Cast in Wisdom

by Michelle Sagara

  “It seemed the most convenient way to transport them, yes.”

  “In your unenchanted pouch.”

  “Yes.”

  “While you went on patrol with the private—”

  “Corporal,” Kaylin said.

  He glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Ah. I see that you have earned yourself a promotion. My apologies. Now be quiet.” When Kaylin’s jaw snapped shut, he continued. “You went on patrol with the corporals while carrying these?”

  Bellusdeo’s eyes remained a solid, warm gold. “I did. Lannagaros, they were worn in the presence of the Barrani Consort to the High Lord. I fail to see how wandering about the mortal streets of this city could be more dangerous.”

  Kaylin began to study the tops of her boots as if they were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

  “You are well aware that I am extremely fond of you,” the Arkon replied. “But even my affection has limits. You went on patrol with Corporal Neya while carrying irreplaceable artifacts. Corporal Neya, who has managed—without intent—to cause more trouble than people who have planned trouble for decades.”

  “That is a tad harsh,” Bellusdeo replied.

  “Truth often is.” His eyes remained orange, but moving toward the happy gold and not the dangerous red. “I am not comforted. If you are here on a normal day for the two Hawks, you are here because something untoward occurred. While you were carrying these.”

  “I was perfectly willing not to wear them at all,” Bellusdeo replied, more edge in her tone.

  “Indeed.” The Arkon rose at a knock on the door—the open door. “Refreshments have arrived. We will not eat them in this room; it is already overcrowded.”

  “If you tended to your uninteresting responsibilities with more deliberate care, it wouldn’t be. Your desk is almost as much of a disaster as Sergeant Kassan’s.”

  * * *

  The room in which refreshments were served reminded Kaylin of Helen’s parlor, although everything about it was different. The chairs, the tables, the sideboard, the cabinets, had been chosen by someone who was not Helen, and it showed. Still, the chairs were comfortable.

  Severn chose to stand.

  Kaylin eyed the food and then eyed Bellusdeo’s raised brow. She sat. The Arkon was willing to preserve the distance between him and Kaylin if it protected his precious private time; he was not willing to do it if it irritated Bellusdeo.

  The Arkon drank tea but did not otherwise touch the food. Bellusdeo did, but delicately. Kaylin, however, was hungry. Hunger warred with dignity and won. It wasn’t even a close contest.

  “We encountered something interesting in the fiefs,” Bellusdeo said while Kaylin’s mouth was full.

  “The fiefs.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You took these medallions to the fiefs.”

  “If you continue, Lannagaros, you will not hear about the interesting parts.”

  “I am not sure that this room—or its furnishings—will survive the interesting parts. Corporal Neya, were you aware of what she carried?”

  Kaylin shook her head, swallowing to empty her mouth.

  “Very well. The fiefs. Do continue.”

  “We went to Tiamaris at the behest of the Halls of Law. Indirectly. Kaylin has been tasked with investigating Candallar.”

  The Arkon nodded.

  “I wished to see the border zone. To the eye, the borders in the fiefs are no more solid, no more real, than the borders between neighborhoods in the city, if one discounts legality. But the attempt to cross the borders that divide the fiefs is nowhere near as seamless.”

  “Tiamaris made a study of the fiefs, inasmuch as such a study has been made by our kin. He has continued his studies within the fief he now rules, but he has been encumbered with the responsibilities of ruling. The information we have about those borders is largely due to Tiamaris. You are aware that the streets within the border are not fixed in location?” The Arkon’s voice was controlled.

  “Are they not?” This was a weasel answer. She did know.

  “I am certain that Tiamaris’s Tower would be more than willing to provide you with the relevant information. What did you find in the attempt to cross the border into Candallar?”

  Bellusdeo leaned forward. “A building of interest. While the buildings within the border zone appear to be of similar make—and quality—as the rest of the fief, this one appeared to be in excellent repair.”

  The Arkon nodded, his eyes orange-gold. His left hand rested against his beard.

  “It had no door, no windows; we assumed it was a two-story structure, given the height of the external walls.”

  “It was not? Don’t make that face, Corporal. It’s obvious that you somehow managed to gain entry into the building with no obvious entrances.”

  Bellusdeo chuckled. “The entrance was not planned. It was not intended. We gained entry because there was, for want of a better word, a stone eye—larger than your head—carved in relief on the side of the building opposite the street. When it moved its gaze to us, we were transported to the interior.”

  “A portal?”

  “That appeared to be its function, yes. Kaylin is concerned, however.”

  The Arkon’s expression became immediately less friendly. “Corporal?” In spite of the tone in which it was delivered, she felt immediately buoyed by her new rank. She tried not to let this show.

  Impossible for you, Ynpharion said. He had been quiet enough lately Kaylin had managed to forget his annoying condescension.

  “It was like a portal to Bellusdeo. She has no problems with normal portals.” She grudged the use of the word normal in this context. “Portals from one place to another generally make me physically ill. This one...didn’t. And the only place that’s generally been true are in the sentient buildings. The Hallionne. Helen.”

  “You feel the difference is the location?”

