Cast in Conflict

by Michelle Sagara

  There was no central pillar here. The kitchen closet door opened out onto a large, flat platform. Across from the door, steps that wouldn’t look out of place in the High Halls appeared; they led down. Solid walls formed boundaries on either side, and torches—well, sort-of torches in that the light didn’t flicker at all—followed the incline into the darkness.

  All things equal, Kaylin vastly preferred these stairs, but had a suspicion that the previous iteration existed to underscore the dangers the various rooms here contained.

  The stone beneath her feet shook; here, the roaring was more felt than seen—a destructive act of nature, not an act of communication.

  “Terrano, move faster!”

  “I’m trying,” he snapped.

  Kaylin reached out, caught his hand, felt a small, sharp shock as their palms made contact. “I really, really think we don’t have time to meander.” She picked up the pace; Helen’s bubble was almost certainly centered around Kaylin, not one of the most difficult members of the cohort. Dragging him by the hand as if he were an errant foundling, she began to run.

  * * *

  The training room was only a room if one called enormous, grand halls rooms. Kaylin, not an architect of any kind, didn’t quibble. There were large, closed doors at the far end—one suited for very fancy carriages and wagons; were it not for the intricate details carved into the wood of those doors, Kaylin might have confused it for the doors that fronted loading docks on account of their size.

  Hope was now standing on her shoulder, his body upright and canted slightly forward. He squawked. Since she couldn’t understand the words, she assumed they weren’t meant for her.

  The doors rolled open. She forgot about the doors as they rolled to either side, as if pushed by invisible hands.

  The hall they opened into wasn’t composed of the bare walls of the previous training room. The ceilings here were high, the halls wide, and the walls for as far as the eye could see—and admittedly Kaylin’s vision had nothing on Barrani or Dragon sight—were decorated with statues, engravings, small alcoves. Every decorative detail was rendered in stone.

  Some of that stone had melted, but even as Kaylin’s gaze swept across the mess, form reasserted itself.

  “How far away from your core is this?” Kaylin asked.

  Helen didn’t answer.

  Kaylin and Terrano entered the hall. At this distance, she couldn’t see people.

  “They are there,” Helen said, although Kaylin hadn’t spoken aloud. “Most of the cohort is—or was—less corporeal.”

  A flash of blue lightning changed the color of the hall. “Is that Teela?”

  “Yes, dear. I did say most.”

  “Are both of the Dragons draconic?”

  Helen didn’t answer.

  * * *

  The hall was longer than most city blocks. Kaylin, who had to patrol, was familiar with the length of those blocks. She’d traveled three before she could see the Dragons. She could also see Maggaron.

  Teela was not actively attempting to harm either the gold Dragon or the blue one. Maggaron stood by the gold Dragon’s side, not in front; he was wielding a great sword in one hand. Teela appeared, at this distance, to be talking. The Dragons were speaking as well, but Kaylin didn’t understand a word of it, which was probably for the best.

  Hope squawked; he was a storm of squawking as Kaylin picked up the pace.

  I am going to ask Helen, Severn unexpectedly said, if I might remain under her roof for a while.

  Stay where you are, Kaylin told him. We don’t need any more combatants. She exhaled.

  “Teela!”

  * * *

  Teela’s gaze remained fixed on the two Dragons; her sword continued to glow and crackle, as if it were the barely controlled heart of a storm. She spoke two words, or what might have been two words; her voice carried as if it were draconic.

  “Yes,” Helen said quietly. “Teela does understand rudimentary Dragon. She is making herself heard, here, in a multitude of ways.”

  “She’s impressive,” Terrano whispered. “I mean—we all knew she had one of The Three, and we all knew she’d distinguished herself on the battlefield. But it’s different to see it with our own eyes.”

  “The eyes most of you don’t possess right now on account of having no physical form?”

  “Those ones, yes.”

