Cast in Chaos

by Michelle Sagara

  “And me?” Kaylin asked, loosely clasping her hands behind her back.

  “Your race was not created here. Which means at least one of you, or your kin, could walk the long road through the dreaming. And survive it. But Lord Nightshade is correct. If you can, by accident, fall onto the dreaming road, you must avoid portals. Mine. His. The Devourer saw you. He was aware of you. He will hunt you.

  “He cannot open the portals himself. It was said he cannot create. But if a portal is open, and he can reach it somehow, he will enter that door.”

  Lord Andellen now bowed. “My pardon, Lord Tiamaris. Lady. I think that I must return—in haste—to my Lord. I had hoped to have some small tour of the fief of Tiamaris. The Barrani High Court, not conversant with the culture of the fiefs, has been troubled by the presence of a ruling Dragon Lord in the city—one who is not the Emperor.

  “But clearly, if the time for such a tour exists, it is not now.”

  Tiamaris nodded. “I believe,” he added, “that I, too, now have business elsewhere. Kaylin, attend me.”

  “Tara?”

  “He’s going to the Court,” Tara replied. “To speak with the Arkon.”

  “Oh, great. That was my next stop.”

  Tiamaris raised a brow.

  “So…” Kaylin said, as they reached the bridge—which, for the moment, had lost its wagons and their somewhat annoyed drivers and looked more or less like a normal fief bridge. “We’ve been having a bit of trouble in the city.”

  “Having, which is not the same as causing?”

  “Ha, ha. I see you’ve picked up some of Tara’s sense of humor.”

  Tiamaris frowned.

  “She’s a building, Tiamaris. She doesn’t have one.”

  “Ah. And clearly, you do.”

  “What it was meant to imply was that you now have more of a sense of humor than you had before, which was less than none at all.”

  He raised a brow, and his lips folded in just such a way that Kaylin actually laughed out loud.

  “I also know she knows how to curse in Dragon, so I intend to visit more often. Just saying.”

  He shook his head, and they walked a few blocks in silence. At length, he said, “She will be happy to have your company, although she has been quite busy in the fief. I would, however, appreciate that you keep the source of this newfound knowledge—should you be able to pronounce the words in a way that would make them recognizable—to yourself. My position in the Dragon Court is already somewhat tenuous, and at least one member would look at your acquisition of this particular part of our language as a hostile activity on my part.”

  “Sanabalis?”

  “Ah, no. If any of my kin can be said to possess a sense of humor, it is Lord Sanabalis.” The pause between this sentence and the next was distinct. It was also accompanied by a look that Kaylin didn’t immediately recognize. “Has a teacher for your etiquette lessons been confirmed yet?”

  It was hard to remember that the space between the time they’d been brought up—as utterly mandatory—and now was less than two full days. She glared. “Things have been a bit hectic—both in the Halls and the Imperial Palace. I imagine they’re willing to let it slide.”

  “Things would have to be more than merely hectic for the Dragon Court to let anything, as you put it, slide.”

  “Rains of blood?”

  He raised a brow. “Were they within the Palace?”

  “No. There was a breach of magical containment in the Palace Records, if that counts.”

  Both of his brows rose.

  “I guess that means it counts.”

  Both of his brows fell, and joined for a moment across the bridge of his nose. It was like Dragon sign language. On the other hand, his eyes were a fairly solid gold at this point, so the disapproval wasn’t all that visceral. In a more serious tone, Kaylin continued. “I have another appointment at the Oracular Halls with Sanabalis this evening—Lord Sanabalis—and the midwives are relocating all potential live births to a section of town nowhere near the aforementioned rain of blood.” Seeing his expression, she grimaced. “Don’t ask. A delicate investigation—delicate enough that I never heard a word about it in the Halls—was thrown on its ear, if we’re being polite—”

  He lifted a hand. “I see. Very well. I will, however, indulge in an attempt to continue my culture acclimatization by offering a bet on the outcome of those lessons.”

  If her jaw hadn’t been attached, she would have lost it when it fell off. As it was, it kind of hung there for a few seconds while her brain went in search of words. “You want to—you want to bet?”

  He did laugh, then. It was a low, deep, very, very loud sound, and it cleared the street for yards in any direction, even if it didn’t seem insane or maniacal. “I am attempting to absorb local color and dialect.”

  “You mean, without eating it first?”

  “Indeed.”

  She watched his face, watched his expression, watched the easy way in which he walked through the streets. He looked very much like the Tiamaris she had first met months ago—but it was as if he’d grown into his skin, somehow, as if he was truly comfortable for the first time.

  “I am not entirely certain what will occur when I enter the Palace. This will be the first time that I have appeared without an explicit command from the Emperor.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Are you asking me if I miss it?”

  She nodded.

  “No. But I do not delight in its absence, either, and this was unexpected. The Dragon Court is not entirely comfortable with my current position—which was to be expected—but over the various meetings of the past few weeks, the Dragon Lords have become less suspicious and more resigned. I am familiar with both states,” he added, with a mild grimace, “because of my rebellious youth.

