Kaylin had always had difficulty seeing different worlds as separate. If she could see something with her own eyes, it was part of reality. The fact that others couldn’t—or the fact that she couldn’t without Hope’s intervention—didn’t change that reaction.
She attempted to disentangle it now.
“It is less difficult for those of us who were removed from what you consider reality,” Killian said, a smidgen of sympathy in the observation.
“I’m just trying to get a sense of what not meant to exist in my world actually means. It’s clearly not a matter of judgment or there wouldn’t be Ferals. The Shadows that come from Ravellon are clearly part of my world—the entirety of the fiefs were created to cage them. The Academia clearly exists in my world—but it can’t be properly mapped as part of the fiefs because it somehow exists beside or on top of...every other fief.
“Releasing the Academia—allowing people like me to reach it—didn’t release anything so dangerous it would be best if it remained trapped the way it was.” She folded her arms.
The former Arkon rolled his eyes.
“I mean it,” Kaylin said. “I need some clear sense of exactly what the danger is.”
“You recall the Devourer?”
She stiffened.
“He entered this world, consuming everything on his path between this world and the worlds he destroyed utterly.”
“But nothing we did called him here. Nothing we did would have changed his path.”
“That is not true,” Killian said.
Severn wasn’t entirely happy, although none of the unhappiness showed in either his posture or his expression. She wondered, then, if she would have noticed it without the unusual name bond that mortals didn’t, in theory, have the ability to share.
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t. You chose not to make the attempt because you were concerned about the fate of the Norranir; if the Norranir were to remain homeless and isolated, it is likely the Devourer would have remained safely outside of our borders. And yes, Severn is concerned; this is not a topic that has come up, and the stray thoughts that you constantly—constantly—have, should not, in his opinion, have touched upon the subject. But as you ask for a possible risk, I feel compelled to speak of that one.”
“But it worked out.” Her arms tightened.
“Yes. And it has caused some permanent harm to your relationship with the Barrani Consort.” Killian didn’t need to sigh, although his expression would have otherwise accompanied one. “Let me examine something that is closer to your literal home.”
“Go ahead.”
Killian turned to Serralyn. “You were trapped in the Hallionne Alsanis for centuries.”
Serralyn’s eyes were now the regular Barrani blue. She nodded.
“Tell me, what might you have done had someone thought to immediately unlock the Hallionne’s doors?”
Serralyn shrugged.
“Would you have perhaps visited your home and the family that sent you to the green to be influenced by the ceremonial regalia hoping for power for their line? Would you have let it be known that being thrown away had consequences?”
“That’s enough—” Kaylin said, stepping toward Killian.
The chancellor growled; she froze in place.
“Oh, probably,” a new—and familiar—voice said. Terrano was, if not visible, in the chancellor’s office. “We weren’t a threat to the stability of the world, just Barrani high society. And they deserve the enmity.”
“Sedarias wanted to go to the green,” Kaylin pointed out.
Terrano slowly became visible. Given his expression, it wasn’t entirely his choice. “Mellarionne was so messed up, it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d gone home to make her opinion known. Most of the line would have probably been delighted.”
Killian ignored this. “Alsanis contained the children until they could control their impulses and their power. Or most of their impulses,” Killian said.
“She opened the door for us,” Terrano replied, although in theory Killian was speaking to Kaylin.
“Yeah, and some days it doesn’t seem like it was a great idea.”
Terrano rolled his eyes. “He’s trying to point out the dangers that exist.”
“You can’t argue that you weren’t of this world, though.”
“Actually,” Killian said, eyeing Terrano, “I believe I could make that argument, academically speaking. I will refrain from doing so. You did what you did because you value An’Teela so highly, and you had come to understand both her grief and her self-loathing. I will not argue that you did the wrong thing.
“But spaces such as the spaces in which the Academia were confined are not subject to the same rules that govern your existence.”
“But the Academia is free now.”