  Teela wasn’t trying to hurt Emmerian. She was trying to survive him. Bellusdeo’s roars, which, at a distance, Kaylin assumed were aimed at the Barrani cohort, were now apparently aimed at Emmerian. The blue Dragon had stepped between Bellusdeo and Teela, and his claws had cracked stone; he didn’t intend to be dislodged.

  “Helen, what happened?”

  “A discussion became heated. It broke down. People lost their tempers.”

  “How did Emmerian join this so-called discussion?”

  “The beginning took place in the dining room, and the dining room windows were actual windows at the time. Lord Emmerian doesn’t approve of this; he considers the windows a weakness assassins might exploit. As of this evening, I am almost willing to concede his point.”

  If Kaylin had been closer to an actual wall, she would have banged it with her forehead. “Where is the rest of the cohort?”

  “They are with Teela, but phased.”

  “Do you consider Emmerian and Bellusdeo more of a threat than the cohort?”

  “To whom?”

  “Teela!”

  Teela did look away from Emmerian as Kaylin’s voice penetrated her concentration. Even from this distance, Kaylin could see the color of her eyes; they were indigo. They were almost black. “Go back to your room,” the Barrani Hawk told Kaylin.

  This caught Bellusdeo’s attention. And Emmerian’s. Kaylin almost let go of Terrano’s hand, but decided against it given what remained of the conflict.

  Hope squawked up a storm, and as he did, Bellusdeo’s draconic form dwindled, the scales becoming the armor that Dragons wore in their human forms. There was, in theory, magical clothing that could withstand the transformation between the two forms, but Kaylin had never personally seen it happen. Maggaron now towered over Bellusdeo. As did Emmerian. Although Emmerian did shift his enormous head in Kaylin’s direction, his eyes were a blood red that implied death.

  Kaylin noted the position he had taken—or at least the part where he’d inserted himself between Bellusdeo and Teela, and winced.

  Hope squawked again, and Emmerian blinked.

  Blinked and then turned to look over his shoulder.

  Kaylin couldn’t see Bellusdeo’s expression; she could only see her profile. Emmerian, however, was closer, and Dragons had better vision regardless. He swiveled his head toward Teela again. Toward Teela and the phased cohort.

  Teela grimaced.

  “She’s going to put up the sword,” Terrano whispered.

  “She probably wants to keep her job,” Kaylin replied, just as quietly.

  The sword vanished. Only when it was gone did Emmerian dwindle in size and shape; he wore indigo armor, streaked in a black that gleamed.

  “She is going to be so pissed off at him,” Kaylin told Terrano.

  “Maybe I can hide with Emmerian,” Terrano replied. “Sedarias is furious.”

  “With you?”

  “Maybe?”

  * * *

  The sleep that had been interrupted by the conflict had fled to another continent.

  “Are they done now?”

  They had better be, Hope said. He wasn’t sleeping—or slumping, which was probably more accurate—either. He was alert, and if small, transparent lizards could look furious, he did. She had rarely seen Hope angry. Annoyed, yes. Irritated, yes. Possibly outraged or shocked. This was different.

  Helen was more worried than angry, but Helen felt responsible for the safety of her guests.


  Kaylin was neutral. She wanted what Helen wanted: everyone to get along like civilized people. Or a variant of civilized that included far less Barrani etiquette.

  “We will not repair to the dining room,” Helen said, in a voice that could be heard by anyone standing in the long, wide hall, “until we are certain we are all calm enough to speak.”

  Squawk.

  “Especially you.”

  * * *

  Calm enough to speak took surprisingly little time, given the presence of Teela’s sword and a livid member of the Dragon Court.

  Helen’s Avatar had joined them all; she was wearing obsidian armor, and it matched the color of her eyes. This seemed to suggest to the cohort that silence was golden.

  “They are not being silent in the traditional sense,” Helen said. “This is not the first time that there has been conflict among my guests. You are all aware of the danger inherent in losing your tempers. All of you. Were you to have had this discussion anywhere else—in the fiefs, in the streets—any part of Ravellon that had been sleeping would be wide awake.

