Читать книгу Cast in Peril - Michelle Sagara - Страница 9

Chapter 3

“Does this mean that we’re off the lesson hook?” Kaylin asked Bellusdeo as they walked to the yard. They were shadowed by Clint, whose wings still hadn’t come down and whose eyes were still blue. She particularly hated to see Clint’s eyes go blue, because, among other things, he had the laugh she loved best in the entire department, and when his eyes were that color, there was no chance of hearing it.

“I have no idea. Given the time, and given Lord Diarmat’s current disposition, I would guess that we are, indeed, excused from a few hours of his pompous and unfortunate cultural babble.”

Clint actually choked slightly, and his eyes did clear a bit. Lord Diarmat was the captain, and therefore commander, of the Imperial Guard, and the Imperial Guard wasn’t generally beloved by the Halls of Law; the Imperial Guard had a very high opinion of themselves and a less than respectful opinion of anyone else in a uniform who also served at the Emperor’s command.

The small dragon was now sitting half in her hand; the other half extended up her arm so that his neck could more or less rest against it.

“I wish that creature could make himself invisible,” Bellusdeo said quietly.

“Why?”

“Because I worry about the attention he’ll attract.”

“Could it be any worse than an Arcane bomb that destroys his entire home?”

“Oh, I don’t think his life—if it even is a he—is in any danger. I think yours, on the other hand—”

“Let’s pretend I just repeated that question.”

Bellusdeo lifted a brow and then just shook her head. “Do you honestly think that the bomb was meant for you?”

“Does it matter? If it was meant for you, it still destroyed my home and everything in it that wasn’t attached to something breathing.” She took a deep breath, expelled it, and shook her head. “Sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“You’re certain?”

“No. I was trying to be polite. If someone’s trying to kill you—” which, in Kaylin’s opinion, was the most likely option “—it’s probably not fun for you, either. But that’s been my home since I crossed the bridge from the fiefs. Caitlin helped me find it. Caitlin let me choose it. It’s the only place I’ve ever been certain was mine.”

“…And if someone was trying to kill me, it’s indirectly my fault that it’s gone?”

“You’re sure you’re not a Tha’alani in disguise?”

“Relatively.”

Kaylin muttered a few Leontine words and wished she could just sew her own mouth shut for the next hour or two. Because part of her did feel exactly that, and she wasn’t proud of it. She just couldn’t figure out how to squelch it. It would be different if she’d begged Bellusdeo to live with her; she hadn’t. She’d practically done the opposite. And if Bellusdeo had been living in Tiamaris or the Imperial Palace—which had been Kaylin’s first and second choices—Kaylin would still have a home.

The small dragon sank claws into her arm and dragged itself up to her shoulder, where it perched to bite her ear. She cursed in louder Leontine and then swiveled her neck to glare. The opal eyes of the small creature regarded her, unblinking, for a long moment.

“I guess I deserved that,” she said in a quiet voice as some of the tension began to leave her jaw and neck.

“Why?” Bellusdeo asked in the same cool, practical voice.

“Because if you’re right—and given my luck, you probably are—he’s trying to tell me that he wouldn’t have hatched at all if someone with a crapload of magical power hadn’t been trying to kill you.”

* * *

Sanabalis was enraged. If he’d opened his mouth and foot-long fangs had sprouted, it would have looked completely natural. Kaylin, who’d been following on Bellusdeo’s heels, almost backed out of the carriage. She managed not to, but only barely. “I—I have another place to stay,” she began.

“Get. In.”

She did. To Kaylin’s surprise, given his mood, Sanabalis did not slam the carriage door.

They traveled halfway to the Palace in silence. Sanabalis broke it, because he was the only one who dared—or cared to; Bellusdeo didn’t seem overly concerned with his mood. “What is sitting on your shoulder?”

“The—the hatchling,” Kaylin replied, managing to stop the words small dragon from leaving her mouth.

“Hatchling?”

“I— Yes. From an egg.”

