always had a much better eye for geography, and a much better memory for it.
Starrante climbed a wall, skipping two squares of the hall; Sedarias leaped above them. Bellusdeo grabbed Kaylin and did the same. No one asked why; they attempted, with two normal legs, to follow a path that eight made far easier. Kaylin felt a painful slap across her skin as Bellusdeo cleared those squares. Starrante had clearly seen whatever lay across the floor.
Bellusdeo—and probably Sedarias—could; Kaylin could. But detecting magical traps and dangers took time. It was time Starrante didn’t have to expend.
Regardless, that corner was the last corner; she could see, if not the chancellor’s office, her companions. Emmerian stepped up, passing Annarion, as Starrante approached. Kaylin didn’t blame him; Starrante was definitely in the lead, even if both Bellusdeo and Sedarias were running to catch up. It probably wasn’t clear whether or not they were in pursuit because he was a danger or an enemy was escaping.
But no, that wasn’t true. Emmerian’s gaze hit Bellusdeo, and he immediately stood down—figuratively speaking. He could see the gold Dragon’s eyes. They had been orange, but it wasn’t the orange that could threaten red at any time. She was not afraid of Starrante.
Bellusdeo set Kaylin on two feet. Kaylin scurried past Starrante, who had stopped in the hall, his front two legs weaving in the air as if they were weapons. Which, practically speaking, they were. Annarion’s sword was raised, but he didn’t step in to attack. Of course not. He’d be aware of anything Sedarias was aware of. His take, on the other hand, was always his own—it was amazing, on some days, that the cohort could get anything done, they spent so much time arguing among themselves.
Kaylin pushed herself to stand in front of Starrante, and as she did he lowered his limbs. “Arbiter Starrante, you might have encountered these people earlier—they’re our friends and allies. This is Corporal Severn Handred. This is Lord Emmerian—”
“Lord?”
“Emmerian is one of five Dragon Lords. The Imperial Court—the Empire of the country in which the Towers stand—is composed of Dragons.”
“And not Barrani?”
“It’s complicated. But the wars between the two—Barrani and Dragon—are over. They are in the past, and we intend to keep it that way.”
“In my day,” Starrante said, “Dragons were introduced by the name of their flights.”
“Yes, well. It’s been a long time since your day, and none of the rest of us were around for it. Well, almost none of the rest of us.”
“Very well.” Starrante opened his mouth and roared.
Bellusdeo startled, and then looked to the side—Starrante’s body was, given the position of his hind legs, almost even with her head. She then grinned at Kaylin, her eyes as light as they had been since they’d set foot in the Academia, and responded in kind.
Emmerian’s manners had always been flawless; he did so, as well. The stone hall proved to be acoustically perfect—if one wanted to amplify the sound of native Dragon. Apparently, Draconian greetings were long-winded affairs, and Kaylin’s ears were ringing by the time everyone was satisfied that they’d done a good enough job.
She did manage not to cover her ears.
“...This is Annarion An’Solanace. And behind them is Robin, one of Killian’s most promising students.”
“I see. I would dearly love the opportunity to spend time with someone Killianas considered promising, but that will have to wait. Gentlemen, if you would step aside from the doorway, I believe we need to enter the chancellor’s office.”
“Kaylin,” Annarion said, “I think we might have a problem.”
“What’s happened in the library?”
“It’s hard to pick it out—Terrano’s still there, but...there’s interference.”
Starrante said, “Come to me right now.” Emmerian turned, picked up a terrified Robin and made haste to obey; Severn and Annarion were on the move before the last syllable had stopped resonating in the ceiling above.
Something like mist crept out of the chancellor’s open doors—mist with glittering shards enfolded in its gray, cloudy form.
Chapter 27
The mist encircled Starrante. It didn’t touch him—and it didn’t touch anyone who had made their way to the umbrella of his direct surroundings. The Arbiter cursed in a language that seemed to be composed of rapid clicks instead of the usual syllables. Kaylin wasn’t certain she could repeat it, but she recognized useful street language when she heard it.
The Arbiter heaved a rattling, terrible sigh. Kaylin would have worried about the state of his lungs if he were any of the races with which she was familiar—and she dropped a hand to the side