That was immediately apparent in a way that distinguished them from everything Jolthar had fought since entering the Depths.
The nynthralls outside had been hunger given shape. These two looked at him with something that processed, evaluated, and formed conclusions.
The one on the left spoke first. Its voice was layered, multiple frequencies compressed into something that approximated language, deep enough to feel in the sternum rather than simply hear with the ears.
"Quite powerful," it said, and the words carried genuine assessment rather than mockery.
"We felt you from the moment you crossed the Veil. We have felt many things cross the Veil. But you carry something that does not belong in this place."
Its eyes — pale points of cold light in the dark of its face — moved to Knashii.
"That blade. It creates discomfort in us that we have not experienced before."
"Discomfort," the second duke said, its voice slightly different in quality — higher, more discordant.
