Cast in Flame

by Michelle Sagara

  Bellusdeo caught him in her claws and lifted him. “Where,” she demanded, “is out?”

  “We don’t get out without Evanton!” Kaylin shouted.

  “Grethan can’t stay here; he’s half-drowned!”

  “Can you land? Can he crawl up on your back?” She was already doing exactly that—but the ground here did not look promising; much of it was mud, and Dragons weighed enough she’d sink. Bellusdeo did, but she’d landed on her hind-legs and let them bear her weight while she set Grethan down.

  Teela reached out and yanked Grethan out of the mud he’d barely had time to settle into. He was a bedraggled mess, but then again, so was Kaylin; Dragons and Barrani were exempt. Teela seated the apprentice in front of her.

  “Grethan—where is Evanton? Can you reach him?”

  Grethan swallowed air; his eyes were wide enough the whites seemed to have taken over half the space. “He’s not answering!”

  “Fine—but can you tell Bellusdeo where he is?” Teela had that calm-down-or-I’ll-slap-you tone.

  “He’s—he’s by the pond.” Pause. “He’s...in the pond.”

  “What pond?” Bellusdeo roared.

  “Turn right!” Kaylin shouted. “Turn right and head toward the ground. Avoid the fire.”

  * * *

  Right was a sheet of falling rain. Down was a sheet of falling rain. Kaylin was fairly certain there was no space in the Keeper’s Garden that wasn’t at the moment. “Teela—is Mandoran with Evanton? Teela?”

  “Yes. And no.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “...No.”

  Leontine and water didn’t mix well. Kaylin tried anyway. She gave up and gave Bellusdeo directions, because she could see the pond. She could see it as the heart of the monstrous form water now wore: it was deep, dark, clear; it was no longer still.

  The small dragon warbled; as his head was beside her ear, she heard him anyway. “Just one normal day. Is that too much to bloody ask? One day?”

  Squawk.

  The pond was the heart of the water. It didn’t matter what shape it took, although Kaylin had very strong preferences at this point. It was anchored to one spot in the Garden. Storm aside, that anchor was still true. Kaylin had seen what happened when those moorings were broken, but by some miracle, they held.

  Her arms were now aching, but she was used to that. When the marks began to glow, they often grew warm; warmth became uncomfortable heat.

  “Grethan, can you be more specific?” Teela shouted.

  But Kaylin said, “Never mind—I see him.”

  It was true. Evanton was standing in the water that rose like a pillar. His eyes were closed, his arms folded across his chest; for a moment, Kaylin stopped breathing. But his eyes snapped open before she could panic. Or, to be honest, panic more.

  “Remind me,” Teela shouted, “not to strangle Mandoran myself.”

  “Get Bellusdeo to remind you,” Kaylin shouted back. “I’m thinking strangling sounds pretty damn good about now! I don’t see Mandoran,” she added. “Just Evanton.”

  “Worry about Evanton. Mandoran isn’t dead. Yet.”

  * * *

  Worrying about Evanton was easy. Doing anything about the worry, not so much. Bellusdeo had more or less found the pillar of water at the heart of the storm, but the storm was busy trying to swat her out of the air. As it was hard to maneuver around a constant stream of water, the flight was rocky. Kaylin tried to speak to the water, but the water wasn’t listening.

  And she knew that if she could call it by its name, she’d have its attention. Given what it was doing at the moment, that seemed like courting suicide. Given her very spotty record in Magical Studies, she wasn’t certain of success. But...Evanton clearly had the water’s name, and he was stuck in the middle of it, and the storm was still raging.

  In spite of Teela’s advice, Kaylin looked for Mandoran. Evanton was in the Keeper’s Garden. Even if it looked like he was encased in water here, it wasn’t likely to kill him—and if it did, they’d have far more pressing problems, none of which they were likely to survive.

  “I swear,” Teela said, “I’ll kill him myself if he—” She broke off.

