nod from Killian, derailing the thrust of his lecture for the moment.

Kaylin returned to the ghost in front of her eyes. “I am not able to summon a circle of silence, or whatever the spell might be called.” She spoke in High Barrani.

“If I might be allowed to provide?”

“Please.”

She felt a wave of pain across her skin. It was instant and jarring but was more like a full-body slap than fire. She hesitated. He marked it.

“Why have you wakened me?”

Her hesitance grew. I don’t know wasn’t going to be an any more acceptable here than it had been in the nefarious classes taught by Imperial Mages—and