Killian nodded. “From a purely selfish perspective, I am grateful for your efforts; I am certain the chancellor shares my sentiment.”
“The chancellor,” the chancellor said, in full Draconic rumble, “is wondering how much safer things would have been if the corporal had somehow remained in the outlands—an exchange, of sorts.”
Terrano grinned.
Kaylin didn’t. To her surprise, neither did Serralyn. She glared at Terrano instead.
“What? I didn’t say it.” He grimaced; clearly other members of the cohort had opinions, and were sharing. “Fine. There’s one thing here that catches my attention.”
“And that?”
“You said the two phased mortals recognized the High Halls as they are today.”
Kaylin nodded.
“And they didn’t see any marked difference between the now and the very long centuries of then.”
She nodded again, this time more slowly.
“Don’t you think it odd that they’re here now, when the High Halls are finally what they once were?”
The silence that greeted the question was full of thought, or at least Kaylin’s part of it.
Everyone’s thoughts, Severn then said. This didn’t occur to you?
I was kind of thinking about what it might be like to be trapped for centuries in noncorporeal form, she snapped back, pride pricked.
“You believe their entrapment was somehow rooted in the High Halls itself? Or the sentience that once governed it?” The chancellor directed the question at Severn, with far less rumble and annoyance than most of the questions he threw at Kaylin.
“I have no beliefs, at the moment; too little is known.”
“Can you introduce me to them?” Terrano asked of Kaylin.
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to see them.”
He once again employed the rolling of eyes. “If I can’t, I can’t. But I’m pretty good at detecting boundaries—I have to be if I’m going to find cracks.”
This wasn’t why Kaylin had come to the Academia, but...it made sense. She was hesitant only because Terrano could be so unpredictable.
“He is reckless with his own safety,” Killian agreed.
“He doesn’t really pay attention to anyone else’s, either.” This was Serralyn.
Terrano was probably going to sprain his eyeballs, given the amount of rolling they were now doing.
“Is this something you could do?” Kaylin turned to Killian, brows slightly furrowed.
“As I have not met your phased people, I cannot answer the question. I would think Helen would encounter the same difficulty, but she is more accustomed to the way you think.”
“You can hear everything I’m thinking.”
“True; your thoughts tend to be very loud. But I do not hear them unless you come to visit, and my exposure is not the equal of hers. I can imagine situations in which I might achieve what was done to your friends—but I cannot imagine, having done that, that they would somehow be freely roaming the streets of your city; what I could achieve would be confined to the Academia itself.
“I believe your Helen would have the same difficulty. We have almost total control of what occurs within our physical boundaries—but those are transcribed with words. The High Halls as they once were was a sentient building; it, too, had control over only its immediate environment.
“You wished to speak to Larrantin, and to the librarians.”
Kaylin nodded.
“Chancellor, with your permission?”
“Larrantin is teaching now. Perhaps visit the library first.” He looked down at his desk. “Dismissed.”
The library was both part of, and separate from, the rest of the Academia. Killian had no control over what occurred within the library’s confines. He could forbid students from attempting to enter, as the door was on Academia property. She often wondered if the librarians were happy to surrender that responsibility to someone outside of their purview.
“Not always, no,” Killian replied. “But they were also once professors, and they know what students can be like. They accept that, inasmuch as it is possible, I will keep the library safe from external enmity.” He looked up at nothing Kaylin could see. “There appears to already be a visitor.”
“It’s a library,” Kaylin said, shrugging.
“It is, indeed. But it differs greatly from the Imperial Library. Ah, forgive me. By visitor, I mean they are not part of the Academia.”
“Did they have to sign in?”
“Of course. In theory, they don’t require the chancellor’s permission to visit the library, merely to reach it.”
“I can,” Terrano said.
Killian sighed.
Serralyn swatted her cohort member across the back of his head. Her eyes, however, were green. She desperately wanted to visit the library, and she hoped her presence here would be overlooked—she could enter as part of Kaylin’s party. Kaylin intended to speak up for her if Killian attempted to divert her and send her back to classes.
