Durant glanced at Nightshade; Nightshade nodded. “I believe it.”
“How was this even accomplished? The Towers themselves are built to prevent exactly that—among other things.” The ease and friendly aura of welcome vanished as Durant leaned forward in his chair.
“My Tower would not allow it,” Nightshade replied. “I cannot therefore answer with any accuracy. There are other matters we might, as fieflords who shoulder very similar responsibilities, discuss. I believe, if Tiamaris considered the risk necessary, his Tower would allow it. The Towers are not, and were never, all of one thing.”
“They were built to prevent exactly that!” Durant snapped.
“I highly doubt Farlonne’s Tower would allow what Candallar’s Tower did,” Bellusdeo told the fieflord. “But perhaps it would be best to allow Farlonne to speak for herself.”
Durant’s expression once again offered a genial, even amused, smile. Kaylin no longer believed it. “Lord Nightshade, how often have you spoken with either Tiamaris or Liatt?”
“Very, very seldom, as you are aware.”
“And if you wanted to ‘discuss’ a difficulty with Liatt, how would you go about that?”
“In the worst case, I would send a messenger with the message I desired to convey. There are mirrors within the Towers, but they do not function in the same fashion as mirrors in the rest of Elantra do. I would wait on her reply.”
“And Tiamaris?”
“I would visit Tiamaris in person.”
Durant’s smile faltered before it resumed. “I would not.”
“No. I have some experience with Tiamaris, and the corporal—” here he nodded in Kaylin’s direction “—is very, very familiar with Tiamaris’s Tower. She was present when the Tower chose Tiamaris as her lord.”
“You would trust yourself to another Tower?”
“I would trust my safety in this case to Tiamaris’s Tower. I would, however, insist the corporal accompany me.”
“Why?”
“Because the Tower of Tiamaris is extremely fond of the corporal. And the Tower has allowed things that my own Tower would forbid utterly unless I wished to...argue with its imperatives. For our part, we get along because I understand that the Tower has imperatives that are not mine, and I do not interfere in them. Is your Tower different?”
This time, Durant grimaced. “My Tower is...my Tower. She’s incredibly pretentious, and that pretension has been a source of conflict from time to time.”
“Is that why your Tower looks like that?” Kaylin cut in.
“Like what?”
“Like something we—normal people—could actually build?”
He grinned, and this felt genuine. “You liked that, did you?”
“Actually, yes.”
“My Tower has imperatives that, as Lord Nightshade has said, are immutable. We don’t disagree about those; we don’t disagree about the threat that Ravellon poses. We’ve had experience with it.” He hesitated and then said, “It’s been worse in the past decade than any of the decades prior to this one.”
Bellusdeo was leaning forward, her eyes orange-red, her expression almost peaceful, which was a striking contradiction. “I would like to hear about the changes. In return, I can speak to you about the difficulties my people encountered. We lost our war, and only a handful of people survived. The others were subsumed by Ravellon and the spread of Shadow. They might even be trapped there now.” As Bellusdeo had been.
Durant nodded. “I would hear it. I would hear it all. I would share it with my own Tower, with your permission.”
“And likely, without it,” the Dragon said, smiling. “I have had the privilege of sharing a roof with the corporal. I understand how sentient buildings function. But I am not entirely willing to visit your Tower at this time.”
“Is there anything stopping us from speaking here?”
The chancellor cleared his throat. “Bellusdeo and I have been discussing this very problem in the past few days,” he said, as all eyes turned toward him. His eyes, unlike Bellusdeo’s, were an orange-gold; nothing he had heard so far had alarmed him. He had always considered Shadow a threat; he had never argued against the importance of the Towers.
The Emperor, who claimed Elantra—and the Empire—as his hoard nonetheless allowed the fiefs to evade his laws and his rule because of the Towers. In some fashion, he understood that they were necessary for the good of the people he did rule.
“And what was the thrust of the discussion?” It was Durant who asked. Nightshade believed he already knew.
“The Academia can be accessed by roads that lead from any of the fiefs. It exists in a space that is slightly displaced. It has been—to date—immune to the incursion of Shadow, but that immunity might be compromised now.”
“Because it can be reached.”
The chancellor nodded gravely. “It is absolutely in the interest of the Academia that the Towers stand, that they continue to contain Ravellon. We understand the importance of the Towers; we understand the importance of the information the captains might have, individually.
“And we believe—”
“We?”
“Ah, apologies. Killianas and I. The Arbiters also agree; I believe one might have some reservations, but as the library will stand in the face of the destruction of the universe, it is a more academic concern.”
Killian said, “I am, to the chancellor, what your Towers are to you. The Academia is me, and of me.”
“But not the library?”
“No. We are connected, but no. The library is its Arbiters, but we have always relied on their advice and their accumulated knowledge when we feel that knowledge relevant.” He turned. “My apologies for the interruption, chancellor.”
