“...I see the rumors did not trend in that direction,” Bellusdeo said. She released Lord Emmerian’s arm. “Thank you for the company. And thank you,” she added, “for asking questions and listening as if you actually had some care for the answers.”
Emmerian’s eyes were golden. “I am not considered particularly possessive or aggressive,” he told Bellusdeo. “And the clutch-fathers were absolutely certain I would never find, never make, a hoard of my own.”
“I would bite them myself, if I thought they still survived. That is a terrible thing to say to a child.”
“They spoke their minds,” Emmerian replied. “And in truth? They were not wrong. It is significant, I think, that Lord Tiamaris found his hoard; he is the youngest of us. But he is Tiamaris, and remains so.”
“You’ve visited him?”
“Yes, at his invitation. And once at the Emperor’s directive. I was not certain what to expect—it has been centuries since a Dragon has declared his hoard. Once, there might have been ceremony—but perhaps not. It is hard to dress up or civilize the very visceral mine that seems to reside at the heart of the choice.
“He is not unchanged, not precisely—but he is brighter, stronger, more certain; he is confident in a way that he was not before. It is...illuminating.”
“Oh?”
“He is not the first Dragon I have seen make such a declaration. But I have seen the way it breaks the weak, in the end. I have seen the fear of, the fear for, hoard push greater Dragons into madness. Tiamaris is not broken, but strengthened. And I am wasting the Arkon’s precious time.”
“But not mine,” Bellusdeo countered. She bowed to him, and said, her back to the Arkon, “I am certain Lannagaros is grateful that you took the time to escort us personally.” There was an edge of command in her tone.
Emmerian chuckled. “I am certain he is grateful, as well.”
“And he would like to remain that way,” the Arkon said. “I feel that the chances of that are diminishing with each passing sentence.”
Chapter 18
The Arkon then led Bellusdeo and Kaylin to the far end of the many, many rooms in his possession. This was one of the theoretically safe rooms; it had no actual doors until the Arkon approached it, whereupon a door materialized in a stretch of unadorned wall. Kaylin’s arms ached in protest, but she expected that; she’d been both surprised and grateful that the library’s large doors had been open when she’d arrived.
The Arkon did not ask questions. He didn’t speak at all until they were safely ensconced in the room and the door had been firmly shut.
“You will now explain,” he said—to Kaylin. Of course. “The comment about Shadow.”
“I didn’t make the comment!”
“I did not say you did. I did, however, say that you will explain it.”
Bellusdeo chuckled. If Diarmat had said something similar—and it was exactly the kind of thing he would say—she would have been orange-eyed and threatening fire with each breath she expelled. She seemed to expect it, and even to treasure it, from the Arkon.
Kaylin found it difficult to do the same, and reminded herself that she actually liked the Arkon. Sometimes it was harder than others. “You know,” she told him, “it’s not that I mind answering your questions, but when I’ve answered them you come up with a hundred more, none of which I can answer.”
“I will endeavor to keep that in mind. Your explanation?”
“The bomb was, in theory, an Arcane bomb—but tiny.”
“It destroyed the infirmary.”
“Yes.”
“It damaged the bearing wall.”
“Did it?”
The Arkon threw a significant and slightly accusing glance at Bellusdeo, who shrugged. “I have learned with experience,” she told the Hawk, “that the Arkon is certain of his facts. He does not make statements of that nature frivolously.”
“Fine. It did. At the time, I was focused on Moran.”
“Continue.”
“You know I’ve often been called in for investigations where magic is a suspected part of the crime. And that I’ve had some experience with the aftermath of Arcane bombs.”
“Indeed.”
“This one was, in theory, far too small to do the damage it did. The magical signature heavily implied—to me—that unless the bomb had been ingested, it wouldn’t cause death, let alone the destruction it did cause. But the signature of the mage—and before you ask, no, I didn’t recognize it, it wasn’t familiar—wasn’t the only aftereffect of the bomb’s explosion.”
“Continue.”
“There was Shadow spread unevenly across most of the room. It follows the magical splash patterns, and it’s strongest where we believe the bomb was planted.” Now, she hesitated. She looked to Bellusdeo.
“I’m not a Hawk,” the gold Dragon replied, “but regardless of your answers, I intend to continue to guard Moran.” A thread of defiance bound the words of that sentence together.
Kaylin very much feared that any goodwill generated by the Emperor’s informal dinner was going to be ash very soon. The Emperor was not going to be happy. “The Shadow wasn’t sentient. At all. I’m not a mage—I can only barely light a candle—but I’d guess, given the splash patterns and the presence of Shadow, that the actual force of the explosion was provided by the Shadow the bomb contained.”
“You’ve seen Shadow magic before,” the Arkon said, voice flat.
Kaylin frowned. “Yes.”
“Was it similar?”
“No.”
“The differences?”
“The first time I saw what I’d identify as Shadow magic, there was a sigil. It was composed of black smoke with a little too much solidity, but it was a sigil.”