  Bellusdeo had come to rest—if struggling to remain in flight and in position could be called rest—in front of Evanton. Evanton’s eyes narrowed; he opened his mouth; no air escaped it. No words either. Frustrated, he spoke again. Slowly. Kaylin cursed as the movement of his lips resolved into three silent syllables.

  “Teela—he wants us to find Mandoran!”

  But Teela shook her head. “Speak to the water, Kaylin. Now!”

  “Tried that. She’s not listening.”

  “Idiot—make her listen!”

  * * *

  The name of fire always avoided Kaylin’s grasp. She could stare at candles for three hours and fail to find the damned thing, although she’d used it before. The name of water was something she’d never consciously tried to call. The water spoke to her when it found her, and Kaylin responded in kind. She’d never come calling on her own.

  Evanton knew the water’s name. Evanton should have been able to calm the water down, if that was even possible. Offloading his responsibility onto the shoulders of a Hawk was low.

  On the other hand it was just as possible that he was keeping the other three elementals in their peaceful, dozing state. The thought of dealing with angry earth, air and fire, on top of clearly pissed off water, killed all sense of grievance.

  Bellusdeo, struggling in the storm, wasn’t steady enough that Kaylin could reach out and touch the water’s heart center. But Kaylin wasn’t certain it mattered—water was everywhere, at the moment. Breathing was distinctly wet.

  She tried, in her mind’s eye, to see water’s story, to find its elements, the way she could find fire’s. Her arms ached with the heat of the marks that adorned her skin—and she wondered, briefly, if water’s name was writ there, among all the other words she had no hope of reading.

  While she could enumerate all of the things water personally meant to her, they didn’t coalesce into a single name that defined those meanings. They were subjective words, not true ones—but mortals weren’t gifted with true words; it was why it was so damned hard to remember true names: they weren’t words.

  They were the feelings and reactions you had to struggle to wedge into the words you did speak. They were subjective because they came from your life, not the life of the person you were trying to communicate with. You had to hope there was enough overlap in your lives that the words meant more or less what you thought they meant when you said them.

  Only the Tha’alani seemed exempt from this constant stumble toward misunderstanding. The Tha’alani....

  Kaylin closed her eyes. It changed almost nothing, but it allowed her to envision the water as she so often appeared: a young woman with an expression beyond her apparent years, who had clear, translucent hands. One of those perfect hands was extended toward Kaylin, as it so often was; Kaylin carefully reached out to grab it.

  Her grip, as always, was that little bit too tight; she was grasping something she wanted—and had wanted—for her entire life. It wasn’t, and couldn’t be, hers. She was—at most—a welcome guest. But if the hand was water, it didn’t slide through her fingers at the strength of that grip.

  Even if she couldn’t live here, she wanted to visit.

  Kaylin.

  She opened her eyes. The storm raged around the golden Dragon on which she sat so precariously; she felt, for a moment, that the whole of the water’s attention was focused on her; water flowed down her flat hair; the stick that kept it off her neck had been lost. The small dragon was not impressed.

  Tha’alaan, Kaylin said. She didn’t need to shout, now; when she was connected with the water this way, she was certain to be hear
d.

  “Whatever you’re doing,” Bellusdeo roared, “Keep doing it!”

  She didn’t need to be told. Even here, in the folds of storm, she felt the peculiar, particular warmth of the Tha’alaan. She heard the distant thrum of Tha’alani voices, and if she kept as silent as possible, it didn’t matter; they didn’t need words to hear or sense her.

  The water became rain, and the rain ceased its fall.

  Kaylin.

  What happened?

  I...was not aware of where I was. I heard a voice that I have heard in only one other place.

  And you tried to destroy it?

  It is not a voice that belongs in the Keeper’s Garden, the water replied. It is not a voice that belongs among your kind.

  It does, now.

  No, Kaylin.

  She thought of Mandoran. Of Barrani children, and Barrani childhood—artifacts, all, of ancient wars. He’s alive. He’s here. He’s—he’s like Teela. He’s Barrani. He—he wasn’t, for a while.

