As it happened, Sergeant Keele asked to speak to Kaylin privately before she could escort Mrs. Erickson home. Mrs. Erickson looked worried.
“I won’t bust her down a rank, and she won’t lose her job,” Keele told the old woman. “But I do want her to check your stairs. Your house is old. If the stairs need some carpentry work, she can help arrange that.”
Silence.
The stairs were in perfectly good condition, as both Keele and Kaylin knew. So, apparently, did Mrs. Erickson.
“I’m just getting on in years, Bridget.”
“As am I,” the sergeant replied. “Corporal?”
Kaylin followed the sergeant into the interior office, but turned to offer Mrs. Erickson what she hoped was an encouraging smile. She said nothing because sergeants had ears and eyes in the backs of their heads.
Keele closed the door once Kaylin had walked through it.
“What did I tell you about sentiment?”
“Sentiment bad, sir.”
The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. Her eyes remained a steady brown because she was human.
“Is Mrs. Erickson having difficulty? Is that why you escorted her home yesterday?”
“No, sir.”
“Speak freely. I don’t have time to play twenty questions.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Erickson’s ghosts are imaginary, sir. I offered to escort her home because I wanted to confirm the suspicion. I didn’t expect to actually see the ghosts.”
Keele froze. “You saw her ghosts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The front desk is crazy enough we don’t need any more of it. You’re sloppy but I know you don’t drink on duty.”
“Too many Barrani in my department for that.”
Keele snorted. “Her fall down the stairs?”
“Her neighbor to the left is hostile.”
“We can’t send her home with an escort every day.”
Kaylin cleared her throat. “We can’t ask her to stop coming in. Even if she could avoid the neighbor by remaining mostly at home, she still needs to leave to get water and food. She comes here daily because the ghosts in her house are trapped there—they can’t leave.”
“You’re certain you saw these ghosts?”
“Yes, sir. Four. All children between the ages of eight and twelve at best guess. Only one of them was in missing persons Records.”
“Which one?”
“Esmeralda Noachin. Mrs. Erickson comes here with her vague reports because it gives her something to talk to the children about. She considers them her responsibility. To be fair to her, one of those ghosts is what keeps the neighbor out of the house. I believe he crossed the threshold once, and never again.”
“Where is this going, Corporal?”
“I don’t know, sir. But...I like her. She sure beats the vampire reports I’ve been logging.”
“You should look into those.”
“Vampires, sir?”
“You can see ghosts,” Sergeant Keele replied.
“True, but it’s not Mrs. Erickson making the vampire reports.”
“I have some Records searching to do myself.”
“Mrs. Erickson’s?”
“Related,” was the terse reply. “You know the sentiment I told you has no place in the Halls of Law?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s a reason I gave you that advice. Mrs. Erickson has been coming to the Halls of Law for as long as I’ve been part of them. Green-behind-the-ears private, and she was old to my eyes, even then. We all thought she was dotty, but never dangerous; she’s almost part of the department by this point. She remembers names, remembers details—she takes an interest in a person, and it’s genuine. She was unfailingly encouraging, and she knew how to listen. Also: baking.” The almost gentle expression drained from the sergeant’s face. “I want information about the neighbor.”
Kaylin nodded. “If the neighbor comes out again?”
“I ask only that you escort her home in civvies.”
How long should I remain off the schedule?
Kaylin jumped at the sound of Severn’s interior voice. What do you mean?
You’re pursuing information about Mrs. Erickson now. You’re worried about her. But you won’t be at the front desk if I’m on the active roster.
Wait, you’re finished?
No. But I could be.
Can I answer that after I see if the neighbor is lurking on the lawn? He has to wait for her—he’s too cowardly to try to enter her home.
The sergeant is right—we can’t escort her home every night.
I can, if she waits. I was off duty the last time; I’ll be off duty this time as well.
Severn said nothing.
I’m heading to the Academia after I see her safely home.
Amaldi and Darreno were nowhere in sight in the streets that led to 14 1/2 Orbonne Street. Although Kaylin offered to carry her basket, Mrs. Erickson didn’t stop to shop this time. She had other things on her mind.
“I’m worried about Jamal,” she said.
“What did he do?”
“He was upset this morning. I’m almost afraid to see what he’s broken.”
Kaylin had a word or two to say to Jamal. She could guess what had tipped him over into rage, and if her guess was right, she strongly sympathized. But breaking Mrs. Erickson’s things as a response to that rage? No.
