Cast in Wisdom

by Michelle Sagara

  To Kaylin, the unbundling of the book produced a book, which is what she’d seen the first time and every time thereafter. She watched his expression, watched the smile change the shape of his mouth.

  “A book,” he said quietly. “As you said, Corporal.”

  “Do you know where it goes?”

  “I believe so. It is not immediately in front of us,” he added. “Larrantin was a scourge upon the librarians and the student body. This book is not—was never—meant to be in circulation at all. He must have had permission to take it, but not even the librarians would have been able to grant that permission.”

  “Killian?”

  “Killianas, yes.”

  “What is it about? I couldn’t see much on the pages.”

  “It is about interdimensional travel.”

  “Really?”

  “No. I am simplifying to a ridiculous degree. But to read it at all, one must be current with languages that are considered long dead.”

  “Meaning, not me.”

  “Indeed. One must be current in those languages, which is a scholarly feat in itself, and must also be adept at small shifts in personal placement. The words written in this particular book are on a page that is slightly displaced. I could not read it as a student. It must have been germane to Larrantin’s specialization.”

  “What was his specialization?” Bellusdeo asked.

  The Arkon laughed. It was a bold, rolling sound, one of genuine amusement. “I do not know,” he said. “It was the question most asked by the newer students, who considered him a walking legend, a mystery, something almost as impossible as the Ancients themselves.”

  Kaylin froze.

  “He was considered Barrani,” the Arkon said, correctly guessing why. “He was not of the Ancestors that preceded the Barrani; there is a single word at his core, a single, complex rune. Or so we were told. But at the time, the Ancestors were still present, if few. The earliest of the wars I remember involved their presence. They were not our wars,” he added. “They were not wars that required the mobilization of the flights.”

  “One of the Ancestors is at the heart of Castle Nightshade,” Kaylin said.

  “Yes. But that Ancestor’s duties are not the duties of those who woke in the depths of that castle. They are gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Gone to Ravellon. Gone to death. The words that were the source of their life and thought are lost to us now.” He began to walk. Bellusdeo and Kaylin joined him, and even Bellusdeo—who never seemed impressed by the Imperial Library—had a hush about her that spoke of wonder or awe.

  “So... Larrantin wanted to return this.”

  “I doubt that. I doubt it highly. But Larrantin probably saw some necessary purpose for it.”

  “Do you think Killian has a core? I mean, a place where the words that govern his duties and abilities exists? He’d have to, right?”

  “We oft wondered. And we did look.”

  “Pardon?”

  “We were students here. We were away from the Aerie, some for the first time. We were surrounded, for the first time, by people who were not kin, not Dragons. The world in which we had lived until this point had cracked open, like the shell of our birth eggs, and we looked at the endless sky. In a manner of speaking.

  “Of course we searched.”

  Kaylin’s silence extended a beat as she thought. “How old was Killian when you came here?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Killian was here—Killian was created—before the Towers rose. He couldn’t have been all that new at the time they did. I mean, you were young when you first encountered him, but...do you have any idea of how long he’d been here?”

  “This might surprise you, but no. We have no historical dates for the creation of the Academia. We have no historical dates for the creation of Ravellon, either; I believe they were linked in some fashion.”

  Kaylin stared at him. “You don’t know?”

  “Killianas had lived through roughly three changes of calendar styling. We have some sense of his age—but it was rough, not exact. We did ask, or rather, some of us did. He was not of a mind to answer in a useful fashion. It was not his concern.”

  “And the chancellors didn’t know? One of them was a Dragon!”

  “The chancellors, if they knew, did not choose to answer lowly students. It was not always considered wise or safe for chancellors to teach classes, and it is in the teaching they would have had the most exposure to us.”

  “Why wasn’t it considered wise?”

  “Aramechtis once sat as a guest lecturer, and at the three quarters mark burned down half the classroom. There were injuries, but no fatalities.”

  “...Half the classroom.”

  “Even so. To the Dragons in the room, it was trifling; to the rest of students it could have been deadly.” He shrugged. “A face full of Dragon fire, as you put it, did not materially harm any of the Dragons; it was an indicator of the severity of the temper of the guardian, in the Aeries.”

  Bellusdeo winced, but after a brief pause, broke out laughing. “It is most of the reason we were segregated,” she told Kaylin, amusement coloring her entire expression. “A face full of Dragon fire would most certainly have harmed us when we lived in the Aeries. I remember watching the males,” she added, lost for a moment in childhood memories. “They could fly. They were not as good with speech and tasks that required manual dexterity. We wanted to join them in the air.”

  “In all probability, so you could injure them for their behavior,” was the Arkon’s clipped response.

  She laughed again. “Yes. We had to learn how to be more cunning if punishment was our desired goal.”

  “Regardless, it was seldom that the chancellors came into contact with the lowliest of their students. And no, not all chancellors were Draconic; I am certain that the Barrani did not rain fire upon cheeky students. Is there a reason you ask? You have never struck me as one who has a particular interest in history.”