  He is not, now. Silence again, and then a measured curiosity. Kaylin couldn’t understand the question it contained—and that had never happened in the Tha’alaan before. I understand how you see this...Mandoran. I understand that you see the name to which he wakened.

  But it is not, now, all that he is, and he brings danger with him. I sense his kin in the heart of the green; they are safest there. Send him back.

  I’ll talk to him.

  Speak with care, Kaylin. You do not understand what he is.

  Does he?

  Silence. Then, I...do not know. I think—I think he attempted to speak with me as he might once have spoken. I offer my apologies to the Keeper, she added. But it is best that Mandoran refrain from entering the Garden until either you understand what Mandoran has become, or until Mandoran does.

  Where is he?

  Ah. He is with the Keeper.

  Kaylin didn’t ask where he’d been until now. Instead, she opened her eyes. The air was once again clear; she was on the back of a golden Dragon whose scales gleamed in the aftermath of an impromptu shower. Grethan was rigid in Teela’s arms, and Teela was the color of alabaster, except for her eyes, which were the expected very dark blue.

  The water itself was once again confined in the deep, still pond; the brazier in the fire looked no worse for the deluge. The breeze was warm, but gentle.

  Evanton, however, was soggy. He resembled an elderly, bedraggled rat, but with less hair. “Do not give me that look, Private; I assure you I am drier than you are.”

  Bellusdeo, relieved of passengers, snorted smoke. “It occurs to me,” she said, “that the Imperial Court is unlikely to be impressed.”

  “You didn’t go dragon in the city streets,” Kaylin pointed out.

  “No. They’d be instantly aware of that transgression. I’m more concerned about the clothing.”

  “...Clothing.”

  “Don’t make that face. I’m not about to parade naked through Elani street. I am, however, about to be reduced to wearing armor—a military look that I fear the Emperor doesn’t favor.” She cleared her throat, loudly.

  “I think she’s telling you to turn around,” Teela said.

  “Right.”

  * * *

  Everyone was bedraggled except for the Dragon; Bellusdeo looked as if she were about to stride to war as an army of one. An impressive army, admittedly; she looked like the idealization of a warrior queen, more sculpture or painting than life. Teela was busy ringing water out of the perfect length of her hair, having done the same for her tabard. Mandoran was sitting on the ground, his knees folded into his chest, his chin resting on top of them. His eyes were ringed with shadow, but they weren’t any darker than Teela’s. Then again, black wouldn’t have been much darker than Teela’s at the moment.

  Evanton placed a hand on Mandoran’s shoulder; the Barrani youth looked up.

  “It can’t be helped,” the Keeper said, in an incredibly gentle voice. Kaylin felt her jaw slide open; she’d expected fury and death threats, as well as forcible ejection. Evanton’s frown reasserted itself as he looked at her. “I would, of course, be extremely angry if you did something this foolish in my garden.” His tone implied that he expected Kaylin, at least, to know better.

  Mandoran, however, slumped.

  “Lord Teela,” Evanton said.

  “Keeper.”

  “Take Mandoran home. He will require both food and rest.”

  “What happened?” Kaylin asked. From Teela’s expression, it was clear she already knew. “Evanton? Did you expect this?”

  “Hardly.”

  “You don’t look surprised.”

  “At my age, I seldom do. I can manage outrage, if you insist.”

  Since she had an idea of who that would be aimed at, she changed the subject. “I don’t suppose you have a dress a Dragon could wear?”

  “No.”

  “Access to one?”

  “No.”

  “Are the Imperial spies still sitting across the damn street taking notes?”

  “Yes. I imagine they were impressed that you brought Bellusdeo to visit.”

  Kaylin wanted to start the day over. The small dragon squawked.

  “They’ll be more impressed,” Teela said, “when they see the results. You look like a warrior queen.”

  Bellusdeo was not immune to honest flattery, and smiled, inclining her chin. She clearly didn’t have to deal with quartermasters.

