Cast in Flame (28 page)

“Let me add it to the list,” Kaylin muttered. She hadn’t quite finished, but had run out of steam. The small dragon squawked. “Oh, right. I forgot someone. This will probably be the only time he’s not the subject of interest.”

“And you’re mirroring because you’ve decided you’re outnumbered and you want company?”

Kaylin blinked. “I was mirroring,” she replied, “to whine and complain where it won’t hurt anyone else’s feelings and won’t make me look like I’m as cranky as I
am.
I don’t suppose we could change places?”

Severn chuckled. “I don’t think it’s me Bellusdeo wants as a roommate.”

“I think, at this point, anyone who
isn’t
the Emperor will do.”

“I’d take that bet if you were stupid enough to make it.”

Kaylin fished around in her pockets for change. “We’re waiting for Tara to finish with Annarion and Mandoran.”

“Let me go get changed,” Severn replied, cutting the connection.

* * *

Severn arrived at the Tower before Annarion and Mandoran arrived in the large, parlorlike room that everyone else now occupied. He was seen into that room by a frazzled Morse, who was no one’s idea of a steward or butler, unless the point of either was to scare away any potential visitors. She nodded to Kaylin, but didn’t ask for introductions; given Morse, she probably didn’t want them.

“We’ve got a problem,” she told Tiamaris, without preamble.

Tiamaris’s eyes shaded to orange. He rose.

“It’s not sundown, but the Ferals are gathered across the border. The old lady sent word. I went to check it out.”

“And?”

“I’ve never seen a gathering of Ferals like this one. They must number two dozen—it’s hard to count them; they’re not exactly standing still.”

“They aren’t attacking each other?”

Morse shook her head. “Any idea what’s going down?” Tiamaris glanced at Kaylin; it was a brief flick of eyes. Morse noticed anyway. “This have something to do with you?”

“No.”

“Right.” She didn’t press the point because Tiamaris hadn’t, and Tiamaris was the boss. “I’m calling all my reserve out,” she told him. “The
Norannir
are out in full force along the border.”

“I will join them. The Lady is with guests; I will ask her to truncate her visit.”

“These guests have something to do with the shit going down?”

“Not intentionally.”

Morse made clear what she thought of intentions. She looked as if she was going to make that clearer, but managed—to Kaylin’s surprise—to bite back her words. “Are we leaving by the side hall?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

Tiamaris headed out the doors of the suddenly silent guest room, but Morse turned back. “I hate flying,” she told Kaylin, looking slightly greener. “I have no idea why you were so obsessed with it when you were a kid.”

* * *

“I obviously came at a bad time,” Severn said, to the quiet room.

“I’m surprised to see you here at all. I should have guessed,” Teela replied. “You were feeling outnumbered, kitling?”

Since Kaylin hadn’t actually
asked
Severn to come, this wasn’t exactly fair. “Severn is calmer than any single one of us.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“—And I figured we’d need some calm, given none of the rest of us are contributing much of it.”

The small dragon squawked at Severn; Severn nodded in his direction. He didn’t take a seat, which turned out to be smart. The doors didn’t so much fly open as disappear. Tara stood in the frame; her eyes were obsidian—but at this point, so was the rest of her skin. “I do not think it wise,” she told Kaylin, “for either Annarion or Mandoran to travel with you tonight.”

Kaylin had difficulty finding her voice. Black wings rose in arches to either side of Tara’s face. “I have made some contingencies when they walk within Tiamaris. I will not be able to shield them while they move outside of it. Wherever else you allow them to wander,” she added, speaking sharply to Teela, “do not allow them to traverse any other fief at all until they are better able to control their shouting.” This would have been harsh no matter when it was said; given that the two were actually standing just behind her, Kaylin almost felt sorry for them.

But Tara didn’t turn herself into battle gear just for Ferals. Something else was up.

“I will see you out,” Tara told her. “And yes, you are correct. The Ferals are not the only things that are moving on the edge of my borders.”

“Should we stay?”