“It’s very frustrating for him. Please understand that.”
“Oh, I assure you, I do.” The house came into view. Hope squawked, quietly this time, in her ear. She nodded, and he sat up, lifting a wing to place it gently across only one of her eyes.
She could see Mrs. Erickson’s house—and the steps that were old but in obviously decent repair—through both eyes. She could see the next-door neighbor’s door open through both eyes. Not even the presence of the neighbor, however, could distract her from the building she could see only through Hope’s wing. It wasn’t Mrs. Erickson’s house. It wasn’t the neighbor’s house, either—both of those were present in the exact same locations they’d been in the day before.
A wider, taller building rose above the two more mundane buildings she could see without Hope’s help. Its height suggested a tower, or towers, had been part of its construction, but it quivered in the vision, like the rare mirages that occurred during horrible heat weaves in the city; it wasn’t solid. Kaylin knew there were vestigial traces of its existence in Records. She’d have to dig. She was almost certain that anyone living close to a building of this size would remember it—it wasn’t anywhere near the usual architecture found in the neighborhood.
If, in fact, the Records information still existed.
It does, Severn said.
You were looking?
I thought it best to protect those that could be quietly preserved, yes.
You think the Barrani might interfere with it?
It’s happened in the Hawks before.
“Fourteen Orbonne,” she said as she looked up.
“What, dear?” Mrs. Erickson said, turning toward Kaylin, her brows folding into far less familiar lines. “Fourteen?”
“I see you’re back again, Officer.” The neighbor’s booming voice interrupted whatever Mrs. Erickson might have said. Kaylin wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She turned toward the neighbor, who was grinning in that extremely fake, jovial way.
Kaylin’s lips turned up at the corners. “I am. I see you’re still minding everyone else’s business.”
The smile on the man’s face stiffened, but didn’t fall off. “Old lady’s my neighbor. We’re neighborly—we look out for each other.”
Kaylin stepped between the neighbor and Mrs. Erickson. “What’s your name, neighbor?”
“Why do you need to know?”
Kaylin shrugged. “It’s not an official question—yet. I’m here as a friend. Of Mrs. Erickson’s. Name’s Kaylin Neya.”
“I didn’t ask your name.”
“No, you didn’t. Some people have no manners, but I’m a Hawk—I’m used to bad manners. I’m also used to criminal behavior and assault. Bad manners are free. Assault, not so much.”
“What are you talking about? Did the old lady say I assaulted her?” The smile, which was repulsive, went away. What was left was anger. Kaylin could see the man’s hands curl into fists. “She tripped. I even helped her up.”
Kaylin said nothing. She did, however, meet—and hold—his gaze. “Mrs. Erickson, why don’t you head inside. I’ll join you in a minute.” Her tone was calmer than the neighbor’s, although she was certain she was at least as enraged. She’d learned a few things in her years with the Hawks.
Mrs. Erickson hesitated.
“Don’t go anywhere,” the neighbor snapped. “I’ll want a witness.”
“To what? You getting the crap beaten out of you by a girl half your size?” Kaylin glanced at his girth. “A third your size?”
His fists tightened.
Kaylin’s didn’t. She knew he had the advantage of reach, size, and muscles, but her training had always taken that into account. What she most hated about him in the moment was his hesitation. She wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t mimic fear.
And he didn’t want to touch someone fearless. Maybe if she turned her back on him, he’d attack then. But facing her? No. Mrs. Erickson, Kaylin noted, stayed rooted to the spot until the moment something flew out the window. Clearly, Jamal was watching.
The neighbor lowered the fists he’d involuntarily raised. This time, there was fear in his expression. “We’ll sort this later,” he told Kaylin, under his breath.
“I’m sure we will.”
Day two of needing to punch the neighbor in the face and failing to find the right opportunity left Kaylin with more adrenaline than ideal. She did turn her back on the neighbor, on the off chance he’d try to push her or trip her, but Jamal—she assumed it was Jamal—had killed the mood entirely.
He’d also broken a mug, by the look of the ceramic shards at the foot of the stairs. Kaylin stopped to pick up the larger pieces, and then went into the house to find a broom.
“You don’t have to do that,” Mrs. Erickson began.
“I’ll let you talk to Jamal first. I’ll clean up the shards while you do.”
“You shouldn’t antagonize him.”
