“On the bright side, I can’t feel my hand, and half of my skin feels numb.”
“Then you do it—he could probably use the warning, if Sanabalis is correct.” Her smile was deeper. “He was like this in my childhood. We once attempted to get his attention by causing all sorts of commotion. We certainly got everyone else’s.”
“Did you get his?”
“The tools at my disposal at that time were few.”
That was a no. Kaylin, who hated door wards, nonetheless lifted a hand—her left hand—and placed her palm firmly against the ward.
Nothing happened.
* * *
“I see he really doesn’t want to be interrupted.” Bellusdeo’s eyes were, of all the Dragons present, the most golden. Kaylin wondered what kind of friendship she and Terrano might have developed had they met when they were young. The world was probably a safer place as it was.
Kaylin dropped her hand to the door handles. The doors were locked. They were locked in the normal way—but these doors didn’t have a keyhole of any kind on this side. Before she bent to examine the crack between those doors, she thought better of it. This was the palace.
“Oh, well,” Bellusdeo said, shrugging. She then lifted her chin and once again let loose a volley of native Dragon. Kaylin recognized two words: border zone. Those were in Elantran.
Silence descended—eventually—when the echoes of Draconic syllables stopped reverberating in the ceilings above. Bellusdeo was smiling broadly. “The trick,” she said, “was always to understand his particular concentration if you wanted to be able to break it.”
“What if he thinks you’re lying?”
“He probably does.” Her eyes were almost sparkling, and at the moment, pure gold. “He always did. But he couldn’t ignore the possibility that we were speaking the truth.”
The hair on the back of Kaylin’s neck stood on end. The door wards had been reactivated.
* * *
Kaylin touched the doors, and, as predicted, the entire palace was...enlivened...by the happy sound of blaring alarms. The palace guard poured into the hall, weapons drawn; the sound of Dragon spoken at a distance joined the guards. Kaylin hoped it wasn’t Diarmat. But given that the only other Dragon likely to join in was the Emperor, she squashed that quickly. Angry Diarmat, she could—and had—survived. She was certain she had never seen a truly angry Emperor. She had zero desire to do so.
The doors took forever to roll open, and by the time they had, Sanabalis and Emmerian had turned their backs on Kaylin, facing opposite ends of the halls. Kaylin wasn’t certain what their rank was in relation to the guards’, but clearly being a Lord of the Dragon Court meant something.
The weapons were sheathed, and the guards dispersed.
When the doors were fully open, the Arkon stood three yards away. His eyes were, at this distance, an alarming orange-red. He appeared to be breathing smoke, which probably meant fire wasn’t far behind. Kaylin, being a coward, stood to one side of—and behind—Bellusdeo.
Emmerian was the first to move through the library doors; Bellusdeo had to scurry to catch up. What was almost shocking to Kaylin was that she did. Sanabalis, like Kaylin, looked as if he wanted to be someplace else. Anywhere else.
Which was fair.
It was Sanabalis who received what might have been—had it been less full of anger—a reproachful stare. Sanabalis was meant to know better. Kaylin made a mental note to visit the Arkon with Sanabalis in tow.
What interested Kaylin was Emmerian. The Arkon didn’t appear to consider Emmerian to be the source of interruption, and therefore offense. Nor did Emmerian consider his presence—an interruption that was forbidden—to be a difficulty.
“Lord Sanabalis,” the Arkon said, his eyes almost red, his voice chilly.
“It is not his fault,” Bellusdeo then said.
The Arkon’s glance flicked off her armor, his expression glacial. To Kaylin’s surprise, the gold Dragon laughed. This did not improve the Arkon’s expression. “Come, come,” she said, approaching him. “It is nostalgic to see you so annoyed.”
Nostalgic wasn’t the word Kaylin would have used, if she’d dared to speak at all.
The Arkon’s breath was fire, but it was contained to the air between him and the approaching Bellusdeo. “I do not know why I did not reduce you—and your sisters—to cinders centuries ago.”