To Kaylin’s surprise, Killian’s lips curved up in a slight smile as he glanced at Serralyn. Killian had led them to a wall, a smooth stone face that was curved into the shape of an otherwise empty alcove. “Please wait here,” the Avatar said, the smile fading. “There may be some difficulty among the newer students.” He vanished, the last syllable echoing against stone.
The library doors appeared perhaps five minutes later, laid against the shape of this wall; they were curved, as was the frame. It looked wrong, but Kaylin had given up expecting things to conform to her concept of correct. The doors opened inward, the curve of the wood flattening.
Standing in the doorway was a familiar giant spider. Kaylin had almost gotten used to Starrante’s nightmare-inducing appearance. He opened his mouth and emitted a series of clicks, stopped, and tried again, those oddly clicking sounds now wrapped around Barrani.
“Please, enter, Corporal Neya. We are pleased to see you again, Corporal Handred.” Arbiter Starrante then paused. “I see you brought trouble with you.”
Kaylin nodded. “We call him Terrano, if that helps.”
“And the student standing beside him?”
“She lived with me and Helen until she became a student here. I’d really appreciate it if you’d allow her to attend as an aide.”
“Killian agreed?” Starrante sounded dubious.
“He didn’t disagree.”
“Very well. As you cannot keep Terrano out even without a door, I shall not place responsibility for his actions or their consequences on your shoulders.” Which heavily implied that she was responsible for Serralyn’s. That didn’t worry her.
“I heard you had a visitor?”
“Have,” he replied. “Bakkon is visiting.” Starrante paused for a long beat. “I am truly grateful for your intervention on his behalf. It gives me hope. He feels indebted to you, and I am willing to carry some part of that debt.”
“How does he find living in Liatt’s Tower?”
“Confusing, in part. He also feels that the Wevaran who live there do not get out enough.”
Kaylin winced. She hesitated, and then said, “Liatt’s citizens might consider the Wevaran a fact of life—but no one in any other fief will, and outside of the fiefs, Bakkon walking through the city streets would cause a lot of panic.”
“Ah. Yes, Robin has been attempting to explain the mortal fear of spiders. He brought one here. We have nothing in common; they are small and helpless.”
“Some are venomous,” she pointed out.
“Avoid getting bitten. Robin believes, however, that they will look at us as if we were insects, without pausing to attempt to converse.”
She nodded. “It’s not fair, but fear makes people dangerously stupid. And the Emperor has a rule for Immortal citizens.”
“Oh?”
“He asks that they appear before him, in the throne room, to pledge their oath of allegiance. I’m pretty sure the Wevaran are Immortals—like the Barrani or the Dragons.”
“We are. I am uncertain that Bakkon would desire to offer such an oath. Do the Barrani?”
“Each and every one of them—but it isn’t a blood oath and they don’t take it seriously.”
“The Barrani were ever duplicitous.”
“That is harsh,” Arbiter Androsse said, joining the conversation as if he were a more responsible version of Terrano. His smile, slender, was all edge. “We considered their attempt at duplicity as charmingly transparent.” Androsse looked Barrani, to Kaylin; he was not. He was a member of the race the Barrani called the Ancestors. She knew very little about their civilization and their culture—and had zero desire to learn more.
Ancestors had almost destroyed the High Halls, and far worse in Kaylin’s opinion, had been responsible for the deaths of fellow Hawks.
“Harsh, but not inaccurate,” a rumbling voice added. The third of three Arbiters, Kavallac the Dragon, joined the other two.
Terrano rolled his eyes.
Serralyn, however, did not. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the three Arbiters, as if she could see something Kaylin couldn’t. But her eyes remained green and her gaze drifted toward the shelves that carried the library’s many books. There was no visible end to the shelves; there were alcoves along the sides of the walls that also contained shelves, and therefore books. Books heading into eternity.
Books that Kaylin was almost certain Serralyn couldn’t read. Yet.
