Cast in Conflict

by Michelle Sagara

  In theory, isn’t that what a captain is for, though?

  Theory is a pleasant conceit when it is built upon a lack of solid information. I accept what I cannot change—but you have seen some of the cost of that, and it is a cost I would not have anticipated.

  “Very well. We have told you what we know,” Kavallac said, into the growing silence.

  “I want Starrante to explain what aggressive means in relation to Liatt’s Tower.”

  Starrante clicked. “It means I would advise against entering Liatt’s Tower if you have the choice. Yes, becoming changes the person at the heart of the Tower, but never completely. He was always a kill first, and apologize as appropriate later, person.”

  * * *

  When they left the library, Bellusdeo was waiting. Maggaron was beside her. The chancellor was not. The gold Dragon declined to enter the library at the invitation of Starrante. Kaylin was surprised.

  Then again, given Kavallac’s reaction, maybe she shouldn’t have been. Kavallac definitely didn’t think Bellusdeo should attempt to captain a Tower when the future of the entire race was in the balance, and she was likely to make this clear.

  Since Bellusdeo had more than enough of that particular clarity in her life, she was probably wise to avoid it. Kaylin could just imagine the reverberations of two angry Dragons shouting in their native tongue, and was grateful.

  “I’ve been waiting,” the Dragon said—once the library doors were closed.

  “Sorry—I wanted to find out a bit about the original people who were chosen to become the heart of, the core of, the Towers.”

  “Did you glean any useful information?”

  “I’m not sure how useful it’s going to be. You already know that the one empty Tower was built on a Dragon. Karriamis. Kavallac seemed to know him, or know of him; apparently he used to lecture here. It was Karriamis who chose Candallar—but no one understands how the mechanism of that choice works.

  “I mean, in Tara’s case, it was clear she was angry and lonely and afraid—and I can’t imagine a Dragon being lonely or afraid.”

  “Angry?”

  “That doesn’t take imagination.”

  Bellusdeo chuckled. “No, I don’t imagine it does. Lannagaros seems happy, to me.”

  “He hasn’t exhaled fire the few times I’ve spoken with him here, no.”

  Squawk.

  “I realize that,” Bellusdeo said, voice soft, as she glanced at Kaylin’s shoulder ornament. “But at the moment, the Academia’s existence is fragile. Had Candallar managed to kill Robin, I’m not sure the Academia would be reachable the way it is now. Lannagaros’s search for students—and for the scholars who might be suitable to teach them—is urgent. Accepting the fieflords here is part of that search.

  “Should there be hostilities on the campus, Killian can deal with them as effectively as Helen deals with the cohort. But I would say the cohort is far more challenging.” She then turned to Mandoran. “Well?”

  He looked uncomfortable; he was blue-eyed. “I don’t suppose you’re tired after a long afternoon of negotiation?”

  “I wasn’t doing the negotiating. The chancellor was. And the fieflords. I am now restless, and I intend to continue on to the fief of Liatt. Are you coming?”

  Mandoran grimaced. “Yes, unless I’m dead. I don’t suppose you’d like to kill me now and put me out of my misery?”

  Her chuckle deepened. “I don’t think Killianas would allow it.”

  “Why not? I’m not a student.”

  “You are a visitor,” Killian said. “And the chancellor would be upset if you were killed anywhere on the campus.”

  “Fine. I don’t suppose Liatt will care.”

  “Why don’t we find out?”

  10

  The Academia resided in a pocket space between Liatt and Nightshade. Killian was certain that Karriamis, Candallar’s Tower, had been instrumental in the revival of the Academia; he was also certain that he had been instrumental in its preservation, even if that preservation had been in stasis.

  The absence of the border zone implied that the link between the Towers and the Academia had been lifted. Or maybe transformed. Kaylin wasn’t certain because Killian wasn’t certain. She didn’t understand the lack of certainty on his part, and hoped that Helen might have information, or at least a solid opinion.

