She said nothing.
“Consider the question, then. Consider the answer. You are living, you are breathing, and you dream. You have daydreams. None involve peace in the context of war. Come to me, return to me, when you have an answer. I will accept any answer you wish to offer.
“I will accept any lie you wish to offer. I will not believe it, of course; I am far too old for that. But I will accept it. I had hoped that we might dine, but I do not believe you will offer what I require today. Therefore retreat—in honor—and return.”
He gestured, and the cave’s mouth reasserted itself, a thing of rock and darkness, punctuated by torchlight.
* * *
“Honestly, Lannagaros, I cannot remember why I ever thought this was a good idea.”
“You will regret it far more if you continue to damage my desk,” the chancellor replied, although his eyes remained predominantly gold. Kaylin suspected the orange flecks denoted worry or concern for the Dragon who sat in the chair so close to his desk’s edge she could damage it simply by holding on.
“I don’t understand why you chose such a fragile desk,” Bellusdeo snapped back. She sounded almost petulant.
The chancellor rose and came around the desk to stand beside Bellusdeo. After a moment, he reached for the hand that was gripping the desk’s edge. “If you cannot remember why, will you change your mind?”
“You never wanted me to approach that Tower.”
“Candallar was its lord.”
“His.”
The chancellor shrugged off the correction. He really didn’t like Karriamis.
“He is annoyed, greatly annoyed, by Karriamis at the moment,” Killian helpfully said. He coalesced—slowly—in the air beside Kaylin; she had taken up a guard position near the wall in a vain attempt to give Bellusdeo some privacy. Bellusdeo didn’t care.
Emmerian, however, had wisely chosen to vacate the chancellor’s office; Mandoran followed immediately on his heels. Bellusdeo was not in need of protection here, in the heart of the former Arkon’s territory; of all of the living Dragons, it was Lannagaros who understood Bellusdeo best, and who held her in the greatest affection.
“You’re not?” Kaylin whispered.
“It is a matter for Karriamis and Bellusdeo. I owe Karriamis a great debt, and when this moment has passed, Lannagaros will remember that he, too, owes Karriamis a great debt.”
“I don’t think he’s forgotten,” Kaylin replied. “But...gratitude isn’t the same as love.” She flushed at her use of the word.
Killian didn’t appear to understand her embarrassment, or at least not to feel it. “I do not. Is it the wrong word? Did you wish for a different one?”
“It makes me sound naive. Like a child.”
“Because only children love?” Right. Building. Kaylin didn’t understand the odd alchemy that transformed person into building—but it seemed to leach experience from them, or understanding; Tara had once been human or at least mortal, but mortal subtleties caused her the same confusion they seemed to be causing Killian.
“No, of course not.”
“I fail to understand why you feel the word inappropriate. Lannagaros loves Bellusdeo and the ghosts of her many sisters. She was a gift to him; when you brought her back to Elantra, he felt a hope and an affection from his long-buried youth. She was proof that the home the Barrani destroyed in the wars still survived in some fashion.
“It would grieve him to lose her now; it grieves him almost as much to see her in such pain.”
To Kaylin, Bellusdeo looked annoyed. Clearly she couldn’t see what the chancellor—or Killian—could.
“No, but that is for the best. I do not think it is something she wishes to share. She is strong, but she is fragile, and fragility is weakness. She cannot afford to become someone so easily broken.”
The chancellor ignored Killian’s words, if he even heard them at all. He spoke to Bellusdeo, and only Bellusdeo. “What will you do? You cannot reduce the Tower to rubble, as you well know. Even could you, I very much doubt you would make the attempt; you understand why the Towers are essential.”
“I would not attempt to destroy someone for asking a question I could not answer. If I had simply chosen not to answer, I would not be here. I could not answer.”
“No,” the chancellor said softly, laying a hand on the back of her head with infinite gentleness. “And he knew it. It is not a question that anyone has asked of you since your return. We know what you lost.”
“He will not allow me to enter if I have no answer.”
“No.”
“And if I have an answer and he doesn’t like it, he will...”
“He will choose a different captain. That will not change your import to me, or to us; that will not change or invalidate your life.” Very gently, he said, “It seems to me that he is telling you, in however unkind a fashion, that he cannot fill the void of purpose in your life. He cannot be your Tara.”
“I do not want Tara. It would be suffocating.”
Kaylin said nothing. The chancellor said nothing.
“He has told me what he cannot be,” Bellusdeo continued, when it was clear interruption wouldn’t save or at least distract her. “He has not told me what he can be.”
“No. But Bellusdeo, neither have you. You are not mortal; what he builds with you will last for some time, and even its dissolution—should it happen—will be a long, long unwinding. He is asking you, very indirectly, that question as well. Decide what you need; it is clear that he believes he now knows what he does.”
“You’re growling.”
“I admit a certain displeasure, yes.”
“With me?”
“With Karriamis, as you are well aware. And you are in a delicate state if you can ask that.”
She was silent. “War shaped my life.”
