Cast in Oblivion

by Michelle Sagara

  “You guys are Barrani and you remember everything. I can’t. Mortals can’t.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, tilting it on two legs. “Because we can’t, and because I’m mortal, I have my own ways of hooking things together so they stay in place. Helen?”

  Helen had agreed to have an entirely internal Records repository. Kaylin couldn’t have an internal mirror connection, but Records? For Helen, that was trivial.

  “High Lord and Consort.”

  “Would you like this to be full visuals, dear?”

  “Umm, could you maybe make them like little chess pieces? We’ve got the whole dining room table.”

  “I could indeed. I’m not certain, however, that a chessboard will have the required room.”

  “No, but it could be useful. Just...leave the pieces off the board until we start a game?”

  * * *

  In the center of the table, two figurines appeared. They were disturbingly lifelike: a small Consort with her white, white hair, and a rather forbidding High Lord. “Add Lirienne.”

  Sedarias opened her mouth. Shut it.

  “He’s Lord of the West March, yes, but he’s also a Lord of the High Court, and he’s supported his brother and sister throughout both their tenure and his. He feels that the cohort will harm the alliances the High Lord’s rule—or at least his own—depends on.”

  “He is not High Lord.”

  Ugh. Helen created a figure of Lirienne in spite of Sedarias’s objections.

  “Okay.” Kaylin looked at the documents that, not coincidentally, were now beneath the feet of the Consort. “They’re at the top.”

  “That is not the correct configuration,” Sedarias began.

  “They’re part of the same family, right? Let’s just put the family groups up, and then we can start to move them. Somehow.”

  * * *

  By the time Kaylin had named each of the twelve families that had offered a child to the green, the table was longer, which was not a bad thing. Nor was it a simple matter to sort out the structure of those twelve lines, because there were more than twelve families involved. Each of the twelve had strong connections with other, theoretically lesser, families.

  There was disagreement about how the families should be structured around or against each other. Some of it was because of ego. Some of it was different assessments. And all of the cohort were aware that their centuries of absence meant they were operating on very little information. Or worse, on Dragon information, which would have been unthinkable to all of them, had Mandoran and Annarion not lived with Bellusdeo.

  The arguments were mostly silent; they broke the surface when Kaylin made a mistake, in one person’s opinion or another, and needed to be corrected. Unfortunately for the cohort, or perhaps for Kaylin, most of Kaylin’s so-called mistakes were not universally criticized. Sedarias’s corrections caused subsequent arguments.

  Kaylin forgot why she’d started this exercise by the middle of it; given that Barrani didn’t need sleep, she wasn’t certain it was ever going to end.

  “Memory,” Helen supplied, her voice soft. “You were attempting to demonstrate how you construct memories.”

  Kaylin listened to the arguments she could hear.

  “Mellarionne is almost of equal rank with the High Lord’s family. That’s not a guess, and it is not sentimental. It is fact.”

  “Solanace is not first rank,” Annarion said. “It is considered of the first rank because it stands—or has stood—so close to the High Lord’s family for so long. Even when Mellarionne made its move, Solanace did not intrigue or join them.”

  “Probably because Mellarionne didn’t attempt to negotiate with them directly,” Sedarias snapped. “And with the single exception of you, there is no Solanace.”

  Annarion bristled as Kaylin cringed. “There would be nothing to be gained from such negotiations.”

  “Solanace has always been the High Lord’s lapdog.”

  Kaylin was certain she had had stupider ideas when interacting with the cohort. At the moment, they failed to come to mind. Karian’s line was Reymar; its leader was Illmarin, and Illmarin stood behind—or in chess terms, in front—of Mellarionne. The pieces for Reymar and Mellarionne were, or should have been, faceless, more like chess pieces than the miniature High Lord’s family.

  They weren’t. They had tiny faces and their clothing was distinct and distinctly colored. Illmarin at least appeared to wear a tiara; it was oversized for her small face, something Helen had chosen to do deliberately. The gem in the center was a pale, colorless sparkle. Diamond, then. And: Arcanist.

  “Teela?”

  Teela lifted her head. She was focused but silent; most of the actual appearances Helen was drawing on came from the memories that Teela had elected to share. It surprised Kaylin.

  “She is not directly offering them to me,” Helen said. “She is, however, offering them to the cohort, and Mandoran is being fussy.”

  “How many more Arcanists do we have?” Kaylin asked, squinting. “Umm, Helen, could these be a little bit bigger?”

  “They could be life-size, but it would make the dimensions of the current dining room insufficient. Would you prefer that?”

  She wouldn’t. Helen’s compromise: to create each figurine at life-size, and then shrink it to match the growing number of chess pieces. Kaylin wondered why this wasn’t done in the Halls of Law almost as a matter of course. She’d have to suggest it. An image of an orange-eyed, exhausted, extremely cranky Leontine sergeant came to mind. Yeah. She’d suggest it when all of this had blown over, one way or the other. And maybe, just maybe, if she handled everything properly, she’d finally be a corporal.

  “If you are thinking about your possible promotion,” Teela said from across a longer table than they’d originally sat at, “I will strangle you.”

