Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,90
me like that. I don’t care about the Hawks.”
“I’m a Hawk.”
“Repeat my words.” There was the hint of a grin on Morse’s face. “Personally, I hate the idea.”
Trying not to bristle, Kaylin said, “Why?”
“Because he expects me to be the liaison. And I’d just as soon punch things or kill things as talk to them.”
Kaylin laughed, partly because it was true. “It’d be less work for you.”
“Not punching or killing things will take all of my self-control. I won’t have time to deal with Hawks. Looks like they’re done.”
Kaylin, looking at the Arkon, lifted one hand—the free hand—to her ear. Morse, who had been watching Kaylin, instantly lifted both of hers.
The Arkon let loose a volley of Dragon that would terrify any fiefling who could hear it—which would probably be anyone who lived in Tiamaris.
Bellusdeo rolled her eyes; Emmerian did not seem to either hear the Arkon’s words or be concerned by them. Tiamaris, Lord of the fief, roared right back.
Sedarias, of the gathered company, was the only person present whose eyes had descended into a dark, dark blue as the Dragons spoke. Annarion’s expression was smooth, polished, and implied the resignation, beat for beat, that Emmerian’s contained. Sedarias, not so much.
Apparently, the ability to see and hear the entirety of Mandoran’s and Annarion’s lives from the remove of the West March didn’t compensate for actual, lived experience. She was rigid as Tiamaris and the Arkon continued the thunder of what appeared to be an actual argument.
Here, Tiamaris held sway. It was his fief.
Kaylin glanced at Tara’s Avatar; the Tower, like the other two Dragons, look resigned. Resigned and compassionate. As if Kaylin’s glance was a question, Tara moved away from Tiamaris toward Kaylin. He didn’t appear to notice. As she reached Kaylin, she offered the Hawk a hug, her clothing transforming, as she did, from the meet-with-dignitaries dress and robes into the more beloved gardening smock.
“My Lord is worried,” she said. Unlike Morse, it wasn’t necessary for Tara to shout. Not even here, near the border of the fief over which her Tower ruled.
“Can you tell me why?”
Before Tara could answer, Kaylin added, “Emmerian and Bellusdeo are worried, too. The only time I’ve really seen Bellusdeo worry, it involved Shadow. This...doesn’t.”
“I am not sure I understand it myself. It has something to do with Dragons and hoards. But...you’ve seen a Dragon stake his hoard claim. You were standing right beside him. Did he appear to be dangerously unstable to you?”
“He’s a Dragon.”
“Does that make a difference? I agree that the form is, for a small period, unstable and appears malleable when the Dragons choose to shift—”
Kaylin had, momentarily, forgotten the Tower’s sense of humor. Or lack of one. “I don’t think I had the time to notice. You might remember that there were Shadows who were attempting to rewrite your words in the heart of the Tower space.”
“Ah, yes. Apologies.” Tara smiled. “I remember it as the darkness before the dawn. That’s figurative,” she added. “Or perhaps metaphorical. My Lord feels that the Arkon is dangerously unstable at the moment, and is telling him so.”
Great. They were going to be here all day.
“What do you think?” Kaylin asked.
“He appears, to me, to be as he was the first time he visited the fief, except in one regard.”
“And that is?”
“The first time, he was happy to see Bellusdeo. It meant much to him. It was hope. It was...” Tara frowned. “Sadness. I am not certain I should be answering this question.” Her hesitation was marked, and it reminded Kaylin a bit of Helen—but Helen wouldn’t have answered. “I think he has been sad for as long as you’ve known him. Perhaps for as long as Emmerian has known him. Bellusdeo comes from a period of his life where loss had not informed him so thoroughly.”
“He’s not sad now?”
“It is sharper, harsher. I cannot easily describe the difference. But he is...desperate with hope, Kaylin. My Lord attempts to cushion that hope, to explain reality. The Arkon is unwilling to let it go. Hope can break people when it is dashed.”
Kaylin nodded, then exhaled. “I think you should tell your Lord that there’s no point. Either hope will be dashed, or it won’t. Oh, unless you have information about Candallar and his visitors and their possible whereabouts. Because I think those could be a serious problem.”
“My Lord reminds you,” Tara said, although Tiamaris was still entangled in his discussion, “that the desire for a hoard—when