He raised a brow, and the color of his eyes began to brighten into a much safer orange. On the usual bad day, orange wasn’t a safe color; funny how context was everything. “Generally the word hatch implies egg. What egg?”

“I don’t suppose we can wait until we get to the Palace? The Arkon’s going to ask the same questions.”

A white brow rose as Sanabalis snorted smoke into the enclosed space.

* * *

When the carriage pulled into the Imperial drive, the road was swarming with guards. This was impressive, because Diarmat implied he’d taken a few dozen with him; she wondered if any of the Imperial Guard was off duty tonight. More impressive, for a value of impressive Kaylin often found annoying, were the half-dozen older men in the robes of the Imperial Order of Mages. If they resented being dragooned into guard duty, they very carefully kept it off their faces as Sanabalis and Bellusdeo disembarked. They even managed to do so when Kaylin did.

They were less impressively poker-faced when they caught sight of the glass dragon perched on her shoulder, but only one man was foolish enough to ask, and he didn’t get more of an answer than Sanabalis’s curt dismissal.

“Private,” the Dragon Lord said to Kaylin as the mages who were technically junior to him in every conceivable way did the polite version of scattering, “you will spend the evening in the Palace in our most secure chambers.”

“How much magic is in your secure chambers?” Kaylin asked, trying not to cringe.

“Not enough, I’m certain, to be unbearably uncomfortable.”

“Meaning I can live with the discomfort.”

“If you feel any, yes. I do not require that you do this in silence; I require that you do it where no Dragon—except Lady Bellusdeo—is in danger of hearing you.”

* * *

Sanabalis led them into the Palace, where a by-now familiar man in a perfectly tailored suit was waiting. He bowed to Sanabalis, bowed far more deeply to Bellusdeo, and then led them to a part of the Palace that Kaylin vaguely recognized: it was where Marcus’s wives had briefly stayed.

“These will be your rooms,” he told both Kaylin and Bellusdeo. “If you prefer separate quarters—”

“We don’t,” Bellusdeo replied before Kaylin could gratefully accept the offer.

“Very good.” He bowed, making clear by this gesture that Kaylin’s preferences counted for the usual nothing. “Food will be provided at the usual mealtimes. If you require specific food or desire it on a different schedule, that can be accommodated. If there are any specific likes or dislikes—”

Kaylin opened her mouth; Bellusdeo lifted her hand. Clearly her hand was also more important. “We are satisfied. Thank you.”

The man then bowed and left them alone—with Sanabalis.

“He was just getting to the good part,” Kaylin told Bellusdeo.

“Which part would that be?”

“The part where I get to choose whatever it is I’m being fed.”

“Given the quality of what you do eat, I believe you’ll survive your silence.” She turned to Sanabalis. “Please don’t let us detain you.”

Sanabalis, whose eyes were still orange, met her dismissal impassively; he also folded his arms across his chest.

“Yes?”

“The Emperor requests a moment of your time.”

Kaylin froze.

“Not yours, Private. He merely wishes to ascertain that Bellusdeo is, in fact, unharmed. He was…most upset…when word of the attack reached the Palace.”

“He must have been if he mobilized half the Dragon Court so quickly.”

“That mobilization was not a response to the attack,” was the curt reply. “And no, before you ask, I’m not at liberty to discuss it. Lady Bellusdeo?”

“I would of course be both honored and delighted to speak with the Eternal Emperor. I do, however, have one request.”

“And that?”

“I believe Kaylin should speak with the Arkon, unless the moment of time the Emperor requests also involves the Arkon’s presence.”

“It does not, and I believe your request can easily be accommodated. We will escort the Private to the Library before you speak with the Emperor, if that will suffice. Corporal, if you would care to accompany us?”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” There were whole days when Kaylin hated Dragons.

* * *

The Arkon was not, in fact, in a red-eyed, raging fury. He was only barely bronze-eyed, and given any other Immortal she’d seen this evening, that was a blessing; it wasn’t as if the Arkon ever looked happy to see her. He did, however, say, “I see the reports of your demise were exaggerated.”