“Loss has shaped it far more strongly. War shaped my life. What I wanted, I could not have. I was considered a competent soldier.” At Kaylin’s cough, he emitted a thin stream of flame—in the direction of Kaylin’s feet. “I accepted the responsibility I was given. I accepted the responsibility of Arkon in the wake of the cessation of hostilities between the Barrani and our kind. It was not what I had dreamed of. It was not what I wanted.
“This,” he said, “unlooked for, was everything I once dreamed of having, but there is a weight to it, a responsibility to it, as well. Perhaps I needed all of the early responsibility to be able to bear the one I would have chosen without thought in my distant youth.
“Were I to visit your Karriamis—and I will not until I am less angry—I would have an answer almost immediately. If my life was shaped by war, and by the responsibilities that followed because those more suitable to be Arkon had perished in the wars, it was never the whole of what I wanted for myself.
“If you define your life by the things you do not want, you cannot answer the question. I thought the Academia lost,” he added, his voice softening. “And in time, a miracle such as this might be offered you—but you will not see or understand it clearly, and perhaps you will fail to grasp it with both hands.
“Think, Bellusdeo. Think of what you dreamed of, think of what your sisters dreamed of, when your life was confined in the Aerie. And if your answer is vengeance, so be it—but after vengeance, what will you seek? What will you do? If you desire the Tower, there must be an answer.”
19
The dining table was empty when Kaylin went downstairs for dinner. She had changed out of work clothing automatically; Helen pointed out that she had somehow miscounted buttons.
Hope had been silent for the remainder of the day, but he sat on her shoulder, his snout against her cheek.
“I don’t know if I agree with the Arkon.”
“The chancellor, dear.”
“Yes, him.”
“Why?”
�
��Where’s everyone else?”
“The cohort is somewhat exhausted, and Sedarias does not feel like eating in company.”
Meaning the company of outsiders, Kaylin thought glumly. She didn’t expect Bellusdeo to come down for dinner either. Emmerian had escorted them to the edge of the property, but had not passed through the gates that marked the actual boundary of Helen.
He had been silent—but orange-eyed—throughout the walk home. Since Bellusdeo was likewise silent, it had been an almost funereal walk, because Mandoran didn’t poke or tease, either.
Helen’s Avatar joined Kaylin at the table itself. “Yes, it’s difficult,” she said quietly. “But it is not a question you can answer for her.”
“It’s not a question I can answer for anyone,” Kaylin replied. “When I was younger, I used to think that everyone should want to be a Hawk. Everyone would find what they needed or what they were looking for there.”
Helen nodded.
“Because I did, and I deserved nothing. If I could find a life—a life I could be proud of—anyone could do it.”
“That is not true.”
Kaylin nodded. “I know. I know that now; I’m not a kid anymore.” At Helen’s very maternal smile, Kaylin grimaced. “I’m not as much of a kid. But sometimes I think I’ll never really grow up. The chancellor was right, I think. But—I wouldn’t have known how to answer, either.”
“You would.”
“I wouldn’t. I’m a Hawk. I’m proud of being a Hawk. If I lost the Hawks somehow, I have no idea what I’d want to do.”
“But that’s not what you’re thinking about.”
“I’m thinking about an answer for Bellusdeo—and I know it’s not going to do her any good. I just—she could do or be anything if she wanted to.”
“She is not unlike you once were,” was Helen’s soft reply. “Karriamis was unkind but correct: she does not feel she deserves any sort of life because she failed her people. It’s guilt that drives her; the rage is a product of that guilt. If she destroys Ravellon, it might appease guilt. It might appease the dead.”
“The dead don’t care.”
“No, I don’t believe they do. It is a metaphor. But unexamined metaphors are dangerous narratives. It is easy for either of us—for all of us—to believe that it was not her fault. What we think does not matter; it is what she feels that does. This is hers to untangle.”
“You don’t think she can.”
“I am uncertain. I am very fond of her, but she is a cry of muted pain. Constant pain. The difference is that you have seen it. Karriamis heard it immediately—but Kaylin, so did I. What I wanted for Bellusdeo was a bit of peace.
“But she is my guest, not my tenant. I understand the chancellor’s anger, but I do not agree; he wishes to spare her pain. He wishes to keep her from the Tower. I believe—although I was not there and did not hear him—that he is considering an inadvisable visit to that Tower. But he is not the only one.”
Kaylin rose from the table. “Bellusdeo’s leaving?”
“Ah, no. It was not to Bellusdeo I referred. She is drowning in broken dreams and broken hopes, and she attempts now to examine them for something that might resonate enough she can build an answer from them. She will not leave until she has something to offer.”
“Then who? The cohort?”
“No. I believe Bellusdeo’s experiences have...impacted Sedarias, because I do not believe Sedarias could answer the question Karriamis insisted must be answered.”
“Helen...”
“Emmerian, dear. I am not entirely certain—but he is angry and he did not wish me to be aware of his intent; it is why he did not walk Bellusdeo to my door. He knows I would hear.”
“Emmerian’s going to Karriamis.”
“I believe so. Sit, dear. You are not running out after him; he is a Dragon, and you are a hungry, tired Hawk.”