  “Annarion.”

  Annarion was corporeal; the entire cohort now was, although it had taken far longer than the transformations of the Dragons.

  He nodded, less grim than chagrined. “Please accept my apologies,” he said, bowing deeply to Helen.

  Terrano, true to his word, remained with Kaylin. Mandoran detached himself from the general group and joined them.

  “Serralyn and Valliant are still in the Academia, right?”

  It was Mandoran who nodded. Barrani didn’t require sleep, but on occasion, looked like they should revisit that concept. This was one of those occasions. “Serralyn wasn’t really worried. Valliant was, but she managed to talk him out of storming Helen.”

  “Serralyn wasn’t worried?”

  Mandoran shrugged. “Helen wasn’t about to let any of us kill each other.”

  “What started this?” Kaylin kept her voice low out of habit; it wasn’t going to stop the cohort from hearing her or being aware of her. It wasn’t going to stop the Dragons, either.

  “Terrano wanted to discuss—”

  “I meant, what started the actual fighting?”

  “Terrano’s discussion was the top of a very steep incline.” He grimaced.

  “And that led to this?”

  “Indirectly. Look—you weren’t here, and you were lucky to miss it. Take my word for this.”

  Helen cleared her throat. “I believe we are clear to move to the dining room. We will have a very early breakfast.”

  * * *

  No one wanted to claim credit for the eventual outcome of the first attempt at discussion. Kaylin didn’t blame them. Maybe she was being unfair, but the two people who had shocked her the most were Teela and Emmerian. She would have understood if the cohort had drawn swords, either singly or collectively, but none of the cohort were armed with Teela’s sword. Teela knew what it meant; she knew why it had been created.

  She understood what had set Bellusdeo’s teeth on edge; Shadow—to Sedarias—was pragmatically irrelevant to her concerns. It was not, and would never be, irrelevant to Bellusdeo. Bellusdeo losing her temper, given the loss of her entire world to Shadow, also made sense.

  Kaylin wanted to speak with Emmerian.

  “I think that would be wise, dear,” Helen said. She had ditched the armor, but her eyes remained the color-flecked obsidian that Kaylin disliked.

  Emmerian, in indigo armor, turned at the sound of Helen’s voice. No doubt he heard what Kaylin didn’t; Helen was capable of speaking to individuals in a way no eavesdroppers could hear. He turned to Kaylin. His eyes were red. No surprise there.

  “Can you keep things more or less civil until we’re done?” Kaylin whispered to Mandoran.

  “Why me? You have no idea what kind of mood Sedarias is in.”

  “I can guess. Bellusdeo’s only marginally better. I’m not sure this is an agree-to-disagree discussion—but it has to be.”

  Mandoran nodded.

  Bellusdeo, for her part, glanced once at Emmerian; her eyes were flecked with hints of orange in a sea of red. Of the two, it was Emmerian who was angriest. Or most worried. The colors indicated good moods and bad moods, but the underlying reasons for either were left as an exercise for the observer.

  “I will commit,” the golden Dragon said, “to not burning any part of Helen down.”

  Helen ushered people into the dining room, leaving Kaylin and Emmerian in the hall. Kaylin then headed toward the parlor, wondering how large it would be this time.

  * * *

  She waited until the door closed before she faced the red-eyed Dragon head-on. “What were you thinking, exactly? Helen says you burned down a third of the house. Or tried.”

  To her surprise, Emmerian shrugged. “It was not my intent to harm Helen; I did not believe—and do not believe—that I could. Not with a cursory breath.”

  “I don’t think she let you in so you could set things on fire.” Kaylin waited until Emmerian took a seat; the parlor itself was a small, cozy room, the table between them both high and small.

  “No, dear, I did not.”

  “Why did you, as the corporal put it, let me in?”

