Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,145
think he’s doing this of his own volition!”
Nightshade—we’re having a bit of trouble with Starrante. We’ve found him, she added. Can you tell Killian—or ask Killian—if he can interfere?
Interfere in what?
I think Starrante is trying to kill Severn and Annarion.
“I doubt that. I doubt it highly,” Killian said. Nightshade had not spoken. “If Arbiter Starrante truly intended to kill your friends, they would almost certainly be dead.” He frowned. “I do not include Lannagaros in that number.”
“He’s not the only Dragon that came with me—but they’re trapped in the library. I’ve found Starrante—he was in the chancellor’s office.”
Killian frowned. His expression was more fluid, more dynamic, than it had been the first time she’d met him. “I see.”
“Can you do anything to interfere in the—the conflict? I don’t think the Arbiters are supposed to damage—”
“There are no students present. No people with requisite permissions—Ah, no. I am incorrect.” His smile was slender. “Robin has apparently lost his way in an attempt to reach the...bathroom. Yes, I believe I have the authority to intervene in this case.”
He lifted his head. “Arabella, self-study does not mean doodling. And give Taran his book back, please. He will be in some trouble if he loses another one.” He lifted his voice. “We have discussed the nature of True Words in the insubstantial ether. We have discussed the possibilities inherent in the primal ether. If one has the ability to reform that ether into a shape and a solidity of one’s choice, why can the words find no anchor?”
Severn?
Starrante has...vanished.
When?
Just now. Killian’s still lecturing?
He is. He was waking. Helen could have continued the lecture while also separating combatants.
“Killian, we need to speak with Starrante.”
“I am afraid that that is not possible at the moment. The Arbiter seems to be engaged in an internal conflict of his own.” This last was said with some concern. “He could not hear me, and he was damaging himself in an attempt to disobey the compulsion laid against him. I have removed him to a place that will be safer, for the moment.”
“Can you send him to the library?”
“No, Chosen.”
Kaylin exhaled. “Can you speak the word that will summon him?”
He stared at her. Or stared at Nightshade, whose voice spoke the words she wanted to say so naturally she almost felt as if she were in the lecture hall.
“Yes,” Killian said, “it is almost as if you are here. But this takes a toll on Calarnenne, and it would be a pity to exhaust him so completely he retains nothing of this lecture.”
“The word to summon Starrante?”
Killian closed his eye. When he spoke—when his voice formed the first of many syllables—Kaylin could hear it so clearly he might have been standing beside her.
I cannot hear it, Nightshade said.
Neither could Severn.
“Calarnenne, please. You have allowed yourself to be distracted enough—and I would like your input. This is a question that is not often asked of students as junior as yourself, but it is a pressing matter that might well define your future.”
“I’m sorry,” Kaylin said in her own voice, in a library that was vibrating with sound. “Please, repeat the word.”
* * *
What did Hope mean? What was healing? How did it relate to the sound of this single word? She sat cross-legged on the shuddering ground and placed Starrante’s book in her lap because she could no longer hold it in her hands; the cold had numbed them so completely she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t drop the book.
She looked at the word as Killian spoke it. She tried to retain the sound of the syllables, the way they flowed into each other. He spoke slowly, but the speaking of these particular words always seemed slow, as if each part of the word had intimidating depth and one couldn’t speak them without intent. The choosing of words, the placement of words, the sense of their weight, were not things that she considered often in her normal life.
If every word had to be spoken and chosen with so much care, would the meanings of those words—far fewer in number—somehow be clearer?
She shook her head. No. Listen. Listen to the sound. Find a way to voice it. Will. Intent. Meaning.
Meaning. In the end, she didn’t know the meaning of this word. She knew how it was used. No, she didn’t even know that. She hadn’t needed to speak the words on the outer bindings of the other Arbiter’s books. She’d merely had to open them.