As the gaze of the eye in the border zone, this one swept them someplace else in an instant.
* * *
Someplace else was dark. The floor in this place was soft—which implied carpet. Or worse. It no longer trembled. Kaylin reached out with her left arm and contacted the Arkon’s back. Or his robes.
“Bellusdeo?”
“I’m here.”
“Could either of you do something about the lights?”
“I believe,” the Arkon said, “we will leave that up to you.”
“Sanabalis hasn’t been teaching me anything as useful as lighting.”
“I am sure he has laid down enough of the basics that you could, with effort, illuminate at least one room.”
“Or you could, with no effort, do the same.”
“Kitling,” Bellusdeo said, voice softer than usual, “while Lannagaros was not known for the sweetness of either his temperament or his teaching, he seldom made requests of this nature without reason.”
“Meaning he’s not attempting to torment me or make me feel stupid?”
“Yes.”
“But Sanabalis didn’t teach me how to... Oh.”
“It is a small wonder to me that you have survived Sanabalis,” the Arkon then said. “I understand that Bellusdeo is with you for all of Lord Diarmat’s classes.”
Kaylin grimaced in the dark. The Arkon was unlikely to see her expression.
He knows you well enough to know what your expression is likely to be, Hope said. You will want to be careful here.
“Where is here?”
I am not entirely certain. Helen has rooms and areas in which you and your kin might not survive without her aid. This might, perhaps, be similar. The endless Hall is clearly an area for, hmmm, what does Helen call it? A time-out?
She rolled up her left sleeve. It was always the left hand, the left arm, that she exposed to danger first. As she did this, the marks on her arms began to glow. They were a dull blue, a color that indicated the possibility of magic, or magical interference, at least some of the time.
She could see the marks clearly as she rotated her arm; could see the shape of the runes, and the cohesion of each specific character.
Severn?
I can hear you. I can see what you see.
Some of the tension left her shoulders. Nightshade?
I am here. His voice was more distant, but it was clear, distinct. When she tried to speak to Ynpharion, however, only silence returned.
Can you see the cohort? she asked the fieflord.
No. I will say that the lecture currently being disrupted was quite interesting.
How is it being disrupted?
I am uncertain. The lecturer appears to stop and start. The words are paused, as if he is a Records replay; he continues exactly where he left off. There is no break and no repetition.
Your brother is here.
This caused mild frustration in the fieflord and beneath that a wellspring of concern.
So is Sedarias. At least, I think they’re together. They went to fight their way through the small group of Barrani and humans that were going to storm Larrantin’s building and then disappeared.
I think it unlikely that they will be trapped the way we are currently trapped. It is interesting, he said, worry once again receding. Tell the Arkon that we are here as students. We are dressed as students. We are lectured as students—and at that, new students who have not yet shown the potential the various lecturers look for.
Kaylin said, I’ll tell him in a minute.
The marks on her arms began to glow a brighter blue, the light whiter and harsher than the light shed when they were golden. Kaylin understood neither the blue nor the gold, but in either case, the marks shed light. She concentrated now, looking at the shape of the words; divining, by sight alone, the feel of what they might mean.
Meaning was separate from language, even if words implied the existence of language. It was a language that Kaylin had never been taught, and would probably never learn to speak. Yet without speaking, she was meant to use these words.
“Can you see now?” Kaylin asked.
“I can see your marks. They’re glowing,” Bellusdeo said.
“What color are they to you?”
It was the Arkon who replied. “A washed-out white. Usually they shed light that is golden.”
Kaylin nodded, still staring at her arm. She turned it over, exposing the inner forearm. All of the marks seemed to be evenly glowing. She chose one of the more complicated runes because she thought it would shed more light by volume, and as she did, that mark rose from her skin. It floated in the air at chin level, and it weighed a lot.
The marks on her skin seldom felt heavy. Hot, yes. Uncomfortably hot, even. But not as weighty as this one appeared to have become.
“Do they look different to you?” Kaylin asked the Arkon.
“Are you asking me if the composition of those marks has changed?”
“More or less.”
“Since when?”
“What do you mean?”
“Since they first entered Records? Since you began your work as a Hawk and not an...adjunct?
“Mascot.”
“Very well, mascot.”
“Never mind.” The answer was clearly yes. Aware now that people who weren’t Kaylin didn’t perceive the marks the way she did, she said, “Can you see the light?”
“I can. It provides decent illumination—but I don’t suggest you attempt this when Sanabalis once again resumes his instruction.”
“Oh?”
“It would be considered either lazy or cheating.”
Kaylin did not grind her teeth. “We all have different skills and different strengths. I believe those were among his first civil words to me.”
The Arkon snorted. “I believe his response would be, ‘And different weaknesses.’”
