Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) (13 page)

“I don’t know what will happen in Nightshade. Give it a few days—maybe five? When Bellusdeo puts on her war hat, she’s pretty focused. She takes Shadow personally.”

“I am aware of that.”

“If you want to strategize—without insulting or minimizing her advice or experience—that would probably be the best thing you could offer her. But not if you’re going to end up having another deafening ‘discussion’ about her safety.”

“Perhaps I will do exactly that,” he surprised Kaylin by saying. “It will give us something to talk about that is less awkward.”

“What do you normally talk about?”

“You and Lord Diarmat. And yes, the importance of her safety. I will attempt to avoid all three subjects.”

* * *

Living in a sentient building was almost heaven. There were one or two drawbacks, however.

Helen insisted that Kaylin eat breakfast. Kaylin didn’t usually have time, given her early-morning routine—which involved falling out of bed, shoving herself into the nearest clothing and heading for the door at a run.

Helen blamed this familiar routine on Kaylin’s irregular hours and her inability to wake up on time. Since she couldn’t change Kaylin’s working hours, she’d settled for waking Kaylin in time to eat. Today, for the first time since she had changed Kaylin’s familiar routine, Kaylin had company.

Moran was seated on the left side of the table when Kaylin entered the room. She was dressed for work and appeared to be far more awake than Kaylin felt.

She smiled, and her face didn’t crack. “Not in the Halls, remember?”

Kaylin nodded and took a seat, looking at Moran. The Aerian’s color was better. The tight slope of her shoulders had eased. She looked comfortable at this table. “Did you sleep?”

“Yes. I slept well.”

“And she woke well,” Helen added.

“Where are you?” Kaylin asked.

“With Annarion. He is in a much better mood than he was yesterday. He spent some time speaking with Hope—and I think you named him well, even if you find the name too sentimental to actually use. He’s looking forward to your outing. We’ll be joining you shortly.”

Bellusdeo entered the dining room before Helen and Annarion reached it. She nodded at Moran and took the seat across from the Aerian. “Have you decided to join us?”

That was the only question on Kaylin’s mind, but she hadn’t had the guts to ask it.

Moran pushed food around her plate as if it took effort. When she lifted her head, she looked to Kaylin. “You understand that this might cause difficulty for you?”

Kaylin shrugged. “What doesn’t?”

“It might cause difficulty for the Hawklord, too—and I owe Grammayre more than trouble.”

“Has he told you not to stay?”

“I don’t think he considered the possibility, or it’s likely he would have.”

Kaylin’s expression made clear that she didn’t believe it.

“It might cause difficulty for the Emperor, as well.”

“The Emperor doesn’t get involved in difficulties with the Caste Courts.” She hesitated. Everyone in the room—and one person who wasn’t, yet—marked it. “And frankly, the Emperor would probably be pleased if you accepted our offer.”

“Oh?” Bellusdeo said, in a distinctly chillier voice. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s spoken with the Emperor,” Helen replied, when Kaylin didn’t.

Bellusdeo’s eyes drifted, predictably, toward orange. “When?”

Kaylin’s food appeared, along with Helen and their two Barrani housemates. “Last evening, I believe. I didn’t hear the conversation, though; the Emperor did not stay.”

“The Emperor came here,” Bellusdeo said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, dear.”

“Why, exactly?” She asked the question of Kaylin, who was now looking at breakfast with an amazing lack of appetite.

“He’s worried, of course,” Helen replied again—coming, in the worst way possible, to Kaylin’s rescue.

Annarion and Mandoran made a wide, wide circle around Helen and came to the table. They chose seats as far from Bellusdeo as the table stretched.

“If it’s any comfort,” Mandoran said, “we get this from Teela all the time. It’s like she thinks we’re children.”

This was clearly no comfort to Bellusdeo.

“And if that isn’t,” Annarion added, “Teela—and several of our other friends—are telling Mandoran to shut up.”

The Dragon’s lips twitched at the corners, and the color of her eyes lightened.

