Cast in Chaos

by Michelle Sagara

  The Arkon’s eyes were a deep orange when he turned to her, dropping his inner membranes. She took that as a yes. She also stopped herself from taking a step back. “He did.”

  Kaylin said, quietly, “It’s the Devourer, isn’t it? Whatever that is or was?”

  “At this point, given our scant knowledge, I am hesitant to concur. I will, however. We have been in contact with Lord Tiamaris. Lord Diarmat chose to visit the fief of Tiamaris when you left for the Oracular Halls with Lord Sanabalis. In future, I believe I will redirect Sanabalis to Tiamaris from the Halls, and you will just have to live without sleep.”

  Kaylin knew very little about Lord Diarmat. She had met him once—briefly—but didn’t recall speaking two words to him. He was, as Sanabalis and Tiamaris, a member of the Dragon Court; he was, unlike Sanabalis and Tiamaris, distinctly unfriendly.

  Severn came to her rescue as he so often did. “Lord Diarmat is, if I’m not mistaken, the Captain of the Imperial Guard?”

  The Arkon snorted smoke. “It is the least of his titles, but yes, if it pleases you, that is one of his duties.”

  Kaylin grimaced.

  “It is possible you will meet him today,” the Arkon continued. Kaylin’s shoulders immediately slid partway down the rest of her back. Of her many life’s ambitions, meeting the Dragon in command of the most stuck-up guards in the city was no where near the top. Still, it explained something about the guard here. “I would advise you to be on your best behavior. Or, given what I’ve seen, better. Lord Diarmat is a bit of a traditionalist.”

  “Meaning he thinks you should still be able to eat the people who offend you?”

  “I do,” was the Arkon’s reply. He paced around the table. “You understand the import of the painting?” he asked her.

  “It’s a portal.”

  He nodded.

  “Sanabalis once said—Lord Sanabalis once said—that humans aren’t native to this world. I think he implied that other mortal races weren’t, either, excepting the Leontines. If the only other Records you have—or nonrecords—imply that a huge crater appeared shortly after the arrival of humans, it’s possible that the portal is magically unstable.”

  The Dragon snorted.

  Kaylin obligingly tried again, frowning slightly, as she often did when she was thinking. “If I had to guess—and I’m not a mage—the magical flux in the area is strongest where Everly painted his version of Elani. Sanabalis hasn’t said anything about the results of the Imperial Order of Mages’ tests there.

  “But it’s possible that the existence of the portal requires a huge amount of magic, and it’s gathering magic. Or even shedding it. It’s doing something, somehow, to make entry from nowhere to here possible. I think that’s why I fell out of the world.”

  The Arkon snorted again; he clearly didn’t approve of her description of the event.

  “I wouldn’t have been able to get back without the intervention of Lord Nightshade. But…I think someone is trying to get here. Or possibly just to get somewhere. Someone who can,” she added. “And whoever it is, he or she is bringing a lot of people with them.”

  “Very good. What, then, is the danger?”

  “I’d say having thousands of people who are armed to the teeth appear in the middle of the streets is pretty bloody dangerous all on its own. But… When I fell through the world, something else was in the nothing, and it became aware of me. I think, whatever else it does, it…eats things.”

  “If indications are correct, it is called the Devourer.”

  She nodded, pretending to ignore the sarcasm, which took monumental effort. “It was there. If there’s anything at all like location in the nonworld, the Devourer was close enough that it could hear me. But it…heard me only when I…called Lord Nightshade. I think, until then, it was searching. But I think,” she added quietly, “it was searching for them. For whoever’s trying to reach safety.”

  She glanced, briefly, at her covered arms. “I don’t know all of what the Devourer does. But I think one of the things it does is eat words. True words,” she added. She looked at the Arkon; his eyes hadn’t changed color. “I think he can eat your names.”

  What the Arkon might have replied was lost to the sound of door chimes. The chimes hadn’t sounded when Kaylin, Sanabalis, and Severn entered; they sounded now, and as the door opened enough to allow a first glimpse of the Arkon’s unwanted visitors, Kaylin’s brows disappeared into her hairline.