  Kaylin nodded. “Killian looked Barrani to me.”

  “He did indeed.”

  “But...so did the Ancestors in Castle Nightshade.”

  “You are making a fundamental error,” the Arkon said, when Bellusdeo sucked in air in a sharp, short way. “What Killian was before he became the heart of this place is not what he is. What he is, however, is injured. He is barely functional.”

  “And returning a library book is going to change that?”

  “Do not underestimate librarians.” His brows furrowed. “Bellusdeo,” he said, in an entirely different tone.

  Bellusdeo had come to work, in a manner of speaking, in Dragon armor. She nodded and gestured. Kaylin’s arm caught fire—or felt like it had. There was no sound in the library except for the Hawk’s involuntary grunt of pain. A shield rose around them, a bubble of color that was very similar to the protections that Hope could interpose between Kaylin and, say, Arcane bombs.

  Purple fire blossomed beneath their feet.

  Chapter 21

  Kaylin would have rolled to the side, but Bellusdeo caught her arm, the Dragon’s hand moving so quickly Kaylin saw it as a glint of reflected light. The Arkon hadn’t moved at all. Flames unfurled beneath their collective feet and rose to the height of their chests. Nothing burned except carpet—but that gave off a terrible stench as it did.

  The Arkon glanced once at Kaylin and Bellusdeo. His eyes were a deep, deep red, muted only slightly by the raising of inner membranes. He was beyond angry. In a single instant, he had passed into a deep fury.

  Had he been any other Dragon, Kaylin would have assumed the fury came from the possible harm done to Bellusdeo. He was the Arkon. Someone had attempted to start a fire in the library. And if the flames were purple and the heat less intense than Dragon fire, they burned carpet. They’d burn books. This was not a place in whi
ch any fight, no matter how important, was to be started. Ever. Given that the Arkon was an enraged Dragon, it was a miracle that the library wasn’t already ash.

  “Is this shield yours?” Kaylin asked the Dragon.

  Bellusdeo nodded.

  “Good.” She drew a dagger noiselessly from its sheath. Hope’s wing was still draped across her eyes. “Hope can protect me from magical attack.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Someplace else. If our attacker keeps this up, the Arkon is going to explode. And that’s not going to do us any good.”

  “It’s not us he’s concerned with,” the Bellusdeo’s dry response. She hesitated for half a beat. “Go.”

  * * *

  Kaylin left the golden half sphere. As she did, light guttered; the library became dark and cavernous. Whatever spell the Arkon had cast to improve visibility had been extinguished. Dragon eyes were more adaptable than mortal ones—neither the Arkon nor Bellusdeo required much light.

  Kaylin did—but she’d spent enough of her formative years in the dark. True, that dark often included moonlight and starlight; here, the library ceiling shed nothing. But light had come from natural sources in her youth; the cost of less natural sources, even candles, had been beyond her.

  And the Ferals were drawn to light, where it existed at all.

  She felt Severn’s wordless concern. Had she been in any other room in this building, she would have remained beside Bellusdeo and behind the Arkon. But the library meant something to the Arkon. He never left the palace, except in dire emergency—but it wasn’t an emergency that had driven him here. He’d practically left on his own, determined to find Killian.

  Determined, she thought, to find this place: the library. Kaylin wasn’t certain that the library itself wasn’t magical, wasn’t the product of Killian. The library in the Imperial Palace was normal architecture, if impressive. But she thought the palace library was an echo of this one.

  This was what he wanted. Perhaps this was what he had always wanted. The Imperial Library seemed now like a substitute, an attempt to rebuild.

  Fighting here was not an option. She had rarely seen the Arkon’s eyes take that color; had never seen that expression distort his features. She’d been told that there were certain things that could drive Dragons to madness. She believed it now in an entirely visceral way.

  Yes. The voice wasn’t Severn’s; it was Nightshade’s. Shorn of amusement, she could feel the weight of his focus and almost turned her head to look back at the two Dragons. She didn’t; the impulse lessened. You are correct. There is a danger here.

  Do you have any idea who could be attacking? That’s Arcanist fire.

  It is Shadow fire. Not all Arcanists would be capable of casting that spell; I do not believe An’Teela would be.

  “Terrano?” Kaylin whispered. Silence. Disembodied Terrano didn’t reply. On days like this, she sincerely wished Mandoran had been allowed to give her his True Name.

  The fire hadn’t been directional; it had sprouted beneath them. The Arkon had had enough warning to give Bellusdeo a single command. Kaylin had seen nothing—and felt nothing magical—until Bellusdeo had summoned her protections. The fire had come from beneath their feet.

  She wilted.

  An interesting idea.

  Can you ditch lunch?

  I have tried. I have found at least three men I recognize in the halls.

  Have they found you?

  If they have, they have not chosen to acknowledge me. It is my belief that they have not yet differentiated me from the general student body.

  They’re not part of that student body?

  They are, but they appear to have more freedom of movement—as I said, the day seems to follow the same loop, and it is clearly a day on which they do not have classes.