“Because,” she said, smiling sweetly, “we were never boring.” Kaylin couldn’t see her expression. She did see the reluctant gentling of the Arkon’s.
“Why are you here?”
“You are holed up in this library, and rumor has it that you have closed the public collection to the public.”
“Because I did not wish to be disturbed. By anyone.”
“Yes, yes. I must admit it far more challenging than it was before you became the Arkon. And I had eight helpers then. At the moment, I’m forced to make do with one.”
The Arkon finally moved his glare to Kaylin. It might have stayed there except Kaylin was carrying something in her hands.
The orange of his eyes was lost not to gold but to silver. “What do you carry?” he demanded, shaking himself free of the only Dragon he seemed to adore. He crossed the room, his gaze unwavering, although he scattered words as if they were weapons.
“Sanabalis, explain yourself.”
“Lannagaros.”
“I was not aware that you had usurped his name,” the Arkon snapped.
Sanabalis bowed his head for a moment. Kaylin could see his back, not his face. “Lord Bellusdeo,” he said, the use of the title both inaccurate and respectful, “accompanied Private Neya—”
“Corporal Neya. I’m a corporal now.”
“Ah. Apologies. And belated congratulations on your promotion.” He cleared his throat, teacher-style, a clear indication that corporals could burn as easily as privates could. “Lord Bellusdeo accompanied Kaylin. It is, for the mortal servants and officials, either too late or too early for a visit of any sort. She wished to speak with you.
“You have left strict instructions. Bellusdeo considered the instructions irrelevant to her goals, and asked for permission to break them.”
“And you gave her that permission.”
“I did. I would have risked her wrath,” Sanabalis continued, “had I not seen what Kaylin carried. Had I sent them both away, your wrath would have been more difficult.”
“Well?” the Arkon then said, his voice testy, his eyes losing the silver sheen. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Very well. I invite you to move out of the way.”
“I remind you that what Kaylin carries appears to be magical in nature, and the library and its—”
“It is mine, Sanabalis. It is my risk to take.”
“But you will be in a foul mood for decades, in the most optimistic scenario,” Bellusdeo added. “Honestly, Lannagaros. I have never seen you so impatient. Even in our youth, you...” Her voice trailed off, her gaze moving from the Arkon, her expression shifting from the sweet and affectionate malice with which she treated the Arkon to something almost akin to alarm.
She looked to Sanabalis, and after a brief pause, to Emmerian.
Emmerian’s eyes were orange now. Nothing else about his posture or attention had changed.
Sanabalis moved out of the Arkon’s way. Kaylin tried to do the same. It was instinctive, and it was the wrong move, but it was survivable.
“What are you carrying?” the Arkon demanded.
Kaylin held it out to him, her arms shaking from more than just cold.
“Answer the question, Kaylin. I am at the limit of patience.”
“It’s a book,” she told him. The Arkon was often condescending and dismissive when dealing with Kaylin. This was neither. Whatever it was, she found she preferred the condescension—something she would have bet against ever feelin
g.
“A book. That is what you see?”
She nodded, lifting it so that he could see the cover.
“A book.” His eyes were a complicated color now. To Kaylin, they seemed to be shading from the orange-gold that was normal to something that looked almost blue. Or green. It was not a color she remembered seeing in Dragon eyes, and she was instantly tense. Green, she thought, with hints of copper. What was copper again? Sadness? Grief?
He did not lift his hands to take what she now offered.
“What does it look like to you?”
“A ghost,” he said quietly, his gaze upon the object. “A dream.” He exhaled. “Why did you bring this to me?”
“We didn’t mean to. I mean—that’s not what I was told to do.”
“Told?”
Bellusdeo cleared her throat. “There was some difficulty. Kaylin was—according to Kaylin—asked to deliver this book to someone else.”
“Asked by who?” Smoke thickened the air immediately around the Arkon.
