ground and its shape changed, bubbling and melting as stone came into contact with the familiar’s breath; steam—or something like it—rose, an opaque wall.
Into the mist, the great golden Dragon landed.
The Arkon had arrived.
Chapter 29
“How dare you!”
Whether the floor shook from the Arkon’s voice or his landing wasn’t clear. Kaylin had heard the Arkon speak his native tongue before—but even his native tongue’s natural thunder was no match for this.
She had interrupted him countless times at his work, or what passed for work within the bowels of the Imperial Library; she had seen him irritated. She had thought she’d seen him angry. She’d been wrong.
This was the Arkon’s anger. It was impressive. She reached out for Robin, wrapping both of her arms around him as if to shield him from Draconic rage. The Arkon’s tail was less than a yard away from where Robin stood.
Pale mist rose to the ceiling, shuddering at the echo of the Arkon’s words. The ceiling contained and magnified them. Kaylin thought the magnification unnatural—but the dim forms of the Arbiters could still be seen out of the corners of the eye.
“I tried to calm him,” a familiar voice said. Terrano appeared, as if stepping sideways out of thin air. “Did you know he used to babysit?”
Kaylin couldn’t easily see past the bulk of the Arkon’s body, given his wings and his placement in front of both her and Robin. “Babysit?”
“In his Aerie, when he was younger. Before all the wars. He was considered patient enough.”
A roar dimmed the rest of Terrano’s words, although the Barrani’s mouth was still moving. “...patient to me. I’m probably the only Barrani to see Dragon eyes go that color and survive.”
“I? How dare I?” Candallar’s voice, muted but audible, pushed past silver mist and fog. Kaylin had no doubt that the fieflord would soon join them. “You have entered my domain, and you are not welcome here.”
The Arkon’s roar was less deafening, possibly because it made no attempt to contain words. But words followed that roar. “This is not your domain.”
“I am lord, here. I am chancellor.”
“You are interim chancellor—a position created at need, for need’s sake. You would never, and will never, be chancellor. Your stupidity in this space has destroyed some of the books—”
“Some books? Look around you—there are so many books in this place, eternity might be required to fully read them all! Almost nothing has been lost—”
The Arkon roared again. “You have no idea what has been lost. You have no idea what knowledge, what thought, what lore graced the pages of books destroyed by your juvenile need to shout mine, mine, mine. You are a disgrace to the word chancellor!
“Even your antics—” Kaylin quibbled deeply with the word antics here, but did so utterly silently “—in the Academia almost endangered the life of a student.”
“A student that would not be in these classes or this place had I not delivered him.”
The Arkon fell silent. After a moment, in a far more normal tone, he said, “Students are not your possessions. They are not currency.”
“You show your ignorance. They are the currency Killianas requires to live and breathe.” His voice was clearer now.
The Arkon’s, however, had not wavered. He raised it. “Come, Starrante, Androsse, Kavallac. Return to your duties and do not leave them while danger remains.” Kaylin couldn’t see what he’d done—but knew, regardless.
Kaylin was closest to Starrante in position, and was therefore aware of the moment the Arkon’s words—and the books he held—had their desired effect: the Arbiters began to brighten in color, to solidify in shape. She pulled Robin to the side, but let Terrano make his own way clear.
Starrante didn’t seem to notice either of them. Kavallac and Androsse were also turned toward the Arkon’s back—and perhaps to what lay beyond it: Candallar, Illanen and Baltrin.
“I think,” Starrante said softly, “it is time you returned to your classes.” He spoke to Robin, because no one else in the library was part of those classes.
“I’m not sure I can,” Robin replied. “I don’t know how to get there from here.”
“You found the chancellor’s office. I trust that you can, with some effort, find a door.”
When Robin failed to move, he sighed. “I will never do this again,” he told the boy. “I am too old for it, and students are not meant to harry and make demands of librarians—beyond the permissions they seek to study the books the library contains. Remember this.”
“I’m never going to forget any of this,” Robin said.
Starrante spit out