  Kaylin frowned. The frown deepened. The fire that had come from beneath their feet could have been a trap, much like an Arcane bomb—but she doubted it.

  Oh?

  No one who wanted to take control of this building would want to start a literal fire fight here.

  No one who wanted what the Arkon wants would, no. But knowledge, if it is power, is also a weapon. It is quite likely that if the depths of this knowledge could be plumbed, those who sought it would desire exclusivity.

  There’s no way they could have learned everything this library contains.

  You are not goal-oriented, Kaylin. They might very well feel that they have learned everything of value contained herein. Ah. Lunch is over. I believe we are to head to our classes now.

  Kaylin frowned. She remembered the rough layout of the library she had glimpsed in the Arkon’s light and reached out. Her hand touched shelving. She’d reached a wall. Her fingers passed over something that felt like a collection of book spines, and she exhaled.

  Did you get to choose your classes?

  No. I was deposited in them as if I had been a student for longer than I have. There are children—literal children—who are in the classes with me. One at least does not appear to find the material confusing.

  Which one? She attempted to dredge up the features of the boy from missing persons.

  Yes. That would be the one.

  And you said that this was a class about spatial dimensions?

  Yes.

  What is the class you’re heading to now?

  There was a beat of silence before Nightshade answered, and the answer contained some confusion. I am now uncertain.

  Uncertain?

  This is not the same hall, or the same floor, as it was yesterday. The students, however, appear to the same students. I will let you know if we also have a different lecturer when I arrive in the lecture hall.

  He’d said that the day was repeated. The class schedule was repeated. Can the students who aren’t on the class schedule actually enter the class in question? As she spoke, she moved. The one good thing about the consistency of these floors was the fact that they didn’t creak. If she could breathe silently, she wouldn’t be heard. She might be seen—but she doubted it. Humans were never considered the most dangerous thing in a room that also contained Dragons.

  The cohort could, but I believe their presence caused...difficulties. They are not, or were not, in the dining hall. I believe they have a freedom of movement that is not implied by differing schedules.

  Meaning they’re considered intruders.

  Yes.

  In a sentient building that doesn’t approve of intruders.

  ...Yes.

  The Arkon didn’t speak. Bellusdeo didn’t, either. Whoever had attacked them was silent, taking advantage of a lack of visibility. If Kaylin could attack from anywhere, and she was facing Dragons, she wouldn’t attack from the heights—the ceilings here were easily tall enough to accommodate Aerian flight, and she had a suspicion that full-body Dragons could manage, as well.

  No, if she were going to attack, she’d do it from a vantage of stealth. She’d attack using the books as cover, where the shelving allowed for it. And even if it didn’t, she’d still use the books as cover. The Arkon would be hesitant to attack if the contents of the library might be damaged.

  Would the attacker know that? Would they be aware of that weakness?

  This is interesting, Nightshade said, interrupting the thought.

  You’re in the classroom?

  Yes. And we have, as you must have suspected, a different lecturer.

  Do you recognize him?

  Yes, but not because I have personally seen him before. You, however, have.

  Larrantin?

  No. It is Killian. And it appears that today’s lecture is about linguistics.

  Pardon?

  I believe he intends to speak about the nature of True Words.

  * * *

  She continued to move, but moved slowly, her hand ancho
ring her with a light touch across rows of shelved books. The shape of the library—from the little she’d seen—seemed to be honeycombed multistory sections of nothing but books. There had been no cabinets, no display cases. Just...ladders, and rounded walls of books rising from the floor.

  Can you ask him a question?

  Pardon?

  Can you interrupt his lecture—if it’s even started—to ask him a question?

  In the previous lectures, questions have been taken at the end of the lecture; some have been allowed during the lecture if the student in question feels the lecturer was unclear. This does not always result in better explanations. Even among my kind, there persists the belief that shouting the same words—or humiliating the questioner—will somehow result in better absorption.

  Is that a yes or a no?

  What do you wish me to ask before he starts his lecture?

  It was a fair question. The curve of book spines—a gentle curve given the shelves were so large—ended. Kaylin pressed her back into the shelves before she headed out into the next section of the library.

  Does he give any indication—beyond the subject itself—of what this lecture is about?

  Today’s class is apparently about the intersection between dimensional space in confined quarters and True Words.

  Confined quarters. Is that building-sized confinement? Or a closet?

  I assume the former.

  Could that apply to library-sized quarters?

  I am not of a mind to interrupt him to ask that question. If, however, you come up with one that is more immediately relevant, I shall make the attempt.

  Kaylin considered it relevant. She wanted to return to the Arkon’s side, to ask if Killian himself had ever taught classes, but she was pretty certain the answer would be no. In which case, this was deliberate on Killian’s part.

  Killian who had said that there was no master here, no lord. No chancellor. She assumed that Candallar or one of his allies wanted to become that chancellor, somehow. Or wanted the power that came with control of the building—if that power now existed.