“It is delightful,” Kavallac said, the Draconic rumble softened, “to see a student who is so excited. If you wish to peruse the books while we listen to Kaylin, please feel free to do so.”
“But I can’t?” Terrano demanded, clearly annoyed.
“Your interest is not in the contents of the library itself; you consider the library a puzzle to be solved, a lock to be picked. Your compatriot has made no attempt to enter this library through anything but the channels provided to students—but of course, being a new student, the permissions required to visit have not yet been formally established.” She spoke to Serralyn. “You have, however, proven yourself of aid to Kaylin Neya, and we are indebted to her. If Killian did not prevent your approach, we will assume he considers it acceptable.
“Do not, however, tell all of the other students in your year. No one likes to be forced to say no, even old Dragons.”
“I thought they turned the askee to ash,” Terrano said.
“In the library? Fire? Don’t be ridiculous.” She then turned to Kaylin, her eyes gold-flecked orange. Terrano had amused her. Somehow.
Serralyn turned to Kaylin, as if seeking permission. And maybe she was, if she was here because she was Kaylin’s escort. She nodded and Serralyn wheeled on foot, tracing a jittery circle as she looked at books in all directions. She finally closed her eyes and started walking because clearly, she couldn’t choose, and she knew her time was limited.
Bakkon met her halfway to wherever it was she was blindly heading, and navigated carefully around her. His eyes—all of them—were up on stalks, and he was clicking excitedly. He came to a stop as he noticed Kaylin, and switched languages.
“My apologies, Lord Kaylin—there are books here that even I have never encountered. I cannot, of course, know every book ever written—but so much has been lost to history. It is good to see you again. You have been well?”
“I’ve been well, but... I’ve been having a bit of a ghost problem.”
Starrante and Bakkon froze. “A...ghost?”
Kavallac answered. “In mortal terms—and Kaylin is mortal—they are the...remnants of the dead. Things that remain behind when the body has died.”
Clicking started immediately.
“Clearly there is more to your difficulties than that,” Androsse said. “You would not have been given permission to even approach the library if you meant to speak of mortal children’s bedtime stories.”
“We don’t tell ghost stories to children at bedtime.” Kaylin folded her arms. She’d gotten used to Barrani condescension, understood that Androsse wasn’t actually Barrani, and still felt annoyed and a bit defensive.
Androsse compounded this by ignoring her correction, because clearly being accurate was beneath him.
Kaylin ignored him, turning instead to the two Wevaran. “What do you think ghost means? Why are you reacting that way?”
“All races have always had superstitions,” Bakkon replied. “Our ghosts are not your ghosts; they are enemies that can cause great damage, but are impervious to any defense we might mount. But we are also aware that we will have very different stories, and I am interested in your ghosts. They are all human, yes?”
Kaylin nodded. “Some of them are dead. But my concern today is mostly about the ones who aren’t—the ones I think are just trapped out of phase.” She hesitated, and then said, “The ones that are dead are... I’m not sure why they’re trapped, but I know if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be here anymore. They’re not alive.
“I saw something—entirely through my familiar’s wing—that might be associated with their captivity. A building—I don’t think it used to be a sentient building—seems to be out of phase in the way the non-dead ghosts are.”
“You feel that this building is related to the non-dead ghosts?”
“Ummm, no. Sorry. There’s too much that’s tangled together, and I don’t understand a lot of it.”
“Or most of it?” Androsse interjected.
Can I kick him?
Severn chuckled. I imagine Kavallac would appreciate your attempt, but I wouldn’t.
Kaylin exhaled. “Let me tell you what my week has been like.”
Starrante and Bakkon listened; Bakkon interrupted only to make certain he understood what Kaylin was saying. Androsse and Kavallac were silent, the latter curious but unconcerned.
When Kaylin spoke about the ghostly building, the Dragon’s eyes narrowed, shifting from orange-flecked gold to pure orange.
