“Into this foreign land—this peaceful land—I walked as a stranger. I had spent my youth and my time becoming a warrior. This was not the place, now, for us. You were impatient with the classes the Hawks required you take. You are impatient with classes, even now.”
“And you weren’t?”
“As I said, we were devoted to the arts of war. And then there was no war.” He bowed head again. When he lifted it, he said, “To my surprise, the Arkon—who was almost a legend on the field of battle to those of us who were learning—did not take up the reins of power. He was friend to the Emperor, and friend to—” He stopped again. “But his love was given over to the fields of study that he had, in his youth, most enjoyed.
“Our war had destroyed so much, the damage incidental; Dragon breath, Barrani magic, could turn cities into broken ruins. And did. The Aeries of our birth were gone, and the stores of historical knowledge they had once contained, gone with them. He is Arkon because he preserved those relics of great historical import to our people, even when the war was at its height.
“Those he kept. He kept what he could find. He kept things once belonging to societies that had departed—whether to travel elsewhere or because the wars had left their lands unsustainable, I do not know. And he returned, at last, to his studies, many of which are still a mystery to me.
“But when I met him, he was no longer Lannagaros of the Flights; he was a legend in my mind, only. What I had wanted to be, he had been, and he had walked away from it the moment he could safely do so. It had walked away from me. I was, I admit, lost.
“He offered me a narrow path through his stacks, both literal and figurative. He woke in me a desire to turn my thought and attention to things other than the war that had defined me and defined what Dragon meant. I will be in his debt for that for the entirety of my life.” He glanced at Kaylin, his lips turning up in a grin. “You have been remarkably patient. I am almost, you have my word, at your answer. But this is information that Bellusdeo did not know, and I believe it relevant to her, as well.”
“Kaylin will not interrupt you,” Bellusdeo said with the sweetest of her smiles—the one that carried the sharpest edge.
“The Arkon’s store of knowledge seemed vast to my younger self. It seemed endless; the exploration of it a work of decades, of centuries. I told him this one day. He fell silent, as he often does. But then he spoke. There was an Academia, a great school, that once existed just outside of the heart of Ravellon. It was there, in his youth, that he learned Barrani, that he met Barrani, that he exchanged sharp words and friendly words with others of his kind.
“He did not mean Dragons. He did not mean our people, although some of those were our people. It was there,” he added softly, “that he learned to read and to speak—with great difficulty—True Words. He spoke of it, spoke about it, with a longing and a passion the like of which I had never seen. His own collection, his hoard, was a pale shadow of that place, and his studies—as a singular scholar—even paler, an echo of the possibilities that once existed there.
“The Academia was destroyed.”
Kaylin wouldn’t have interrupted now, given the chance.
“Yes,” Emmerian said, as she hadn’t. “I believe that Killian, or Killianas, as Helen calls him, was that Academia. I believe the building you stumbled into was meant to house students—and did, in the years before the war. I believe it was the sorrow of that loss that drove him to become what he has become.”
“But...his hoard.”
Bellusdeo cleared her throat. “Lannagaros was always unusual. Intense and overfocused when caught in the trap of his own thoughts, his own questions. The elders in the Aerie complained constantly about it.” She smiled at the memory. “His concerns were not their concerns; they were appalled by his apparent interest in things of no use or no interest to them.
“He had very little sense of humor, and what he possessed was dry; he considered his studies, as he called them, of primary import. As if to study was to survive.” Her eyes closed, as if to shut out visual noise to all but the most ancient of her memories. “We were terrible to him. His studies, his ability shut out the rest of the Aerie, frustrated us.”
Kaylin snorted, and Bellusdeo opened her eyes. “It wasn’t the rest of the Aerie—it was you. His ability to ignore you frustrated you.”
“Well, yes—but in fairness, we were children. But...we liked his odd stories. We liked his bits and pieces of history. We liked especially asking questions he could not answer yet. His frustration drove him inward and away—but...” She shrugged. “It also drove him to the place where he was most...himself.
“I would not have thought he would rise to the task of warrior.”
“He was on the battlefield when the High Halls almost fell,” Kaylin pointed out.
“As was much of Dragonkind. He watched, even then. He watched, he observed. I thought he was...not the Dragon Emmerian has described. And Kaylin, that’s what he’s been in my time in your Elantra, your empire. But older and far more patient.”
“More patient.”
“Far more patient.”
Emmerian was waiting, and Kaylin realized that they’d both interrupted him. She turned toward him and saw that he was watching Bellusdeo. Wondered if that was all he’d been doing since the gold Dragon had interrupted him. But...it made sense. Bellusdeo had been smiling, was still smiling. Her smile had no edge in it. Because Kaylin looked at Bellusdeo fairly often, she’d learned most of the Dragon’s expressions, the things that indicated her emotions.
“He was admired by all, but few of us had seen him in your youth; I will not say his youth, because most of us could never witness that.”
“Even as a child, I was told by the fathers that Lannagaros was born old.”
At that, Emmerian smiled. “I was born male; my father’s advice was not...that kind of advice. We are not considered fragile, in our youth.”