“You do not consider the sigil or signature of most magic innately intelligent.”
“No.”
“You consider Shadow to be innately intelligent.”
She nodded, still thinking, still frowning.
“What is the difference?”
“I’ve seen elementals summoned. The small ones are the ones that light candles. Summoning elementals doesn’t leave signatures the way Arcane bombs do. The fire is the magic, but it’s also fire. The same is true of the water or the air; I assume it’s true of the earth, as well.”
The Arkon nodded.
“This...is more like that. The first time I saw Shadow used for magic, there was a signature. I’m not sure I understand why the two are different. I can sense when someone is summoning elements; I can feel it as magic.” Her hesitation was still thoughtful. “But mages who create Arcane bombs can also summon. Well, some of them. I don’t really understand how magic works.”
“Not even the Arcanists understand all the ways in which magic does—or does not—work. You are certain of the presence of Shadow?”
Kaylin nodded.
To Bellusdeo, the Arkon said, “Did you see the room after the explosion?” He tactfully did not mention that she had pretty much been blown into the wall opposite the infirmary door, and she didn’t mention it, either. “Did you notice the Shadow?”
“No. Did the Imperial mages?”
“The Imperial mages are notably tardy when delivering anything other than verbal reports.”
“Meaning no?”
“Meaning I do not know yet.” He exhaled a puff of smoke.
“Can I ask a question?” Kaylin asked, before Bellusdeo could speak again.
“Demonstrably.” The Arkon waited.
Kaylin fumbled with words in the silence, trying to put smart sentences together. She didn’t have many in place when Bellusdeo snorted. “She is wondering if the Illumen praevolo’s magic is of the Shadow.”
* * *
The Arkon did not immediately become oran
ge-eyed, although there was a faint, almost copper cast to his eyes. His inner membranes rose. “Why would you ask that question?”
Kaylin hadn’t, but felt no need to point this out; it never got her anywhere where the Arkon was concerned. “The story of the praevolo, and the presence of Shadow magic—with the assassins the first time, and with the mortal agent the second time... Aerians apparently require a world that has strong magic if their wings aren’t meant for anything other than decoration. The story is that the praevolo was somehow created or born at a time of great need, and he led his people across the endless space between worlds.”
“I am aware of the variants of praevolo myths and legends.”
“I don’t know a lot about the death of whole worlds.”
“You know more than most, and I include mortal scholars among that number.”
“Bellusdeo’s previous home was lost to Shadow. It was lost to the Shadows at the heart of Ravellon, because Ravellon existed on her world.”
“Ravellon is believed to have existed on many worlds before the fall.”
Kaylin nodded. “If the ability to use Shadow as if it were normal magic—or elemental magic—was known, maybe worlds wouldn’t have fallen. The thing is,” she continued, “if you summon a big-enough fire, all it wants to do is burn things. Anything. All the things. If you summon too much water, it’s the same—except it wants to drop on things or drown them.”
“Indeed.”
“But there’s part of the water that doesn’t want those things. And when I’m in the elemental garden, the fire doesn’t try to burn me.”
“It’s probably too terrified of Evanton,” Bellusdeo pointed out.
“Fair enough. The Shadow wants to devour things—to alter them, to change them, to absorb them somehow. What if the Shadow is like the fire or the water?”
“Fire and water are necessary to life. They are part of the natural order.”
“Yes, but—”
“But?”
“What if Shadow is part of the natural order, as well?”
Bellusdeo, who had lost most of what she valued in life to Shadow, did not bite Kaylin, but it was probably close.
“What if, on the original Aerian world, Shadow was simply used the way we use fire or water? What if Shadow was the only power they could call upon that could carry them across the sky, or the emptiness between worlds?”
“You are asking very dangerous questions.”
“I’m trying to understand what we’re facing. I’m trying to understand how it works. Even the Shadow that inhabited our human criminal wasn’t transformative in the way Shadow normally is. What if that is the power?”
“It would be forbidden use.”
“What if they don’t understand it as the source of their power?”
“Ignorance in this case is not an excuse.”
“It’s an explanation.”
“It is, and explanations often displace accusations of high treason.” He exhaled. “The questions, while dangerous, are also somewhat perceptive. The dangers, I believe, outweigh the possible benefits in the use of this kind of magic. If Shadow is, indeed, an elemental force—”
“The thing is, Gilbert was Shadow. I’d swear he was. But...he wasn’t like the one-offs we fought in the fiefs of Tiamaris. Or anywhere else. And I’m now wondering if that’s because he has Shadow as power, the way maybe the praevolo did, but the power doesn’t control him; he controls the power.”
“Have you asked Moran dar Carafel about this?”
“Not yet.”
“I would be interested in her answer, if you do ask. I believe that your Helen would be aware of the presence of Shadow within her own boundaries; has she mentioned any danger?”
“No.”
“You understand that if this becomes a commonly asked question, it will doom the Aerians in the city.” It was almost a question, but didn’t rise at the end. “You are an officer of the Halls of Law, one-third of which is committed to keeping the peace, such as peace is.”
