Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,33

Arkon spoke, and as he uttered each syllable, Kaylin saw a golden rune begin to take shape in the air above the still, almost clear, water. She had seen it once, or something like it, the only other time she’d been brought to this cavern.

“We don’t have the information in basic Records anywhere?” Bellusdeo nudged her gently. Kaylin, however, persisted. “This is about the Towers in the fiefs, right?”

The Arkon finished speaking, and the rune speech had produced, glowing brightly in the poor light, began to revolve in the air. Bellusdeo didn’t seem to see the word the way Kaylin did, but she did see the marks on Kaylin’s arms begin to glow, as if in sympathy. Or resonance. It didn’t hurt, and the marks stayed where they were, beneath a layer of shirt.

“I will excuse you your infernal impatience,” the older Dragon said as the word his speech had brought into being began its slow descent into the liquid the altar contained. “Because you have so little natural time. No, Corporal, this is not about the Towers in the fiefs. I’m certain you could just ask the Barrani.”

“They don’t generally answer.”

“You are not offering them the right incentives.”

“I can’t fly, breathe fire or otherwise easily kill them, no.”

The Arkon snorted. “The names you have mentioned are, I believe, the names the Towers were given when they were first created. But the name of Towers change. The Towers are not the Hallionne, although the Hallionne have similar function with regards to Shadow and its contaminant.

“Shadow is flexible. The form and shape it might take could not easily be predicted. Ah, no. The knowledge of future forms and shapes could not be predicted. The Hallionne have no masters. The Towers, however, do. The reason for that difference lies entirely in Shadow and its lack of predictability. The living lords are meant to inform and update the Towers so that knowledge is gained and understanding remains firmly wed to the present.

“But the lords of the Towers are not meant to exercise that control to the benefit of Shadow. There are, therefore, some lines that cannot be crossed; the base internal structure of the Tower will not permit it. You housed Gilbert.”

“Not housed, exactly.”

“The Towers could not, no matter the desire of their lords.”

“Helen’s not a Tower.”

“No. But in my opinion, Helen is unique. She desired self-determination, had the will to destroy those parts of herself that prevented it, and did not manage to destroy the parts necessary for her to become the home that she now is. What she now provides for you—and by extension, your guests—was not what she was created to provide; it lacks ambition.”

“I don’t know, Lannagaros,” Bellusdeo said. “I consider it beyond ambitious, given the difficulties Kaylin stumbles into on a constant basis. And in my experience, a happy, safe home is a daydream. It’s an idle wish, an impossible yearning.”

The Arkon’s gaze had moved to Bellusdeo, and the gold of his eyes dimmed. The inner membrane rose, muting the color even further.

“If a Tower or a Hallionne could grant that wish, could maintain it in the face of the truth of the rest of the world, I would think it a grand design on the part of the Ancients. She could house my people. Maggaron is happy with his rooms—happy enough he almost never leaves them.”

The Arkon bowed his head; his hand touched his beard. It was almost as if he were offering respect for the dead and the lost.

“That’s unfair. He left them today,” Kaylin said.

“Yes, true. But he is not what he was and I am not what I was; I think he feels at a loss. I should return him to the Norannir.”

“I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

“Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need.” Bellusdeo shook herself. “My apologies. I did not mean to interrupt, and these ladders are not particularly comfortable.”

“I should have my beard singed off for this,” the Arkon replied—in Elantran. “You may, with my permission, forgo the ladder; try not to destroy the dress in the process; the Emperor is always uncomfortable with the armor in the open streets.”

It took Kaylin a moment to fully understand that the Arkon was giving Bellusdeo permission to transform. There was certainly enough room for it, given that this was a cavern.

Bellusdeo hesitated for one long breath, and then leaped off the ladder, landing heavily enough to cause a tremor. She then disrobed; Kaylin turned away from her as she transformed. She’d