Kaylin smiled; she knew him referred to the neighbor. “I should be more adept at it, yes. He’s clearly a coward, and I wasn’t acting intimidated or terrified enough.”
“She’s right,” Jamal said, coming into view. He was, no surprise, ferocious in his youthful rage.
“That doesn’t mean,” Kaylin then said, “that you throwing things out the window is helping anything.”
“He ran away,” was the sullen reply.
“Before I could hit him back, yes.”
“Why don’t you just hit him first?”
“I’m an officer of the law,” she replied. “Hitting him first is assault. Hitting him back isn’t.”
“You’re mad.”
“I am. Did you see what happened to Mrs. Erickson this morning?”
Jamal shook his head, grim now. “Esmeralda says he slapped her. He’s afraid of us.”
“Maybe we should invite him in.”
“Corporal,” Mrs. Erickson said, the word an admonition.
Kaylin tried to remember she was talking to a child, and grudgingly relented. “What exactly is his problem? Was he always like this?”
“Not until he lost his wife. He started to drink.”
“Was that recent?”
Mrs. Erickson said yes. Jamal said no. The latter was far, far angrier than Kaylin, and Kaylin was pretty angry. She took a breath and fell back on the training that had allowed her, in the end, to be a Hawk. “When did he start to harass you?”
Mrs. Erickson was silent.
Jamal was not. “Two years ago, give or take a few months. We’re not great at keeping track of living time. He hammered on the door and forced himself into the house—not that she was trying to keep him out.”
“What did he do?”
“He wanted to look for something. He accused her of stealing it. From him.”
“Did he say what it was?”
“No. Mrs. Erickson doesn’t steal. She’s probably never been anywhere near his house!”
It was Esmeralda who continued when Jamal’s words tailed off into sputtering curses. Kaylin hadn’t seen her arrive. “He had a peculiar look, as my nana used to say. We thought he’d been drinking, but it’s harder to tell—we can’t really smell anything, either. But he pushed her out of the way and forced himself in.
“I think he would have hurt her if he couldn’t find what he was looking for.”
A third child joined the other two. “He was never going to find it.” Callis was quieter and less obviously certain than either Jamal or Esmeralda. “But he was going to destroy a lot of things while searching.” His voice implied that this was the best case, and Kaylin understood this.
He’d probably demand that Mrs. Erickson produce a thing she couldn’t produce, and if she failed...
“Jamal hurt him. Jamal started to throw things at his head—he’s a pretty good aim. He got scared, and he ran out of the house screaming about ghosts.” Esmeralda smiled. Had Kaylin seen that smile at any other time, she would have assumed it was friendly, if mischievous.
Given what she now knew of how each of the four children—or their bodies—had died, she felt a bit of a chill. It took the edge off her anger. She turned—more calmly—to Mrs. Erickson, unwilling to hear any more about children trying to murder an abusive wreck of a neighbor. “Has he been demanding that you give him whatever it is he thinks was stolen?”
Mrs. Erickson nodded.
“Did he happen to say what it was he was missing?”
“No. He seems to believe I know. I’ve asked,” she added, her voice soft. “I thought maybe I could scrape together enough money to buy a replacement. But asking just angered him; it didn’t give me any answers. I haven’t—”
“We know. You didn’t steal anything from him. Have you ever been in his house?”
“A decade ago—maybe a bit less—when his wife was still alive. She was a lovely young woman.”
“She never came here,” Jamal added. He was obviously skeptical about Mrs. Erickson’s claim.
“Did you see her?”
“She’d come to the door when she was ready to have guests, and she’d escort Mrs. Erickson to her home—but no. She didn’t come in.”
“Did you invite her?”
Mrs. Erickson nodded. “We went to her home. I think she wanted her husband to get used to me.”
Kaylin couldn’t criticize Mrs. Erickson because she seldom had guests in her house. On the rare occasions she did, Helen took over, and Kaylin was happy to let her. But given various idle conversations in the Halls of Law, it seemed a bit strange.
“When did his wife die?”
“Three years ago in two weeks. I attended her funeral. She was a lovely young woman, but there were very few attendees. I felt terrible for her husband.”
She probably still did. Kaylin exhaled slowly. To Jamal, she said, “I’ll be walking Mrs. Erickson home for the next little while. If the neighbor shows up, do not interfere again.”
“He went away.”
“Yes. And as I said earlier, he went away before we could...resolve the issue.”
