“When he reached the doors we entered, he couldn’t leave. So he handed me the book he’d tucked under his arm and told me to take it to Killian, and to come back if Killian had anything to tell him.”
The Arkon’s gaze now shifted to the book on the table beneath one layer of scarf and Kaylin’s left hand. “Remove the scarf,” he told her. She did.
“Open the book.”
“Lannagaros, let her finish.”
The Arkon exhaled slowly, as if he were counting. “Apologies, Corporal. I assume you wish to tell me why you did not do as Larrantin commanded.”
“He asked, he didn’t command...” pedantry was never safe when practiced on pedants “...but we’d been looking for Killian, so I took the book. I meant to hand it over to him, but when we found the building that we’d left the first time, the doors were locked. They didn’t have modern door wards, but Annarion knew how to open them. When Killian appeared at the doors, his eyes were the death-variant of Barrani blue. But when those doors slid open, I could hear Nightshade.
“The cohort could hear their missing members.” She poked Hope. “Nightshade, at least, seemed to be trapped in an auditorium listening to a lecture, of all things. He didn’t seem upset, but he did sound frustrated; he said he couldn’t leave. I mean, he couldn’t leave the building.
“But that wasn’t the real problem.”
“I am glad to see that you are getting to it.” Voice dry enough to start fires.
“The real problem,” she said irritably, “was the two men standing to either side of Killian.”
* * *
This silence was different. It was more focused and oddly less suffocating. The Arkon didn’t break it.
Emmerian did. “Two men? Lord Bellusdeo?”
“We did not see them. Kaylin saw them because of her familiar’s wing.”
“Lord Kaylin?”
Ugh. “Kaylin is fine. Or Corporal.”
He nodded. “Corporal, then. Please describe the two men.”
“One was Barrani. An Arcanist; he was wearing the tiara I associate with the Arcanum.”
“It is not worn only by members of the Arcanum,” Sanabalis said.
“And the other was human.”
“Human?”
She exhaled. “Severn says he’s a member of the human Caste Court. Lord Baltrin.”
“Severn did not recognize the Barrani?”
“The Barrani man was, apparently, Lord Illanen of the Arcanum.”
“And the High Court.” It was Emmerian who spoke. “This is not welcome news. I believe you have encountered neither before.”
Kaylin nodded. “Does Bellusdeo’s security detail follow us into the fiefs?”
“No. Before you ask, I am not at liberty to discuss that detail.” He turned and offered Bellusdeo a shallow bow. “The Emperor does not interfere with your excursions into the greater city at your request.”
“And this has caused some difficulty?”
Emmerian met her eyes, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. “We are a difficult people.” Before he could continue, the Arkon roared. The table shook. One plate almost fell off it, but it contained food, so Kaylin caught it.
“I believe you may discuss—or fail to discuss—Lord Bellusdeo’s safety precautions at another time. Any other time. You may discuss the politics of your various caste courts and the breaking of the laws at another time, as well.”
Kaylin’s mouth fell open; Sanabalis gave her a warning stare, and she closed it again.
“...I didn’t want to give the book to Killian while he was bracketed by those two. I don’t know if he was aware of their presence, but I think he was aware that something was off, something was wrong.
“Nightshade’s lecture hall was populated with people he thought might be part of the wall of stone people we first encountered. He’s aware of himself, but... I’m not sure he can extricate himself from that wall. Neither of the cohort was part of the lectured class.
“Nightshade said they’d joined it—and then we got earthquakes. Killian didn’t stay to chat after that. He immediately went back into the building, shutting the doors behind him and his two invisible friends. When the doors shut, we couldn’t hear Nightshade, Mandoran or Terrano. But we know where they are.” She turned her attention to the book on the table. “What do you see when you look at it?”
“Not what you see. If you have finished, I believe young Emmerian has further questions for you which he will ask when you leave the library. Now, I would like you to open the book.”
She hesitated.
“Corporal?”
“This is the safest room you have?”
“There is a reason I chose this room. Do you believe the book is dangerous or harmful?”
“It might be meant for Killian. None of us are sentient buildings.” She exhaled. “I’m not sure I can even read it. I wanted to leave it with you, but—”
“You are now thinking of Helen?”
She nodded.
“I do not believe it would be at all helpful to leave it with Helen. Open the book.”
* * *
Kaylin reoriented the book on the table so that its cover faced her, or so that she faced its cover in the right orientation. In the light of the Arkon’s safe room, the cover was indigo, the unreadable word that occupied most of its center, silver. Silver created a rectangular border around the edge of that cover, one that seemed to follow the height of the spine.
Hope lifted a wing to her eyes; her hand froze an inch above the edge of the book’s cover.
Seen through Hope’s wing, this was not a book. It was a tablet of stone or ice—if stone, it was a pale white stone, like alabaster or marble. The word written across the cover of the book were no longer visible. Had Kaylin not received it from Larrantin, she would never have called it a book.
“You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?”
There are some things that you see because you are Chosen, Hope replied. You do not see them as we see them. You do not see them as your friends do.
