Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,157
answers from Starrante in the current situation.
“Very good,” the spider said. “I believe I understand some of the difficulties the would-be interim chancellor now faces.”
Lord Baltrin did not carry a book, and he did not wear a tiara; he did, however, carry a staff. It was Kaylin’s height, but slender and straight—a thing of wood and gold. Sanabalis would have heaped ridicule on the necessity of it, had he been here.
The interim chancellor in question stood between the Barrani Arcanist and the human Caste Court lord. His eyes, at this distance, were black. The medallion on his chest was gold, if gold were somehow lurid; the rod he carried in his left hand was now the same color.
“Any problem he faces would help us,” Sedarias said.
“Yes, perhaps. But he carries only two of the three significant objects he requires to assert better control over the Academia.”
“And the third?”
“The young man with the ugly crown.”
“The book?”
“The book. Killian is not fully awake, and because he is not, the interim chancellor’s power is muted. We would be facing a much harder fight were he more aware.”
“Us? Why us?”
“Because the interim chancellor’s authority would carry far more weight. Even were he to be more awake now, the authority is split in a fashion that it is seldom split. We have had interim chancellors in our history, but they are an emergency measure. They are not chosen with care—care is seldom exercised in an emergency—and they make their presence known by the three insignias. Without them, Killian is unlikely to hear either their requests or their commands.”
“And Candallar only has two.”
“Yes. It would appear so.”
“They can hear you, you know,” Sedarias then said.
“Ah, no, they cannot, unless their ears are a reconfigured version of the ones they were born with. And in my opinion,” the Arbiter continued, “if they could hear it would be to our advantage. It is not possible that your Candallar did not understand that the three separate items were necessary—which implies heavily that there is a lack of trust or cohesion among his council.”
The ground beneath their feet shook—but it wasn’t the ground that was the problem; Kaylin saw this perhaps seconds before the Arcanist gestured at the ceiling. The ceiling came down in large stone chunks.
Starrante turned a clicking motion into a roar of sound and the chunks of rock dissipated, as if they were illusion or fog.
“If we close with them, they’d be more careful about what they drop.” This was Bellusdeo. Chunks of falling ceiling were unlikely to kill her in either of her two forms. Before Starrante could answer, she exhaled a plume of fire in a much wider cone than the size of her current mouth should have made possible.
It melted rock.
It didn’t touch the chancellor or his companions, although Lord Baltrin blinked rapidly as it passed them by. In spite of himself, Robin’s fear diminished. “She’s a Dragon!”
“She is. Her name is Bellusdeo. When she transforms, she’s the color of the armor she’s wearing now.”
Purple fire raced down the hall in response to Dragon fire, but with as much effect. No, Kaylin thought, that wasn’t true. It left a pale, opalescent wash across the stone floor, colors glittering there like shards of glass. This time, Starrante cursed in his clicking, toothy tongue.
He lifted his face toward what remained of the ceiling, and when he exhaled, a stream of sticky white took root; he caught it with his front legs—four of them—and began to tease it into threads. While he did, Bellusdeo once again took aim at the chancellor’s party, and this time, Emmerian did the same; the former aimed directly at the floor beneath their feet, and the latter, at the ceiling above their heads.
The flames obscured normal vision—in both directions. Starrante, however, didn’t appear to notice. He was, as his form suggested he might, building a web. This web was like a spider’s web to begin with—but the strands and their configuration seemed somehow more mathematical, more precise. Robin, in Kaylin’s shadow, drew his fascinated gaze from the fire to the web itself, as if compelled.
His eyes narrowed as his chin rose; the whole of his neck was revealed as Starrante’s web began to spread.
“I’ve—I’ve seen this,” Robin whispered.
“You’ve seen this web?”
He shook his head as if the web itself were irrelevant. “That.” He pointed at one section of the web—the section almost directly in front of Starrante, rather than overhead. “That pattern. That one there. I’ve seen it before. Look—it’s repeating.”