  “Portals within one part of a building to another are all in the same place. This one felt like that to me.”

  “You went from the outside to the inside in this fashion?” He glanced at Bellusdeo, whose nod was apparently worth far more than Kaylin’s words. “You feel that you did not leave the outside.”

  “It would explain the state of the pristine building. If we had somehow stepped into territory or land that was part of a building’s domain, I wouldn’t feel the transition the same way I normally do.”

  “You came across this building in the border zone.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you certain it has sentience?”

  She hesitated. Bellusdeo, however, did not. The Dragon proceeded to recount their adventures there. The Arkon’s eyes shaded to orange when she spoke both of the wall that no one but Kaylin—with Hope’s help—could see, and the overlap, or suspected overlap, with Missing Persons’ reports. She skipped the parts in which she’d burned down doors.

  If you wish to control the narrative, Ynpharion said, you would do best to speak first.

  Says the man who isn’t standing in front of two Dragons who breathe fire when they’re cranky.

  They would hardly breathe fire on you.

  You know that I can be critical of myself without your help, right?

  Yes. But you generally choose to fret about the wrong things.

  “Corporal?”

  “Uh, sorry. I was thinking.”

  “A change that we all welcome, I am certain.”

  “When I tried to change where the door led us, I touched the building. I tried to ask it to take us someplace else.”

  The Arkon pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not specific.”

  “No. I didn’t get an answer. The Hallionne and Helen would know what I wanted without the need to...reach out. But the door did lead to a different hall after I tried. And this hall looke
d occupied, or recently occupied, so someone heard me.”

  “You are certain that this change was in response to your attempt to communicate? You are certain you did not unintentionally utilize the powers granted the Chosen to move yourselves there?”

  Was she? She frowned. “I shouldn’t be, but...yes.”

  “I assume there is a reason for that.”

  Exhaling, she said, “The Barrani man who claimed not to be lord or master of the building—I think he said it used to be a school?—had only one eye; the other was an empty socket. It wouldn’t fit an eye the size of the one on the back wall of the initial building we discovered—but. Eye.

  “Second, the man did lead us to an exit, and while we were walking, he called me by name.”

  The silence in the room was sudden and glacial. The Arkon turned very orange eyes on Bellusdeo; she shrugged. “She doesn’t have a name in any true sense.”

  “How, exactly, did a stranger who claims he is not in command of the space discover your name?”

  “I may have introduced myself when I said thank you to what was left of the doorway. I don’t think I said it out loud.”

  “You may have introduced yourself.”

  “I—wasn’t certain that anything could hear me, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to be polite. We’d already burned down a—Never mind.”

  “Do continue.”

  “It is irrelevant,” Bellusdeo said.

  “But either someone heard me and passed it on, or some part of the building’s sentience still exists.” She exhaled. “The wall—the wall that we first saw—might be composed of actual living people. There were Barrani there as well, but much farther back. We don’t study esoteric magic or sorcery in practical classes—we leave that for the academics. But I’ve seen people who have been turned to stone before. In Castle Nightshade.

  “I assumed that was Nightshade’s power. But now I think it’s the Tower’s. And I think this building might have somehow trapped the people I could see, with Hope’s help, in that stone wall. I mean, it could have been an Arcanist—but there’s no appearance of sigils, no magical traces, left behind. Just a blank stone wall, unless you look through Hope’s wing.

  “Oh, and one other thing, but this isn’t building related.”

  “Please continue.”

  “The Barrani man we interrupted—who called himself Killian—couldn’t see or hear Hope.”

  “Killian?”

  Bellusdeo frowned; there was an edge of disbelief in the Arkon’s voice. “You are certain?”

  “Pretty certain, but—”

  “I am certain, Lannagaros.”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it again. “This Barrani couldn’t see your familiar?”

  “Hope was squawking his lungs out. Killian couldn’t hear him at all. Not until Hope got fed up and breathed on him.”

  This caused a shift in the shape of the Arkon’s eyes. “You let him breathe on someone. You let him breathe on another living being? One who was not attempting to kill you?”

  “I did try to stop him. And in our defense, it didn’t seem to harm Killian at all; it just allowed him to see Hope.”

  Without warning, the Arkon turned on Hope—which was very much like turning on Kaylin, given Hope’s placement. He then let loose a volley of his native tongue.

  Kaylin’s teeth were chattering by the time he stopped.

  “Lannagaros, I feel that is harsh.”

  “Perhaps. But the person who will pay the price for the familiar’s misbehavior will not be you. It will be Kaylin.”

  Hope didn’t seem to feel terribly chastised. Kaylin did. And hard of hearing until the aftershocks of the Arkon’s lecture had passed. When she could be certain her voice wouldn’t come out as a shout because she was overcompensating, she said, “This isn’t even the reason why we came to talk to you. We’re hoping to find out whether or not your archives contain information pertinent to our investigation.”

  A white brow disappeared into a silver hairline.

  “Do you recognize the names Durandel, Aggarok or Karriamis?”

  * * *

  The Arkon did not immediately answer. Instead, he rose from his chair. “Come.”

