her left arm and contacted the Arkon’s back. Or his robes.
“Bellusdeo?”
“I’m here.”
“Could either of you do something about the lights?”
“I believe,” the Arkon said, “we will leave that up to you.”
“Sanabalis hasn’t been teaching me anything as useful as lighting.”
“I am sure he has laid down enough of the basics that you could, with effort, illuminate at least one room.”
“Or you could, with no effort, do the same.”
“Kitling,” Bellusdeo said, voice softer than usual, “while Lannagaros was not known for the sweetness of either his temperament or his teaching, he seldom made requests of this nature without reason.”
“Meaning he’s not attempting to torment me or make me feel stupid?”
“Yes.”
“But Sanabalis didn’t teach me how to... Oh.”
“It is a small wonder to me that you have survived Sanabalis,” the Arkon then said. “I understand that Bellusdeo is with you for all of Lord Diarmat’s classes.”
Kaylin grimaced in the dark. The Arkon was unlikely to see her expression.
He knows you well enough to know what your expression is likely to be, Hope said. You will want to be careful here.
“Where is here?”
I am not entirely certain. Helen has rooms and areas in which you and your kin might not survive without her aid. This might, perhaps, be similar. The endless Hall is clearly an area for, hmmm, what does Helen call it? A time-out?
She rolled up her left sleeve. It was always the left hand, the left arm, that she exposed to danger first. As she did this, the marks on her arms began to glow. They were a dull blue, a color that indicated the possibility of magic, or magical interference, at least some of the time.
She could see the marks clearly as she rotated her arm; could see the shape of the runes, and the cohesion of each specific character.
Severn?
I can hear you. I can see what you see.
Some of the tension left her shoulders. Nightshade?
I am here. His voice was more distant, but it was clear, distinct. When she tried to speak to Ynpharion, however, only silence returned.
Can you see the cohort? she asked the fieflord.
No. I will say that the lecture currently being disrupted was quite interesting.
How is it being disrupted?
I am uncertain. The lecturer appears to stop and start. The words are paused, as if he is a Records replay; he continues exactly where he left off. There is no break and no repetition.
Your brother is here.
This caused mild frustration in the fieflord and beneath that a wellspring of concern.
So is Sedarias. At least, I think they’re together. They went to fight their way through the small group of Barrani and humans that were going to storm Larrantin’s building and then disappeared.
I think it unlikely that they will be trapped the way we are currently trapped. It is interesting, he said, worry once again receding. Tell the Arkon that we are here as students. We are dressed as students. We are lectured as students—and at that, new students who have not yet shown the potential the various lecturers look for.
Kaylin said, I’ll tell him in a minute.
The marks on her arms began to glow a brighter blue, the light whiter and harsher than the light shed when they were golden. Kaylin understood neither the blue nor the gold, but in either case, the marks shed light. She concentrated now, looking at the shape of the words; divining, by sight alone, the feel of what they might mean.
Meaning was separate from language, even if words implied the existence of language. It was a language that Kaylin had never been taught, and would probably never learn to speak. Yet without speaking, she was meant to use these words.
“Can you see now?” Kaylin asked.
“I can see your marks. They’re glowing,” Bellusdeo said.
“What color are they to you?”
It was the Arkon who replied. “A washed-out white. Usually they shed light that is golden.”
Kaylin nodded, still staring at her arm. She turned it over, exposing the inner forearm. All of the marks seemed to be evenly glowing. She chose one of the more complicated runes because she thought it would shed more light by volume, and as she did, that mark rose from her skin. It floated in the air at chin level, and it weighed a lot.
The marks on her skin seldom felt heavy. Hot, yes. Uncomfortably hot, even. But not as weighty as this one appeared to have become.
“Do they look different to you?” Kaylin asked the Arkon.
“Are you asking me if the composition of those marks has changed?”
“More or