Cast in Conflict

by Michelle Sagara

  “And now?”

  He shook his head. “Even now. But that knowledge, that preservation, came with a willingness to share—if one was careful about approaching him when he was not absorbed in either study or cataloging. I am not certain you would consider all Dragons who have chosen their hoard entirely rational or sane. There was a reason you were told to touch nothing in Lannagaros’s library.

  “He said that some had reached the conclusion that maturity was required. I pointed out examples of mature Dragons who had also...been destroyed. By their madness, and in the end by us.”

  “You killed them?”

  His lack of answer was an answer. She winced. “Sorry.”

  He appeared to hear neither the question nor the apology she offered in its wake. “I digress, perhaps because I wish to speak or think of any other subject.”

  “You don’t have to talk. I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

  “You don’t understand,” he replied, his voice soft, his eyes closed.

  “I get told that a lot.”

  “Yes.” His smile was slender. “My second friend was older than the first when he found his hoard.”

  She waited, almost holding her breath.

  “You understand that the Empire is the Emperor’s hoard; you understand that he is unusual. It is...an amorphous concept, this Empire, and it requires a flexibility that most would not possess. Whatever else you think of Dariandaros, this much is true: he is exceptional, singular, and his decisions are never made without an understanding of the consequences. Not one of us would have imagined the caste courts and their laws of exemption; not one of us could.

  “Most, however, have less...philosophical hoards. The desire to possess and protect coexist, but you understand why that is always a difficult balance. Tiamaris holds Tara dear, not her fief. But he understands that the people of the fief are important to Tara. What brings her happiness—without risking her existence—he will give her.

  “And she has shown...remarkable flexibility. I like her. I could not love her as Tiamaris does. I have never loved anything or anyone that way.”

  “Your second friend was...insane? Hoard-sickness?”

  “No, not in the manner of the first friend. Both he and I understood, because of Lannagaros and the loss of our mutual friend, that our lives—the whole of our beings—must be formed, must be rooted and grounded in ourselves, before we could safely bear the weight and demands of a hoard. It is...not dissimilar to how mortals interact with their families and their work. The family might be, on one day, the driving concern; on another, it might be the work itself. You are a Hawk, and you consider the work you do to be your calling, your vocation.”

  Kaylin nodded.

  “But the import of your friends is not lessened. You cannot always prioritize them over the duties you’ve undertaken, but they are also essential to you.”

  She nodded again.

  “That is...not the drive of the hoard. It can be, but it takes effort. Lannagaros felt that because the Empire is so large, the Emperor is choosing between different consequences, different outcomes. There is balance because of his hoard, not in spite of it. But again, he is unusual. My friend did not choose something as ambitious as an Empire.

  “He understood the risks—as did Tiamaris—and he accepted them.” The silence that followed these words was longer, as if Emmerian had decided to break it but couldn’t find the words.

  “Did he lose his hoard?”

  Emmerian nodded. “What the hoard itself could not do to him, loss and grief did. His single drive in the absence of the hoard to which he had dedicated his life was vengeance and death; in the grip of the madness of grief he lost the ability to care about either his welfare or the welfare of any of the rest of us.

  “I went with the flight that was sent to stop him; we were not numerous and we were not a war flight. I asked,” he added. “I asked to be included. I had known him, if not for the longest period of time, then for all of the formative ones.

  “But I knew. When I saw him, I knew. He recognized me,” he added, voice soft. “He recognized me. But he understood why the flight was there; what its purpose was. I think he intended to die—but he could not do so on his own. He was not...himself. My presence to him signaled betrayal. Only betrayal. The loss had taken every element of our history from him; he was overwhelmed.

  “He attacked me. I tried—as perhaps Mandoran tried, with Bellusdeo—to avoid him, to avoid hurting him.” His eyes closed. “In the end, that was not possible. The decision was not mine to make. And I have asked myself times beyond number if, had I gone alone, I might have been able to pull him back, to pull him out of that moment, that pain.

  “Lannagaros was not kind; he said it was possible. But we have no easy way of going back, and even had we, I would not have been allowed to make the attempt. He was not the only Dragon to die that day.”

  Kaylin nodded. She understood exactly how he felt beneath his carefully chosen, almost neutral words. She had lived in the same place for years. The reasons were different—of course they were—but the guilt and the pain were the same. She was certain of that.

  Had Emmerian been part of the cohort, had he been Bellusdeo, had he been Severn, she would have reached out for him physically. She had no words of comfort to offer, because those words had never helped her when she was in this place.

  Maybe this was why Karriamis had sent her to speak with Emmerian. Maybe not. Buildings—even Tara—just didn’t think like normal people.

  She waited, but Emmerian offered no further words.

  Kaylin didn’t consider this a comfortable silence. “You can’t leave?”

  “I cannot leave. I have tried. And I fear that you will now be trapped here as well. I cannot say I approve of Karriamis.”

