“They had your book.”
“Yes. I am uncertain how. It is of some small concern to us, but at the moment it is of academic interest. We are not as Karriamis became. We are tied to the library and its vast space, and within the library, we exert control in a way that might seem reminiscent of the Towers or your Helen, but the library itself is a found space.”
At Kaylin’s expression, he exhaled. “Never mind. I perceive that this is not the correct time for this discussion. All of the Arbiters were familiar with Karriamis.”
“I knew him well,” the third Arbiter said, as she appeared beside her two companions. Kavallac, the Dragon librarian, had arrived. “I considered his ascension a loss to Dragonkind, but understood his decision.”
“How did Candallar come to be captain of the Tower?”
Kavallac shrugged. “How did any of the captains come to be captains?”
“I only know of one—and at the time, the Tower had been all but abandoned by the Barrani chosen to captain it.”
“It is not impossible—as you have seen—to dispatch the captains if they are not in residence. Had you attacked Candallar within his Tower, the outcome would have been different. But captains die. This was understood before the Towers were created; it is the reason they were designed and built as they were. The Towers can assimilate new information, but it is difficult if that new information remains outside of their boundaries. The captains are mobile.” The Dragon librarian exhaled.
“You have your Helen; Killian has talked a bit about your current status. You are her tenant, I believe?”
Kaylin nodded.
“It is a different word for lord. I understand that she made attempts to change her core so that she might have choice of the lord who gave her commands?”
Kaylin nodded again.
“This flexibility was built into the Towers. Helen’s creation was not the same, and her role, intentionally different. She was not meant to house tenants or guests, and her name was known; it was the key to enforcing her obedience.
“Arbiters are not obedient,” Kavallac added, in case this wasn’t obvious. “That was never required of us. I don’t recall what was.”
Living in the library for the rest of their immortal existence, Kaylin thought. But she also thought that more than three had queued up for the privilege of doing so.
“Helen has chosen you. She can, however, function without a tenant. The Towers will function for some time without a captain. In the case of your Tara, this was suboptimal. I do not think Karriamis will have that difficulty. He was never entirely comfortable in the presence of too many people and disliked noise and fuss.
“If your concern is the state of the defense of the area over which he presides, worry will be unlikely to be essential for the entirety of your life. Possibly for a century beyond that. If we had to lose a captain, Karriamis’s would be the least inconvenient.
“But that is not what you’re really asking, is it?”
“I don’t understand how a Dragon could or would choose a Barrani as its captain.”
“In my opinion, it is likely that Candallar was both desperate and strong enough to unseat—that’s kill, in any reasonable tongue—the previous captain. I don’t know that for a fact. Candallar himself was outcaste.” She glanced at Androsse.
“We did not make our kin outcaste,” he replied. “Not in our time.”
“Which has passed,” Starrante added. “Durandel became the Tower you call Nightshade; he and Androsse were distant kin.”
Durandel was an Ancestor. Durandel’s brothers, sleeping in the basement of the Tower Durandel became, had attempted to destroy the Barrani High Halls. They had almost succeeded.
“None of your kin became Towers?”
She couldn’t tell if Arbiter Starrante was frowning or not.
“That is untrue,” he replied. “Aggarok did.”
She made a mental note of the name. “You wouldn’t happen to know—”
“Liatt is his current captain.”
“And Durant’s Tower?”
“Endoralle. She was of the next generation—what you now refer to as Barrani. Farlonne’s Tower was Beyanne; it was not their original name.”
“And their race?”
“Morphosys.”
Kaylin hadn’t heard of them. Then again, she’d never heard of Starrante’s people before now, either. She frowned. “What characterized the Morphosys’ original race?”
“Physical flexibility. They could choose their appearances and alter every element of them; they could see multiple planes at once.”
Her frown shifting into one of frustration and concentration, she said, “I...think I might have met some of them when we went to the West March.”
“Very likely. They were never numerous, but they were considered an excellent choice as a building’s core. I believe some of the buildings in the Western reach may have been constructed with Morphosys at their core.”
She was certain this was true, but less certain it was relevant.
“But I confess I fail to understand why any of this information is of relevance to you,” Androsse continued. “Understand that the act of becoming—as it was called—changed those who became. They are not, and could not remain, what they were.”
Kaylin understood this, but partially disagreed. “They couldn’t be entirely changed or the choice of the Tower core wouldn’t matter; the Ancients could have chosen six random people—it would certainly have saved them time, and a lot of conflict.
“Some essential part of their former identity remains. Nightshade’s Tower even had brothers of Durandel sleeping in its basement—I assume they decided to do it when the Towers rose.” Nor were they the only kin to do so. “If we’re dealing with fieflords we don’t know, we’re dealing indirectly with Towers we don’t know. We can infer the imperatives at the core of all Towers, but there’s clearly a lot of leeway in things not related to their...job.
“Candallar heavily implied that Karriamis sent him here. The chancellor believes that Karriamis, possibly with the cooperation of other Towers, managed to preserve the Academia in a kind of broken stasis, until Candallar could somehow make his way in. Candallar wouldn’t have looked because he wouldn’t have known to look, were it not for his Tower.