Kaylin nodded.
“You understand that there will be no peace if even a whiff of this rumor reaches the general populace?” The Arkon frowned. “Clearly, the answer is no. I invite you to spend some time in thought. Fear makes humans incredibly unwise. Shadows—for good reason—breed fear in the populace of Elantra. I am almost certain that the Aerians do not use Shadow as their locomotive force.”
Kaylin nodded.
“What now?”
“What if the Aerian mages—and there are rumored Aerian Arcanists in the mix—do use that power now, even if they don’t completely realize what it is?”
The Arkon’s eyes were burning a steady orange.
“I mean—what if they do? Or did? What if the Aerians that want Moran gone are somehow entwined with our version of Shadow?”
“Meaning?”
“If they summoned their power and got more than they could control. Fire elementals have reduced their summoners to charred flesh—or worse—before. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
“You believe that something other is now driving the Aerian Caste Court.”
“I believe that it might be. We know what happens when the other elementals are too much for the summoner to control. It’s obvious. It involves corpses. But...what if that’s not what uncontrolled Shadow does?”
The Arkon rose. “I have much to consider,” he said. “I will see you out.” This was a very polite way of saying get lost. Probably because Bellusdeo was in the room.
* * *
Only when they had crossed the fence line of their home did Bellusdeo choose to speak. “Lannagaros was upset.”
“I’m upset, as well.”
“Ah. I do not think he faults your reasoning—neither do I, if it comes to that. I think he hadn’t considered it before. Not in the way you put it. He’s right, however.”
“About the cost to the Aerians?”
Bellusdeo nodded. “People always try to simplify their lives. Most humans do not interact with the Aerians—and of the ones that do so regularly, most are merchants or members of the Imperial Palace staff. They think of Aerians as people with wings who live outside of the city. And as Hawks.
“If rumors spread, the only thing most people will know is that Aerians are infested with Shadow. Nothing will balance the fear.”
Kaylin slowed, as she sometimes did when she was thinking. “It’s like me.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s like I was about the Tha’alani.”
“You seem to like them.”
“Now, yes. But I hated them for years. All of them. I identified them by their forehead stalks and their racial ability, and I hated them because I feared them.” She squirmed, saying this out loud; squirmed thinking about that younger self and how stupid she’d been. It made her wonder how many other things she was still being stupid about without realizing it. This was not a comfortable thought.
“You learned,” Bellusdeo quite reasonably pointed out.
“Yes—but that was almost a fluke. And that kind of fluke isn’t going to happen to every other person who believes what I believed.”
“No. People are always fearful, dear,” Helen said, although they hadn’t even reached the door. The door did open, and her Avatar stood in the frame, but her voice was much closer than the rest of her. “I have always thought it unwise to let fear be your personal guide.”
“Which one would you prefer? Love has its problems as well, if you listen to old stories.”
“Ah, but I would argue that that is not love—it is fear. It is fear of the loss of love. But we might spend idle hours arguing the definition of the word love, and I have dinner prepared. Moran,” she added, “has been waiting for you.”
“For me?”
r /> “You are, I believe, to visit Evanton’s shop tonight. With her.”
Damn. “I forgot all about it.”
“Well, the loss of the infirmary and its attendant difficulties would probably drive less pressing needs out of your thoughts,” was Helen’s very charitable reply. “But you don’t have a lot of time before you have to leave.”
* * *
Moran was nervous. Her eyes were shifting color with every second step she took. She wore the robes and the bracelet of the praevolo. During the day, she wore them as if they were a suit of armor. If she took no personal comfort from the act, the rest of the Aerian Hawks did. In a weird sort of way, it was a command decision.
Lillias, however, was not. She was part of Moran’s history, and entwined with the severely unhappy bits at that. But she had saved Moran’s life. And in all probability, that decision had cost Lillias her literal wings.
There were a lot of questions Kaylin wanted to ask about that. A lot. How did it even happen? The wings were physical; they were like arms and legs. There existed no spell that Kaylin knew of that would allow someone to magically remove said arms or legs from anyone who had them. That said, swords and axes generally did the trick—they just didn’t do it instantly or cleanly.
“Thank you,” Moran said, as they reached the start of the Elani district.
“For what?”
“For coming with me. It’s been a long day—I was afraid there’d been some sort of midwives emergency, and you weren’t coming back.”
“There was an Arkon emergency,” Kaylin told her. “But at least it didn’t involve fire.”
“The Arkon was the older man I met at dinner?”
“Older Dragon, but yes. Bellusdeo insists that he actually likes me, but on days like this one, you wouldn’t know it.”
“How did you meet him?” Moran asked. Kaylin answered, realizing that if the discussion wasn’t important for the information it contained, it was important for other reasons.
She was still talking about the Arkon when they reached Evanton’s front door. Light could be seen through the windows. “Evanton wasn’t certain she’d come,” Kaylin reminded Moran.