The light was bright, but not harsh; she didn’t have to squint or wait until her eyes had adjusted to its glow. The floating rune moved away from her, drifting forward until it was about ten feet distant. There it stopped.
“Do you think Killian was aware of his other visitors?”
“What do you think?”
“I...assumed he was unaware of them. Now I’m not as certain.”
“The first time we encountered Killian he looked much the same as he looked today,” Bellusdeo added. “But the assumption that he was the Avatar of a building was Kaylin’s, not mine.”
“What did you assume?” the Arkon asked.
“Do not take that tone with me,” the gold Dragon replied. “I am not one of your students.”
They appeared to be standing in either a long hall or a very narrow room. The walls were stone, and the ground beneath their feet no longer shook. “Take that tone with me,” Kaylin said.
Bellusdeo’s brows rose. “You hate being a student.”
“No, mostly I hate condescending old men who treat me as if I’m stupid.”
“I fail to see the difference in this case.”
“Compared to the Arkon, I am stupid.”
“Ignorant,” the Arkon said, correcting her. “I have never said that I believed you to be stupid. Lazy, yes.”
“Fine. You can talk to me as if I’m a student. A dim student you’re saddled with because you have no other choice.”
“Your magnanimity knows no bounds,” was the dry reply. “Very well. What do you wish to know?”
“What’s a chancellor? I mean—I get what it is in the Imperial hierarchy, but this isn’t that.”
“Ah. In this particular case, the chancellor is the head of the Academia. To Helen, the equivalency is tenant. You are her tenant. The rest of the occupants she houses are your guests.”
“How exactly does one become chancellor?”
> “When I was a student in these halls, it was irrelevant.”
“Who was chancellor then?”
“Aramechtis.” He exhaled without apparently inhaling first. “The Academia was lost in my youth. The rise of the Towers that guard against the spread of Shadow devoured it. There were some irregularities with its disappearance, but research into those irregularities was far more difficult, and far less accessible, given the nature of Ravellon and the Towers.
“Not until the two of you came to me with your suspicion—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “I do not know. I would have said, given our experience of the border zone, that it would either be impossible for Killian to select a chancellor, or impossible for the admission of students.
“But here we are. Ah. I did not answer your question, did I?”
You noticed. She didn’t say this out loud.
“I do not know. When I first arrived, I assumed it was a choice made—or suggested—by the governing council, those who taught and researched within the campus itself. That august body of intellectuals seemed the pinnacle of all knowledge; as I said, I was young.”
“Larrantin?”
“He was a member of that council, yes. If you mean to imply that the message—or book—he tasked you with delivering is somehow a demand or command that Killian grant that power to you, I do not believe you to be correct.”
“But you won’t surrender the item, just in case?” Bellusdeo’s voice was teasing. Her eyes were orange, but they had gold in them, not the red of danger or rage.
“I cannot think why I did not reduce you to ash in the Aerie.”
“You would have had to leave your room.”
He snorted. “I assumed—I believe we all assumed—that Killian accepted the decision of the council with regards to the position of chancellor.”
“And now?”
“I am less certain. I believe a chancellor is required.”
“Our location now implies he still has some flexibility, and at least the ground isn’t threatening to break beneath our feet. Where do you think we are? Did your old school have dungeons?”
“Killianas was a building. My old school, as you so disrespectfully call it, had whatever rooms the chancellor deemed necessary. It is a miracle—not a small one—that anything survived at all.”
Kaylin nodded.
“Why did you assume he was a building?”
She’d already answered this question in the palace, but after a pause to think about new facts, said, “Because he knew my name. Or what I’m called. I had to poke him to get out of the trap of endless halls. But...no, not just that. If he’d created a normal portal, I’d still be fighting not to throw up. When we first entered the room with the wall, it was a smooth transition. I didn’t notice a difference. I mean—I noticed we weren’t outside anymore, but...” She frowned.
“But?”
I believe your answer to this question is relevant, Nightshade said.
“It didn’t feel different,” she finally said. “It didn’t feel different from the border zone itself. We see streets we expect to see when we crossed into it. The cohort didn’t. They saw fog or clouds, which seemed to me more like parts of the outlands—the ones you reach by the portal paths the Hallionne create. The Hallionne have some control over the look and feel of the paths, at least up to a certain distance away. But without that, things are much more formless.
“As I said, it’s not what I saw. It’s not what anyone but the cohort saw.”
“Are you taking our names in vain?” a familiar voice said.
It was, of course, Terrano.
* * *
Or at least it was his voice. Since she didn’t know his True Name, he had always been forced to speak normally. But the light shed by her mark didn’t reveal his physical presence at all.
“She is not,” the Arkon said. “Can you see us?”
“I can certainly hear you. Give me a second.”
“What are you attempting to do?” The Arkon’s voice had sharpened, the volume rising.
“Incorporate,” he replied. “I’m the only person here. Mandoran is trying to follow me, but he’s not quite up to the task. Sedarias and Annarion aren’t even close.”