  Bellusdeo frowned at his passing back, but fell in behind him; Severn and Kaylin took the rear.

  “Touch nothing,” the Arkon said, the words floating over his shoulder.

  When Kaylin failed to respond, he did turn. “Recall what happened on a prior visit, Corporal. It is a command, not a request. I have had a trying day, and it does not appear to be nearing its end soon.”

  She nodded.

  “You will either keep control of your familiar or have him wait outside. And by outside I mean outside of the library.”

  Hope squawked.

  “I disagree. It is the consequence of your actions. Or perhaps a consequence of your Chosen.” He turned again.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Kaylin told the familiar.

  I knew what I was doing.

  “You could have explained it so the rest of us understood.”

  It would take far too long.

  * * *

  The Arkon did not ask Kaylin to touch the door ward that led to his personal, private, touch-it-and-die collection. Normally, Kaylin would consider this a mercy or a kindness; his expression today made clear that he didn’t trust her to touch even a door ward without causing problems.

  The Arkon’s warning aside, there was little—beside wall and doorway—that Kaylin could touch. Nothing seemed to catch Hope’s eye. Although there were display cases and glass-fronted cabinets, all of which caused a ripple of magical discomfort across Kaylin’s skin, nothing was within easy reach. This room, which was quite large, was a simple path to the next, as was the next room.

  But even the room in which ancient scrolls, remnants of armor and weapons, and gods only knew what else, were housed was not the Arkon’s destination.

  She knew where he was going.

  “Why did you ask about those names?”

  “Because Killian mentioned them as Tower names. I don’t think they’ve ever been called by those names—but I’ve only had access to Records in the Halls of Law for a few years. Nightshade has always been called Nightshade, in the living memory of anyone in the fief.”

  “The living memory of mortals is dim, and much history is lost to the narratives that supplant it, generation to generation.”

  “Not all of the fieflings are mortal.”

  “No. But I imagine there are very few who speak for long with the fieflords who are not.”

  * * *

  The faint hope that her guess about the Arkon’s destination was wrong was squashed when they arrived at a large wooden door. Three metal bands ran across it, and three locks waited for the Arkon’s keys. On the positive side, there was no magic on this door; there were no wards. On the negative side, beyond this door was a narrow stone hall that descended toward a cavern.

  The Arkon handed them lamps, which he lit by breathing on their wicks. Bellusdeo looked at them as if they were dead rats.

  “You will not introduce magic into the hall beyond this door,” the Arkon told her as he held the lamp out.

  “Not even simple illumination?”

  “Nothing at all. The wards that protect this area are easily provoked, but I consider them necessary.”

  Bellusdeo took the lantern but glared at the Arkon’s back as he drew three keys in succession from the chain he wore around his neck. He opened the door.

  * * *

  Kaylin had had enough of caverns beneath fancy buildings to last at least two lifetimes. The Arkon didn’t care what she’d had enough of, and at least this time, they weren’t here to study—in person—the marks of the Chosen that adorned her body. She flinched, remembering that last time he’d ordered her to strip.
<
br />   Then again, Dragons in their Draconic form were always naked; nudity didn’t discomfit them in either form.

  “I feel that these halls could do with excavation or modernization.”

  The Arkon exhaled smoke, with a tiny bit of fire at its heart.

  “...I see,” Bellusdeo replied. “But I find the height of these ceilings oppressive. The only person who can walk here with any ease is Kaylin.”

  “If I am content to walk with a stoop, I see no problem.”

  Bellusdeo glanced up at the ceiling, which was admittedly not far from her.

  They reached the last door, which was not as impressive as the first one, and the Arkon opened it into, yes, darkness.

  Bellusdeo was not more impressed with the cavern than she had been with the hall that led to it, but she understood, as her eyes hit the central piece it contained, why any other interior renovation suggestions would be met with the Arkon’s lack of humor.

  “An altar,” the gold Dragon said. “It’s...impressively large.”

  “It is. I will now ask you to go to the far wall—to your right—and retrieve the ladders there. We will need two unless you wish to see what lies at the top of the altar, in which case we will need three.”

  Bellusdeo wasn’t often sent on strictly manual errands but obeyed. Kaylin could hear the ladders as they dragged across the stone of the floor. She’d never tried to move them herself; she suspected they weighed as much as she herself did.

  “You could at least get ladders that are somewhat easier to move.”

  “I did not intend to have visitors.”

  To Kaylin’s surprise, Bellusdeo didn’t ask what was atop the altar. She assumed that the use of ladders would answer that question. “I don’t suppose shedding clothing and this somewhat diminutive form would be acceptable?”

  “Since you have already done so once today—yes, we were aware of it—I fail to see why it would be necessary that you do so again.” Which was no.

  Given the color of Bellusdeo’s eyes in this admittedly poorly lit space, it was clear that she’d expected the answer she received. She then positioned two of the ladders, leaving the Arkon to manage his own. The Arkon glanced briefly at a ceiling Kaylin’s eyes couldn’t see; it was a look that would have been at home on Marcus’s face, in the office. And sadly, usually was.