“Before you could hit him, you mean.” Esmeralda was clearly not shy about making corrections.
“What is the neighbor’s name?” When no one immediately volunteered the information, Kaylin frowned. “I can look it up in Records back at work.”
Jamal offered a choice word or two as if it were a name.
“I doubt that’s what his legal name is.”
“Brennan Oswald,” Mrs. Erickson said. “His wife was Alisa, but I think that was a nickname.”
“Her full name?”
“Annalisa Oswald.”
Kaylin nodded briskly. “I’ll leave you with the kids.”
Esmeralda looked mutinous at the word. “We’re older than either of you,” she snapped.
“Fine. I’ll leave you with the octogenarians.”
Kaylin exited Mrs. Erickson’s house, glaring at the neighbor’s much larger abode as she made her way down the stairs. She did stop to check the condition of the stairs, although it was a waste of time; there was nothing wrong with them. They were old, they’d worn slightly in the middle, but without inspecting closely, they looked in decent repair.
She then rose, grinding her teeth. She disliked people who assumed they could physically intimidate her. She hated people who picked on little old ladies. She might have been able to clear up both problems had the neighbor led with his fist.
She exhaled. Poked Hope. Hope lifted a wing to her face, and this time she saw a ghostly building rising between the Erickson residence and the Oswald residence, although it overlapped Mrs. Erickson’s home. The passage of time had robbed that building of solidity; Kaylin thought if she attempted to view it again at a later hour, she would see nothing there at all.
All of this was worrying. She made a mental list of questions that she wanted answered, paring it down to essentials; other questions would no doubt arise when the few on the list had been answered.
But to get answers, she needed to do her research on foot. She therefore headed to the Academia.
Severn met her on the way; he, too, had left the Hawk’s tabard behind. He wore his weapon chain, and he no doubt carried at least a decent dagger or long knife, although it wasn’t immediately visible. Both indicated his level of comfort.
“Are you done with whatever it is you’ve been doing?”
“Not entirely, no.”
“Good. I need you to be busy for the next few days.”
“How few?”
“Maybe a week? I’ve been part of Sergeant Keele’s desk for the past couple of days, and I need to continue for a bit. I’m worried about Mrs. Erickson.”
“Teela said you arranged to have her tested for magical aptitude.”
“I did. We talk to Sanabalis tomorrow.”
“You’re taking her?”
“It’s the palace. I think she’d be more comfortable if we went together.”
“Does she know about this?”
“Sort of.” Kaylin shrugged. “She was tested when she was young; she was judged a waste of time. I want Sanabalis to assess, and if she does have magical potential, I want him to turn the jerk who dismissed her to a pile of ash.”
“He’s probably dead, given Mrs. Erickson’s age.” Severn offered a half smile and a shake of the head. “Lose the rage,” he advised her as Kaylin marched toward the bridge across the Ablayne.
“I am. I’m walking it off.”
The Academia was unusual in a number of ways. First and foremost—at least from this remove—was its geography. It was almost impossible to add the Academia to a regular map because it overlapped every fief, while being part of none of them. Anyone could, if they knew the road, reach the Academia—from any fief. Choose the wrong street, and the Academia was practically invisible.
Kaylin chose to enter the fiefs through Tiamaris. She trusted the Dragon fieflord. Or perhaps she trusted his Tower. Tara was a friend, and Tara had made choices to make Kaylin’s visits more comfortable—for Kaylin. Tiamaris accepted this; the cohort felt it was beyond stupid. There were no portals to bar entry to the Avatar’s heart for those who had not been invited, because Kaylin’s magic allergy rendered portal use a nauseating agony.
The Tower watched its borders; it was sensitive to intrusion. This didn’t mean that the Tower always reacted to Kaylin’s entry; sometimes she was busy gardening. Given the emptiness of the streets across the bridge, this was probably one of those days. Kaylin didn’t need a guide to find the street that led to the Academia, and she was, as Severn guessed, still angry. No one approached her.
She started to work to lose anger as she headed down the winding street. The buildings on either side of the road became larger and in much better repair. She was certain some of those buildings were now occupied by the fieflings who, as Kaylin herself once had, found themselves homeless. Homelessness was not something that was safe in the streets of the fief.