“A necessary interruption, unlike so many.” He glanced at Kaylin as he spoke, and Kaylin reddened. She was used to this from the Arkon—the chancellor—and let it pass without comment, which took more effort than it should have.
Squawk. Squawk.
“Indeed. Some of the interruptions were, in the end, necessary when one reviews them; it is why Lord Kaylin is present.”
“Lord?” Durant said.
Kaylin did flush, then. “It’s a joke.”
Mandoran, silent until that moment, cleared his throat. Loudly.
“It’s a joke to anyone who isn’t Barrani.”
“There is clearly much that I have not heard in recent times.”
“Tell your Tower to look to the High Halls,” Kaylin told him. “A place I suggest you never visit for idle curiosity.”
“Oh?”
“Barrani nobles make our street gangs look civilized and reasonable by comparison.”
“She’s exaggerating,” Mandoran said.
“You are more aware, one assumes, of the Barrani customs?”
“I didn’t say she was entirely wrong, just that she was exaggerating. She’s called Lord Kaylin because she accidentally took the Barrani Test of Name and survived it. It’s what defined a Lord of the High Court. We think that’s changing,” he added. “But we’re not sure when.” He spoke Elantran.
“Clearly there are advantages and disadvantages to remaining in my own fief. However, we have interrupted the chancellor.”
“Good of you to notice,” the chancellor replied. “What we have been discussing is the Academia as a safe and neutral ground on which the fieflords might meet and discuss the current situation.”
“The Academia is considered neutral?”
“The Academia—in this case, Killianas—may choose to eject those he feels mean harm to the Academia or its students. He does not, however, kill. Candallar attempted to murder important students—and almost succeeded. His death, however, is on my hands. Killianas asked me to spare him—it was a request, I believe, from Candallar’s Tower—but attempts to do so failed.
Durant looked across the room at Nightshade. “You are comfortable here?”
“I am demonstrably comfortable here.”
“Tiamaris?”
“I cannot speak for Tiamaris, and would not be so presumptuous as to try.”
“Tiamaris,” the chancellor said, “is in agreement.”
This caused Durant to grin again. Clearly the chancellor wasn’t worried about presumption.
“He is, on the other hand, a Dragon. Killianas, you can prevent the fieflords from killing or injuring each other, correct?” the chancellor then asked.
“Indeed.”
“I will need to discuss this with my own Tower.”
“Do you talk to your Tower’s Avatar?” Kaylin asked.
He blinked. “You are going to give me whiplash,” he said. “And yes, I do.”
“I,” Nightshade said, “almost never do.”
This surprised Durant. “Never?”
“Almost never.”
“How do you communicate with the Tower, then?”
“Clearly the form of communication suits the Tower. My Tower in general considers beings who must breathe and eat to be little better than animals. Except for the occasions when he considers animals far superior.”
Silence. Nightshade was amused. Highly amused. And nothing he had said was a lie.
It is not necessary to lie, here. Perhaps later.
“If I attempted to cut my Tower out of crucial decisions, it would be me who was ejected—if I survived her ire.” Durant chuckled. Kaylin had heard similar words before—mostly from married men in the office. He clearly held the Tower’s Avatar in some affection. And she clearly did have a temper.
“It is good, then, that we are with Towers who suit our disparate temperaments. However: my Tower has no say in this decision, and I believe it to be a sound one. If the chancellor is gracious enough to offer safe quarters in which we might meet and discuss our various issues, I will accept with gratitude.”
“Then let me say I provisionally accept the offer, contingent upon discussion and negotiation with my own Tower. I believe that I would consider placement in the Academia to be a boon to my own people, and I will not block you. I do have a few questions, however.”
Killian bowed to the assembled gathering. “I believe Lord Kaylin wishes to speak with the librarians. I will leave you to your negotiations and discussions.”
09
“I’m working,” she told Killian once the door was firmly closed at her back. “And I don’t remember thinking that I wanted to speak with the librarians. Or did you get that confused?”
Killian inclined his head. “Perhaps. Words are sometimes taxing.”
“What you meant to say was: the librarians want to speak with me, right?”
“The result would be the same in either version. And I believe you have questions for them.”
She did have a few questions. She had had no intention of actually asking any of them today. “By Imperial dictate, I can’t just stop and chat with the librarians while Bellusdeo is free to wander around.”
“Bellusdeo does not intend to leave the Academia without you.”
“Did she tell you—or did I—about her trip to the West March?”
“No. Ah,” he added. “I see. I highly doubt that will happen here. Not now. And you have left Lord Severn with Bellusdeo; you are certain to be informed if she feels the need to leave in haste.”
“I’d ask the chancellor to make sure of that, but he’s busy, and he hates to be interrupted.”
“He is concerned for the immediate future, and the discussion between the chancellor, Bellusdeo, and the two fieflords is by no means complete,” Killian replied. “It is possible you could speak with Larrantin.”