“Yes, fine—But—”
And they mentioned that they did not see a book. It is irrelevant.
“Is it dangerous to open this book?”
That, I cannot say.
She wanted to shriek, but given present company, kept it to herself. “Would you open it if you were me?”
“Given the trouble you get into,” Bellusdeo said, “I wouldn’t qualify the question that way.”
“Can you open it?” the Arkon asked, the words shorn of the edge of command or demand.
“I haven’t tried. Larrantin wanted it delivered to Killian, and he asked that if Killian had any advice to offer, I return to him with it.”
The Arkon stared at the block in front of Kaylin as Hope lifted his wing. It became a book again. “You meant to give this to me.”
“You’re the only person I know who collects detritus.”
“Then you should get out of your house more.” His fingers stroked his beard for the first time since they’d entered the library; his eyes were now a steady orange. “Very well. It is possible your familiar is correct. If this is meant to somehow waken or fortify Killianas, opening the book itself might bleed some of the magic or power from it. I am not certain that you should leave it here.”
Kaylin did not stumble in shock. Sanabalis almost did.
“I thought it would be safest here.”
“I am not at all certain that that is the case. I believe if you are separated from it, even the appearance it has to the rest of our eyes will fade.”
“What do you mean? It’ll become invisible on its own?”
The irritable snort he gave, and the look that accompanied it, were pure Arkon, or at least the Arkon she knew. “It will not be a tablet, in my collection. It will disperse. There is, of
course, a way to test that—but I do not wish to lose the artifact.” He then exhaled. This time without smoke and the threat of fire.
“You have given me much to consider. I ask that you remain in contact with me for the duration. I will ask to be kept apprised of the situation in Candallar—I believe it likely that you will find Candallar involved with much of the strangeness. And I would ask that you find a way to liberate Lord Nightshade. He will be absent from his Tower, and if you cannot hear him, it is very likely that his Tower will not hear him, either.”
* * *
“I won’t be able to go to work carrying this around,” Kaylin said to Bellusdeo.
“I nonetheless think the Arkon correct.” They had chosen to accept the offer of an Imperial carriage to return home. Probably just in time to change and head out for the day.
“I believe that the Halls of Law can do without you for a day or two; arrangements have already been made.” This was Emmerian. For reasons known only to Emmerian and the Arkon, Emmerian had chosen to escort them home. Of the Dragon Court, outside of the Arkon, Emmerian caused Bellusdeo the least friction, although her eyes had darkened a shade of orange when he had first made his request.
“I would recognize both Lord Illanen and Lord Baltrin,” Emmerian told Bellusdeo. “And some handful of their followers and the agents they employ and deploy. They have been under the Imperial gaze for some time; it is clear the nature of that surveillance will require some careful handling.
“I am certain that you can deal with most of the people either Lord employs, and I am certain you can provide Kaylin some of the protection required. But none of us are cognizant of the functions of the artifact she is now carrying, and where magic is used, the two might mix in an unfortunate way.
“If it displeases you, I will withdraw my request.”
The gold Dragon had stood rigid and immobile for three long beats. She then nodded, the nod as stiff and regal as any nod the Emperor might have given.
* * *
Kaylin was not a very happy person when she arrived home.
Helen was waiting in the frame of the open door, her expression concerned and possibly maternal. Kaylin remembered very little of her mother, and she was past the age where she needed one.
Mostly past the age.
“What are you carrying, dear?” Helen asked, although Kaylin was pretty certain she knew at least as much as Kaylin did; the fence was the boundary of Helen, and Kaylin’s walk up the drive gave her enough time to read Kaylin’s thoughts.
“Yes. I see.” She looked beyond Kaylin to Bellusdeo and Lord Emmerian. “Your sergeant sent you a mirror message.”
“I’m on leave of absence.”
“Yes, dear.”
Kaylin understood that the Halls of Law could do without her for a couple of days. She understood, when push came to shove, that they could do without her indefinitely. The city was full of people, and people needed work. The Hawks who had died on the night the High Halls had come under full attack had been replaced, and some of them had been more valuable to the force than Kaylin had ever been.
But she wasn’t as certain that the inverse was true. She wasn’t at all certain that she wanted to do without the Halls of Law or the Hawks.
“I see you’ve brought a guest. It is early for guests,” Helen added, a trace of apology in her voice. “I will ask the cohort to remove themselves to quarters that will be quieter. Wait a moment.”
“I’m not sure he’s staying,” Kaylin began.
“He will stay if you allow it. I believe he has something he wishes to discuss with both you and Bellusdeo.”
Chapter 15
Helen led Emmerian to the parlor, which had adjusted itself in size so that it could comfortably fit the four people who occupied it: Kaylin, Bellusdeo, Emmerian and Helen herself. Her Avatar wasn’t necessary, but she liked to occupy it when guests were present. The cohort were not considered guests at this point; neither was Bellusdeo.