“You worry for the Arkon, dear,” Helen pointed out softly. “He does not find this insulting or condescending.”

“No. But I don’t tell him what to do. I can’t give him orders. Had he come to me with his plan to face the ancient, I would never have attempted to forbid it.”

“Do you place no value on your own life?”

“I don’t need to” was Bellusdeo’s bitter reply. “Everyone else is always telling me what I’m worth.”

Moran cleared her throat.

It was a familiar sound; had Kaylin been speaking, she would have shut up instantly.

“Helen, is it always this noisy first thing in the morning?”

“Sadly, no. The house hasn’t been this lively in a while.”

“Lively.”

“There is goodwill beneath the frustration and anger,” Helen replied, her smile serene. “And affection. I have missed it. Understand, Moran,” she continued, as she drifted around the table, “that all living things yearn for purpose. Mine is—and always has been—to become a home. But a home is defined entirely by the people who live in it.

“If you will allow it, I would be honored to make a home for you until you can once again return to the Southern Reach.”

Moran settled her hands in her lap. “What will it cost me?”

“That, dear, is for you to decide. Obligation and a sense of personal debt are too delicate and too complex for a simple building to navigate.”

Bellusdeo’s snort had smoke in it.

“But regardless, that decision is not in my hands. This is Kaylin’s home. I imagine that the entire cost will be written in pride. Yours,” she added softly.

Moran glanced at Kaylin and then at Bellusdeo. To the Dragon, she said, “The Emperor is merely worried. He is Emperor. He has not forbidden you freedom of action.”

“He has made the attempt.”

“Perhaps you do not understand our Emperor,” the Hawk continued. Kaylin’s jaw dropped. “He is not, historically, incompetent enough to make unsuccessful attempts. If he has attempted to move you by discussion, debate or even argument—”

“A
lot
of argument,” Kaylin said.

Moran ignored this. “He has not commanded.”

Bellusdeo said nothing for a long beat, but when she exhaled, she lost two stiff inches of rigid height.

“I understand the formal protocols of the Empire are foreign to you; I understand that Lord Diarmat is...problematic. But even a private in the Hawks can see that the Emperor is trying to accommodate you. It is not something he is generally accused of being—accommodating, that is. He will probably get it wrong more often than right. Frankly, were you Aerian, you would not be allowed to fly outside of the Aerie. You would not be allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied.”

Bellusdeo could have pointed out that she wasn’t unaccompanied. She didn’t. Instead, she exhaled more air than she could have possibly inhaled and folded her arms. “What did he come here for?” she asked.

Seeing an opportunity, Kaylin said, “He wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Join us.”

Some opportunities
were
disasters. “He doesn’t want to be your enemy. Inasmuch as Emperors have friends, I think he’d like to be one of yours.” When Bellusdeo failed to reply, she continued, “You understand the burdens of a ruler. You were one. Dragons are not known for their ability to gracefully accept advice or criticism—but I think you have more in common with the Emperor than you think. Except for your sense of humor.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think he has one.”

Mandoran snickered. So did Bellusdeo.

“Did he say when?”

“I think that’s going to be up to you. Look, I can’t tell you how to behave around the Emperor. I wouldn’t be stuck in Diarmat’s hell class if I was qualified to do that. But...he’d be here without his stuck-up, wooden guards, and he wouldn’t be sitting on a throne. It probably wouldn’t be boring.”

“Are we invited?” Mandoran asked.

“Absolutely not,” Bellusdeo replied.

They devolved into bickering, and Kaylin looked back to Moran. To her surprise, the formidable sergeant was smiling.

“You’ll probably regret it,” she told Kaylin. “But...yes. If the offer is still open, I’d like to stay here until my wing is healed.”

“About the wing—”

“On its own.”

Chapter 11

Ditching Annarion and Mandoran proved to be much, much more of a problem than Kaylin had anticipated. Helen was willing to allow them to leave if they accompanied Kaylin, as her familiar could more or less keep them hidden from the non-mortal Shadows who seemed to hear them so clearly.