“Why don’t we do that instead?” she asked hopefully. While she liked Starrante, he was still a giant spider, and seeing him pushed childish fear buttons she had to work to suppress. She wasn’t proud of them.
“No, that will not do. Starrante may not have the answers you seek immediately at his fingers, but Androsse will.” More gently he said, “The fear doesn’t suit the tabard you wear.”
“Not wearing it today,” Kaylin said, but she reddened. Killian was right. Of course he was right. And maybe if she’d grown up in the presence of giant spiders, policing and protecting them as necessary, those childhood fears wouldn’t exist.
* * *
Starrante had clearly been informed of her arrival; he was waiting when Killian opened the door. Killian didn’t enter the library, or at least his Avatar didn’t.
“The library is not my domain,” he told her. “It is the domain of the Arbiters. The Arbiters have some influence beyond the boundaries of the library, but they have no control of the Academia. The chancellor accepts—and even seeks—their guidance, but it is his decision that is law. They have power equivalent to Helen’s or mine within the library itself. I remember the classes taught here.” He smiled. The smile faded.
“You are welcome, as always, to visit,” Starrante said, the Barrani words underscored by the clicking that characterized Starrante’s speech. “Kaylin.” His forelegs—or arms—did a complicated dance in the air. Kaylin was pretty sure it was a greeting.
“It is a greeting,” Killian agreed. “And one that shows great respect. You will note it was not offered to me.”
“Well,” Kaylin replied, “you’re family. I don’t greet Helen that way, either.”
Killian smiled. When he smiled he looked less Barrani.
* * *
“You want information about the rise of the Towers?” Starrante asked. He began to amble into the library beneath ceilings that would have made the arches of cathedrals look short and squat.
She nodded. Starrante moved slowly out of consideration for her legs—two in total, and shorter by far than any of his. “May I ask why?”
“Isn’t curiosity for its own sake supposed to be a necessary feature of the Academia?”
“In students, yes—although that reply would be worth several demerits were it uttered by a student.”
“Not respectful enough?”
“Absolutely not.” A man who looked very like the Barrani stepped into view. If he’d come around a corner, Kaylin could have pretended that he’d simply been obscured by the presence of bookshelves; as it was, he stepped out of midair on the path Starrante was now walking.
“Arbiter Androsse,” she said, offering him a bow. It was a Diarmat-taught bow, and given Androsse’s nod, one of which the Dragon might have approved.
“Starrante feels that I might have a better understanding of the composition of the Towers, but I feel that the answer to the question he asked is necessary before we proceed. Understand that we have been the library for as long as the Academia has existed. We will be the library if it falls. We were not asked for input or opinions about the people who stepped up to take on the responsibility of becoming a Tower.”
“That is not true,” Starrante said. “The decision was not ours, but input was encouraged, and if I recall, we did have opinions.”
“We always have opinions. We’re Arbiters.”
“I thought Arbiters were supposed to be neutral,” Kaylin said.
“Ah. That would be a different definition of a word that is used here as a title. And regardless, answers are necessary.”
Kaylin exhaled words. “We want to know because we want to know what we’re dealing with in regards to the Towers themselves. The captains don’t define the Towers, as was once previously thought; I have some experience with the Avatar of one of them, so I understand possible danger
ous instability.”
“All Towers save one are currently captained; the Towers have accepted their lords, and that is unlikely to change in the near future. I perceive that the reason you desire the information involves the Tower that Candallar captained.”
“It’s empty, yes.”
“You have no desire to captain it yourself.”
“Gods, no.” She exhaled. “We were told that the Tower was once called Karriamis.”
“The chancellor said this?”
“I don’t remember who said it.”
Androsse snorted. “I curse the Ancients for the creation of races with so little memory. It is a wonder that you retain the use of language at all. Karriamis was, indeed, the individual chosen to become the heart of that Tower.”
“And he was a Dragon?”
“He was. He was both a Dragon and a scholar; he understood the dangers of Ravellon well, and he considered the position—the becoming—necessary. Many people did, and many people volunteered to become the base or the core of the Towers that now stand around Ravellon; only six could be chosen.
“We were not present to question the choices; nor were we present to demand a better understanding of what the Towers’ imperatives and contingencies were. Karriamis once taught at the Academia.”
She nodded. “Do you think that’s why he sent Candallar to look for it?”
“I could not say.”
“But...” She trailed off, uncertain if her next question would be insulting.
“We are not like the Towers.” It was Starrante who spoke, perhaps sensitive to the reasons for her hesitance. “We are not sentient buildings. Killianas is, and was; we are slightly different.”
“You can’t leave the library.”
“We can of course leave the library. I encountered you outside of the library, if you recall.”
She did. “You weren’t in the best frame of mind.”
“No. I was somewhat controlled at the time. And I am being a pedant. Leaving the library is possible with the permission of Killian; there is never a time when all of the Arbiters will leave the library at once.” He coughed. Or he made a series of sounds that would have been coughing had he been any of the other races Kaylin knew. “You might recall—”
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