Kaylin’s eyes rounded. “Someone told you I was dead?”

“It was rumored that you were, in fact, dead.”

“You didn’t believe it.”

“I believe there is a phrase that is in common usage among your kind: ‘Only the good die young.’” The Arkon was seated at a table in the main Library, surrounded by books, scrolls, and a handful of very expensive crystals, none of which were activated. He had a mirror to the left, buttressed by books; it, too, was inactive. Seeing the direction of Kaylin’s glance, the Arkon said, “Yes, I was about to resume my work.” Frowning, he added, “What exactly are you carrying?”

“Sanabalis, did you want to stay for this part?”

The Arkon cleared his throat loudly.

“Lord Sanabalis, sorry.” The small dragon sat up in her hands but spread his translucent wings as he did. “This is a—hatchling.”

“It looks remarkably like a tiny, glass dragon.”

Bellusdeo rolled her eyes; she did not, however, snort. “Lannagaros, your eyesight is clearly failing.”

The Arkon winced. “Bellusdeo, I would appreciate it if you would observe correct form; I am the Arkon.”

She raised a pale brow but said nothing.

“Private Neya?”

“You remember there was a lot of trouble caused by the magical flux of the portal that eventually opened in Elani?”

“Indeed.”

“It affected a number of different things. Among them, deliveries—of babies,” she added, because from the Arkon’s expression, the distinction needed to be made. “Not, apparently, pregnancies; any baby born in the area after the portal had opened was normal.”

He nodded.

“One of the births produced an egg, rather than a normal infant. The father wasn’t interested in keeping the egg, and it was handed to me. I was going to give it to Evanton, but I never had the chance; Elani still hasn’t been fully opened to normal pedestrian traffic, and Evanton’s been—busy.”

“So you kept the egg.”

“I did.”

“She took care of it,” Bellusdeo interjected, “as if she’d laid it herself.”

“Bellusdeo, don’t you have somewhere else you have to be?” Kaylin asked sharply.

“Apparently, yes, but I’m certain that the question of my survival—and possibly yours by extension—will arise, and any information the Arkon can provide lessens the chance that you will personally be called to the audience chamber.”

Wincing, Kaylin apologized.

“How did you incubate the egg?”

“In a totally inadequate way,” Bellusdeo replied. “It does not appear to have suffered.”

The small dragon stretched before climbing up Kaylin’s arm, where it sort of clung to her left shoulder; it draped the rest of its body across the back of her neck; its head, it perched on her right. It wuffled in her ear.

The Arkon frowned. “Records,” he said, and the mirror’s surface shivered. The room’s reflection faded from view. “Lizards. Winged lizards. Translucent lizards.” He turned and readjusted the mirror so that it faced Kaylin full-on. “Capture information and attempt to match.” He paused and then added, “All archives.” Turning back to Kaylin, he said, “I will not dispute Bellusdeo’s comment on the adequacy of your incubation decisions, but the egg clearly hatched, and its occupant is clearly alive.” He glanced at Bellusdeo before returning his attention to Kaylin; given that Bellusdeo had answered most of his questions before Kaylin could finish taking a breath, this wasn’t surprising. “When did the egg hatch?”

“Well, that’s the strange thing.”

Bellusdeo snorted. For an Immortal she was really short on patience; Kaylin tried to imagine her as the Queen of anything and gave up—although, admittedly, the idea of Bellusdeo being Queen had one appeal: she wasn’t likely to chew the heads off her Court for their lack of appropriate etiquette.

“The egg didn’t hatch until the bomb exploded in the center of the apartment.”

The Arkon froze. Sanabalis lifted a hand to the bridge of his nose; his eyes, however, were now about the same bronze as the Arkon’s.

“Let me be clear. You are telling me that the egg’s hatching was contingent on the explosion of an Arcane bomb?”