Emmerian declined both food and drink, and as Kaylin had already eaten, Helen didn’t press it. She did offer three times, because apparently, the first refusal was somehow meant to be good manners. It didn’t actually mean no. This made about as much sense to Kaylin as multiple forks and spoons at a dinner table.
Helen’s heart, however, wasn’t in it; she knew manners and she employed them, but her attention was on the book that Kaylin had set on the nearest flat surface within reach. Hope squawked at Helen, who nodded, her expression one of concentration.
Emmerian, however, did not choose to notice this yet. Then again, he didn’t appear to notice more than his hands, which rested on his lap, for a long, quiet stretch. Bellusdeo was content to wait for something hot that looked like tea; Kaylin got hot chocolate.
“Is it safe for me to let this go?” she asked Helen.
“If you mean can I keep it here, then the answer is yes.” She hesitated.
“But?”
“You shouldn’t have it.”
“We visited the Arkon in an attempt to get rid of it. He didn’t want it, either. We intended to give it to Killian, but Killian was occupied.”
Helen’s silence was less comfortable than Emmerian’s, but both felt full of unsaid things. Kaylin was tired and cold, and as Helen had given permission to let the book go, she cupped the mug in her hands, more grateful for the heat than the contents.
Oddly, it was Helen who broke the silence first. “You do not need to do this for me.” It wasn’t quite what Kaylin was expecting to hear.
“I’m not doing this for you.”
Helen’s smile was slight, but it lingered. “Killian would likely not recognize what I’ve become. What I’ve chosen to become. And we were not friends as you and Bellusdeo are friends.”
“But you knew him.”
“Yes. You have divined that it is, at times, lonely to be what we are.”
“Everything living gets lonely sometimes.” Kaylin blew on the hot chocolate, having attempted to drink it too early.
“Yes. I was not as Killian was. My function was not his function. But the level of loneliness was dependent on the lord of the manor, as it were. I was not—quite—like the Hallionne in function, if your experience with them is correct. But Killian was unique.” She fell silent.
“Do you see a book?” Kaylin asked her home.
“Yes. I see what you see.”
Bellusdeo and Emmerian exchanged a glance.
“But I also see what Bellusdeo and Lord Emmerian see. In neither case was this meant for you, but I believe you see a book because you saw a private library, and I believe you can see a book because you were meant to carry it.”
“What do you think it would do to—or for—Killian?”
“I am uncertain. I am reluctant to open the book, as the Arkon suggested you do; I am even more reluctant to read it. As I said: Killian was unique. Our functions had—as most buildings must—some overlap, but he had far more flexibility. He was meant for...people.”
“He vanished when the Towers rose. There was a period of perhaps twelve hours—according to the most ancient of our Records—and we have dispatched a messenger to Tiamaris in the hopes that we might discuss this matter with his Tower.” Emmerian’s tone was carefully neutral.
“Tara,” Kaylin said, almost reflexively. “You want to talk to Tara.”
Emmerian nodded. He then turned to Bellusdeo. “You have known the Arkon for longer than any of us—but you have spent far less time with him.”
She nodded. “I am concerned for him now.”
“As you should be. We are all concerned.”
Had Kaylin’s hands not been full, she would have put up her hand, as if she were in class. “Why are you guys worried?”
The glance they exchanged was clear enough that it rendered words superfluous. It was Emmerian who answered, but he was an immortal. The
answer had to be couched in words before it arrived, as if it needed a carriage.
“You have been told that the library is the Arkon’s hoard.”
Kaylin nodded.
“You have even survived the handling of an artifact from that hoard that vanished. You are still alive.”
Her nod was less patient.
“Have you never wondered at his collection? His attempt to hoard antiquities?”
“Not really. I mean, he’s the Imperial Librarian.”
Emmerian once again looked to Bellusdeo, but the gold Dragon was willing to leave the discussion in his hands.
“Let me then speak of Killianas. I am not Tiamaris, who is significantly younger than the rest of the Dragon Court. I did not, however, meet Killianas in my youth; my youth was a martial time.” He lifted his gaze, his eyes finding a blank wall.
After a moment, that blank wall grew a painting—a large framed painting. Emmerian smiled, his glance moving briefly to Helen. “Martial prowess was highly valued by both the Barrani and the Dragons. Martial prowess,” he added, “did not mean to us what it means to you; perhaps it means the handling of, the ability to handle, weapons of war—one of which would be magic. But in the absence of magic, we had the weapons to which we were born. Dragons breathe fire,” he continued. “But we are not all adept at its handling; the strength of flame, the length at which we can sustain it, are elements that we must train.
“I was young enough that the training itself was considered the highest priority. It is not easy to breathe fire while one dodges the arcane arts that are cast from below.” He put his hands together, and for a moment, bowed his head.
“I was not interested in war. I was interested in survival. I understood that the Barrani were far more numerous; that the Dragons—” He stopped, as if coming out of his reverie in time not to mention why Bellusdeo was so important to what remained of their race. “The war ended. Peace descended.
Cast in Wisdom Page 23