  There, standing between Sanabalis, who held the door, and the Arkon, who stepped toward them, were two people she recognized well: the Lord of the Barrani High Court, and his consort, The Lady.

  The Lord of the High Court inclined his head; more was not required. “Lord Kaylin,” he said, emphasizing the title. “Lord Severn.”

  Severn did bow, which reminded Kaylin that she ought to be doing the same. But she took a quick step toward The Lady instead, and after a brief hesitation, informed by her clumsy understanding of politics, their import, and the sense that this was somehow a hugely historic moment, she stepped into the consort’s open arms. The hug was brief and fierce.

  The Barrani castelord then offered the Arkon a full, and formal, bow. “We were surprised to receive your invitation, Arkon,” he said, as he rose. “But we were not ill-pleased.”

  “You were,” was the testy response. “But you have no doubt had word.”

  “We have received word, from many sources, that there are strong and unusual magical currents and potentials located within Elantra at the moment. Master Evarrim of the Arcanum—”

  “Save us from the Arcanists,” someone muttered. Kaylin realized, belatedly, that it was her, and she reddened.

  The High Lord, having perfected many arts political, failed entirely to hear her. “—has brought it to the attention of the High Court. He is concerned, Arkon.”

  “So is the Emperor.”

  “That was our understanding. The Emperor, however, has not tendered an invitation to his Court.”

  “He has granted permission for me to extend one,” was the curt reply. “He is, of course, aware of your presence here.” The Arkon raised one brow. “Permission was granted for two guards. I see none.”

  “Ah. I was not certain how the term guard was to be defined in the Imperial Palace,” came the smooth reply. “And I was made aware that both Lord Kaylin and Lord Severn would be present.”

  For the first time that day the Arkon smiled. It was a thin, sharp smile, but there was definitely amusement in it. “Well done,” he said softly. “I cannot think why the Barrani are considered so difficult to deal with. I deal with mortals all of the time, and I can assure you they are vastly more trying. And fragile.”

  This did draw a smile from the High Lord. Which figured.

  “The Imperial Palace is situated in the area in which magic behaves in unpredictable and unusual ways. We are therefore hampered in our choice of tools.”

  There was a long hesitation, and then the High Lord turned to his Consort. He didn’t speak, but a look passed between them. “How important are these tools to your studies?”

  “They are of import. However,” the Arkon added, “in the completely unexpected event that you offer the use of the High Halls as a more appropriate place of study, I must add that much of what we need is ensconced in Imperial Records Archives, all of which are not to be accessed without extreme caution. There is some concern on the part of the Archivist—”

  “That would be you, Arkon?”

  “Indeed.”

  “The concern?”

  “That the use of Records will actually corrupt them.”

  The High Lord raised one dark brow. “Very well. The Records of the High Court are not, of course, the equal of the Arkon’s Records in any way.”

  “Nor are they accessible to the Arkon, one assumes.”

  The High Lord glanced at Kaylin, of all people. “They are not, of course, accessible directly. But in the case of an emergency, some accommodation could be made. It is somet
hing to consider,” he added, glancing at the rounded curves of walls and windowless domes. “And I believe you would find it more…aesthetically appealing.”

  “Aesthetics are not a concern of mine,” was the Arkon’s reply. “If it pleases you, there are refreshments.”

  The High Lord nodded and entered the room; the Consort lingered a moment to speak—in low tones—with the Arkon. The Arkon’s eyes were still orange, but hers? Hers were a deep and beautiful shade of emerald. The High Lord’s were almost, but not quite, blue. Kaylin wished, for just a minute, that they could have met in the Library, with its miles of shelving, or maybe in the galleries in which much of the Arkon’s collection resided.

  But they weren’t here for a tour. She gave herself a mental kick; it’s not as if she personally were interested in either of those rooms—but she thought the Consort would be.

  “There is little discussion between our Courts,” Lord Sanabalis said, as he closed the door behind him. “And yet, we have much in common.”

  “The Lord of the Dragon Court is the Eternal Emperor,” the High Lord replied, pointing out the biggest thing they didn’t have in common.