  “They will never be entirely without suspicion, however. If I benefit from one thing, it is their assumption of my callow youth.”

  “All centuries of it.”

  “Indeed.”

  The Palace Guards were not in a state of high alert when Tiamaris set foot on their grounds. Then again, the Imperial Guards were human; it was just possible that they thought you could own your own land and be an upstanding citizen. Either that, or they didn’t fancy pissing off a Dragon. They were their usual brand of crisply officious, and Kaylin felt discouraged because she was certain that this is what etiquette lessons were supposed to teach. Among other things.

  But when they entered the Palace, Tiamaris was stopped by the man who often seemed to be in charge of giving directions. Seneschal? “Lord Tiamaris.”

  Tiamaris nodded. “If possible, we would like a moment of the Arkon’s time. It is likely something he would consider urgent.”

  “Very good, sir.” The man turned and signaled; he never raised his voice. Two of the Palace Guards now approached. “Please convey word that Lord Tiamaris has arrived, accompanied by an Imperial Hawk, to both the Arkon and Lord Sanabalis.”

  They didn’t salute; they did nod. And they moved quickly.

  To no one’s surprise, Sanabalis arrived first. He didn’t look entirely pleased. “Private,” he said, making the word sound like an epithet, which, given he spoke his usual High Barrani, said something. “You have been absent from the office for hours under circumstances that would be considered both unusual and upsetting at this time. I would suggest you avail yourself of the nearest mirror to let Sergeant Kassan know you are still alive.”

  She glanced down the grand—and entirely mirrorless—hall.

  Sanabalis was not, by any stretch of the imagination, in a good mood. “My meeting rooms should be ready by the time we reach them. I took the liberty of ordering food. Follow.”

  They both knew the way; they’d been there often enough at this point. But they followed in wordless silence. More or less.

  “We need to speak with the Arkon,” Kaylin told Sanabalis as they walked.

  “I’m certain a message has been sent to that effe
ct. With luck, the person carrying the message won’t suffer too much for the interruption of the Arkon’s current work.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Food, according to Kaylin’s stomach, was welcome. It was also—for Imperial Food—very simple: no sauces, no strange unidentifiable bits, nothing unusual done with eggs. Kaylin didn’t like to eat anything she couldn’t recognize. She took her usual seat in the large room, glancing as she did through the huge bank of fancy windows that overlooked the Halls of Law. The three flags—Wolf, Sword, and Hawk—were flapping in the winds at the heights, and Aerians in larger numbers than usual were on sky patrol.

  She frowned; their patrol was both lower and wider than its usual orbit of the towers. “Sanabalis?” she asked, as she watched.

  The familiar sound of Tiamaris clearing his throat made her add a word as she tried again. “Lord Sanabalis?”

  “Private?”

  “Did something else happen while I was missing?”

  “I believe Sergeant Kassan may have new information for you.”

  “Will I survive long enough to get any of it?”

  “It depends. How often does your Sergeant worry when you’ve disappeared without warning or notice, in an obviously magical way, in the center of a locus of potential that is entirely unpredictable?”

  She cringed. “Can I use a mirror here?”

  “Use the mirror on the inside of the cabinet on the East wall.” As she began to make her way across the room, he added, “The other East, Private.”

  Marcus was a bristling ball of fur. Kaylin could see that clearly, even though the face that mostly filled the mirror when she made the connection was Caitlin’s. “Kaylin!”

  Kaylin immediately held up both hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry.”

  “You went into Evanton’s shop and disappeared for several hours, dear.” She spoke in a very quiet voice. Given it was Marcus, it wouldn’t help.

  “Marcus looks…fluffy.”

  “It’s been a difficult few hours. We’ve been handed a small army of lawyers’ documents, not all of which can be forwarded to the Palace to be dealt with. You disappeared—the young boy, Grethan, was very distraught when he mirrored—and there have been five fires within the quarantined area, all of unknown origin.

  “There’s also been a delegation of Arcanists ensconced in the waiting rooms for the past hour and—”

  “Private!”

  “Here’s Sergeant Kassan, dear.”

  “Where the hells are you?” Marcus said. His jaw was in the position that had earned him the nickname Ironjaw, and his fangs—both sets—were on prominent display. Kaylin instantly lifted her chin, exposing her throat, which wasn’t going to be all that calming, given he couldn’t actually reach through the mirror to grab it.

  She cleared said exposed throat. “I’m with Lord Sanabalis and Lord Tiamaris in the Imperial Palace.”

  Her location—and the probable existence of witnesses—might not make a difference given his current mood, but it couldn’t hurt. His eyes were a shade of orange that was too damn close to red; she tried to pretend it was just the visual distortions of the mirror’s transmission. He took a deep breath, and expelled it in a growl.

  “When, exactly, did you arrive at the Palace?”

  She grimaced. “Ten minutes ago.”

  “And you took the time to wander over to the fiefs and pick up Lord Tiamaris on your way there?”

  She really, really wished his eyes would shade a little more to the gold. Or a lot. “Not exactly.”

  “There is an explanation for your sudden disappearance?”

  “I’m—I’m not entirely sure.”