Teela didn’t particularly care for either the Arkon or the Imperial Palace; she could tolerate them, but she never sought them out willingly. She hadn’t, therefore, insisted on accompanying Kaylin. Severn had shown up at the front door as a reminder of the appointment she’d already managed to miss once.

Annarion was willing to follow Teela’s lead. Mandoran was not, and Annarion wasn’t willing to let Mandoran be the only Barrani representative from their collective crew. But Severn considered the visit less risky than Kaylin did, and in the end, Kaylin had agreed to let them accompany her. She was fairly certain Marcus’s fur—all of it—would be standing on end if he knew, but it was easier to grovel and beg forgiveness than to ask permission.

The Arkon had wanted to meet them, anyway.

Bellusdeo, uncertain that the argument would ever end, left first. “I do not find Lannagaros’s company taxing,” she said on the way out. “Given recent events, I find it exactly the opposite.”

Since Annarion and Mandoran were now part of the visit to the Arkon, Teela also accompanied them, and wasn’t entirely pleased about it. Or quiet.

“...And I’m warning you now that if the two of you touch
anything
in his collection, we’ll all be smoldering ash. Just—if you could be quiet and still, it would be helpful to
my
continued employment. And existence. And when I say ‘you,’ I mean Mandoran.” Teela could have said this silently; she had their True Names. She didn’t need to speak out loud.

“Plausible deniability,” Teela said, correctly guessing Kaylin’s thoughts. “Honestly, the primary reason I’d never give you my True Name is because it wouldn’t be advantageous to me—what you think is so plainly written across your face I don’t need you to speak out loud to catch it.”

Mandoran pulled a face. “I swear, once we’ve gotten your brother, I’m going back to the green.”

Annarion winced, but said nothing.

Kaylin didn’t believe him, because she wasn’t that lucky. She kept this to herself, with effort. Gilbert. Kattea. Evanton’s concern about ancient, mysterious ruins. The bodies that disappeared when she looked at them the wrong way. There were too many things that were strange and wrong, and Kaylin was attempting to juggle them all.

She was a crap juggler. Eventually they were going to come raining down on her head.

She’d appreciate it if that didn’t happen while the Arkon was present.

* * *

The Arkon met them at the library doors, although the library was well-staffed during daylight hours. Said staff were watching the visitors with barely concealed interest; they appeared to be tending to their various jobs. Kaylin had no doubt they would all be talking in muted whispers the minute the visitors were out of earshot.

The Arkon’s eyes were a shade of orange that immediately set Kaylin’s teeth on edge. “You said you wanted to meet them,” she began.

“You will be silent for at least the next fifteen minutes.” He paused. “My apologies, Lord Teela, but I must insist that you, and your companions, also comply with my request.”

It certainly wasn’t phrased like a request.

“Morgrim, please call the librarians to the desk. The interruption to their regular duties should be minimal.”

* * *

“This should cause no discomfort.”

“What should cause no discomfort?” Kaylin asked.

The Arkon’s answer was typical: it had nothing to do with the question she’d asked. “You have brought two visitors.”

“You
wanted
to meet them.”

“Yes, I did. I am delighted to have the opportunity to do so.” Delight was clearly the same as suspicion, at least for Dragons. “But they have—to use your colloquial phrase—tripped a number of protective wards on their passage through the gallery. I wish to ascertain that their presence here will not harm the more susceptible parts of my archive.”

She glanced at the library’s front desk. The librarians were gathered behind it. Actually, they were
huddling
behind it. This did nothing to ease her worry. But her arms didn’t ache; her skin didn’t feel as if it was being peeled off. If there was magic in use, it was not the type of magic to which she was apparently allergic.

The Arkon began to speak. His lips moved in slow motion, and he raised his hands, turning his palms slowly toward the ceiling.

Kaylin felt the air crackle. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see lightning strike, but had the suspicion that it wasn’t the
floor
it would hit first. Teela’s eyes were very blue.