  But it wasn’t to Helen they were going, right now; it was to Liatt. Bellusdeo knew which roads would lead to that fief; she knew which roads would lead to all of the fiefs, including Candallar.

  Mandoran seemed mostly relieved that Candallar wasn’t the Dragon’s destination, but if Kaylin were being honest, so was she. She didn’t want to choose sides. She didn’t want her housemates to become enemies or bitter rivals while they were still living under the same roof.

  But...maybe it would be better, because at least Helen could contain the damage from the fallout of hostilities. And avoiding Candallar put off the day of reckoning.

  * * *

  The streets that led to Liatt were in good repair, as were the roads. The buildings beyond those streets made a stark contrast.

  Liatt’s native streets were very like the more run-down sections of Nightshade, to Kaylin’s eye; the buildings were in need of repair, the windows—where shutters weren’t so warped they couldn’t be properly closed—were shuttered. Most of the buildings were two stories; some were three, and some were flat, single-story dwellings. Weeds, not grass, fronted them, and the road was pocked enough it would have given wagon wheels a hard time.

  She looked above street level to see the Tower.

  It was a tall, elegant spire of silver and gold, although the metallic hues didn’t reflect the sunlight the way natural metals might have. There was just enough glow inherent in their visual presentation that the Tower itself didn’t seem to be flat gray and yellow. Even had those been the primary colors, there was nothing workmanlike about this Tower. Tara’s Tower was an ivory white, and it stood out anywhere in Tiamaris.

  This Tower stood out more—but it looked down upon run-down streets. Or at least run-down streets near what had been the border zone. Perhaps as they approached the Tower, the streets would improve.

  Kaylin had never considered the run-down streets to be an affront before she’d managed to escape the fiefs. She might not have considered them worse than, say, the warrens, had she not known Tiamaris.

  But she did know the Dragon, and she’d seen what he and his Tower, in concert, were attempting to make of the fief, and now? She was resentful for the child she had been. For the children that were still trapped as she’d been trapped. She wanted change.

  You might ask, Nightshade said, his tone far more neutral than usual.

  Who? You? Your Tower? She snorted. You made clear, the first time we met, that the citizens of the fiefs weren’t your concern—except when they displeased you.

  Durandel would never consent to the sweeping changes Tara has made in Tiamaris. Can you imagine the front of my castle becoming vegetable gardens? Can you imagine that an Ancestor would care what the weak and the helpless do?

  She couldn’t.

  But there are things that might be done. Durant’s use of his Tower, to make wood and stone that lasts throughout all weather and its difficulties, is not one that I would have considered.

  Your Tower would never allow it.

  My Tower requires a certain amount of finessing, yes. But I do not think it entirely impossible. Understand that you are correct. The heart of the Tower is an echo of the person who became it, and our people change slowly. But they can change; you have seen that with your own eyes. And Kaylin, while you bear that mark, you have the right to ask.

  The mark was so much a part of her face now, she forgot it existed unless she was introduced to a Barrani stranger. She wanted to keep it that way, and fell silent, prickling with discomfort.<
br />
  It amused—and annoyed—Nightshade. It had been almost eight years since she had lived in his fief, but some of the reflexes persisted. Annoyed fieflord: bad.

  Tell me what you know of Liatt.

  You’ve asked this already. And I can see her Tower clearly, now. It is impressive.

  It looks Barrani.

  His silence was one of studied disgust.

  It doesn’t look Barrani to you?

  It looks nothing like our architecture to me. Nothing at all. You identify silver and gold as the colors of wealth—and therefore power. You consider the Barrani to be powerful. Therefore you believe somehow this looks like our architecture. And our architecture is not all of one thing. The residences in the West March do not resemble the High Halls.

  “What are you thinking?” Mandoran asked.

  “I’m not thinking. I’m being thought at.” She turned to him. “Does Liatt’s Tower look like a Barrani building to you?”