“And yes, it’s Candallar’s empty Tower we’re mostly concerned with—but the information about the other Towers could prove helpful.”
“How?”
She exhaled. “We think it’s a really good idea for the captains of the Towers to meet and discuss the situation with Ravellon. In person.”
* * *
Starrante, Androsse and Kavallac shared a wordless glance. Silence was a prod to continue, and Kaylin did.
“If the captains are necessary because they’re more flexible and because our knowledge of Shadow—and the abilities of that Shadow—change with time, more captains means more knowledge, right? The captains—the fieflords—can exchange knowledge vital to their Tower’s defense.”
Starrante clicked. If there were syllables contained in that clicking, Kaylin couldn’t hear enough of them to transform them into words on the inside of her head.
They are words, Nightshade said. But yes, the language is extremely difficult for even me.
“I fail to see how that is relevant to the discussion of the original Tower cores.” Androsse glanced at Kavallac.
“We’ll need to talk to the current fieflords—men and women who didn’t exist at the time of the Towers’ rise. We’ll need to negotiate with them, if we want them on board. Negotiations—I’m told—rely on knowledge of context. So, the more we know about the Towers’ peculiarities, the better we’ll be at presenting the idea.
“We’re not Shadow; we’re not seeking openings into the Towers themselves. Frankly, I never want to enter Nightshade’s Tower again while I’m s
till breathing.”
“You wish to be buried there?” Starrante asked, his tone almost implying confusion.
“No—but I’ll be a corpse, so I won’t care.”
“This is not the usual view of death among your—”
“Starrante, now is not the time. You encountered Durandel?” Androsse’s brow was folded into what was almost a single line.
“Nightshade’s Tower has never been entirely friendly,” Kaylin replied. “And two of the people sleeping in his basement decided to take a walk and ended up trying to torch the High Halls to the ground. I don’t need to know more about Durandel—I mean, we don’t. Nightshade is willing to talk.”
I would be highly interested in speaking with Androsse about Durandel. Perhaps I will gain permission to visit the library.
“And the others?”
“We intend—no, sorry. Lord Bellusdeo intends to approach all of the fieflords in an attempt to somehow arrange a meeting of the fieflords.”
She does indeed. Lannagaros has allowed such meetings going forward to take place within specified buildings on the Academia campus. He, too, desires some access to the fieflords, if for entirely different reasons. Durant is willing to take the risk of a full meeting; he has also agreed to keep his borders open for those who might apply to become students here.
That was the heart of the chancellor’s concern. But...he and Bellusdeo were friends. He understood her in a way no one else did—and this, this meeting of fieflords, was probably a concession to her experience with Shadow. Ravellon was personal to Bellusdeo.
“You’ve given us some information to work with. I know the Towers’ base personalities do change—I mean, they’re like gods in their own domain, but like prisoners outside of them, so that’s going to have an effect.
“But...I’m a little bit surprised that Durant is...Durant, given the core of his Tower was a Barrani woman.”
“How so?” Androsse asked.
“You’d kind of have to see his Tower. It’s...a building that we could make. I mean, mortals, humans, us. Most Barrani architecture is...” She struggled to find a polite word for pretentious, and failed.
Majestic.
It’s not majestic. It’s—it’s all overdone. It’s like it was designed to make visitors feel grubby and unworthy.
That is entirely your impression. Architecture is meant to create a mood, a tone, within a dwelling. It is not meant for visitors, but for occupants.
“Anyway, it’s very simple, very plain—I mean, creating a Tower like that would cost a lot of money, so it’s not like we could just randomly build it ourselves, but—it looks like it could, without magic, be built by us.”
“I see.”
“I don’t know what it looked like before Durant took the captaincy, but.”
“Yes?”
“You said he took the Tower eighty years ago?”
“It is information that we’ve been given, not information we’ve experienced, but we have reason to trust that information, yes.”
Does he look like he’s a century old to you?
No.
“Can the Towers grant immortality?”
“An interesting question, and one to which we do not have answers. And while answers might eventually be forthcoming, may I suggest that mortality’s desperate desire for longer life makes sharing this question unwise?”
Kaylin nodded. They had an empty Tower, and she personally knew of two people who wanted it. No one needed grubby powerful humans joining the queue—not when their desire had nothing to do with why the Tower was built. She could well imagine that people wouldn’t care if they were tied to the Tower—fieflords did leave them, after all.
Do you know how long Liatt has held her Tower?
For some time.
Longer than Durant?
I cannot confirm with regards to Durant; our fiefs do not border each other. But Liatt is fieflord in a way Barren wasn’t. The Tower has not fallen; she is the fieflord.
Have you met her?
I believe you’ve asked this question before, but mortal memories being what they are, no. We are not playing polite neighbors; we do not show up at the doorsteps of other fieflords with welcome baskets.