  “Indeed,” was the smooth reply.

  Kaylin glanced at Severn, who was watching everything in the room so intently he might have been a memory crystal, not a person.

  “We have, however, ceased to war, and between our two Courts, a city has emerged that is home to people of all races. It is, even in the Arkon’s opinion, an interesting endeavor.” Sanabalis kept distance between himself and the High Lord; his eyes were a shade of orange-gold; he was alert, but not alarmed.

  “The city is ruled by the Emperor.”

  “Not all of the City,” was the serene reply. “The heart of it is ruled, in the end, by no one.”

  Silence settled around the room. It was Ybelline who broke it. “High Lord,” she said, bowing. “Consort.”

  They turned cool gazes upon her, and Kaylin felt her spine stiffening. She spoke before they could. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know Ybelline Rabon’alani so well I forget it’s possible not to recognize her.” She tried to keep the edge out of her voice. “Ybelline, this is the High Lord of the Barrani Court, and his Consort. We call her The Lady. And this,” she added, “is Ybelline Rabon’alani, the castelord of the Tha’alani.”

  They both inclined their heads with some grace, and no friendliness whatsoever. Kaylin sighed inwardly. She understood their reaction; hers would have been far worse even a year ago. And they weren’t actively hostile or rude. Nor did Ybelline seem to be at all offended or hurt by their response, so it was stupid to feel either of those things on her behalf. People seldom accused Kaylin of being smart.

  As if she could read the thought—without the necessary physical contact—Ybelline shook her head very slightly.

  Sanabalis then began to detail what he believed the difficulty they faced was. Kaylin took care to note which details he left out, but there weren’t, in the end, many, and the only significant one was the hidden altar with its glowing symbols and its copper-eyed, ancient stranger.

  “And so we must now rely on the mercy or the self-interest of the Barrani,” Sanabalis finished. “Our historical Records contain very little of note—what they contain,” he added, with a nod to the Arkon, “have been significant enough that we are willing to draw this conclusion. The magical potentials being witnessed, the unusual expressions of that potential, are in part caused by someone—or some multiple of people—who are attempting to open a gate or a portal into our world.

  “The power necessary to sustain a portal of this nature would be staggering—in theory—and some spillage or leakage would be expected. Nor would the construction of such a portal necessarily be an instantaneous event—although it is likely to be witnessed as such, in the end.”

  “Can you assume that this Oracle is accurate to that degree?” the High Lord asked.

  “If we cannot, I fear we will lose the city.”

  “Explain.”

  “When the portal opens, we should see an immediate cessation of the leakage or potential. If we are very unlucky—and it is to be hoped we are not—we might see a magical null zone in a very, very unfortunate geographic location. In and of itself, such a zone would not signal an end to the city, of course.

  “But what the Oracular Halls have witnessed thus far imply that it is not just thousands of armed men—and women—who will enter the city streets as a veritable army, but also something that might be hunting them as they travel, even now. We believe—again, with very little in the way of solid fact—that it is this entity that poses the true threat to the security of the Empire.”

  “What entity?” the Consort asked quietly.

  Sanabalis glanced at Kaylin. It was a pointed glance. The Private cleared her throat, and said, “The Devourer.” It was, Kaylin realized belatedly, a High Barrani word.

  The Consort, already the porcelain pale of the Barrani, froze, and her eyes shaded instantly into a blue so dark it was almost midnight.

  “Where did you hear that name?” All of the friendly openness of her face had drained away: she was a Winter Queen, and the unusual color of her platinum hair only added to the impression. She rose, her hands by her sides; even the High Lord seemed forgotten.

  Only Kaylin was not.

  “In the fiefs,” Kaylin replied, hedging. She glanced at the Dragons in turn, and saw that while Sanabalis affected the perfect inscrutability of his kind, the Arkon was now watching the Consort intently.

  The answer did not please the Consort, and Kaylin realized—instantly—the error of her partial disclosure. “It wasn’t Lord Nightshade,” she said quickly.

  “Who, then?”