The obsidian version of the gentle gardener blinked. “Unless you intend to remain behind
these
walls, no. It is best that you leave before the sun fully sets.” Her voice softened. “It is an emergency, yes—but it is one we can handle. I am not certain that your presence in the current situation will aid us.” She turned to Annarion and added, “Kaylin taught me that intent matters. I do not blame you for what has occurred. But I believe you are, however unintentionally, the cause of it—and deliberate or no, in emergencies of this nature, people die. My people.”

She wasn’t speaking of the Towers.

Nor did Annarion assume she was. He was ashen, for a Barrani; so was Mandoran. Kaylin had never seen either of the two look so uncertain.

“I do not think it wise that you have the two accompany you this evening.”

“Would it be wiser to leave them on their own?”

Tara was silent for a beat. “I cannot say. But that is not, now, my problem.” Her dark, stone lips moved in something that resembled a smile. “I am happy to have met you both. Accept my apologies for our poor hospitality.”

Mandoran’s jaw dropped. Annarion’s didn’t. But neither of them had the implacable neutrality of Teela.

“Come on,” Kaylin said, moving toward the now doorless frame. “We’re leaving.” She paused in the door, and then impulsively hugged Tara—who felt as much like stone as she looked. Being hugged in return by stone wasn’t entirely comfortable. Or it shouldn’t have been.

* * *

No one spoke a word for four city blocks. Bellusdeo’s cheerful expression had evaporated, and Maggaron was looking around for exit routes, in case they were necessary. Kaylin recognized the look, because it often haunted her own expression. She was generally good with other people’s silences. Today, not so much.

“Did Tara tell either of you why she was concerned about the house on Ashwood?”

“Not directly,” Mandoran replied. Of course it would be Mandoran. “Oh, don’t give me that,” he added, although no one had spoken out loud. “It’s clear that Tara hears every word Kaylin’s thinking. She answers the questions Kaylin’s trying to be smart about keeping to herself—out loud, where anyone can hear them.

“She’s concerned because the building itself is as old as she is. In mortal terms, it probably shouldn’t be standing. Annarion pointed out that the Keeper’s Garden is probably
older
than she is, and it’s been here in one form or another all along.”

“It has had other Keepers,” Teela observed.

“Yes, but the Garden itself?”

Since he had a point, Kaylin nodded. “She thinks the home on Ashwood is like she is.”

“Not exactly like she is, no.” This was said in the wrong tone of voice.

“How did she feel it was different?” Severn asked, after a long, awkward pause.

“The Towers were created to be helmed or captained. They were meant to be tactical weapons in a time of war.”

“That is not—”

“All that they are? We know. Believe,” Mandoran added, with wry emphasis, “that we understand that now. But Tara herself said this. She’s not you. She doesn’t find facts offensive.”

“Because she understands they’re
selective.
When she says it, she’s not assuming that’s all that can be said about herself!”

“Kitling.”

Kaylin shut her mouth. The small dragon squawked quietly, and rubbed her cheek with the side of his face. “...Sorry.”

Mandoran shrugged. He had taken the presence of Maggaron in stride, as had Annarion, but he kept throwing side glances at Bellusdeo. She didn’t return them; she was quietly conversing with Maggaron, who was leaning in attentively to catch her words. This dropped a few feet from his height.

“The house on Ashford wasn’t meant to be a Tower.”

“What was it meant to be?”

“Tara’s not certain.”

“Is she worried because she’s uncertain?”

“She’s worried because she knows most of your kind live in hovels,” was his cheerful reply. “You don’t know how to cut wood or quarry stone in a way that preserves the life inherent in it.”

Stones weren’t, by any definition of the word, alive. Kaylin failed to point this out, but only barely. She alternated between finding Mandoran charming and charismatic, and finding him annoying and condescending. “Fine. We’re primitive mortals. We’re incapable of turning any building—sentient or otherwise—into a raving danger to life.” The minute the words left her mouth, she wanted to claw them back.
This
is what happened when she let annoyance do the speaking.

There was a block of fast, silent walking. This time, it was Annarion who spoke. “This is far more complicated than we thought it would be.”

“Less boring,” Mandoran added, but with less humor. “And yes, clearly the elemental water at its purest doesn’t attempt to drown you, either.”

