“It’s just words, right? You can say darken or brighten.”
They weren’t words that the Tha’alani children understood. They understood the rest of her spoken words, but these were unfamiliar. She repeated them, inviting the Tha’alani to do the same.
“What do they mean? Are they magic words?”
No, Severn thought, although he understood their reaction. They were Barrani words, both. He’d heard and understood them instantly.
Barrani is the language of the laws, Ybelline said. It is not much taught to our children. The merchant tongue, however, is. It is what most people will speak outside of our quarter.
Do you have a spoken native tongue?
Once. She offered no further answer; he felt a tide of information rising like a wave—a tidal wave. She suppressed it. It wasn’t why she’d come here. But...showing Severn this visit to the Oracular Halls wasn’t why she’d come, either.
He understood every word, every thought, the Tha’alani children had had. Language didn’t appear to make a difference.
No. Not when we are like this.
Random chattered endlessly in the confines of this room; it was her happy place. No, he thought, that wasn’t it. It was the place in which she felt most confident. The Tha’alani had come to see an Oracle. She knew that Oracles were misunderstood by people who weren’t Oracles. But she still hoped. She wanted, he realized, to impress the Tha’alani.
She took out sketches from a portfolio leaning against the wall opposite the door; she showed them various sculptures that rested on shelves; there didn’t seem to be any organization to their placement; they’d been put wherever they would fit.
She told them what the sketches meant—or what others realized they meant after the fact. That was the problem with oracles. The Oracles were driven to express the knowledge that filled the inside of their heads, but that knowledge wasn’t based on facts. It wasn’t based on the lives the Oracles had led. It came to them like a compulsion, and they could only get rid of it one way.
There were three items in this room that told no stories, or invoked no stories. Random didn’t know what they meant, or who they were meant to guide—if oracles were meant to guide anyone at all. Two were sketches, and one was a carefully sculpted piece of rock. Or at least that’s how the Tha’alani perceived it.
She spoke in a hurried whisper; he realized then that she wasn’t supposed to be speaking of these things. So did the Tha’alani. But it was a companionable secrecy; she was sharing with them, and they understood the necessity of sharing better than anyone.
But they, too, had been warned. One of the biggest warnings was: do not wander out of the quarter. It is the only place you are guaranteed to be safe. They, too, had been told about Bad People who wanted to kidnap them and use them.
They were all outsiders, but the Tha’alani was a huge extended family of outsiders. Random was isolated. They understood the cost of that, the price Random paid.
He knew what was going to happen.
So, too, did Ybelline; he could feel her draw a single sharp breath. If she could have reached into the past with both hands, she would have grabbed the children and hauled them out of the Halls, possibly by the ears.
These memories, however, were just that: memories. More than two decades had passed since these events had occurred. She could no more change that past than any other living being awash in regret. Severn had learned this lesson the harshest way possible.
It was Jerrin of the loud stomach who caught Random’s hand. Jerrin who thanked her for sharing, and who asked her if she would like to see how friends among the Tha’alani shared information.
“Will you get in trouble?” Random asked.
“No.” Which was a lie. The Tha’alani were not good at lying.
“Maybe,” Tobi said. “But it’s not like they can do anything to prevent it. Once we talk to you, it’s done.” He spoke with bravado. With confidence. Severn could feel the ache of both sympathy and curiosity.
A silent argument broke out among the three Tha’alani, and in the end, Tessa won. It was Tessa who sat Random down; Tessa who bent over her; Tessa who touched Random’s forehead with her antennae. Both girls were trembling.
The memories stopped there.
All of them.
* * *
Severn had no idea what Tessa had seen; no idea what Jerrin or Tobi saw, secondhand, either. He had been those children; those children were gone, as if suddenly obliterated. Had