not its master. The room of which you speak, I have not seen.”
Hope had had enough, and once again attempted to leave Kaylin’s shoulder. She reached up and caught his legs as he spread his wings and inhaled. The sound was very like the sound of Bellusdeo inhaling.
“No, not now!” Kaylin shouted.
Kaylin’s shout, unlike Hope’s, was perfectly audible. Their guide turned as Kaylin’s arm was lifted by Hope. Even at his diminutive size, he had weight and momentum, and she was pulled up until she was balanced on her toes.
“Sorry,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to offer what she hoped was a placating smile. “I’m having a minor disagreement with—stop it, Hope!”
The single eye was narrowed, the expression a series of graven lines that made the Barrani face look like chiseled stone.
Hope exhaled a cloud of silver with glinting colored bits contained in the stream. Bellusdeo side-stepped its mass; it was a much larger mass than Hope, at this size, usually emitted.
Kaylin was not in its path; Severn was not in its path.
Only the Barrani who had offered to show them the door—but politely, which was more than most intruders could expect—was. He didn’t move. The cloud was part of Hope, and Hope remained invisible to him. Hope’s effect on Kaylin was obvious; most people did not dangle on their toes the way she now did. But he couldn’t see Hope, and as he stood there frowning, the cloud that was the familiar’s version of Dragon breath hit his face and shoulders.
Hope then allowed himself to be returned to Kaylin’s shoulders.
“What are you trying to do?” She demanded. “I mean it.” It didn’t matter if the Barrani thought she was hallucinating—or worse.
He cannot hear me, Hope replied. What do you think I was trying to do?
“We don’t usually breathe on people’s faces so they can hear us.”
“My apologies,” the Barrani stranger said. From the direction of his gaze, he was now looking at Hope. His face had not melted; his eye had not changed shape, and the color had lightened to a normal Barrani blue.
“We’re going to have words about this when we get home.”
Hope squawked. Loudly.
“Yes,” the man replied. “I apologize for the lack of introduction. I am called Killian when I am required to interact.”
Squawk. Squawk.
“I cannot answer your question.” His eye narrowed as Hope continued to squawk.
“Can you understand a word he’s saying?” Kaylin asked Bellusdeo.
“No.” Her eyes were a deeper orange now.
“I have no access to the room you describe. I will not lead you there. I will show you the exit. I cannot guarantee that you will return to the same physical location you entered.”
Everything about this conversation was strange. Given the circumstances, strange was expected, but it was strange on the wrong axis.
The man who had introduced himself as Killian then turned and once again resumed his graceful but unhurried walk.
* * *
The way out was six halls and one short flight of stairs away. Kaylin counted. The building was enormous, but oddly narrow. Geography was not her strong point; she navigated by landmarks when she could identify them, by instinctive memory when she couldn’t.
But the last hall was wider, and looked like the entrance to an old, well-used building in which one expected guests, or if not guests, visitors. This was not so much a home, in Kaylin’s opinion, but...maybe a boarding school? She’d had cause—once—to visit a school meant for adult students. She hadn’t been comfortable there. This reminded her of that, except emptied. Although the floors and the carpet runners showed wear, all doors were closed; she could hear no sound of movement, no sound of discussion, outside of their own.
Hope squawked.
“I do not advise you to attempt to return. If you must, I advise you to avoid your previous method of entry. It is not well maintained, and could prove dangerous to your companions.”
Kaylin had no desire to set foot in this building again. Killian reached two closed, but much larger, doors. She was surprised to see him move to physically open them. She stepped forward to help, but Hope bit her ear.
“This building was once—long ago—a school. The rooms we passed were occupied by students; there are rooms you did not encounter that were occupied by teachers.”
“Are you the building’s sole occupant now?”
“No.”
“And we’ve managed to avoid any of the other occupants?”
“Yes, it is best to avoid them. Some of them will not be pleased to encounter you or learn of your existence.” The doors fully open, he