Kaylin laughed out loud, which caused all three Arbiters to stare at her. She glanced at Mandoran. He had not spoken a word since his entry to the library; he said nothing now. His eyes were blue, his lips pursed; clearly Kaylin wasn’t the only person in the room who was talking to someone at a distance.
“Sorry. Nightshade is irritated.”
“And this is amusing?”
“Sometimes. I’m sorry to have bothered you, and I’d like to know a bit about Liatt’s Tower.”
“The core of the Tower was Aggarok, a kinsman,” Starrante replied. “If you dislike Lord Nightshade’s Tower, I am not certain you will find Liatt’s Tower hospitable; Aggarok was always responsible, but he was very aggressive about it. I suggest avoiding him if that is at all possible.”
“It should be.”
“And if,” Kavallac interjected, “you manage to meet with Liatt and she offers you the hospitality of her home, will you then baldly refuse it?”
“I think she’d understand why.”
“That is not an answer, Lord Kaylin.”
“I’d refuse, yes.” Kaylin exhaled. “I can’t speak for Bellusdeo. Even if I were empowered to do it, she wouldn’t listen. If she assesses the risk as acceptable, she’s going to do what she thinks is best.”
“Does she understand that she is critical to the future survival of our race?”
Ah. “Believe that there’s no way she could not understand that.”
“Good. I am not in a position to relieve her of that burden; I am tied to the library.”
“Could you be untied?”
Kavallac’s eyes were orange, and they moved toward red. Kaylin held her ground but couldn’t prevent her shoulders from stiffening. Hope, however, seemed unconcerned.
“No, Corporal Neya. Upon death, perhaps—but as you’ve seen, it’s hard to kill a Dragon when they fight from the seat of their power. If I die, I believe contingencies might exist that would allow a new Arbiter, but we were chosen with that in mind.
“We understand that Bellusdeo is interested in the Tower Candallar once occupied. Her concern is Ravellon. I’m certain that others would like her to have different concerns—but the chancellor has made clear why she considers all other factors almost irrelevant. I,” Kavallac added, her eyes narrowing as something about Mandoran caught her attention, “would prefer that she attended to the duties incumbent upon her by race and circumstance—but I have been told that I am not the only Dragon who desires this.”
“The chancellor doesn’t?”
“The chancellor is somewhat sentimental when it comes to your friend. Does he desire it? Yes, but only if that shift is natural. He will not press her, and has asked that we refrain from making the attempt.”
Kaylin was almost certain this was a royal we, but failed to put this into words.
“I am uncertain that Karriamis will not agree with me.” This was not what Kaylin had hoped to hear. “He is a Dragon.”
“He was a Dragon, and for a couple of centuries, he’s had a Barrani captain. I’d say he’s more flexible than he seems.”
“Having not met him, you might indeed say that. But he would never have volunteered for the position he was literally built to fulfill had he not had an extremely strong sense of duty and responsibility. I believe he will see children and babies as Bellusdeo’s responsibility, and he is unlikely to be swayed by any other concern.”
“But Candallar didn’t go to the Tower in order to become a steward in the fight against Shadow.”
“No. I believe he fled to the fiefs in order to preserve his own life. But Lord Nightshade is also outcaste, is
he not?”
“According to Candallar, their circumstances were different.”
“How so?”
“Nightshade could probably walk into the High Halls and leave alive. Candallar couldn’t. Also, the Consort actually likes Nightshade. If it were up to her, he’d be part of the Barrani High Court tomorrow. And unlike Dragons, outcaste Barrani have been—I’m told—repatriated in the past. It’s not impossible for Nightshade to return home.
“I think Candallar believed that if he possessed the power Nightshade possesses, he’d be allowed to return home. Well, that and if an ally became the new High Lord. Regardless, Nightshade accepts being outcaste.”
“He possesses one of The Three,” Kavallac said.
“Yes. And he’ll continue to possess it. I don’t think the Consort has issues with that, either—and the sword was very useful half a month ago, where the High Halls are concerned. I think he’s been asked to return it, but, well. He invited them to retrieve it.”
In almost those exact words, yes. You are worried.
I’m worried that Kavallac is right. That Barrani captaincy would be preferable to Karriamis if Bellusdeo is the only Dragon alive who can bear young.
Mandoran looks concerned.
He probably is. Look, he likes Bellusdeo. He knows she’s not happy. He has eleven other inescapable people in his head; she has no one. He thinks her obsession with Shadow would be a perfect fit for a Tower. Not all of the cohort agree.
No. I understand that Sedarias would like a base of operations, a safe base, in the future. You think of them as like you; they are not. You will die; you are mortal. They will die only if they are foolish or unlucky. Outlasting you would increase the danger they will find themselves in, and the Tower would be the ideal solution.
It wouldn’t.
It is not me you must convince of that, but Sedarias. Were I Sedarias, I would make the choices she is making.
And if you were you?
I know what Towers demand, he replied. And I do not think she is capable, in the end, of meeting those demands. For her cohort, she would. But a Tower is not part of that cohort; I believe she expects obedience—just as prior owners of Helen did.
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