“I think he means why are you here,” Kaylin said.
“We were having a little bit of a problem with the lecturer in portal phenomenon.”
“I don’t think the Arkon wants to hear that.”
“It would depend entirely on who the lecturer was.”
“We didn’t pause to ask his name. Not that there was much of a break in the droning in which to ask a question.”
“That sounds very like Caranthas,” the Arkon then said, “in which case you have my blessing. I am surprised he noticed you at all.”
“Not half as surprised as we were. He apparently expected us to take a seat. And have our homework done.” Terrano then offered a very liberal Leontine curse. “Sorry, I can’t manage it. You’re going to have to put up with voice only. How did you guys get into this space?”
“This space,” Kaylin replied, “seems to be a stone hall with no doors and no other distinguishing features. Oh, and no lights that we don’t bring ourselves.”
“Really? That’s what it looks like to you?”
“I imagine you don’t have much in the way of eyes at the moment, and if you do, please don’t materialize floating eyeballs.”
Terrano laughed. “You are seriously way too squeamish.”
“I’ll let Hope breathe on them.”
He laughed again. “He wouldn’t. I’m not even sure he’d see eyeballs.”
Hope squawked.
“Sorry. There are a bunch of Barrani and humans scattered around what appears to be the main building. That would be the one we entered by the front door, and that you avoided.”
“I didn’t think we’d have much fun with the Arcanist.”
“Probably not. We could avoid alerting the wandering Arcanist and his friends. We could avoid Candallar—Sedarias is seriously pissed at him right now—although that was trickier. Killianas didn’t seem to notice us, and we did try to get his attention. But that didn’t work out well for us.”
“You got sent to jail?”
“To our rooms, or what might have been meant to be our rooms if we were students here. Nightshade was aware of us,” he added. “Even when the intruding Barrani weren’t. The students and teachers here exist in a different way than the intruders.”
“So...you’re mostly locked in your rooms?”
Terrano shrugged. “We’re mostly locked in our rooms—but these are kiddie locks—I think that’s the phrase?—compared to Alsanis’s locked rooms. They’re not meant to keep people like us in them. This room is much better constructed for it, but he didn’t send us here.” He paused, and then added in a softer voice, “We can’t talk to him.”
“He’s not Alsanis.”
“We can talk to Helen. We can talk to the High Halls.”
She froze. “Do not tell me that you’ve been visiting the High Halls.”
“Well, we’re Lords of the High Court now, aren’t we?”
“Lords of the High Court that a lot of your kin want dead, yes.”
“Sedarias says that’s normal. If she hadn’t gone to the green, most of her kin would still want her dead. Better now than later, when she’s firmly established. Where’s Severn?”
“He’s stuck in the maze of endless hall. So’s Emmerian, if that’s helpful.”
“Why are you guys in this room?”
“I think he meant to send us all, but missed the other two. I told you—I think I told you—that we found our way in the first time because a giant eyeball caught us in its gaze, right? Well...this was his normal eye, and Severn and Emmerian could dodge into corners. We were kind of standing in front of it.”
Bellusdeo snorted. “We believe—and we have no more access to Killian than you—that it had something to do with our mention of the intruders here. Apparently, people who are in this building are expected to either be teachers or students. Kaylin has a message from a teacher who is demonstrably unable to reach this building, but she was unwilling to deliver it when she saw Killian’s invisible companions.
“She was the only person present who could see them.”
“We can see them.”
“None of you saw them the last time we were here,” Kaylin said. “Regardless, I’m not sure Killian can. If he could, they’d be in the same student rooms you are.”
“Maybe that’s why most of them are on the outside of the building.” Kaylin could almost hear Terrano shrug.
The Arkon now cleared his throat very, very loudly. “It is my belief that the border zones are the frayed outer edges of Killian’s territory.”
Kaylin had whiplash from the change of topic. “But they’re all over the place. I mean—they exist between all the fiefs. Your Records didn’t—”
He cleared his voice loudly. Bellusdeo stepped on her foot at almost the same time.
Fine. “The location of the school—the Academia—was pretty fixed. I mean, it was actual geography, not theoretical geography. Larrantin implied—no, I inferred from what he said—that warning had been given to the occupants of the Academia when the Towers were to rise.”
“So people who got the warnings deserted the building?” Terrano asked.
“That’s probably all of the student body and all of the teachers. But... Killian’s been finding new students, probably slowly, in at least the Candallar border zone. It’s how we found him in the first place.”
“But he didn’t keep you here as a student—he showed you the way out. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
She shrugged. “It does now. Now all we want is to deliver a message to Killian and possibly have Killian eject all of the people he doesn’t seem to see.”
“You don’t want to know what they’re trying to do?”
Cast in Wisdom Page 29