“You will have to ask Kaylin. No one else could see him.” Definitely stronger orange now. “If you would take the book from her hands, she might stop shivering. It is almost making me cold just looking at her.”
“I am not certain I can, as you put it, take it,” the Arkon replied. “I will, however, take the Corporal. Follow.”
* * *
Some confusion about the presence of the rest of the Dragons ensued. The Arkon’s command had been directed, without hesitation, at Kaylin—the only person in the room who actually needed sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Well, not tomorrow. Tomorrow was a word used to describe the day after she’d gotten sleep.
By unspoken consensus, the Dragons followed Kaylin. Bellusdeo couldn’t be left behind, and Sanabalis was distinctly curious. Emmerian fell in beside Bellusdeo; he asked a question that didn’t reach Kaylin’s ear. After a moment, Bellusdeo glanced back at the Hawk, and then grimaced and nodded.
Emmerian then turned and left the library. Kaylin was cursing on the inside of her head. She wanted to go home.
Throughout this, Hope remained supine. The Arkon’s mood didn’t trouble him at all. It wouldn’t, though; Hope wouldn’t melt or burn to ash if the Arkon lost his temper. It was always safer to be near the heart of his collection. Here, fire would destroy more than just an unlucky corporal.
He can aim his fire quite carefully, Hope said.
She poked him, a silent version of shut up.
* * *
When the Arkon came to a halt, it was in front of a blank wall. Kaylin recognized this as the entrance to what was, presumably, a safe room. The Arkon barked a Draconic word, and the wall dilated. He then turned to her, his gaze traveling to her companions.
“You will not want to speak with the Emperor,” Sanabalis reasonably said. “And it is possible that information will have to be conveyed.” He did not suggest that Bellusdeo be that conveyance, and even in his terrible mood, the Arkon accepted that Sanabalis was the best choice. Sanabalis left to make his report.
The room contained one largish table and one mirror. It was a standing desk mirror of the type that adorned many of the Hawks’ desks, and it was reflective at the moment.
There were six chairs tucked beneath the table. The Arkon gestured impatiently and Kaylin took the one farthest from where he was standing. Bellusdeo arched a brow in her direction, as if to accuse her of cowardice. Cowardice, hells. It was common sense.
“We will wait for Emmerian,” the Arkon surprised them all by saying.
“Oh?”
“I can hear the corporal’s stomach, and I find the sound annoying.”
* * *
Emmerian brought both food and Sanabalis. He carried it himself. As he was a Lord of the Dragon Court, it probably wasn’t his job—but the various servants and officials in the palace were shielded from the Arkon’s temper this way. She found herself liking Emmerian better for it. Especially since she was the person for whom the food was mostly intended.
“Eat. I don’t particularly care if you talk with your mouth full. Only Diarmat does, and he is not here.”
Kaylin was grateful to be given an order that she could happily obey. She set the book on the table, but kept one hand on it—the left one. The right, she used to eat a sandwich. There were a lot of little ones, but it was better than nothing.
“Can you tell him what happened tonight?” she asked Bellusdeo. “I’ll fill in the parts that don’t overlap.”
“Fine. Can you let go of the book?”
“I can, obviously; it’s not attached to my hand.”
“Then why don’t you?”
Hope flicked her cheek with his tail.
“Never mind. Tell me,” she added to the familiar, “what do you see when you look at this?”
Hope wasn’t of a mind to answer, which was fine with Kaylin. Her hearing had recovered after the spate of native Dragon, and she didn’t need more loud noises bellowed beside her ear.
Bellusdeo began. Emmerian’s eyes were orange—more orange—by the time she’d finished; Sanabalis’s were closer to the gold end of the spectrum, although he was frowning.
No one except the Arkon interrupted, and he peppered her narrative with questions. Not all of them were meant for Bellusdeo.
“You could not hear Nightshade?”
Kaylin, mouth full, nodded and swallowed. “I lost him. I think I woke up because of it. But he wasn’t the only person who’d gone missing by that point.”