“I’m also the Chosen.” Kaylin set her napkin aside.
“Do not make me tell Bellusdeo.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I think you need sleep. She will, of course, worry—and she will embrace worry because it’s far easier than what she is now facing. I do not believe Karriamis will hurt Lord Emmerian; Karriamis is in no danger, and lethal force is generally reserved for actual danger.”
“She’ll be mad.”
“She will possibly be angry, yes—but she has been angry for so long I’m not sure you would notice the difference.”
“She’s not always angry.”
“It is always part of her; it is the other side of guilt. Eat, and sleep.”
“You really should listen to Helen,” Mandoran said as he entered the dining room. “Sorry I’m late.” He glanced at Helen, who nodded.
“Were you guys fighting again?”
“No. Her anger burns out. It’s just surviving until it does that’s an issue. She would never have pulled you in deliberately.”
“She didn’t, dear,” Helen said quietly. “I do not blame her or hold any of you responsible for Kaylin’s involvement.”
Mandoran exhaled. “Even at her worst, she understands that you’re not like us. She doesn’t really want to kill us, either. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, I think there are three occasions in which she would have cheerfully strangled Terrano—but we’ve all felt like that. But you know, I couldn’t answer Karriamis’s question, either.”
“You don’t care about the war.”
“Not really.” He grinned. “But I have no real plans, no real goals. I’d like to survive, and I’d like to be with people who care about me, and who I care about, without any of them trying to kill me in a black rage. I just... I don’t have any big goals, you know?”
“You don’t care.”
“Not really, no. Sedarias’s goals are big enough for a hundred people. I’m willing to help her with hers. Most of the time. You’re worried about Emmerian.”
“Do you eavesdrop on everything?”
“Only if it seems interesting.”
“Dear,” Helen said, in her disapproving voice.
Mandoran grinned. “You have to admit it’s not boring.”
“I have developed a taste for peace,” Helen replied.
“Given how little of it you’ve had recently, I guess peace isn’t boring either.” He looked at the plate Helen placed in front of him. “But the question Karriamis asked has almost all of us introspecting. Serralyn could answer it. Valliant. They’re living their answers, now. Neither of them want the Tower, though. What they want, they’ve been offered.”
“Allaron?”
“He’s a bit like me, but actually, he wants his family line.”
“And you don’t?”
“They abandoned me. I don’t feel much guilt at abandoning them, and to be frank, I hated them. I hated growing up while having to watch my back. I hated that my friends had to do the same—because some of them were bad at it, and they died. This was before I was sent to the West March.
“I meant what I said. I’m not ambitious—but I’m okay with that. I’m okay with making the family I chose, the family who chose me, my life.”
“Bellusdeo’s not part of that, though.”
Mandoran winced. “Don’t ask.”
“Ask what?”
“Never mind—I was talking out loud to someone who’s not in the room. I like who I like. I like the Dragon. She risked her life to get half of us to safety when Sedarias’s sister came to Alsanis. I feel like we owe her. Sedarias does, too.”
“But she doesn’t want to trade your life for hers.”
“She didn’t think Bellusdeo’s life was in danger. If I hated my family, none of them actively tried to murder me. I hated the rules. I hated the coldness of that life. I don’t want it back. Sedarias’s family was...special. But you kno
w that. As long as Bellusdeo wasn’t in danger, what I was doing was beyond stupid.”
“She’s not wrong.”
He smiled.
“But I’m grateful.”
“Everyone has something that’s important to them. In the Dragon’s case it’s not something she can hold on to the same way Sedarias can hold on to us. Sedarias doesn’t feel guilt. She would—if all of us died and she couldn’t prevent it, she absolutely would. Which in turn gives her different nightmares—it’s a good damn thing we don’t need sleep.”
She was already overprotective enough, Kaylin thought.
“Yes, dear. It is very difficult to protect what you love when what you love is sentient and separate. I, for instance, can only guarantee your safety when you are here. Were I to prioritize your safety above all else, I would have to forbid you to leave.”
Kaylin stared at her house.
“That would be the best chance of keeping you safe. Of protecting what is important to me. But confining you would not be protecting what is important to you. You have responsibilities that define you, just as I have. Love is always a compromise between fear and the desire that you be true to yourself.
“Sedarias is coming to understand that. Were it not for the cohort, she would not make the effort—her upbringing has formed so much of her automatic, visceral reactions.”
“And she’s not a thinker?”
“Ah, but she is. She is ferocious with thought—but that thought has always been turned outward. She is watching for her enemies, for assassins, for obstacles on her path to finally claim what should have been hers. She never stops thinking.”
“You can say that again.”
Kaylin rose.
“You are not going to the Halls of Law today; Bellusdeo is here.”
“No; we’re both still seconded to Bellusdeo. But—Severn is almost here.”
“Has he eaten?”
“I think so.”
* * *
Kaylin met Severn as he was walking up the path.
“Emmerian is not our job,” he told her.
“I know. I know it. But—Bellusdeo is here, and Helen can keep her safe.”
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