  “Karriamis clearly has mixed feelings about you if you can be stuck here. And about me, as well, I guess.” She exhaled. “He said, when we first met, that you were good at masking your thoughts. Do you think that’s true while you’re trapped here?”

  “Yes.”

  “The comment he made that angered both you and Bellusdeo, the comment about being guardian of your race, did he kind of mean father?”

  Emmerian nodded, and once again looked away.

  “But—he didn’t get that from you.”

  “No.” His hands were by his side; they were in loose fists, but the fists began to tighten.

  “I can’t see your eyes,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Are they red?”

  “Probably.”

  “Bellusdeo is only good at hiding her thoughts when she’s calm and deliberate. Which she...wasn’t.”

  “Indeed. I do not believe, if she wishes to captain this Tower, she can keep those thoughts hidden. Karriamis is thorough and invasive in his testing. You said she was coming here.”

  Kaylin nodded. “She’s not going to be happy.”

  “It has been a long time since Bellusdeo has expected happiness, or even desired it. I will not call the world that was destroyed her hoard. But it was, to her, what the Imperial library was to Lannagaros. If his situation was not easily remedied, there was remedy for it. Bellusdeo, however, cannot be Emperor. She cannot be queen to this world as she was to the one on which she was trapped.”

  Kaylin nodded. “So...the guardian comment came from her. From her thoughts.”

  He said nothing.

  “Helen didn’t tell me what the two of you talked about when we returned home.”

  “And you wish to know?”

  “I don’t need to hear the whole thing, no. But...did you discuss the... I mean, did you talk about Dragon babies?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “I think it’s kind of important, given Karriamis.”

  “It is deeply, deeply important to
Karriamis. But he is...old. Old-fashioned. If the immortals change slowly, they nonetheless change. What a Dragon was in Karriamis’s time, and what a Dragon is in the Emperor’s reign, are not the same. He wishes to know what I want, and I wish not to tell him. We may discuss it in the hells.”

  “Why? Why not just tell him?”

  “Because it is not up to me, Corporal. It...did not occur to me that Bellusdeo had extended even that much thought to the question of...more Dragons. She has never professed even the slightest interest in such a discussion. Only Lannagaros was unconcerned about this; he wishes her to be happy. He wishes her to be herself, because he is aware that he does not know her; he knows only what she once was.

  “That has been a comfort to Bellusdeo. It has provided an anchor, a sense of the home she once had on our world—and lost. But she cannot retreat to childhood, in this. As a child, she would never have been forced to make this choice. She knows this. She has always understood why it is important.

  “Diarmat assumes, because she has not thrown herself into the logistics, that she does not. He thinks her feckless, reckless, ultimately selfish.”

  Kaylin tried not to bristle. She tried hard. “That’s easy for him to say. It’s not Diarmat who has to have the babies. Or the clutch. Whatever.”

  “As you say.”

  “Wait, Diarmat has talked about this?”

  “Kaylin, we have all talked about this. Lannagaros as well. The only person who has reserved opinion is Tiamaris—and Diarmat assumes that is because Tiamaris is young.”

  “You don’t.”

  He smiled. “No, I don’t. We are all agreed that this is important enough that it must happen, and until it does, Bellusdeo is not to risk her life needlessly.”

  “But she’s here.”

  “But she is here. The Emperor would vastly prefer that she remain in the palace, but Lannagaros argued forcefully against that. His prior experience with Bellusdeo led him to believe that this would not work well; the Dragon Court has existed for centuries and it functions well. Adding Bellusdeo to—”

  “To any gathering that also includes Diarmat? That’s going to be a disaster.”

  “Yes. Lannagaros was perhaps not as blunt, but it was not required. He believed—and believes—that she cannot be caged, and she will see all protection offered as a cage. It is too small to contain her.

  “Helen was the compromise. But she would not be with Helen—and with you—if Karriamis chooses to accept her.” He inhaled; he exhaled smoke with a heart of red flame. None of this was pointed at Kaylin, and as there wasn’t a lot of architecture here that Dragon breath could destroy, Kaylin didn’t mind it. It made Emmerian seem more human.

  “When Karriamis spoke,” he said, after the smoke had drifted further away, “I was...surprised.” His smile deepened, but it was rueful. “No, I was shocked. Bellusdeo has refused to discuss this element of her future with anyone; Lannagaros has not asked. Nor would he. I thought that she would bear the Emperor’s children, in the end.”

  Kaylin’s eyebrows were still attached to her face, which was a small miracle. “Are you insane?”

  21

  Emmerian turned fully toward her; his eyes were orange-red.

  Kaylin made no attempt to claw back what was only charitably a question. “He’s exactly the wrong person for Bellusdeo. And if she were somehow his Empress, she’d be part of his hoard. She’d be part of the Empire. If you can’t see how much of a disaster that would be, I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “For someone who doesn’t know what to say, you speak a lot.”

  “Fine. I don’t know what to say in a tongue that isn’t Leontine. You’ve already talked about how dangerous it is to have a hoard. How difficult.”