  “No, you won’t. Helen won’t let you.”

  “Helen?” Teela said.

  Helen chuckled. “I would prevent you from harming Kaylin, as you well know. But I would do it as much for your sake as I would for hers. Sometimes we say things in anger that we wish we could take back. I would class physical harm in the same category. And yes, dear, I realize that was an attempt at humor. Ah, I believe Kaylin has a visitor.”

  “Are you expecting a visitor?” Teela asked. As her eyes were already blue, they didn’t get darker. She did, however, look at the reams of paper and the small army of chess pieces, most of which would no longer fit on a chessboard, given the board’s limitation.

  “Is it Severn?”

  “No, dear. I thought, when he approached the perimeter, that he might be here to speak with Bellusdeo.”

  Now all of the cohort stiffened. Bellusdeo meant Dragon. Kaylin rose immediately while the room fell into a morbid hush. Please, Kaylin thought as she abandoned the dining room. Please let it not be the Emperor.

  “It’s not, dear.”

  She looked up to see Bellusdeo descending the stairs, her eyes a martial orange. One day soon, she was going to live in a house in which all of the various races did not look so prepared for all-out war.

  * * *

  Lord Emmerian stood in the door. His eyes were an orange-gold; he was wary, but did not expect disaster. Bellusdeo stood to one side of Kaylin, and Kaylin dared a glance at her eyes; they were still orange, but they didn’t darken into a redder shade.

  He bowed instantly to the Dragon who lived here, and then bowed to Kaylin in quick succession. He carried a case by a worn brass handle, but was otherwise dressed for the palace. As he rose, Helen moved out of the doorway, and he entered the foyer.

  “Please,” Helen said before Kaylin could come up with an excuse for the mess of the dining room, “this way.”

  She couldn’t always be rescued by her house. But the past few days had driven home an important lesson: almost everyone currently living in her
house was above her pay grade. And she was going to have to change her responses to match them.

  “Teela and Tain haven’t changed,” Helen said.

  “No, but—”

  “The only thing that’s changed in the recent past is your knowledge of the other parts of their life. The cohort is more of a muddle—but the people you helped to free, with the possible exception of young Terrano—”

  “He’s not really young,” Kaylin said, interrupting. “Where is he?”

  “He is in the basement training room.”

  “Alone?”

  “All the rest of the cohort drifted to the dining room.” Helen’s Avatar winced. “They are arguing about position, rank and general political power now. And even those who have disavowed connection to their family lines are joining in. I really do think you’ll appreciate Lord Emmerian’s company at the moment.” She winced again.

  Bellusdeo was not dressed for company from the Imperial Dragon Court. Clothing, however, did not make the Dragon—which was more or less literally true, as adopting draconic form generally destroyed their clothing. She did, however, take a seat in the parlor, and invited Emmerian to do the same. This was technically Kaylin’s job.

  “I apologize for arriving without notice—or permission,” Emmerian said. He set his worn case gently on the nearest flat surface. “The Arkon asked me to visit. He will, of course, leave his library on the evening the Consort arrives for dinner, but—”

  “He doesn’t like to be far from his hoard.”

  “No. Emergencies notwithstanding, he is at home there. He would be at peace were it not for the presence of the various librarians, but he has managed to fully train those. It is visitors—”

  “Like me?”

  Lord Emmerian’s smile managed to be apologetic. “I will not apologize for the Arkon. Nor will I speak for him; he is more than capable of speaking for himself.”

  Bellusdeo snorted. There was smoke. “So you are now running the Arkon’s errands.”

  “Yes.” His smile deepened. “I am fond of the Arkon. He was a charismatic figure in my youth.”

  Kaylin couldn’t imagine that.

  “Charisma is not about simple appearance,” Helen said as she entered the room carrying a large tray.

  “No, I know. But...he’s fussy, he hates people and every other word that leaves his mouth is a lecture.”

  “That is an exaggeration,” Bellusdeo told her.

  “It isn’t much of an exaggeration,” Emmerian replied. “The Arkon is fond of you. He is testier in his interactions with others; we are frequently wasting his time.”

  The gold Dragon’s smile deepened, and the last of the orange drained from her eyes. “Did he send you with some protection for me?”

  Emmerian nodded. His eyes retained a trace of orange, but this was normal. “I suggested that this was unnecessary, as Helen has befriended you.”

  “And his response?”

  “I hesitate to repeat it in public.”

  At that, Bellusdeo laughed. It was a low, full laugh. Kaylin wished, in that moment, that the Arkon wasn’t ancient. If Bellusdeo had to have children with someone, the Arkon seemed to be the Dragon she felt the most affection for.

  “Did he mention this to the Emperor?”

  “No. He felt that mentioning it to the Emperor would waste both his own and the Emperor’s time. And also,” Emmerian added softly, “that it would add conflict to his request. He serves—and admires—the Emperor. But he holds you in great affection, and it grieves him to see conflict between you.” Before she could speak—and she did open her mouth—he continued. “He understands the root of the conflict, on both sides. But he has hope that, in future, it will pass.”

