Cast in Wisdom

by Michelle Sagara

  Killian was spread, in a fashion she couldn’t see, across the fiefs; squeezed between the boundaries transcribed by the Towers. He had not been aware of her until she had tried to communicate with him—by introducing herself.

  Ask him, she said, if a sentient building can fully exist in the outlands, and only the outlands.

  Pardon?

  The Hallionne border the outlands, but they exist—they were created—in lands people like us can occupy. They aren’t part of the outlands, but they can use the...the...miasma to effect temporary change. We know that living buildings are the sum of the words at their core, whatever those words are. But those words exist here.

  They demonstrably continue to exist when we enter the outlands. If you wish to exempt the cohort from this rule, I will allow it, but Bellusdeo was also with you in the outlands, and the outlands did not strip her of the power of her essential nature.

  But it’s a nature that’s defined by the world we normally live in. It’s why Terrano couldn’t continue to be Terrano as he was. To take the name back, to take the word back, to acknowledge it again, he had to accept confinement or containment. Yes, the cohort isn’t what it once was, and yes, they stretch the boundaries of what Barrani are—but there are limits, I think. They can’t both be here and be completely other.

  Nightshade cleared his throat; she could feel the sound as if it came from her. She could see Killian clearly, the ruin of his eye larger and darker in Nightshade’s vision than it had been when she had first encountered the Avatar.

  Killian looked across the room to meet Nightshade’s gaze.

  Or to meet Kaylin’s. She asked the question through Nightshade.

  “A perceptive question,” Killian replied in that stiff and annoying way that reminded her of Imperial Mages. “No. A sentient building, as you put it, cannot exist only within the outlands. Buildings are defined by their function, and their function is rooted here.”

  “But what’s to stop a building from fulfilling those functions in the outlands?”

  “There are no words, in the outlands, except those they carry within them. The buildings cannot be created—or birthed—in the outlands.”

  “But that wasn’t the question I asked,” Kaylin said. Nightshade almost stopped her. “My question was: Can a building that was created the normal way fully exist in the outlands?”

  “Hypothetically?”

  “This is the Academia,” Nightshade said, voice dry.

  Killian’s smile was stiff but in spite of that felt natural.

  “Hypothetically, yes.”

  “What conditions would be required to allow that?”

  “I cannot answer that question. A building such as you describe has not been created in the outlands since—but no, that is a topic for another day. Robin, you did not bring your book.”

  Nightshade turned slightly to see one of the students. A child.

  “No, sir.”

  “I believe we’ve had this discussion before.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Ah. I would like you to remain after class. You as well, Calarnenne. Honestly, students these days are of a lesser caliber when it comes to dedication.”

  * * *

  Kaylin didn’t snicker, but it took effort—and given her actual, physical surroundings, it shouldn’t have. Hope’s wing glowed faintly as her vision and attention returned to the darkness. She assumed that the glow couldn’t be seen by whoever their adversary, or adversaries, were. But she concentrated, and as she did, she could make out the shadow-shrouded contours of the library, or the section of the library in which she now lurked in silence.

  She turned to look back at the Dragons, but the wing remained fixed in the forward direction. She didn’t ask Hope why; her voice would carry, even if his reply wouldn’t. Instead, she looked, her brows creasing as she squinted. It was dark, yes; she couldn’t see individual books, but could feel the nubs of spines as she continued to use the wall as a guide.

  I think Candallar’s people are looking for Killian’s core.

  Nightshade’s thoughts did not divulge frustration, but she felt it regardless. Yes. It is possible that they felt that the library would be the most likely place for it.

  You don’t think so.

  No. They are remarkably unimaginative for a group of learned people. Were it not for Terrano’s intervention—before you met the cohort—I do not believe they would be here at all.

  And Candallar?

  I am less certain about Candallar. I do not believe his position here is that of a student; nor is he a lecturer. He appears to have, and retain, a freedom of movement that those who live here do not.

  The Lord of the Human Caste Court—whatever his name is—doesn’t live here. I highly doubt the Arcanist who accompanied him lives here, either.

  I concur. But I believe, if they found their way to this place, they were led here by Candallar. You believed that he wished to be reinstated in the High Court. Do you understand why he was made outcaste?

  No.

  It was after my time by a few centuries, and information is not always accurate. I would suggest you bespeak Ynpharion, if and when a window opens in which you might effectively do so. In the meantime, be cautious. If we are dealing with Arcanists of any renown, they would hesitate to engage a Dragon—or two—in a terrain that is not under their control. As they are attacking, they must believe they have that control.

  Given the way said Dragon had arrived in the library, Kaylin agreed.

  Find it and break it, if that is possible.

  Kaylin nodded. I know he won’t answer, but—if not a library, where do you think the core that defined Killian might be hidden?

  None of the other cores, as you call them, were in physical areas. Tara’s was closest; Helen’s was not. There was no way to approach Helen’s core without her permission.