Mandoran’s and Annarion’s were almost black. They didn’t arm themselves; they didn’t run. They didn’t try to stop the Arkon. But their mouths, unlike the Arkon’s, were compressed, tight lines and white around the edges.

Words began to form in the air around the Arkon. Literally.

* * *

If true words had irrevocable meaning, they clearly also conveyed tone. Or perhaps it was just the choice of words. These were a deeper blue than any previous words the Arkon had chosen, laboriously, to speak, and although they were glowing, they felt...dark. And cold. She had walked around the visible representation of ancient and unknowable words such as this before; she had even touched them.

She did not want to touch these. Ever.

The air grew colder.

Squawk.

The Arkon frowned. His eyes were a steady, pale orange. If the words were as dangerous as they felt to Kaylin, they were not spoken in anger, if they were even being spoken at all. When Sanabalis spoke ancient, true words, Kaylin could hear them. She could hear the timbre of his voice, the rumbling native to Dragons, even in human form; she could hear the stretch of syllables. The language itself felt familiar, every time, but she could not understand a word of it. Nor could she easily memorize any of the spoken component.

This time, she didn’t even want to try.

Squawk. Squawk.

The Arkon’s hands stilled. His eyes narrowed. His expression fell into much more familiar lines, although the color of his eyes didn’t shift to gold. He closed his mouth. When he opened it again, it moved naturally, because he spoke normally.

Squawk
.

“Yes, the Emperor advised me of your current state.”

Squawk.
Kaylin had been holding her breath. She needed to breathe, but had almost forgotten how. In all of the reports she had written about the attack on the High Halls in the heart of the city, she had failed to mention Annarion’s visit to Castle Nightshade. Deliberately.

The Emperor would, of course, be enraged. He would demand Annarion and Mandoran be subject to confinement—in the best possible case. People had died.
Hawks
had died. Homes had been melted or burned to the ground. The fact that Annarion had had no intention of waking ancient, hostile demigods wouldn’t bring any of the dead back to life.

But as the small and invisible familiar continued to squawk, the true words faded, losing solidity and finally disappearing from view. It wasn’t
those
words she was now worried about, but she couldn’t make that clear without damning herself—or Annarion.

She was surprised when Severn touched her shoulder. He said nothing. But she found she could breathe again.

“Kaylin,” the Arkon said, as if her breathing was displeasing, “do you understand what your familiar is saying?”

“No more than usual.”

“He claims that it is not your companions who tripped my wards.”

Kaylin grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I wasn’t aware of any wards on the walk here.”

The Arkon frowned. “You are aware of wards in general.”

She nodded. “They make my skin itch. Door wards actually hurt. But silencing wards or privacy wards don’t, unless I trip them.”

“These wards are different. They are not meant to stop idle chatter. No wards of any significant power would stop that in these halls.”

“What are they meant to do, then?”

“They are a very rudimentary set of Shadow wards. They provide warning and detection of things that are not immediately visible to the naked eye.”

“They do more than that,” Mandoran said. Kaylin wanted to kick him. Given the way his jaw snapped shut, Teela probably had, and more effectively. This did not, however, shut him up. “What were you trying to do, there?”

“The wards are, as I said, rudimentary. The words I was attempting to speak are less so. They prevent unwanted intrusion. You wish to add something, Private?”

She didn’t. The Arkon, however, was glaring at her. “I wouldn’t walk past them if I had any choice.”

He raised a brow.

“They were true words.”

“Indeed.”

“They weren’t friendly.”

“They are not inflected. They serve a very specific purpose and they are seldom spoken.”

“I couldn’t hear you speak them at all.”

He frowned. To Mandoran, he asked, “Could you?”

“I can still hear the echoes.”

“And your friend?”

Annarion was tight-lipped and blue-eyed. He did not respond.

Mandoran answered for him. “Yes.”

Teela cleared her throat. “The man with whom you are conversing is Mandoran of Casarre.”

“And his companion?”

Teela exhaled. “Annarion.”

“Annarion.”