  “Am I free to refuse whatever protection he offers?”

  “Of course. The Arkon understands that you are not, technically, a Lord of the Court. You are not subject to his commands. He will not stoop to drama; he asks that you consider it, for his sake, not your own. May I?”

  Bellusdeo nodded, and Lord Emmerian opened the case.

  Kaylin’s allergy to magic manifested itself instantly; all of the hair on her arms stood on end. To make matters more interesting, the marks on those arms, hidden by the usual layer of cloth, began to glow brightly enough their outlines could be seen through said cloth.

  Bellusdeo noticed, but did not consider the glowing marks to be a sign of imminent danger. She rose, moving to stand beside Emmerian, who remained in his seat.

  “He understands that this might seem proprietary,” Lord Emmerian said. “And again, only begs you to consider it.”

  “What were his exact words?”

  “Many of his exact words involved instructions to me, and I assure you that the Arkon is not nearly as warmly affectionate when speaking to, or of, me. I had a small accident in his library once and he was only barely persuaded to allow me to extend my existence.” This was said with a wry smile.

  “Was it like my small accident?” Kaylin asked. She moved—slowly—toward Bellusdeo to see what the Dragons both saw.

  “No. Nothing I touched disintegrated. On the other hand, he considered both your age and your mandate—as Chosen—in his response to you.”

  Kaylin winced.

  “I’m not sure I have been fully apprised of an incident involving Kaylin. Or perhaps there are just too many,” Bellusdeo added.

  “Ask the Arkon—but perhaps inquire when Kaylin is at home and you are at the palace,” Emmerian told her. “The Arkon was oft indulgent of the very young.”

  “I’m not very young!” Kaylin objected.

  “For a mortal, perhaps not. But were I you, I would not assert your ability to bear the brunt of his anger.”

  “Is this why he always lectures me?”

  “Ah, no. He lectures everyone—mortal or Dragon—with a handful of notable exceptions.”

  Kaylin looked down. Set in silk in the worn case were two medallions. “Why are there two?”

  “One, of course, is for you.”

  “Look, given what my skin is doing, I’m not going anywhere near it.”

  “That,” Helen said, “is due to the enchantments upon the case itself. I believe you will find the medallions will not exert the same influence when they are removed and the case itself closed. I believe you’ve worn one of these before.”

  “I assume you are speaking of Kaylin; I certainly have not,” Bellusdeo told the Avatar. “I have not seen this emblem in a long, long time—and the last time, it was not Lannagaros who had the right to use it.” She reached out, ran her fingers along the crest at the center of the medallion. Her expression shifted, the corners of her lips turning down, her eyes narrowing not in anger or suspicion, but something that resembled sorrow.

  Chapter 3

  Bellusdeo seemed frozen in place.

  Lord Emmerian was watching her, and managed to do it without giving the impression that he was staring, which was a neat trick, given that his eyes hadn’t moved. His hands hadn’t, either; for one moment, it seemed that he wasn’t even breathing. But he did turn as Kaylin shifted in place, his brows rising as if he were asking a question, but without the actual words.

  Kaylin bent. “May I?”

  Emmerian nodded. “I am aware of your strong reaction to magic, and I apologize for the necessity of the case; the Arkon was only barely willing to trust me. But given your current predicament, I thought it better than his initial suggestion.”

  “And that?” Bellusdeo interrupted, her expression once again neutral.

  “An invitation to attend him in person.”

  “I’ll take the rash,” Kaylin said.

  Emmerian smiled. His smile had no teeth in it, and his expression implied mild relief when Kaylin’s hand hovered over one of the two medallions. It seemed, to her eye, to be very simple; it had a stylized representat
ion of flame at its core but, around it, a whirl of lines that implied wind or air. There were runes carved in a circle around this, and the whole appeared to be made of...stone?

  “They both look the same,” Kaylin said.

  “They are both identical; you may take either one safely. The Arkon felt that you would not be discomfited by the medallion, and the chain that supports it is gold, with a very light enchantment meant to keep the chain in one piece. He gives permission, however, to break that enchantment should it prove necessary for your comfort.”

  “These are stone?”

  Bellusdeo snorted, with smoke. “Yes.” Before Kaylin could ask another question, she added, “The Arkon did not make these. They are in his possession, and if you somehow manage to harm or destroy even the one you are holding, I cannot guarantee that you will survive. They are precious to the Arkon.”

  “They are of value to all of Dragon kind,” Emmerian added softly.

  “He has chosen to grant them to us, at least for the duration of your dinner.”

  “At least” implied longer. Kaylin, however, now looked at the stone medallion in her hand with more visceral dread. “How old are these?”

  “They are from the first Aerie,” Bellusdeo replied. “Not my first Aerie, but the first Aerie. It is long gone—it was long gone by the time of the Arkon’s birth. This is what remains of it: this, and its like. Destroy it, and it will not be remade.”

  “I don’t think I can wear this,” Kaylin said, handing the medallion to Emmerian.

  “Kaylin, dear, may I speak to you?”