  I’m not sure Killian is in a condition that would allow that permission to be granted. She frowned. Or he wasn’t, the first time I met him. There’s something about him—as a lecturer—that seems more...present? More personal, somehow.

  I believe the Arcanists have searched this building—but again, they are not your cohort. Their ability to move requires a flexibility that they may only barely possess. They have had the knowledge Terrano imparted for a handful of years, at best.

  Have you seen the others at all today?

  I have seen none of the cohort today, as you call it.

  I’ve found Mandoran, a new voice said. It was Severn. He had been listening closely to Kaylin, and to Kaylin’s part of the conversation with Nightshade and Killian. Or rather, Mandoran has found us.

  Is it just Mandoran, or does he have the other three with him?

  At the moment, only Mandoran. We are still, he added, in the trap of the endless hallway.

  How’s Emmerian doing?

  He seems remarkably relaxed. Mandoran found his way here and he’s offering to release us. Ah, I hear Sedarias. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

  Because you’re safe there.

  Because we’re safe here. She has reconsidered this because you, Bellusdeo and the Arkon are no longer in the same trap. Severn was amused. Kaylin was annoyed. The difference in these reactions described much of their relationship.

  Can Mandoran get you out without alerting the wrong people?

  He believes he can. Severn spoke to Mandoran, but Kaylin couldn’t hear his words. Nor could she see Mandoran through Severn’s eyes. The cohort made everything difficult, without even trying.

  Mandoran asks me to pass on a message from Terrano. Wherever you are now, Terrano can’t find you.

  You told him we were in the library?

  I did. Terrano says he hasn’t seen a library. He’s managed to penetrate active classrooms or lecture halls; he can enter the dining hall at any of the mealtimes.
The offices are hit or miss—and apparently there are offices here. There are six people Sedarias considers dangerous. One is the Arcanist that you first identified.

  And the other five are Barrani.

  Severn winced. Yes, of course. There are no Dragons, if that helps.

  Has Terrano managed to penetrate other occupied classrooms?

  No, Severn replied, after a brief pause. Mandoran clarifies: there are no other occupied classrooms. The occupation, such as it is, seems to involve one thread of students—the group of which Nightshade is part. No harm has come to the students; I don’t believe Killian would allow harm to befall them, even in his damaged state. Annarion is calmer now; he understands that while the cohort—and the rest of us—might be in actual danger, the students, and therefore his brother, are not.

  Yet.

  Not yet, yes. His tone changed. You said you’ve found people in the library.

  Kaylin nodded. I think I’ve found our intruders.

  * * *

  Given the uniformity of their heights and the robes they wore, Kaylin assumed the three were Barrani. One of the three wore a tiara consistent with the tiaras members of the Arcanum sometimes wore. At this distance, she couldn’t be certain that the crowned individual was the Arcanist Sedarias had recognized. With her luck, it was an entirely new Arcanist.

  Some conversation—quiet and tense—appeared to be taking place among the three Barrani; it was hushed enough that Kaylin could guess at its existence by the small movements of mouths and the shifting lines of shoulders or arms.

  She couldn’t close with three Barrani. Even had one not been an Arcanist, that was just suicide. She had a chance to injure—or possibly kill—one if she was fast enough and quiet enough, but the odds were not in her favor.

  What had Killian’s enemies achieved so far? Was Killian more present because of something they had done? Was Killian missing an eye because they had somehow removed it? Had they removed it to create a back door that made the Academia much easier to find?

  All reasonable questions, none answerable now. Even if she had answers, they were likely to lead to more questions, not fewer.

  I’ve explained how you gained entry to the library to Mandoran, Severn said. Terrano has a suggestion.

  Is his suggestion physically possible for anyone other than him or Mandoran?

  According to Terrano, yes.

  Fine. I have three Barrani here. I’ll attack them if it becomes necessary to interrupt their spells, but I’d rather not throw my life away pointlessly. What’s his suggestion?

  He wants you to find the doors.

  Pardon?

  The doors to the library. He thinks there had to be a legitimate way in. It wouldn’t be useful as a library otherwise. Killian might house the entirety of the collection—but you said yourself that Larrantin’s book was likely once part of that collection. The library, in Terrano’s opinion, wasn’t Killian’s; the books it contains were real.

  Kaylin was dubious. The book Larrantin gave me only looked like a book to me. No one else saw it that way. If that’s your idea of a physical book, I don’t know what to tell you.

  Terrano says that the book itself was likely protected in some fashion against the fall of the Academia and the rise of the Towers. That’s his guess. He thinks it is a book...but displaced. You could see it as a book because you yourself were partially displaced. He believes you still are.

  But the Arkon and Bellusdeo are both here.

  Yes. That’s why Terrano thinks you can open the actual doors. Oh—he also says he thinks the Barrani are displaced in the same way you are. You could see them, the day Annarion knocked on the door. The rest of us couldn’t. He’s telling you that if you try to attack the three Barrani here, the Dragons are unlikely to be able to help.

  How can they attack us when they’re displaced?

  I am not asking him that question now.