  Emmerian nodded at the understatement.

  “She can’t be part of his hoard. She’s his equal. She can’t be husbanded and protected as if she were a precious and loved child. That would kill her.”

  “There are two elements to a clutch,” he replied, his voice much more neutral. His hands, however, were fists. “The first, the most important, is Bellusdeo. There are no elders who would not have approved of her, even had there been others who might serve the purpose of continuing our race. She is strong. She is healthy.

  “But the father is of equal import. And of the court—the waking court, the active court—who would be better than the Emperor?”

  “Literally anybody breathing. Anyone else would be better.” Kaylin hesitated. “Diarmat would be a disaster. Can you at least agree with that?”

  Emmerian nodded.

  “Lannagaros is right out—it’d be like sleeping with your father or your uncle.”

  He winced but nodded again.

  “Sanabalis doesn’t want it. I think you could pressure him into it if Bellusdeo chose him, but—she won’t. He’s like a mini-Arkon. Well, no, I guess he is the Arkon now. He doesn’t have the former Arkon’s affection for her, but I think he could develop it. Over centuries.

  “That doesn’t really leave many people. You don’t agree about the Emperor. It doesn’t matter. Helen agrees with me. The Emperor and Bellusdeo would destroy each other—and that’s long before there are babies.”

  “This is not about friendship. This is not about preference. This is about the future of our people.”

  “Yes, and? Do you think you’re somehow too weak and too insignificant?”

  Oh.

  “You do.”

  He turned away.

  “You feel you’re the least important of the Dragons. The least significant.”

  He did not turn back.

  But Kaylin knew this one. She knew it so well it was painful. He was a Dragon. He was immortal. He was part of the Imperial Court. Her own doubts about her suitability to be a Hawk had plagued her for the early years; sometimes, when she looked at a criminal and saw herself—entirely herself—in their actions, it hit her hard. She was a hypocrite. She had no right to enforce laws she’d broken herself.

  And yet, this was the life she wanted. She told herself that because she’d been there, because she’d broken those laws, she understood the why of it; it made her a better Hawk because she could see the humanity in the criminal.

  But she didn’t always believe it. Couldn’t always believe it. The doubt was still there, and she could poke at it, pull it out. On bad days she couldn’t put it aside. But the bad days were fewer now. She accepted what she couldn’t change. She had changed what she could, when given opportunity and a semblance of safety.

  Emmerian had no reason to doubt himself. He’d done everything, and he’d done it right. Yes, he wasn’t the Emperor—but Kaylin was hugely thankful for that. He was the only one of the Dragons that Bellusdeo almost accepted, and she accepted him because he didn’t press her, didn’t pressure her, didn’t judge her.

  No, Kaylin thought, it was more than that. He saw her. He admired what she was: Warrior Queen. She could hold her own against any of them. He accepted her sense of humor, her temper, even her rage.

  Bellusdeo knew it.

  It was Bellusdeo’s thoughts Karriamis had read. But it was Emmerian’s reaction that had provided the damn Tower with an in, a hint of weakness, a way of reaching Lord Emmerian.

  “You...you want this, right?” Kaylin asked.

  Emmerian nodded; he did not turn to face her.

  “Am I the person you would have chosen to be the Chosen?”

  He turned his head, his brows folding.

  “You don’t have to answer that. The answer is no. The answer would be no if I asked it of any of my friends. Any of them. They’d say no for different reasons. Some because they think I’m incompetent, some because they think I won’t survive the situations I’ll get into because of the marks. If I surveyed people who aren’t my friends, most would think I don’t deserve them. I can’t even use them. I�
�m lazy, I’m not interested in magic. I’m a waste of the marks.”

  He nodded.

  “And you know what? It doesn’t matter. Did I want the marks?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly. But I have them. I can’t peel them off my own skin. My ignorance, my weakness, my mortality, didn’t make a damn difference. I have no idea why I was Chosen when Nightshade was standing right there—but I was.

  “And I can heal with them. I’ve done good with them. I’ve done things that maybe people who understood them better wouldn’t have done—but I don’t consider those things a waste.

  “I didn’t choose. I was chosen. And guess what? You’ve said—and I think you’ve always meant it—that Bellusdeo gets to choose.”

  “She has never said—”

  “No, but she wouldn’t. You know that. You could ask her. She wouldn’t answer.”

  He said nothing.

  “Unless your life was on the line, and even then, she’d find it embarrassing. But if Karriamis is actually right—and I think he might be—you’re her choice.”

  “I’m her choice because I am the least offensive choice she might make?”

  Kaylin stepped back, because that’s exactly what she’d been saying, and she realized that in his position, she’d feel what he was feeling. Being chosen because you were the least offensive, the least undesirable, was not the same as actually being wanted. The lack of negatives wasn’t a positive. “I didn’t say she was madly in love with you, no. But you’ve all been saying this is a necessity. You all agree.”