  * * *

  “What did bring you here today?” Evanton asked Kaylin. She’d removed and wrung out her tabard, but that hadn’t helped much. She was sloshing as she walked.

  “You were waiting for us,” Kaylin replied. “You don’t know?”

  “I am not an Oracle. You’ve been absent from your beat for almost two months.” His eyes narrowed. “I had, of course, heard of Bellusdeo; I doubt there’s a thinking being in the city who hasn’t. I also heard—although in this the grapevine is less reliable—that you are now out of a home.”

  “An Arcane bomb,” Kaylin replied. “It was intended for Bellusdeo; I was collateral damage.”

  “You both appear to be healthy, if a tad on the bedraggled side.”

  She nodded and glanced at the small dragon, who was flopped across her shoulders. He lifted his head—only his head—to stare at Evanton. He then squawked. Several times. “The Arcane bomb destroyed a quarter of the building I lived in. We were at ground zero—but he put up some kind of magical shield, which saved our lives.”

  “Yes, I noticed your companion.” He bowed—to the small dragon. “My apologies for my lack of greeting. All Kaylin’s companions this afternoon are worthy of note; I am too old to deal gracefully with a crowd.”

  The small dragon nodded.

  “You are her familiar?”

  Squawk.

  “Ah. An interesting choice. I hope you don’t expect a peaceful, tranquil life.”

  Snort.

  “Evanton—can you understand him?”

  Evanton’s white brows lofted upward. “You can’t?”

  “I can figure out what he means—it’s pretty obvious. But...none of his squawks sound like language, to me.”

  The Keeper’s frown was a complicated network of lines. The small dragon squawked some more, and ended on a hiss that sounded very much like laughter. It didn’t help when Evanton chuckled in response.

  “Where did you find him?” Evanton asked.

  “Long story.”

  “You are not notably shy about an excess of words on most days.”

  “I’m not usually in the company of a Dragon and a Barrani who can piss off the heart of the elemental water just by speaking to her.” She grimaced. “I’m not usually a guest in the Imperial Palace, on a desp
erate hunt for a new home that won’t have the Emperor turning me into a small heap of ash.”

  “Ah. I take it this means Bellusdeo intends to accompany you?”

  “She’s hoping to live with me, yes. We did okay before the bomb.”

  “I don’t envy you.”

  “Evanton—you never envy me.”

  “Astute. I am, however, making the onerous attempt not to pity you.”

  “Thanks. I think.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a foot tapping. It was Teela’s.

  “Come back and have tea when you have more time to tell me about the past few months.”

  * * *

  Teela didn’t take Evanton’s advice. She switched patrolling positions and let Kaylin—and the armored Dragon—take the lead. If Kaylin had privately envied the attention that Bellusdeo drew when they were together—and she pretty much drew it all—she repented; people were practically dropping their jaws at the sight of her now. On the other hand, very few of those people—some who were very familiar to the Hawks—dared to approach her, something the court dress hadn’t seemed to discourage.

  Bellusdeo looked like a Dragon now. Many mortals had no reason to ever cross a Dragon’s path, and because they hadn’t, it was easy to mistake them for human. From a distance, that’s what they more or less resembled. Their eye color—and the inner eye membrane—were a giveaway only when you were close enough to examine the Dragon’s face. Most people had no reason to get that close.

  No one could mistake a Dragon in dragon form for a mortal—but when you were looking at giant scales, wings, claws and tail, that was understandable.

  Dragon armor, even wrapped around a human-size body—albeit a tall one—was distinctive. And at least one of the gargantuan statues of the Eternal Emperor that littered the more respectable parts of Elantra sported it—with metallic leafing. The first time Kaylin had seen that statue, she’d thought the artist a pretentious nit. The first time she’d seen the armor in actual use—on Tiamaris—she’d silently apologized to that unknown artist, which she felt was fair, since it was the same way she’d dismissed him.