Cast In Secret (24 page)

“There were wars,” Sanabalis told her gravely, “which changed the shape of the world. They are in the past, and it is the desire of the Dragon Emperor – and many others who labor in silence in Elantra – that they remain in the past.

“But, Kaylin, mortals have existed for a long time in the world, and you are the first one – the only one to our knowledge – who has been graced by such marks. Had you been Dragon or Barrani, one of two things is likely to have occurred. The first, you would be dead. But I have a suspicion that your death would merely mean that another child would bear those marks in your stead.

“The second, however, is more certain.”

“And that?”

“The Dragon outcaste whom we do not name would never have attempted his magics to take control of the words themselves. To change their shape through arts that are generally considered sympathetic magic – ”

She snorted.

“The words would have a weight, and yes, a significant power, were they inscribed upon one of the firstborn. We
are
, in some sense, a word. These words have power,” he added softly. “You have used them from the moment they first appeared, to heal the injured. You use them in that fashion now. Had you used them differently, I do not think you would have fared so well against your enemies.

“The names that give us life are the language of the Old Ones. And these marks are part of that language. They are both more and less complex. In and of themselves, they cannot create life, or waken it.

“But they add to the name that
did
waken life.”

“They’re like names – ” She stopped.

If he noticed, he didn’t say as much. “But on a mortal? We are not even sure what it means. There are theories about the Old Ones, but mortality eludes them. Theories are always confounded by your kind.”

“What did this Barrani do?” She asked it looking up at the time-worn contours of his face; there was little in the way of expression left, and she could not discern what he might have been like.

“He won wars, Kaylin.”

“That’s all?”

“He won wars that changed the shape of the world, time and again. It is not a small thing.”

“I can’t – ”

“We’re not at war.” But his eyes were amber. “And I pray – well, you would if you had religious convictions – for the sake of your kind, that we never are.”

“But, Sanabalis, something doesn’t make sense.”

“Much lacks sense or logic. What in particular do you mean?”

“How did Ma – How did the outcaste
know?
How could he somehow strip the undead of their names?”

“A name, like a life, can be surrendered,” was the quiet reply. “But your first question has troubled the Court since the deaths began when you were a child. We were not certain, Kaylin, and yes, before you ask, the Oracles were consulted heavily at that time.

“But the time passed, and no new power awakened to challenge the Dragon Emperor. We thought that whoever was responsible for the deaths was trying to somehow mimic history, but on mortal children. That way, if the experiment proved successful, or rather, too successful, the damage might be more easily undone.”

“Undone?”

“It would be easier to kill you.”

“Got it.”

“And then you arrived in the Hawklord’s tower, some time after the deaths had stopped. You, a child – do not make that face, Kaylin – and a mortal, bearing marks out of legend.”

“That’s why Tiamaris wanted me dead?”

“It is why most of the Court wanted you dead,” he replied, as if he were talking about a common sea squall. “But the information came to light slowly – in your terms – and by that time, the Hawklord and his subordinates were attached to you. Why, I can only ponder.”

“But if the Emperor – ”

“You are
mortal,
Kaylin. You were watched closely, and some information about your skills as a healer came to light. The Hawklord argued your case, and the lone Leontine to serve the Emperor directly growled it. Some heated words were exchanged between the members of the Court and the Officers of the Law.

“It is my belief that were the Emperor to order your death, the Hawklord would have complied. But not your sergeant, which would have been something of a loss to the Hawks. Lord An’teela also presented herself in Court to argue on your behalf. She argued not as a Hawk, but as a representative of the High Caste Barrani Court.”

“But she couldn’t do that – ”

“Very well. I am addled and my memory is clearly wrong.”

“I mean she couldn’t
legally
do that.”

“I highly doubt that she had permission to do so. I highly doubt that the Castelord was
aware
of her petition.”

“And it was made in his name,” Kaylin said very quietly.

“Yes. And I must say that she was quite clever in her presentation, which is more than can be said of Sergeant Kassan. She did her best to belittle you, and in so doing, to belittle those who were afraid of a human child.”