“You are certain Nightshade was in the border zone?”
“It’s where he said he was going. We couldn’t return to the building we’d left, or at least not quickly—as Bellusdeo said, she was doing an inspection of the Ravellon borders, and that ate a lot of our time. Nightshade wanted to keep exploring and searching.”
“You did not.”
“No—we came here.”
“And Nightshade?”
“Lannagaros, if you would allow me to continue, your questions will be answered. I honestly do not know how you can, with a straight face and sense of righteous indignation, tell anyone else to practice patience.”
He turned to her, but upon seeing her expression, exhaled. So did Kaylin.
Bellusdeo looked worried.
The Arkon closed his eyes.
Emmerian’s head was slightly bowed, as if in concentration. Sanabalis, like Bellusdeo, looked worried.
“My apologies,” the Arkon said before he opened his eyes. “Please, continue. I will reserve my questions until I have heard the rest of your story.”
Food lost taste as Kaylin ate, because she, too, was now worried.
* * *
Bellusdeo then continued. Kaylin’s eyes were practically nailed to the Arkon’s face by this point. She had seen him lose his temper before; she had seen irritation result in a face full of fire—luckily, Sanabalis’s face, not hers. He was irritable on interruption, and on bad days people breathing the same air was considered an interruption. She had never quite seen him like this.
Neither had Bellusdeo—but it seemed clear to Kaylin that both Sanabalis and Emmerian had. Sanabalis wasn’t even looking at the book on the table. She almost asked him what he saw when he looked at it, but Bellusdeo was still talking, and she didn’t like her chances of surviving unscathed if she was the one who interrupted.
But... Bellusdeo had been worried about the Arkon after their first visit to discuss the border zone. Kaylin had seen nothing out of the ordinary in the Arkon. The Dragons knew something that she didn’t, which was fair.
Frustrating, but fair. The Arkon now looked attentive; he looked normal, if focused. His eyes remained a shade of orange that implied he was clinging to tolerance of interruption with main force, but—he looked like an irritable old librarian to Kaylin.
When Bellusdeo reached the part
of the story with the not-Killian building, she passed the rest of the telling to Kaylin.
* * *
“Bellusdeo and Teela could see marks or words on the doors. Like—office signs.”
“You could not?”
Kaylin shook her head. “But I’d seen movement in the windows facing the street, and I wanted to investigate. The doors weren’t warded and they weren’t locked.”
“An oversight, I’m certain.” His expression was pure Arkon.
“When I opened the door, I saw a room. With books in it. Maybe a personal library—but larger than any personal library I’ve seen before. And a Barrani man was standing in front of a wall of bookshelves, perusing the spines.”
“We couldn’t see him,” Bellusdeo then added.
“Was there anything unusual about this man?”
“Well, yes, now that you ask.”
“And that?”
“He had gray hair. A bit like yours, but with more black and less white in it.”
The silence that followed was almost suffocating in its intensity; the Arkon was frozen in place, as if even the ability to breathe had deserted him. Kaylin was uncomfortable with this type of silence, and as it grew and threatened to overwhelm all the textures of nonverbal sound, she broke it.
“He could see me. He thought—I think he thought—that I’d been sent to deliver a message. He said something.” She frowned. “He said something about it being ‘that time already.’”
Mortal memory was, at the moment, a curse to the Arkon, but he didn’t attempt to intimidate better memory out of Kaylin. “I think he knew what had happened. He couldn’t see Teela or Bellusdeo; he walked right through Teela. I thought he might be a ghost. It was Teela who told me his name. Or what he was called.”
“Larrantin,” the Arkon whispered.
“He could hear every word I spoke—to anyone else—even if he couldn’t see them, so it was hard to discuss in his presence. But he was Larrantin. I think... I think he’s living in a place where the Towers haven’t risen yet. Or rather, he was. He knew that the Towers would be created. He said something about selection. But he couldn’t leave the building.
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