Androsse’s, however, shifted to a midnight so dark, they were black; the pupils became invisible. “Please repeat that name.”
“Orbonne Street?”
“No. The former owner of the ghostly building you cannot see without intervention.”
“Azoria. Azoria An’Berranin. She was Barrani.”
Kavallac turned to Androsse, her eyes reddening. She did not interrupt Androsse.
“It is not a name I have heard recently.”
“But it’s a name you recognize? A person you recognize?”
“Indeed.”
Kaylin was silent for a long beat. “You met her.”
“Indeed.”
“When she was a student?”
“Yes.”
“But—but that would make her ancient!”
“She is Barrani, and if the Barrani are in all ways lesser than my kin, they are nonetheless Immortal; the truth of their names is as eternal as the truth of ours.”
“I was told she’s dead.”
“Ah. I had not heard that—but we have been closed to visitors for a very long time; it is not unlikely that someone as dangerously ambitious as Azoria would have failed to survive, but she was not considered bold by others.”
“But by you?”
“Very bold,” he said, smiling. The smile was cold.
The two Wevaran were chittering in the background. It was Bakkon who spoke. “Starrante believes he, too, had experience with the student you have named.”
Kaylin found Starrante far friendlier than Androsse, spider or no. She turned toward him. “Did you consider her bold?”
Starrante did not answer. To Kaylin’s surprise, Bakkon lifted a forelimb and poked Starrante’s body.
“You have Terrano,” Starrante said, obviously reluctant to speak.
Kaylin wanted to object, but couldn’t. She nodded instead; it seemed safest.
“Azoria was, in personality, nothing at all like Terrano. She did not have the excuse he has to be what he is.”
“Excuse?” Terrano said, brows rising.
“She was not subject to the power of the ancient green at an age when she did not have experience to ground her. That is what happened to you—to all of you, except perhaps An’Teela. Azoria was far colder, far more certain of herself.”
“I’m certain of myself!”
“We are all certain you are, Terrano,” the Dragon librarian said, her voice less Draconic and far warmer than usual. “We are cautious because you can do harm without intent. You are not malicious.”
“And Azoria was?” Kaylin asked, attempting to wrest control of the conversation back.
“I believe you would consider her somewhat malevolent. Androsse did not, but you have had experience with those of his kind before.”
Androsse was not amused, but Kaylin noted he didn’t disagree. “She was not like Terrano in feckless personality; she was ambitious. She had seen a greater world than the one she was born to occupy, and she wished to reach it. Surely you are not implying that she should have known her place? I find that very authoritarian of you, Kavallac. I am surprised.”
He was, of course, lying.
Yes, Severn said. If all other eyes were on Androsse, Severn’s attention was more subtle.
“There is a strong difference between accepting limitations that are not yours except by social consensus, and despising what you actually are. Azoria crossed that line, denying both kin and race,” Kavallac snapped.
“And Terrano? You do not seem to consider him a similar threat.” Androsse’s smile was thin; the wonder was that it existed at all, given Kavallac’s mood.
“Neither do you. I will not play these pointless, verbal games—but I am highly displeased to hear that name spoken in this place.”
“She did not do a great deal of damage.”
“Not for lack of trying—and this is not the time or place to speak of that. But if we are not to accept our limitations,” she continued, her voice dropping into the rumble of Draconic form, “we are nonetheless responsible enough to accept our duty. What is yours, Androsse?”
Androsse was now annoyed.
A hairy limb tapped Kaylin’s shoulder. She could hear Bakkon’s chittering voice somewhere near her right ear. “They will, according to Starrante, continue in this fashion for some hours. But if you wish to discuss things without the heat and the history of near disaster, he asks that you withdraw to the chancellor’s office, where we are unlikely to be interrupted by the—” Kavallac’s roar drowned out the much quieter Wevaran voice.
“I think that’s a great idea.” Kaylin mouthed the words, because whatever Kavallac was saying didn’t stop in time for normal speech to be heard.