“It didn’t attempt to drown me,” Teela pointed out—purely for Kaylin’s sake, as she had no need to verbalize with the two, otherwise. “And Bellusdeo—a Dragon—was treated like a welcome guest. Look, I understand that this is difficult for the two of you; it’s difficult for
all
of us. But we’re heading to Ashwood now, and if we could concentrate on the possible difficulties
there,
I’m sure we’d all be more appreciative.” As an invitation to truce, it looked a lot like a club. A big, heavy, Barrani-wielded club.

“As we were saying,” Mandoran began again, “the Towers were created to be captained. Their creators depended on their own knowledge of Shadows and their abilities; they built the Towers to withstand encroaching attacks. They were
also
aware that the nature of Shadow was not, and could not be, fixed. That they melded and transformed the living, in ways their creators had not intended to be possible. The Lords of the Towers were meant to be their eyes; they were meant to give instructions where their current knowledge superseded the initial knowledge built into the Towers themselves.

“The Towers, however, were built to be proof against subversion.”

“And the house at Ashwood?”

“Tara is uncertain. She knows that it was not meant to stand as a bulwark against the Shadows; that was neither its design nor its intent.”

“What was it built for?”

Mandoran shrugged. “Which part of uncertain wasn’t clear?”

“Does she think it’s possibly dangerous simply because it was created at the same time?”

“Yes,” Mandoran replied.

“No,” Annarion said. They spoke in unison. Sort of.

Kaylin turned to Annarion. “I’ll take the no for five silver.”

He frowned at Teela, to indicate that perhaps he had not understood the Elantran he heard. Teela, however, laughed, which caused him to flush. “Tara does not believe that any building was created for its own sake. Buildings serve a function. The Hallionne were created to keep the peace between factions who might otherwise murder each other in their sleep—if they bothered with the pretense of sleep or rest at all.

“Tara was created to keep the fief free of the contaminant of Shadow, and to find a Lord who would share this responsibility. She does not understand what the purpose of Ashwood was; if she understood it, she would know what we faced.”

“Not
we,
” Kaylin told him. “
I’m
looking for a new place to live.
Me.
”

* * *

If Teela had second thoughts—and given Teela, she was probably well into fifth and sixth by now—she kept them mostly to herself. She was as good as her word; she knew where Ashwood was, and knew how to reach it. She was comfortable in any of the streets of this city; Kaylin wasn’t. The minute they hit the large, perfectly maintained roads with the very fancy magical lighting, her shoulders began to tense.

“You did mirror Jared?” Severn asked quietly.

Kaylin nodded.

Teela walked like she owned the street. Bellusdeo, sensing Kaylin’s discomfort, drew herself up to her full height and did the same. Neither Mandoran nor Annarion had fully recovered from their visit with Tara, and if Mandoran rallied from time to time, it was clear he was unsettled. He didn’t, however, walk as if nothing on these streets could possibly be of interest; stray elements of streetfront fences and architecture caught his attention. Kaylin wasn’t certain if Annarion was likewise engaged; he had adopted Teela’s stance and expression.

“You did tell Lord Emmerian that we were going to inspect possible living quarters?” Kaylin asked, quickening her pace to keep up with the two women who had taken the lead.

Bellusdeo shrugged.

“...You didn’t.”

“You were with me the entire afternoon, except within the Tower. No, I did not think to do so. It may come as a surprise to you, but I dislike the constant, unwelcome interference.”

Kaylin winced. “We don’t have portable mirrors here,” she pointed out.

“No. I understand that they are possible.”

“They are—but they’re finicky; we cart them around in emergencies, with full departmental approval. Full departmental approval requires a cartload of paperwork.”

“Ah. Your Sergeant is well-known for the regard in which he holds that paperwork.”

“Yes. Very well-known.”

“I did, however, ask Tara for a list of known previous residents of the house we will visit this evening.”

“When? She was with—”

“She’s a Tower. I asked, and she answered. She is perfectly capable of holding a dozen conversations simultaneously; she understands that most of us find this perplexing, and attempts to confine herself to one Avatar. She does not, however, do so because she lacks the ability to be in many places at once. I know you’re fond of her,” Bellusdeo added, her voice gentling. “I even understand why.