“And you argued?”

“I? No. I merely watched. Tiamaris was most vehement.”

“Lord Sanabalis,” Tiamaris said coolly, “that is unnecessary. You know well – ”

“I knew well,” Sanabalis said mildly, “that all arguments on either side of the debate had been aired, some with subtlety, and some without. And I knew also that in the end, the Emperor’s word – and not one of ours – would decide the matter. He was impassive,” Sanabalis added. “Even for a Dragon, he was inscrutable. I myself was uncertain which way things would go.

“But in the end, the Hawklord brought memory crystals to the Court, and each of us were allowed to view what they contained. They were trivial, really – I believe one of them involved your misunderstanding of the word
bookmaker
– but they were of you.

“He summoned the Tha’alani, and the Hawklord submitted to an examination. Lord An’teela professed herself willing to do the same – but that proved unnecessary. And the mind of a Barrani would not be a pleasant place for any Tha’alani, even the strongest, to visit.

“I did think that you would be seconded to Court, which would, in the light of your general attitude toward formality, have been most unfortunate. But the Emperor chose to leave you with your beloved Hawks. And so you have remained.

“But I better understand him now, I think. What was not clear to any of us, even the most aged, has become clearer as you have grown. There is a reason for your existence at this time, and in this place.

“The Dragon Emperor
is
Emperor for a reason. He sees deeply, and he looks a long way off. If the libraries and galleries are the Arkon’s hoard, the Empire is the Emperor’s.”

“What’s yours?”

“Kaylin!” Tiamaris sounded
shocked
. He looked quickly at Sanabalis and said, “She failed racial interactions, Lord. She is not – ”

But the older Dragon lifted a hand. “I will not, of course, answer the question,” he said quietly, “but I understand that she meant no offense by it.”

In Elantran, Tiamaris said, “Never,
ever
ask another dragon that question.”

“And never,” Sanabalis added, “ask
this
Dragon that question a second time.”

She nodded and turned back to the statue for a last lingering glance. “What killed him?” she asked softly.

“No one knows. If you are wondering what
could
kill him, Kaylin, the answer is the same. Not one of us knows. Perhaps when the time had come and the Lord had served the purpose written in those ancient words, the words – and their power – faded.

“Now, come. There is more.”

“But I don’t understand,” Kaylin whispered to Tiamaris as they followed Sanabalis down the long gallery. “He
told
me what the Arkon’s hoard was, and what the Emperor’s is. If it’s okay to know that, why is it such a big crime to ask?”

“Both the Arkon and the Emperor have made clear what they hoard,” Tiamaris replied in a very low voice. “It is a matter of public record. But big or small, all Dragons have those things which they prize and value above all else. It is their weakness,” he added, “and often, their strength.”

“I thought it was just gold and jewels and stuff.”

“And perhaps you thought that because those stories were told by humans, who value gold so highly,” was the curt reply. But after a moment, he added, “And in some cases, it was that simple. A long time ago, perhaps. But think, Kaylin – how many Dragons do you know?”

She could count them on the fingers of one hand. Well, two hands if you included the Emperor, but “know” in this case wasn’t exact. She held up one hand. Sanabalis hadn’t interrupted them yet, and she didn’t want to press her luck.

“There were more. There
are
more, and perhaps in other empires, they also rule. Or sleep the long sleep,” he added quietly. “So many of our kin chose to take the long sleep rather than surrender to the rule of another.”

“Sleep as in dead?”

“No. Dragons seldom use euphemisms where fire and brimstone will do.”

The irony – and condescension – was not lost on Kaylin. “There is
no damn way
this was covered in any classes about racial bloody integration.”

“True enough. Only those dragons who were unusual enough or young enough could willingly accept the Emperor’s claims to these lands and those within it. To be forbidden both flight and hunt was no part of their desire, and to control those urges, no part of their constitution. You saw me,” he added softly, “when I assumed my true form.”