  He looked at the Tower. He looked back to Kaylin. One brow was crooked. “Is this a trick question?”

  Nightshade was smug. Silent, but smug.

  “Fine. Bellusdeo?”

  “It looks like it could be, to my eye—but our homes, even our great Aeries, did not resemble Towers.”

  “It doesn’t look Barrani to me,” Severn said quietly, before she could demand his opinion.

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s disproportionate. The height of the Tower on its own, you could make an argument for—but the base, no.”

  “Maggaron?”

  Maggaron had stopped walking. He had practically stopped breathing. He shook his head, wordless.

  Bellusdeo was instantly almost red-eyed as she turned to her Ascendant. “What?” she demanded. “What do you see?”

  “I’ve seen buildings like this before,” he whispered, the softness of his words belying his size.

  Bellusdeo didn’t ask where. She knew.

  Kaylin suspected, because she now remembered the first time she had seen Maggaron. He had been on the wrong side of the Ravellon border, wielding a sword that had once been a person: Bellusdeo herself.

  They had been lost to Shadow with the fall of their world, and Kaylin had, with the marks of the Chosen on her skin, somehow managed to draw them back.

  It was Kaylin who said, “In Ravellon?”

  Maggaron nodded. “They were not...exactly like this. But close, except for the color.”

  “Starrante said his people—talking, sentient, giant spiders—lived in Ravellon. I think they might have been responsible for the portals that lead to other worlds, and that lead other worlds here.”

  Maggaron was almost green. “Spiders?”

  She nodded. “The main body is probably my size; the legs make it all look larger. And eyes. There are lots of eyes. They can spin webs, but their webs aren’t the usual envelop-your-prey kind of webs.” She thought they could be, but tried, hard, to keep this to herself. “Did you see spiders like that in Ravellon? Do you remember?”

  He was silent. The green tinge to his skin didn’t improve.

  “He did,” Bellusdeo replied. Her eyes remained almost crimson as she stared up at the Tower’s height. Her lips were compressed in a thin line, as if to stop a draconic roar from emerging. “I have very little memory of my time in that place. Maggaron has more.”

  “Starrante’s people were likely enslaved, just as he was,” Kaylin said. “And Starrante saved our lives. We owe him.”

  “He did not save mine,” the Dragon snapped. She closed her eyes, the inner membrane rising first, the lids falling second. She then exhaled slowly. Kaylin was surprised to see the lack of smoke.

  “Starrante’s kinsman was chosen to be the heart of this Tower. Liatt’s Tower.”

  Bellusdeo nodded.

  “No one chosen to be the heart of the Tower could be associated with Ravellon. Perhaps Aggarok—I think that was his name—was chosen because he understood what his people could do. They needed someone who understood the nature of the portals woven by Starrante’s people in order to block their access to the rest of this world.”

  “You’re thinking out loud,” the Dragon observed.

  “It’s relevant, though.” Kaylin watched as the Dragon opened her eyelids; the lower membrane stayed in place, muting the orange her eyes had become. There were still flecks of red in the iris, but it was a distinct improvement.

  “It is.” Bellusdeo inhaled. “Thank you.”

  Maggaron was less grateful, but not less green. Clearly, he had the same spider buttons Kaylin had. Or maybe worse; he had seen more.

  “They spin together,” he whispered. “They create gates and portals that can move hundreds of those in the Shadow’s command.”

  “Is there a central command?”

  “What does central mean? Are you asking if Shadow has a king?”

  “Maybe?”

  He shook his head. “It is not the way Shadows think of themselves. They are part of a whole, not separate individuals.”

  “Were you?”

  He nodded.

  Bellusdeo stepped on Kaylin’s foot. “Enough. That is not why we are here.”

  “No?” a new voice said. As there were no new people—no visible people—on the streets, Kaylin’s hand fell to her dagger. “I would be delighted to know why you are here.” The voice came from the left.