“No. I’m telling you the egg hatched when the bomb exploded. It may have cracked the shell.”

The Arkon turned to glare at Bellusdeo. “I trust you are enjoying yourself, Lady Bellusdeo?”

“I feel a small amount of self-indulgence, given the events of the day, is not unreasonable, yes.”

“I see that your definition of small amounts of self-indulgence has remained a constant.” He turned to Kaylin. “Forgive the interruption, Private. Was there anything unusual that occurred when the egg hatched?”

“Define ‘unusual.’”

“Honestly, Sanabalis,” the Arkon said in a much lower voice, “I feel that Bellusdeo is not the correct companion for the Private. Some of her influence is bound to manifest itself at inconvenient times.” He also lifted a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Anything out of the ordinary. Anything magical.”

Kaylin nodded crisply. “A barrier of some kind appeared. It protected both Bellusdeo and me from the debris and the possibility of injury.”

“Anything else?”

Kaylin hesitated.

“Private.”

“It ate one of my marks right after it hatched.”

* * *

After a very long pause, the Arkon rose from his desk and approached Kaylin. The small dragon lifted its head, bumping the side of Kaylin’s cheek as it did. The Arkon examined the dragon from a safe distance, during which time he was uncomfortably silent. “Given the current status of the Hawks, it is probably too much to ask for a full Records capture of your marks tonight. I will expect a full capture to be arranged for tomorrow, and all records are to be transferred to the Imperial Archives for my perusal. Is that clear?”

“As glass, sir.”

“Good.” He held out a hand. “Please give me the creature.”

Kaylin hesitated, and the Arkon’s eyes narrowed. She tried to disengage the small dragon; he dug in. Literally. “I don’t think he wants to leave,” she said, pulling at four small, clawed appendages. He responded by biting her hair.

The Arkon lowered his hand. “Has the creature spoken at all?”

“Pardon?”

“Spoken. Communicated.”

“Uh, no.”

“Has it separated itself from you at all, for any length of time?”

“Separated itself?”

“Left. You. Alone.”

“No, Arkon.”

“Have you attempted to put it down at all?”

“Not until now, Arkon.” She winced; she’d had burrs that were easier to remove from her hair. “Can I ask where this line of questioning is leading?”

“Did Bellusdeo say anything about the creature prior to your arrival here?”

Kaylin glanced nervously at Bellusdeo, who conversely didn’t appear to be nervous at all.

“I told her, Lannagaros, that I thought she was in possession of a familiar.”

“I…see.”

“Do you disagree?”

“Given that I have never seen what I would consider to be a genuine familiar, or at least the type of familiar about which legends arise, I am not in a position to either agree or disagree.” He turned to the mirror. “Records.”

Since Records was already searching for whatever he’d last asked for, Kaylin thought this a bit unfair—but then again, it wasn’t as if the Records were overworked mortals.

“Information, myths, or stories about familiars. This may,” he added, “take some time, if the Emperor is waiting.”

Bellusdeo nodded, fixed a firm and not terribly friendly smile to her face, and gestured at Sanabalis. Sanabalis bowed. “We may possibly revisit this discussion,” he told Kaylin as they headed toward the door.

Only when they were gone did the Arkon resume his seat; he also, however, indicated that Kaylin could grab a chair and join him—at a reasonable distance from the table that contained his work.

To her surprise, the first question he asked when the doors had closed on the two departing Dragons was “You are well?”

The small dragon had settled back onto her neck like a scarf with talons. She blinked. “Pardon?”

“While I have often heard various members of my Court and your Halls threaten you with bodily harm, strangulation, or dismemberment, you have seldom been a victim of an attack within the confines of your own home. If I understand the nature of the attack correctly, you now no longer have a home, and I am therefore attempting to ascertain your state of mind. Are you well?”