It probably wasn’t safe in Elantra either, but it wasn’t an immediate death sentence there. Tax laws and the ownership of property were built into Imperial Law, which didn’t exist in the fiefs. Kaylin wondered, briefly, if these new buildings had landlords, if the Academia owned them, or if squatters had moved in, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed and evicted. She wondered how long it would take for petty criminals to become those squatters, becoming in the process de facto landlords to people who had no recourse.
People like Kaylin and Severn in the streets of Nightshade in their childhood. She was certain that children very like them still existed, struggling to find shelter, food, and a safe place to avoid Ferals.
In that bleak mood, Kaylin lengthened her stride; Severn had no trouble keeping pace with her. He was accustomed to the small burst of speed she gained whenever something annoyed her, and if he wasn’t annoyed himself, he knew her well enough to accept it.
The streets passed by, and turned at last into what she thought of as the main campus of the Academia itself: multiple large buildings, arrayed around a circular road which encompassed a green park. Students between classes occupied that park, lying out on the grass beneath the clear sky, some alone and some in small—and louder—groups.
Kaylin wasn’t terribly surprised to see Serralyn. She was alone, and she rose the instant Kaylin came into view, making a beeline toward the two Hawks.
“Yes,” she said, before Kaylin could ask. “Sedarias wanted me to keep an eye on you.”
“How closely?”
“I have a class in two hours. If you take longer than two hours, you may have Valliant—but Terrano might show up instead. Technically, he’s not supposed to, but the chancellor mostly ignores him. Killian—the Academia’s Avatar—likes Terrano, but Killian sometimes gives him the boot if Terrano’s in his experimental how does this work mode.”
“Why doesn’t he apply as a student?”
“It’s Terrano. He gets hives—is that the right phrase?—being confined to someone else’s schedule. Among other things.” She cringed. “He got into a really long argument with one of the newer teachers here; I thought they were going to burn down the class just to shut him up.”
“A class you’re in?”
Serralyn nodded. “Mostly he just listens in through either Valliant or me—but if he hears something he thinks is ridiculously stupid, he just...ports in.”
“I’m amazed Killian lets him do it.”
“Killian’s really quiet, but he has opinions. And...it’s hard to keep Terrano out.”
Kaylin felt a pang of sympathy for Killian.
“So where are you heading first?”
“The chancellor’s office,” Kaylin replied. “Oh, no, wait—I’m supposed to sign in, I think?”
Serralyn nodded, and turned toward a familiar building—the first building Kaylin had actually entered when the Academia had not been fully awake. “Do you know if Larrantin is teaching now?”
“He is.” Serralyn placed a palm against the door of the administrative building. “Valliant’s in that class.” The door opened inward as Kaylin grimaced. Door wards. Ugh. “You wanted to speak with him?”
“If he doesn’t have another class immediately after—and if the Arkon doesn’t turn me to ash—yes.”
“You really have to stop calling him that.”
“Right. I’m trying.”
“Sedarias says: very trying. Teela agrees.” Serralyn’s eyes were green.
“Is anyone on my side?”
“Terrano. And Mandoran says at least you’re not boring.”
There were three people at the long desk Kaylin thought looked very much like a bar—but without the bottles, glasses or stools. “Serralyn,” one woman said; to Kaylin’s surprise she was a gray-haired human.
“Matilda, this is Corporal Kaylin Neya—she’s an Imperial Hawk. Her partner, Corporal Severn Handred.”
“We’re not yet under the auspices of Imperial Law,” the woman said, voice brisk. “But the chancellor has had several meetings with the Emperor. You’re welcome here, but you won’t have the authority of the law behind you.”
“It would be pointless—the boss of the Academia is a Dragon.”
Matilda smiled, exposing a dimple on the left side of her face. “That he is. You can sign here. We don’t have mirror check-in or Records in the Academia—more’s the pity.”
“You probably won’t get them,” Kaylin replied, picking up the quill she was offered. “Most sentient buildings consider their use a dangerous security risk.”
“Those that don’t have to do this kind of work can feel that way—it’d make our job a lot easier. I think the chancellor might be expecting you, though.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve got a note here that says you’re to come to his office before you visit anyone else. It’s his handwriting—he’s got very distinctive handwriting.”
“Oh.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” Kaylin told Serralyn as they walked toward the building that housed the chancellor and almost all of the classrooms. And the dining hall, which Kaylin privately considered far more important.
Serralyn glanced at Severn, who nodded.
“The chancellor doesn’t usually send notes like that.”