  Marcus growled. It was a low sound that caused the image in the mirror to vibrate.

  “I can tell you what happened,” she added quickly. “I just can’t explain why. I opened a door in Evanton’s shop, and I ended up somewhere else. I couldn’t get back to either his shop or anything resembling the world I know.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “Yes. Nightshade found me. Don’t ask. I don’t understand how it worked, either. I didn’t intend to disappear, Marcus.”

  “And you intended to report in and it slipped your mind?”

  This was not a question she wanted to answer in the affirmative. It was not, sadly, a question that could be answered in any other way, because Kaylin was demonstrably still alive and still conscious.

  “Sergeant Kassan,” Sanabalis said, unexpectedly coming to her rescue. “My apologies for interfering in your discussion with Private Neya, but the Arkon has arrived, and his time is being diverted—to his grave displeasure—from studies the Emperor feels necessary to our present difficulties.

  “If you could perhaps resume your disciplinary interrogation after the Arkon has concluded his brief visit, I would be grateful.”

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed; the fur tufts on his ears were standing straight up. But he nodded, curtly, to the Dragon Lord. “I expect a full report on the entire day before you leave for the night,” he added to Kaylin. The mirror went gray before she could reply.

  Orange-eyed Leontines were a fact of life. They weren’t a pleasant fact of life, but if you worked in the Halls of Law, you learned to deal with them. Orange-eyed Dragons were, sadly, becoming a fact of life, and Kaylin was considerably less sanguine about their existence.

  Lord Tiamaris and Lord Sanabalis bowed, quickly, as the Arkon entered the familiar room. Kaylin did the same, but she was more careful about the speed at which she shed obsequiousness. He did not look happy to see her. He looked about as pleased to see Tiamaris, but he did offer Sanabalis a terse, and not terribly friendly, nod. He took a seat without preamble, and he fried a sandwich in the process. He also burned through half the table the sandwich was on. She had never seen the Arkon breathe fire before.

  The table teetered, and Sanabalis caught it deftly—and with out comment—before it landed, smoldering, on the carpets beneath it. He put the small flames out with his hands, again without comment, before he took a seat himself. Tiamaris waited until the two older Dragons were seated before he sat. Kaylin stood.

  “I am busy,” the Arkon told her, again without preamble. “No reason was given for the interruption.” His tone made clear that the reason she was about to offer had better be a damn good one.

  “I’m here,” Kaylin said, keeping her voice cool and even, “to ask you about the Devourer.”

  The silence that enfolded the room in the wake of the word was entirely controlled by the Arkon. His eyes did not, in fact, shift color at all, and to make the threat in that color clear, his inner membranes now lowered completely. She swore the other two Dragons weren’t even breathing.

  Then again, she had never seen the Arkon angry before; maybe they had.

  “The Devourer.” It wasn’t a question. She now had his full attention. His irritation at his interrupted research—whatever it was—seemed to have evaporated, along with the sandwich and part of the table.

  She waited. It wasn’t a game; she was being cautious. For Kaylin, silence had often been the best bet.

  “You will now explain where you heard the word, and in what context,” the Arkon said. “You will answer any questions I ask, but absent those questions, you will start at the beginning and continue—in a logical, linear fashion—until you reach the end.”

  She nodded carefully, and taking a small breath, began.

  “The Keeper’s Garden was not the Garden?”

  “No.”

  “And you knew this how?”

  “I’ve been in it a couple of times.”

  “It looked the same, to your eye.”

  “Yes. But that’s all it did—it looked the same. There was no life in it.”

  “Continue.”

  “You heard a growl?”

  “Yes.”

  “An actual growl?”

  “That’s what it sounded like to me.”

  For the first time, the Arkon looked away from
Kaylin’s face. “Sanabalis, I would like to access the Palace Records.”

  “I think it unwise,” was Sanabalis’s cautious reply. “If it becomes necessary, we might repair to the Library. There are stronger wards and magical precautions in place against unknown or unpredictable intrusions, there.”

  To Kaylin’s surprise, the Arkon nodded. “If it becomes necessary.” He turned back to Kaylin; he did not appear to notice that Tiamaris was in the room. Lucky Tiamaris. “Continue.”

  “You summoned Lord Nightshade.”

  “No. I called his name.”

  “And he heard it.”

  “Yes. He went into the portal between his Castle and the rest of the fiefs, and he—he ripped down part of the wall.”

  “That is a very imprecise description, Private Neya.”

  “It’s the only description I have.”

  “Very well. I am considering a permanent memory crystal. For your use.”

  She stopped herself from grimacing or objecting. Barely.

  “This hole that he ripped in the wall was visible to you from where you were standing?”

  She nodded. “It was black. He was standing in it. The growling had gotten a lot louder while I’d been calling him—I don’t know if that’s because whatever was making the noise could hear me call. In theory, I know that’s not possible. But practically speaking, it certainly looked that way.

  “But I made it to Nightshade. He was having trouble holding the hole open. I was moving slowly. I think the landscape shifted under my feet as I tried to reach him, and I ended up jumping that last little bit. He caught me. Something else caught me, as well, from the other side.”