She told him she was fine. Except the words she used were “No. I’m not.” Closing her eyes, she said, “It’s the only real home I’ve had since my mother died. Every other place I’ve lived belonged to someone else, either before I moved in or after.” In the fiefs, there were no laws of ownership. At least not in the fief of Nightshade. It wasn’t that hard to eject a handful of children from the space in which they were squatting so that you could squat there instead.

She opened her eyes. “I’m happy to be alive. I am. But—it doesn’t feel real.”

“Being alive?”

“Being homeless. When I leave the Library, I don’t get to leave the Palace.”

“You are a guest, Private, not a prisoner.”

“Tell that to the Emperor.” The small dragon lifted its head and rubbed its nose along the side of her cheek. “Yes, yes,” she whispered. “I’m getting to that part.”

The Arkon raised a brow, and she reddened.

“Bellusdeo believes that the egg wouldn’t have hatched without the bomb, so—I have the hatchling.” She hesitated. “Would someone really kill me over it?”

“Not if they understood its nature.”

“What about its nature?”

“It is, in its entirety, yours.”

The small dragon’s eyes widened; it swiveled its head in the Arkon’s direction and opened its delicate, translucent mouth. There was a lot of squawking.

“Umm, did you understand any of that?” Kaylin asked as the Arkon stared at the dragonlet.

“No.”

Kaylin had, in her youth, engaged in staring contests with cats—she’d always lost. She had a suspicion that the Arkon in his age was beginning to engage in a similar contest with the small dragon—and given large Dragons, and the inability to pry the small one off her shoulder, she could see a long, sleepless night in the very near future. She therefore reached up and covered the small dragon’s eyes with her hand—something only the very young or the very suicidal would ever try with the large one.

“Can we get back to the entirely mine part?”

The small dragon reared up and bit her hand—but not quite hard enough to draw blood.

“Fine. Can we get back to the part where I’m entirely its?”

The Arkon snorted.

“And also the stories where Sorcerers destroyed half a world in order to somehow create or summon one?”

“Yes. Understand that those stories are exactly that: stories. They are not reliable or factual. There may be some particulars that suit the current situation, but many more will not.” He turned and readjusted the mirror, which made Kaylin wince; in general it wasn’t considered safe to move active mirrors, although Kaylin had never understood why. Angry Leontine was more than enough incentive.

“By the way, what is a Sorcerer?”

“For all intents and purposes? Think of a Sorcerer as an Arcanist but with actual power.”

Since her apartment was now mostly a pile of smoldering splinters, Kaylin thought his definition of “actual power” needed fine-tuning. “Any less arrogant?”

“There was purportedly one extant in my youth, but there was never confirmation of his—or her—existence. Given that people who possess power frequently decide what qualifies as humility or arrogance in a way that allows little dissent, I will offer a qualified no.”

“Fine. Arrogant and very powerful.” She looked pointedly at her shoulder. “How, exactly, is a small dragon of great use to an arrogant and very powerful Arcanist?”

“Bellusdeo implied that the ‘small dragon,’ as you call it, shielded both of you from the brunt of the damage the Arcane bomb would have otherwise caused. It is almost a certainty that you would not have survived otherwise. Further study is warranted, but it is clear to me that Bellusdeo would have been, at the very least, gravely injured. She was not.”

“If a Sorcerer is actually more powerful than the Arcanists, I don’t think some form of impressive magical defense would be beyond him—or her. I understand why the familiar might be helpful to someone like me, but I didn’t exactly destroy half a world to get one.”

“Ah, I think I see the difficulty. If you are referring to this story,” he said, tapping the mirror so that the image immediately shifted, “the Sorcerer didn’t destroy the world to, as you put it, ‘get’ a familiar; he destroyed half a world as a by-product of his attempt to produce—or summon—one. I’m afraid the original word could mean either, so the meaning is not precise. It was what you would consider collateral damage. And if you fail to understand how that damage could occur—”

She lifted a hand. “Not stupid,” she said curtly. “I know why the egg happened. I know what kind of magical disturbance produced it. Given the total lack of predictability of the effects of that magic, I can understand the how. I’m just stuck on the why.”