“Might’ve heard from Sanabalis.”
“So you have been doing something. Teela’s worried about Azoria. Or that’s what I think.”
“I haven’t been doing anything but desk work and visiting one little old lady’s house because her neighbor is harassing her.”
Serralyn clearly didn’t believe this, but held her peace. It had never been her job in the cohort to bring up difficult subjects or demand answers. She accompanied Kaylin to the chancellor’s door. “It’s not warded,” she told Kaylin, who then knocked.
The door rolled open. If it wasn’t warded, magic was nonetheless in use; Kaylin could feel her skin start to tingle.
“Of course,” a familiar—and disembodied—voice said. “I believe I would be considered almost entirely magical in nature.” Killian had arrived. “I’ve been with you since the administrative building,” he corrected her, still failing to physically appear. “Hello, Hope.”
Hope squawked. The squawking, while quieter than usual, was also longer. Suspiciously so.
“Are you waiting for an escort?” A low, rumbling voice came from the inside of the room.
“We have to go,” Kaylin told the invisible Killian.
The former Arkon occupied his desk as if it were very oddly shaped personal armor, his eyes a steady orange—not a terrible sign, but not a good one, either.
“How did you know I was coming?”
“Things have been too peaceful in the last fortnight,” was his deadpan response.
“Sanabalis?”
“The Arkon, and no. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to speak with the librarians, and I wanted to speak with Larrantin.”
“About what, Corporal?”
“Well, I think I’ve met a couple of people—humans—who seem out of phase, the way the students in the sleeping Academia were. They can’t be seen by anyone except one little old lady, and me if I’m wearing Hope’s wing as a mask.”
“And you weren’t drinking at the time.”
Kaylin rolled her eyes. “No. I mostly don’t drink unless Teela and Tain go out tavern hopping and drag me with them.”
“Where did you meet these people?”
“Near the well closest to Cross.”
“And you spoke with them?”
Kaylin nodded.
“Which means they could see you.”
“They could. I could understand them. I thought of the Academia, because it was locked down for so long, but...people like Larrantin sort of existed, as did Killian. Everything was here, but...not quite real. Larrantin knew a bit about it; Killian knew about it. I’m sure it’s not the same thing, but there could be some information that could be relevant to the two people I met.”
“How so?”
“Well.” She hesitated. “I think they might have been stuck wherever it is they are before the first Draco-Barrani war.”
Heavy brows rose; the chancellor’s eyes paled into a silver or an orange-white. Kaylin hadn’t seen that color before. “What makes you say that?”
“Killian—and the students trapped here—didn’t age. They were separated from the passage of time and from what we call reality in almost all ways. I think the same has happened to these two, because—” she inhaled “—they recognized the High Halls. As they are now.
“They hadn’t seen the High Halls as they existed for all of my life prior to that. I think they were put into this place as a way to preserve their lives; they seem very familiar with Barrani things, and it’s highly likely they were slaves.”
“And you wish, no doubt, to free them.”
Kaylin nodded. “They’ve gotten used to being invisible, and they sleep—but not the way the rest of us do.”
“Those who need sleep,” Serralyn added.
“But I think they’ve been trapped there for a long time, and yes, I’d like to figure out how and why, because if we know that, we might be able to open their cage door.”
Killian cleared his throat.
“Please,” the chancellor said, voice edged in very familiar sarcasm. “Do join us.”
Killian immediately materialized. “I believe that what was done to your humans was not what was done to the Academia. Our survival was linked to the Towers. In some fashion, the entirety of the Academia resided in the small corridors of the outlands in which those Towers are partially rooted.
“The survival of the students was linked to the Academia; they were caught in the time frame of the Academia itself. But the Academia, and the strength of it, resides in those students. You think I am a sentient building, like unto your Helen.”
Kaylin nodded.
“It is more complex than that. I am not a Tower, but the chancellor is the captain of whatever it is I am. His power in your world and my power in mine is dependent on the interest, on the frisson of intellectual possibility, the students bring. I believe our students were preserved because they were, in some basic way, part of me.
“That will not be the case with your displaced or out-of-phase humans. There is a risk.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you attempt to break the enchantment that imprisons them, you may open the door to death—for them. There is no guarantee that the time that has been suspended will remain in abeyance. That is not, to my mind, a great concern.
“But in doing so, with no understanding of the actual spell, you may also open the door to things that were not meant to exist in your world at all.”