  Bellusdeo had already turned toward it when Hope sat up, digging claws into Kaylin’s left collarbone. He roared, which came out as the usual very loud squawk. If Liatt was mortal, he probably sounded like an angry bird to her.

  She appeared, as if stepping through mist, or rather, she seemed to be a thing of mist, of silver mist, as she solidified in the streets of her fief.

  * * *

  Kaylin wasn’t certain what she expected. She knew that Durant and Liatt were the two mortal captains of the six Towers. Durant had seemed entirely relatable and friendly; his architectural choices matched Kaylin’s. She knew he was a fieflord, but...she liked him.

  She was certain she would never feel the same way about Liatt. Nightshade had said she’d been the Tower’s lord for longer than Durant; that meant longer than eighty years.

  She wasn’t young. She looked double Kaylin’s age—possibly closer to triple. Her hair was a silver-gray, and her eyes a striking blue—a gray-blue that implied ice, not clear sky. Her face was long, the lines of it etched there by facial expressions like this one: grim.

  Bellusdeo recovered quickly. She offered the fieflord a bow. “Lord Liatt. I am Bellusdeo. This is Maggaron, my Ascendant.”

  “I am not familiar with the concept of Ascendant,” Liatt replied. “And your other companions?” Her gaze lingered longest on Mandoran, her eyes narrowing.

  “This is Lord Mandoran. He is newly come to his title in the High Court of the Barrani. This is Corporal Neya and Corporal Handred. They serve the Hawks in the Halls of Law.”

  “Which has, as I’m sure you are aware, no jurisdiction here.”

  Bellusdeo nodded.

  “You have been speaking for some time about the nature of my Tower.” This was directed to Kaylin.

  Kaylin felt underdressed and poorly mannered; there was something about Liatt’s age that implied wisdom and regality. She was clearly the most significant power present. How she achieved the impression wasn’t clear; she wasn’t extravagantly dressed, she wore no emblems of office, and there was nothing about her appearance that implied her position here.

  Maybe it was the confidence with which she faced a Dragon, a Norranir and a Barrani in the open streets.

  “I spoke with Arbiter Starrante, in the newly reopened Academia. He’s a librarian.”

  “Starrante, is it?”

  “It’s what he’s chosen to be called by people who don’t have the same vocal cords as his peo
ple do. He’s a giant spider, by look.”

  She was silent for a much longer beat—as if she were an Avatar, not a person.

  “The library is now accessible?” she finally asked.

  “The Academia is accessible.” Although it hadn’t been Kaylin’s intent to take over the conversation, she did because Liatt was speaking to her. “The library and its Arbiters can be reached through the Academia—and that’s mostly why we’re here. Bellusdeo, speaking on behalf of the chancellor, wishes to discuss the Academia and the possibility of students from Liatt.

  “You’ll note that the border zone has now disappeared. The border zone was, in some fashion we don’t understand, the Academia. Or the Academia’s stasis. Before the Towers rose, the Academia occupied a large chunk of land between Nightshade and Liatt. After the Towers rose, the border zones rose as well—and I think we all assumed—”

  “We?”

  “I grew up in Nightshade.”

  Her brows rose. After a pause she said, “You don’t live there now.”

  “No. I live in Elantra. I couldn’t be a Hawk, otherwise.”

  “I interrupted you. Apologies. Continue.”

  Kaylin exhaled. “We thought the border zones were there because of the Towers. But they’re not there now, and the Academia is.”

  “I have lost no land, and surrendered no responsibility,” Liatt replied. “Liatt is mine. Its people and the barriers that protect us from Ravellon, my responsibility. If this Academia exists in its previous location, it does not exist on this plane.”

  “I don’t understand it, either. But there are streets—solid streets—that lead from the Academia into Liatt, and from Liatt into the Academia and the buildings that surround it. There are streets that lead from the Academia to each of the six fiefs; we walked one to reach this fief today. We didn’t cross a border zone. I’m very sensitive to portals and portal transitions, and I believe that I’d notice if we’d crossed one.”