The Arkon nodded in apparent sympathy. “Dragons were not, to my knowledge, Sorcerers.”

“Meaning?”

“It makes no clear sense to me, either; the stories that we have are fragmentary and somewhat conflicting. The story that I am currently considering—and you may look at the mirror images if you like, but you won’t be able to read the words—doesn’t reference the practical use of the creature. It does, however, make reference to its astonishing beauty.” He lifted a brow. “This story implies that the familiar was winged, but of a much more substantial size.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently its owner could ride on its back, and did. On the other hand, the use of the word summon is more distinct and implies something demonic in nature.”

“Demonic?”

“It’s a religious story.”

“Do any of the stories imply the familiars were a danger to their owners?”

The Arkon took minutes to answer the question. “…Yes.”

“Figures. Does it say how?”

The Arkon’s frown deepened. “I’m afraid,” he finally said, “that this is also a very dead language, and I’m uncertain. I will have to consult with the Royal linguists when time permits. You said that he ate one of your marks?”

She nodded. She didn’t, however, point out that the Devourer had also eaten some of her marks; her testimony was in Records, and if he failed to recall it on the spot, she wasn’t going to remind him. Why, she wasn’t certain.

“And that would be—” The rest of her sentence was lost to the sudden roaring that filled the Library. It wasn’t the Arkon’s voice. He lifted a brow and then shook his head. “Bellusdeo hasn’t really changed very much.”

“That was Bellusdeo?”

“Ah, no. That was the Emperor. I believe Sanabalis is at the doors.” The doors swung open—and shut—very quickly as Sanabalis entered the Library.

“I consider it a very good thing that Lord Diarmat is with the Hawks,” Sanabalis said when normal speech could actually be heard in the room.

“You didn’t stay for their discussion?”

“No. If the Emperor is to lose his composure, it is best for all concerned that there be no witnesses.” The last half of the last word was lost to the sound of more roaring.

“That,” the Arkon pointed out while distant breath was being drawn, “was Bellusdeo.”

* * *

The Arkon decided, during the small breaks between roaring—which frequently overlapped—that it was safe to leave the small dragon with Kaylin. By “safe,” he meant that she was allowed to leave the room with the dragon attached. He was aware that keeping the dragon, at this point, also meant caging the Private, and declined to, as he put it, subject himself to the endless interruption and resentment that would entail.

Sanabalis therefore escorted her from the Library. “Do you know the way to your rooms?” he asked when the doors were closed and there was another break in the roaring.

She looked at him.

“Very well, let me escort you. Attempt to pay attention, because this will no doubt be the first of many forays between the Arkon and those rooms. You will, of course, be expected to perform your regular duties during your transitional stay in the Palace.” He turned to face her as she regarded the door ward with dislike. “You will not, however, be in residence for long if the raid conducted this evening bears fruit.”

Kaylin wilted. “Nightshade?” she asked, too tired to pretend she didn’t understand what he was talking about.

Sanabalis nodded. “I am not entirely comfortable with the exchange of information for your time; the information, however, was crucial. Bellusdeo will be staying in the Palace while you discharge your obligation to the fieflord.”

“Was that part of the discussion with the Emperor?”

“It was—and is.”

“Then it’s not decided?”

“It is. The Emperor has been willing to grant leeway in all of Bellusdeo’s irregular demands for autonomy, but he will not allow her to leave the City—or the Palace—at this time. She intended to accompany you. He has pointed out one thing for which Bellusdeo has no reply.”

“What?”

“She endangered your life.”

It was true, but Kaylin felt it was also unfair. “Neither of us knew that someone would try to kill her.”

“It has always been an Imperial concern.”

“She probably thought you were being paranoid.”

“Yes. She made that clear. Her second thoughts will therefore occur in the Palace, and in your absence. I would suggest that you attempt to make the best of your status as guest here; you will depart for the West March in five days.”