“This isn’t true?”

“It is a form that is… less primal.”

She nodded. “I saw. I knew why.”

“And you understand that I knowingly courted my own death by making that choice.”

“Yes.”

“Were the Emperor himself not… flexible… we would not now be speaking. But I made the choice because I have duties to the Dragon Court, and in the end, the Emperor saw the necessity of that choice, and accepted it.”

“Or you’d be dead.”

“Indeed.”

“But the Law – ”

“There
is no Law
but the Emperor’s, Kaylin. Should he desire it himself, he could fly through Elantra and burn down the cursed mendicant’s guild – ”

“Merchants?”

“Yes, I believe that is its official title. He could devour whole whomever he felt might satiate hunger. He could do
anything
he desired. No Law would be broken, because he
is
the Law.”

“But he made
our
Laws,” Kaylin said, her voice rising. “And he tasked us with their keeping. Do you think we would just stand by?”

“No. I think you would – to a man – perish.”

“And you?”

“Kaylin,” Lord Sanabalis said. “We are almost in the oldest of the libraries. As we approach it, I wish you to consider the wisdom of the question you just asked.”

“He’s still a Hawk,” she said, some of the heat leeching out of the words.

“Indeed. And the Hawks are sworn to serve the Emperor’s Law as it is written and handed down. I do not question your loyalties. I do not even doubt them. Were the Emperor to break the Laws you have sworn to uphold with your life, you would be honor bound to stand against him. He understands this,” the older Dragon added, as they at last reached a very small, very modest-looking door.

“And it was much discussed at the time of its inception. But mortal laws are for mortals, with their fleeting power, their brief span of years. Those Laws were of his creation, Kaylin, and the vows taken and made by those who serve them were
also
of his creation. For
you,
child, there can be no other answer.

“But Tiamaris was seconded to the Hawks
as
a Dragon lord. There is only
one
answer that he can offer you. Only one, ever. Do not ask him to dissemble. We
are
Dragons. We who made the choice to remain and watch are those who chose to accept the rule of the Emperor. We are part of
his
hoard, Kaylin. We are part of the Empire. Do you not understand why there are so few of us?”

And she did. Suddenly, she did.

Her silence trailed on for minutes as the weight of the words took root.

“I was not required to take the Hawk’s oaths of induction,” Tiamaris told her, almost gently. “And in truth, I thought them foolish and inconsequential. But… ” He turned to face her fully, and raised one hand to his neck, to a fine, fine chain that surrounded it. Beneath the weight and color of Imperial robes, she hadn’t seen it clearly.

He pulled it up, and it came easily, until she could see what dangled, like a pendant, at its end. A silver hawk.

“I was proud – I am proud – to bear the Hawk,” he told her gravely. “And in its service, I was allowed to
wake,
Kaylin, to taste air and flesh and the dust of ages. To
breathe.

“And were the time to come again, when the question of your fate balanced on the fine edge of our Lord’s whim, I would not now offend the sergeant so gravely with my arguments.”

“Tiamaris was young, when the Emperor rose,” Sanabalis said quietly. “Too young for the long sleep. Not too young to die. But he is here, and he is as you see him. Of the Court, he argued most vehemently for your death, but of the Court, he is most at home in this strange and cluttered environment you call a city.

“You will be pleased to see there are no door-wards here,” he added.

She had hardly noticed.

He opened the door by taking a key out of his voluminous robes and inserting it into the lock. It was a very strangely shaped key, to Kaylin’s eye, but there was nothing inherently magical about it.

“This,” he told her, “is the oldest of the libraries, and in it are scrolls and tablets that could not be bound into a form that can be easily organized. It was not tried more than once,” he added. “And the man who tried had the foresight to imprint what he read in a memory crystal, which is also now a part of the library.”

“I won’t be able to read any of this,” she said. There wasn’t even a question in it.

“Actually, there may be some phrases or words that you would recognize. High Barrani has changed very little over the ages. But then again, the form of writing it
has
changed, so maybe you are correct.