“Ah, no. My sisters and I were—but oddly, not by Lannagaros. Perhaps that is why we liked him so.”
Silence and eddies of different memories, none of which Kaylin shared. In it, unsaid words. Worry. Kaylin exhaled loudly, for a human.
Emmerian was first to respond, to pick up the thread of his story. It was, Kaylin perceived, the reason he’d escorted them, and the reason Helen wished him to stay. “He felt the loss of knowledge keenly. He felt the loss of teachers, of people he was willing to learn from. Ah, no. Of people he felt had more information than he, and the ability to pass that information on.
“He told me of this once, in the palace, when the wars were over and peace—such as it was—a fragile, new thing. He went to the fiefs, did you know?”
Kaylin nodded. “So did the outcaste, who wasn’t outcaste then.”
“Yes.”
“Tiamaris said the Arkon wasn’t interested in the arcane. It was Tiamaris, of the Court, who spent the most time exploring the fiefs.”
“Yes. Do you not find that odd?”
Did she? She hadn’t, at the time. The Arkon’s hoard was his library, and Tiamaris liked to get out of the palace. If the palace were Kaylin’s home, she’d’ve been happy to leave it. For any reason.
It was Bellusdeo who said, “It’s not the library that’s his hoard.”
“It is, though—Sanabalis said...”
“It’s what it contains. What it represents. Leave it to Lannagaros to declare and build such a hoard, a thing of ephemera, a thing that is not solid and does not have form or shape. At least Tiamaris was sensible.” She was thoughtful; the thought was almost loud. “The public portion of the library always struck me as odd.”
“That and the fact that it is open to the public, and the librarians the Arkon himself interviews and hires are mortal,” Emmerian agreed.
The two Dragons exchanged another long look.
“You could not know,” Emmerian told Bellusdeo.
Bellusdeo rose.
“Where are you going?” Kaylin asked, because Bellusdeo was raring to go; she had focus, and she had that particular look that said work had to be done and she was getting on with doing it.
“Back to the palace.”
“But—”
“Now that he knows that something remains, something exists, something of what he best loved and desired in his long-ago youth, now that he knows it can somehow be found, nothing will keep him in the library he has built. Do you understand? He will go to the fiefs. I do not intend to let him go alone.”
“Wait.”
“You’ve had no sleep. You’re almost falling over now.”
“I have the book,” Kaylin replied.
“It is not a book to either of us.”
“No, it’s not. But... I think it could be, in the end. You think he’ll run off immediately?”
“I think it likely, yes. You?” Bellusdeo turned to Emmerian.
“I think you did not see the Arkon in his prime.”
“You’re not concerned.”
“I am concerned.” He bowed his head. When he lifted it again, he said to Kaylin, “What could you have done to stop Lord Tiamaris from claiming the Tower that is now his home?”
She looked at him as if he were trying to grow a third eye.
“Exactly. You have known the Arkon for a brief period of time. The opinions you have formed of the Arkon are accurate. He is not a man who dissembles—poisoning information is not only a waste of time; it is almost a crime in his opinion.” Another smile emerged, gilded with nostalgia. “When the laws of the Empire were discussed, he was strongly insistent that lies be made illegal.”
“We’d all be in jail.”
“Yes. He did have suggestions on how to build a jail, or perhaps how to find one. Regardless, what you have seen is what he is. But never all of it. What we—Bellusdeo and I—now see is also part of what he is. It is part of what we all are as Dragons.” He, too, rose.
“There is a danger,” Bellusdeo said.
“I concur.” It was the first time Helen had joined the conversation. “But I believe Kaylin is correct; the book that she sees—the book that you perceive as something amorphous—is important. If you can reason with the Arkon until Kaylin has actually managed to get some sleep, she will return to the palace.”
Both of the Dragons looked highly dubious about their ability to do so.
Helen, however, shook her head. “He is driven. Perhaps he is desperate. Hope makes fools of us all from time to time—but hope is also necessary. He will, if you can intercept him, wait.”
“And if we can’t?”
“It is my suspicion that even if you remain at a reasonable distance, he will find his way here. He understands that Kaylin needs some sleep to function, and I believe he perceives that the book itself puts a large drain on her physical stamina.
“He is possibly—if Bellusdeo and Emmerian are correct—in a frenzy. But he would not be unkind. I believe Kaylin will find herself seconded to the Imperial Palace for the time being. Meaning that yes, you will get paid.”
* * *
Kaylin would never make a bet with Helen because she hated losing bets and Helen had no actual need of money.
“Bets are not about money, if I understand them correctly,” Helen said, as Kaylin got dressed the next morning. “They are about stakes.”
“Fine.” Kaylin pulled a tunic over her head. She’d decided not to wear the Hawk tabard in the fiefs, but it annoyed her to have to be that practical.
“You are unlikely to be troubled, given your traveling companions.”
“Yes. But not less likely to be hated.” She grimaced, adjusting the clothing while Hope squawked, presumably at Helen, since Kaylin couldn’t understand a word. “I resented the Hawks a long time ago. I believed they were there to protect the weak.” She grabbed a stick and struggled to twist her hair in the knot that would keep it out of the way. “But there were no Hawks for us. We were beneath them.”