  “It was in the fief of Tiamaris.”

  “Lord Tiamaris? The youngest of the Dragon Court?”

  “No. No, Lady.” She grimaced. While the previous day had been undeniably unique, she was getting pretty damn tired of recounting its events. Recounting its events when a couple of the words had instantly turned possibly the friendliest and most human of the Barrani Court into one of the least friendly and least human, caused words to momentarily flee. She found them again, because she realized that those eyes weren’t getting any greener.

  “The Tower of Tiamaris has an Avatar who can wander the fief at will. I spoke to her first. She recognized what I described.”

  This didn’t significantly change the shade of the Consort’s eyes, and Kaylin sighed and began to recount the events of import again, leaving out the more sensitive Oracular information, and all direct mention of the events within the Palace itself. Even if she had told all of the truth, the Consort would have assumed she was omitting things; the Consort was Barrani.

  Some of the rigidity of the Consort’s posture relaxed as Kaylin reached the end of her story, but her eyes were still midnightblue, and her knuckles were now white; it was as if all of the tension in her body had drained into her hands and condensed there. “If it were not for the fact that the Devourer was hunting already, Lord Kaylin, I would accuse you of endangering the whole of our world. As it is, you have offered warning.”

  “How do you know so much?” Kaylin countered.

  The Consort glanced at the High Lord; the High Lord, at the Dragon Lords. Kaylin felt her own hands bunching into fists, because she was sick to death of pointless politics. She forced her hands to relax, bit back her words, and waited for the Consort’s answer.

  She wasn’t surprised when the Consort finally said, “We will retreat to the High Halls, Lord Kaylin, where we might discuss this matter at length.”

  Severn rose; the Consort lifted a hand. “No, Lord Severn. My Lord will remain with the Arkon and Lord Sanabalis. You will not abandon him. Where Lord Kaylin and I go, none of you can follow.” She turned then, and opened the door. Kaylin, whose day had started out so well—Marcus hadn’t even touched her exposed throat—knew it was once again spiraling unpredictably out of control.

  “Arkon?” Kaylin
asked quietly.

  “Go with her,” was his curt reply. “If she is willing to trust you with information, it is because you are nominally a Lord of the High Court. Neither Sanabalis nor I will ever be that. If it is warranted, make certain that you understand clearly how much of this information is given to you in the confidence of that Court, and how much you might repeat to us. The Barrani have very few definitions of treason compared to the human Caste Court, but rather longer reach than the human Caste Court, and infinitely longer memories.”

  I don’t get paid enough for this, Kaylin thought with a grimace. Then she thought about asking Marcus for a raise at this particular point in time, and quickly followed the Consort out.

  The Consort and the High Lord had arrived, of course, in a Barrani carriage. It was, in some ways, the antithesis of the Imperial Carriages, in part because it didn’t have to support the weight of up to four Dragon Lords at one time. Where the Imperial Carriages were like large boats on wheels, albeit solid, stable and attractive ones, the Barrani carriages implied supple, slender, tensile strength; they were adorned with a crest, but seemed, at first glance, to suggest things delicate and graceful. Like much about the Barrani, the suggestion was deceptive.

  Kaylin sat across from the Consort in the enclosed space; the seats were a startling green, and everything was, of course, spotless and perfect. Even the Consort, but her transformation from that brittle perfection to something less dangerous took most of the utterly silent journey. When they disembarked, she turned to Kaylin; her eyes were still blue, but they weren’t as dark.

  “My apologies, Lord Kaylin,” she said wearily. The first two words almost didn’t make sense because they were in Barrani and they sounded genuine. Kaylin had borne the brunt of numerable Barrani apologies in the past, most of which were of the I’m sorry you’re so ignorant variety. “We were…surprised to receive an invitation to visit the Imperial Palace, and were cautiously…pleased. Most of the interactions between the Palace and the High Halls occur through various functionaries—yourself, the Hawklord on rare occasion, the humans in the Caste Court. It is true that Leontines seldom visit,” she added with a shrug. “But Dragons? Never. Nor do we visit the Dragons.