She backed away from the two angry Arbiters. Only Terrano seemed rooted to the spot—but it wasn’t with terror; he was listening. Carefully.
“Terrano—go get Serralyn. We’re leaving.”
The floor shook as Androsse spoke, and Kaylin remembered that Dragon against Barrani Ancestor was not nearly as certain a fight as Dragon against Barrani.
When the library doors closed at her back—authoritatively and perhaps a touch too forcefully—she tried to relax. Starrante’s eyes were not the indicator that Barrani eyes would have been to Kaylin, although she was certain that Robin would know what they meant. Spiders had a lot of eyes, but in Starrante’s case, they were mostly retracted into his central body.
“Are they always like that?” Bakkon asked, in Barrani.
“No. But when they disagree—and this is a fundamental disagreement about the nature of study and research—it can be quite loud, and perhaps intimidating to those who are not accustomed to the built-in protections of the library. I do not believe the Arbiters can kill each other, and I am not entirely certain they will try.”
“But you’re not certain they won’t?” Kaylin asked.
“When they are very loud, the more vulnerable races can be swept up, to their detriment. But I wish you had not mentioned that name. It was a point of contention when the Academia was at its height—a bitter point.”
“Is there any chance that Larrantin once had this Barrani woman as a student?”
“A very high chance.” Starrante paused. The pause went on for a bit too long. “I am not certain that mentioning her would be in your best interests.”
“Oh, it likely won’t. I’ve already been asked to drop the investigation in regard to her.”
“I am not certain Larrantin will not choose to take the same approach.”
Bakkon chittered.
Starrante clicked at Bakkon before resuming Barrani, although his reply was clearly to the Wevaran. “Well, yes. But they will not harm the books, and they are unlikely to kill each other. Understand,” he added, to Kaylin, “that it is difficult for any three people to be the only source of company for centuries without break.”
“You’re not in there fighting with them.”
“No, that is true—but I fail to see how such conflict would resolve anything. I have come to understand that in some fashion it does, but I would rather not be part of it. Our people do not weather isolation as poorly.”
Kaylin glanced at Bakkon. He had spent far longer enclosed in his library—alone—than the Arbiters had, together.
“If Starrante feels it is unwise, perhaps you should reconsider your questions,” that Wevaran said. “Larrantin is of the younger races, and he may react in a hostile fashion.”
Kaylin shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time a teacher had verbally attempted to flay her alive. “Killian won’t let him kill me. Or injure me too badly.”
“Larrantin is perfectly capable of leaving the Academia at this point,” Killian pointed out, materializing behind the two Wevaran. “The chancellor is willing to allow you the use of the conference room—and he suggests that you ask Larrantin to attend you there. Having students witness a professor losing his temper would not, in the chancellor’s opinion, be good for morale.”
“Does the chancellor recognize the name?”
“In passing. I do not believe he had direct interaction with the student in question.”
Student. Kaylin slowed as the word sunk roots. “If she was a student here, you must have information about her in your own internal records.”
Killian said nothing.
“Helen remembers all her tenants.”
“And does she speak about them to you?”
“Sometimes?”
“She speaks of her own responses to them—but they are dead, and cannot be hurt. Even so, she does not speak of their personal matters.”
What were personal matters to a building that could read the minds of anyone who happened to be standing inside of it?
“I believe Helen will be able to clarify. Yes. I knew Azoria—but only as well as I know you, Terrano, or Serralyn. Understand that students have their own reasons for desiring residence in the Academia—but they seek knowledge. Their search spawns new searches, illuminates new corners, adds to the history of research and learning.
“Why they seek that knowledge is not for me to judge; it is why chancellors exist. Do not ask me what Azoria wanted. I cannot answer. I am willing to discuss her grades, her promotion, the avenues of her study—but that is all. And even those I will disclose at the discretion of the chancellor, alone.” His expression was somber. “I am sorry, Lord Kaylin.
“This is the way I was built.”