“And you have since discovered that that is not true.”
“Not really. But I understand why now.”
“You want what Tiamaris has offered.”
“I do. But... I want it for all of the fiefs. Teela would probably kill me if she could hear me.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“She told me years ago that if she had to hear this one more time,” Kaylin said, mimicking almost exactly Teela’s inflection, “she would make certain she never had to hear it again. With a vengeance.”
“Ah. But I’m certain she did hear it again.”
“Less often. She thought I spent too much time whining about what was wrong, and not enough time figuring out how to change what could be changed. For me,” she added, “I could change nothing. Or that’s what I thought, back then. I think it most of the time now. But...not all of the time.”
“And Tiamaris?”
“I didn’t change that, though. Tara and Tiamaris did—or will.”
“Without you, Tiamaris would not be fieflord and Tara would not be Tara.”
“That wasn’t why I did it. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t go in thinking: Hey, how about I change one fief by confronting its Tower? Oh, and drag Tiamaris along just because.”
“No. But change is change, and you cannot entirely predict what the fruit of your actions—for good or ill—will be. You did not intend to change Tiamaris. But you went to the fief’s Tower. You went with knowledge of your past, of yourself, of the things that you had done and hated—and of the things you wanted of yourself. You’d already begun to make those changes.”
Kaylin’s snort was less forceful. “I first left the fiefs to assassinate the Hawklord.” She seldom said this out loud. But Helen already knew, even if she had never heard it directly.
“I do,” Helen said, her voice softer. “But Kaylin, you knew you would never succeed. You didn’t come to assassinate him; you came to die.” Helen’s Avatar appeared in her room as Kaylin turned toward the sound of her voice. There was, alongside the knowledge, an acceptance that Kaylin struggled to maintain.
Her home hugged her gently.
“What you were when you arrived in Elantra is not what you are now. The choices that you’ve made since then were different choices. They were not choices you could have made in the fiefs. You wanted to be a different person—but the person you are grows out of the person you were.
“You remember all of the bad things. You remember the why of them. You could have chosen to be far more judgmental in your work as a Hawk.”
“I am.” Muffled voice.
“Not to my eye,” Helen replied. “And no, I don’t see you at work. But I know what your day was like. I could wish you might take Margot less personally, but knocking over her sandwich board on a daily basis didn’t prevent you from saving her life.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Helen chuckled. “You have two visitors,” she added.
“Two?”
“Sorry, three, but one is Severn.”
* * *
The parlor—not the dining room—was where Kaylin’s breakfast was served. The room had grown, but it now hosted more than four people. The Arkon was present, and with him, Lord Emmerian; Severn was, as Helen had said, here. Kaylin lifted brows in his direction.
“I was told that while you are seconded to the Imperial Palace, I am also seconded to the palace.”
The Arkon said, “By whom?” His voice was chilly. His eyes were orange.
“The Lord of Hawks. Lord Grammayre.”
“I see.”
“The Hawks work in pairs,” Kaylin pointed out.
“The Arkon,” the Arkon said, “does not.”
“We have a mirror, if you want to speak with someone who can rescind those orders,” Kaylin told him.
“But neither Severn nor I can ignore them.”
Teela walked into the parlor. She was not happy. “We will be heading into the Halls of Law, and I will happily relay your discontent.” Given the color of her eyes, Teela’s discontent was likely to be first on the discussion list.
Kaylin decided that rank mattered for reasons of pay. But Teela and Kaylin now shared a rank, and there were things that Teela could say that Kaylin couldn’t, if she wanted to keep her new rank.
On the other hand, Kaylin couldn’t imagine the Arkon wanted more people as companions. He didn’t seem happy to be stuck with Severn and probably accepted Kaylin under sufferance. Kaylin had the book. The Arkon did not.
Kaylin had already started a mental cringe, because if Teela wasn’t coming, it meant one of the cohort was. Annarion walked into the room. He failed to meet the Arkon’s glare but offered the older Dragon a perfect obeisance.
Kaylin didn’t argue against his inclusion because there wasn’t any point. And it made sense to her—they needed one member of the cohort present to contact Mandoran and Terrano.
The smart person to leave behind was Bellusdeo, and as no one was going to win that argument, Kaylin buried it. She had a better chance talking Annarion out of going. But she repented when the second member of the cohort entered the room.
It was Sedarias.
Kaylin left her chair. So did the Arkon and Emmerian.
“An’Mellarionne,” the Arkon said, offering her a slight bow.
“Arkon,” she replied. Her bow was slightly shallower than Annarion’s had been but far more respectful than the Arkon’s. “If you find our company burdensome, we will proceed on our own. It is not to cause grief or a moment’s discomfort that we have determined to return to the site at which we last heard our lost friends.” Her voice was grave, her eyes blue. Sedarias had always had the bluest eyes in the cohort.
The Arkon resumed his seat. “It is my suspicion that you have some familiarity with Arcanists.”
“None from within the Arcanum,” Sedarias replied. “And Lord Kaylin does not appear fond of the Arcanum, so it has not been much discussed.”
Cast in Wisdom Page 24