  “You are generally rational, objective, and pragmatic. I had hoped that your presence might calm Bellusdeo.”

  Emmerian bowed his head. He left it in the bent position, hands in his lap palm-down, as if he were studying them.

  “She’s going to be angry,” Kaylin said, her tone softening.

  “I am aware of that. She is angry now.”

  “So you thought it would be better if she were angry at you?”

  He raised his head; his eyes had shifted, finally, from blood red to a red with orange bits that was the usual indicator of Dragon anger. Or at least Dragon anger when it was under control and not the driver.

  “No. Thinking was not part of my actions. I am familiar with the cohort on paper; I have never seen them in action.”

  “Bellusdeo has.”

  He nodded. “I have no other explanation to offer. For what it’s worth, you have my genuine apology. I did not intend—” He stopped. “You are correct. Bellusdeo has lived in the same environs as the cohort. I should not have interfered.”

  “Did you think they were going to kill her?”

  “I told you, Corporal: I did not think. Yes, on some visceral level, I believed she was in danger. I will tender my apologies to Bellusdeo, and perhaps I will assign less...draconic observers in future.”

  Kaylin wasn’t certain the Emperor would agree.

  “Can you maybe not mention this entire thing to the Emperor?”

  Emmerian’s smile was almost rueful. His eyes were now orange. “It is never wise to attempt to hide things from the Emperor.” His lids fell shut, obscuring the color of his eyes. “I will apologize directly to Bellusdeo, and with Helen’s permission, will take my leave.”

  Kaylin wasn’t quite finished yet.

  “Why did Teela draw her sword?”

  “I believe she hoped it would shock me into sensibility. She did not attempt to injure me; she did not draw it—at all—when Bellusdeo chose to make a point by transforming.”

  A knock sounded at the closed door. Emmerian tensed, but said nothing.

  “Come in.”

  The door rolled open on Bellusdeo. Maggaron was not with her. Emmerian rose instantly. She met his gaze; he broke what might have become a staring contest by offering her a complete, graceful bow. “My apologies,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “I should not have interfered in the fight you had chosen.”

  “No. You shouldn’t. It implies you think I can’t take care of myself. Or worse, that I am somehow your responsibility.”

  Technically, given the Imperial command
, she kind of was. Kaylin kept that firmly to herself. If Bellusdeo had not been blocking the door, she’d’ve been out it so fast she’d have caused her own windstorm.

  Hope squawked.

  “I should not have transformed,” Bellusdeo said, looking in Kaylin’s direction. “I was...angry.”

  Emmerian said nothing.

  Squawk.

  “Yes, I know.” She then stepped into the parlor, where a chair waited for her. Her eyes were orange, now, but a hint of something metallic, maybe copper, had changed the natural color. “I will not ask you,” she told Emmerian, “not to mention the events of this evening. I understand the oaths you have sworn to your lord, and I know enough about you by now to know that it is an impossible request.”

  He nodded. Kaylin expected a certain wariness; it was absent.

  “Did you think that you would be able to withstand what I could not?”

  “No. I was not thinking at all. They were Barrani; you were a lone Dragon. It has been centuries since I have been victim to instinct and instinctive acts of violence.”

  “Instincts kept me alive,” she replied, the line of her shoulders softening. She took the empty chair. “Helen?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Might we both get a drink?”

  Kaylin had no illusions about who both meant. She left the room. Hope hesitated—notable by the tightening of his claws—but said nothing; he left with his portable chair.

  07

  Kaylin wasn’t privy to the discussion between the two dragons, as she’d fled the room, but no roaring followed her departure, which she took—given the events of the very early morning so far—as a good sign.

  “I’m sorry,” Helen’s voice said. “I did try to warn him—but he was, as he said, reacting entirely instinctively. I don’t believe he’ll mention Teela’s sword.”

  “Unless asked.”

  “Unless asked,” Helen agreed. “He is really quite ashamed of his part in the difficulty.”