  He’s busy?

  He’ll answer. Meaning it would take an hour or two, if sense could be found in the answer at all. But Mandoran says the cohort is currently displaced in a different way. He believes that Killian is aware of both of you; he doesn’t seem to be aware of the Barrani.

  You don’t agree.

  Not entirely, no. The Barrani can interact to some extent with the movement of the daily lessons—they can enter the dining hall. Nightshade can see them. I’m not certain I would. I’m not certain they see Nightshade, either.

  Kaylin asked.

  Nightshade was irritated by the interruption; he was now absorbed in the lesson that Killian was attempting to teach. Kaylin fell silent as the reason for the irritation made itself clear. Nightshade felt this lesson was relevant to the situation in which they were all trapped.

  I’m going to try to find a door, she told Severn.

  Terrano says: About time.

  * * *

  Kaylin was almost certain she’d been seen by the Arcanist, Illanen, and the Caste Court Lord Baltrin when she first attempted to deliver Larrantin’s message. She wasn’t willing to bet a lot of money on it. It was possible that their concern had been Killian’s movements. The people that had gathered to attack Larrantin—or Larrantin’s building—had clearly seen, and been seen by, Annarion and Sedarias. She was certain that Candallar could see them all.

  If she was right, Candallar had somehow led the others here. Candallar had somehow found the Academia in his tenure as fieflord. If it had value to Candallar, she thought it the value of a cage: it was a great way to do away with inconvenient people. No bodies would be found, and therefore no messy investigations would occur.

  Not that investigations would occur in the streets of his fief, either. He was fieflord. He could just as easily rid himself of inconvenient people within his Tower. On the other hand, he couldn’t have gotten rid of Kaylin that way because she’d never have willingly set foot in his Tower, and the Barrani weren’t famously trusting. Not even of their allies. Or perhaps not especially of their allies; their enemies weren’t close enough to stick knives into their rib cages.

  Regardless, someone had to find Killian first.

  How? If it weren’t for the fact that she’d been deposited in a trap, she would never have found him—would never have thought to look. Severn had explored border zones before he’d joined the Hawks and hadn’t stumbled across this place, either.

  She held her breath as her path brought her closer to the Barrani; their voices grew no louder, although it was clear that their discussion had developed some heat. Hope hadn’t dropped his wing once, an indication that they would have remained invisible to her had she not had a familiar perched on her shoulder.

  She moved quickly, steps as silent as she could make them; they were standing in the space between the honeycombed shelving, which made bypassing them more of a challenge. She kept her dagger in her hand, but it was more for comfort than use now.

  It was not the Arcanist who turned in her direction; he was involved in the heated discussion Kaylin couldn’t hear. She moved quickly, as the Barrani man glanced around the room; she could see his features clearly. His eyes were narrowed. She didn’t wonder what had drawn his attention; no one could move completely silently if they were larger than a cat. Even with the noise he could hear—the argument in progress—he was watchful. In this situation, she would have been, as well.

  Unless she was the one doing the arguing.

  Hope was stiff on his perch, his legs tensing as his claws dug in. He seemed to be deciding against pushing himself off her shoulder, which was probably for the best. She doubted the Barrani could hurt Hope, but the attempt to do so would cause damage. Probably.

  She headed away from the Barrani, and farther away from the two Dragons who had stepped into an area of floor from which purple fire had sprung.

  Chapter 22

  The library was gigantic. Kaylin had known the collection
itself wasn’t small, given the height of the shelves, but this was far larger than the intimidating Imperial Library; it was larger than any single room that Helen had ever created for any of her guests—or her tenants. To be fair, she could no longer tell how tall the shelves she was touching were; she knew that they still housed books because those were her anchor as she moved. Her fingers continued to brush across the spines.

  Only when one bit her—literally—did she stop. She sucked in air, but let it out in a silent exhalation, lifting her hand to examine it. She could see no blood, but her middle finger was numb.

  She was grateful that this library had no Dragon as its hoarder. She paused in her search for a door, a more traditional point of entry, and moved her hand back toward the book that had caused the reaction.

  With as much care as she could manage given the poor visibility and her instinctive desire to avoid something that caused pain by simple light touch, she attempted to pull the book off the shelf. She was half expecting alarms to start; the ceilings here would create a resonance that was certain to cause them to carry.

  The book came free from the shelf cleanly, easily; touching it caused no further pain, although she felt it as a warmth against her palm. It was the type of warmth living skin shed. The thought took root and would not be dislodged.

  Many of the books you have seen in your life are bound in the hide of dead creatures, Hope said.

  The operative word there was dead.

  She examined the front cover of the book. It didn’t surprise her to note that there was a rune emblazoned across what she assumed was the cover. It was from the rune itself that the warmth radiated. She opened the book—and nearly dropped it.

  As the book itself lay flat, a cover across each of her palms, light rose from its pages, denying the lack of illumination that darkened the whole of the library. That light gathered into a pillar and the pillar itself into something that resembled a man. A Barrani man.