“Of Solanace,” Annarion added.

Teela’s breath cut the air.

“Interesting.” The Arkon clearly understood the significance of what had just been said. “I was under the impression that that line had come to an end.”

“You were mistaken.”

It was Mandoran’s turn to look queasy.

“I am a Dragon. I am not Barrani. The information that comes to us is, of necessity, incomplete. I apologize if I have been misinformed.” He turned to Kaylin. “Your familiar has claimed full responsibility for the safety of my archive.”

Meaning it would be her fault if anything unexpected happened. She exhaled a few inches of height. “Yes, sir.”

“Bellusdeo is waiting. She has been keeping an old man company.”

“Did she mention our latest investigation?”

“Yes. She also extended an invitation to dinner. Do not stand in the library gawking. If you have something to say, say it while we walk. Ah. My apologies,” he said, turning once again to the two Barrani visitors. “I am the Arkon of the Emperor’s flight. This library and the contents of its archives is my hoard.”

* * *

Kaylin’s biggest question, as she followed the Arkon’s impatient lead, was
Yes, but are you going to accept?

Squawk
.

She missed a step, her eyes narrowing in the rough direction of the small dragon voice. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Several, if history is our guide.”

“Why are you willing to trust my familiar?”

“That question is even intelligent.”

Squawk.

“Yes, intelligent enough that I will answer it.”

If he’d been sitting on her shoulder, she’d have clamped a hand over his tiny mouth.

“I am willing to trust him because he is yours.”

“But—but—”

“Yes?”

“You don’t trust
me
that much!”

“Ah. I don’t trust your competence, no. You are far too impulsive—too young—but I see that you have that in common with the two visitors you have brought.” Mandoran, who had started to look smug, frowned. “Your familiar’s competence, I trust. He is not young. I am not certain he has ever been young.”

“But he was just born—”

“—during the chaos spell, yes. But
born
is inexact in this case. He
emerged
. If you think that his existence began with an eggshell, you are wrong. His competence is wed to your
intent
. Your intent, Private Neya, only a fool would distrust.” When Kaylin failed to reply, he continued, “You do not understand the forces with which you now interact. That is to be expected; even
I
do not understand them fully.

“Your familiar understands them far better than either of us. But he
is
your familiar. He has chosen you. Until you perish—and given your history, that is likely to be sooner than later—he serves you. You can command him, but you do not; you will not learn how. Nor,” he added, lifting a hand to still her protest, “can I teach you. What your familiar would be in my hands, he cannot be in yours—but I do not think, in the end, he would have consented to serve me. He came to you.”

“He wasn’t born to me,” she pointed out.

“Was he not?” He gestured at a patch of blank wall, and the wall faded. As far as doors went, this was preferable—the wall had no wards that Kaylin was expected to touch. Bellusdeo was, as the Arkon had said, waiting. She was seated in a room that was almost shockingly bare.

Usually, there was so much
stuff
everywhere that it wasn’t even safe to
walk
.

Bellusdeo rose to greet them. “Lannagaros and I have been discussing the investigation to which you are currently assigned.”

“Can he make any more sense of it than we can?”

“Almost certainly,” the Arkon replied before Bellusdeo could. “But regrettably, more sense and enough sense are not the same. I am concerned,” he added. “I have been told that the Keeper is also concerned. And anything that concerns the Keeper...” He walked into the room. It housed not a desk, but a table, much like a dining room table. The centerpiece of that table was a stone pyramid. The Arkon took a seat at the head of the table.

Teela’s eyes had not gotten any greener, but she took the chair beside Bellusdeo. Severn took the chair to the Arkon’s immediate left, and Kaylin sat beside him; Mandoran and Annarion sat beside her.

Kaylin turned to Bellusdeo. “Did you mention Kattea?”

“And Gilbert, yes,” the Arkon again replied on her behalf. “Understand that Bellusdeo has lost more to Shadow than you have ever owned. Her fears are rational; they are based in experience. Her knowledge is invaluable.