Cast in Wisdom (Chronicles of Elantra #15) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,37
expressions were almost a mirror image. “If the lands, if the composition of the lands, changed—were changed—by Shadow or the fall of Ravellon, those lands wouldn’t be the lands the Towers now hold, would they?”
“That, I believe, is an excellent question,” the Arkon replied. Since Kaylin had asked it, he even nodded in her direction. “If it is necessary for you to return, make an appointment.” He then turned his back and headed toward his desk.
It took Kaylin a moment to realize they were all being dismissed. Bellusdeo, however, snorted. “You have not changed at all, Lannagaros.”
* * *
“You’re worried about the Arkon,” Kaylin said on the drive home, carriage provided by the palace.
Bellusdeo nodded, although she continued to stare out the open window, as if hoping something would distract her. “He was not himself.”
“You said he never changes, and he seemed pretty normal to me.”
“He failed to ask real questions,” said the person who wasn’t being grilled. “He seemed tense. I feel something is off, something is wrong.”
Kaylin glanced at the Dragon and understood. The Arkon was the only remaining friend from a distant, distant childhood. “Given our luck, we’ll find out what it is soon.”
* * *
Helen was at the open doors when Kaylin entered the grounds. With her came Bellusdeo; Severn returned to the Halls of Law to make his report. Kaylin was grateful that he was willing to do it. Of all Hawk activities, the writing of reports was the one she still hated most. Especially given the joy with which their sergeant received them.
Keep an ear out, Kaylin told him.
I will. I want to pay a visit to Missing Persons. He was silent for one long moment and then said, Yes, I saw what you saw.
And you have a better memory for faces.
She felt his nod, but whatever she’d meant to say in response withered as she caught sight of Helen’s face. The eyes of her home’s Avatar were obsidian, and this was never a good sign.
Bellusdeo noticed, as well; the Dragon’s eyes darkened to an orange that implied martial caution. At least Helen wasn’t wearing armor. She looked like her usual gentle, maternal self if one didn’t look at her eyes.
“Where,” Helen said, dispensing with the usual welcome home that characterized her, “did you meet Killianas?”
Kaylin blinked. “You mean Killian?”
Helen stepped into the house to allow both Kaylin and Bellusdeo to enter. She then shut the door—a little more firmly than necessary—and exhaled sound. The sound had syllables in it, but also the roaring of ocean, the crash of lightning that followed the rumble of thunder, the crackle of fire as it devoured wood.
Bellusdeo waited, an almost bored expression transforming her features; the color of her eyes remained orange.
“What’s happening?” Mandoran said from the height of the stairs that led to the foyer, and therefore, the door.
“I am trying,” Helen said without looking up, “to find the right words to express a phrase.”
“I don’t think that’s working out well for you.” Mandoran descended the stairs.
“Did you understand it?” Bellusdeo asked.
“Not well, no. Serralyn thinks she might understand the gist of it.”
“Pardon?”
“She was always good with language, in the old days.” He reached the ground. Helen had fallen silent and seemed slightly pinker than usual. “Where did you guys go, anyway? Helen’s not happy.”
“You think?”
Bellusdeo snorted smoke. “We attempted to reach the fief of Candallar by crossing the border of Tiamaris. I believe it was meant to be a shortcut. It was not particularly short.”
“What happened?”
Helen steered them to the dining room. Although the parlor existed, Kaylin was never entirely comfortable using it; that was a room meant for visitors who were above her pay grade and needed to be impressed somehow. The dining room could double as a mess hall, and given the cohort these days, it usually did. Although Helen tended to change the furniture when important guests visited, she didn’t attempt to maintain it that way when they left.
The parlor, however, was always stuffy and fancy.
Helen could, and did, pick information from Kaylin’s thoughts as she walked the stretch of hall that led to the comfortable common room. Hope was slumped across her shoulder, looking bored. Boredom apparently afflicted anything immortal.
They took their usual seats, although Teela came down to join them, her eyes a shade of midnight. Mandoran glanced at her, grimaced, and dropped his head to the tabletop. Repeatedly.
“If you don’t want her to help you with that,” Kaylin told him as she took her own chair, “I’d suggest you