“He is not unchanged, not precisely—but he is brighter, stronger, more certain; he is confident in a way that he was not before. It is...illuminating.”
“Oh?”
“He is not the first Dragon I have seen make such a declaration. But I have seen the way it breaks the weak, in the end. I have seen the fear of, the fear for,hoardpush greater Dragons into madness. Tiamaris is not broken, but strengthened. And I am wasting the Arkon’s precious time.”
“But not mine,” Bellusdeo countered. She bowed to him, and said, her back to the Arkon, “I am certain Lannagaros is grateful that you took the time to escort us personally.” There was an edge of command in her tone.
Emmerian chuckled. “I am certain he is grateful, as well.”
“And he would like to remain that way,” the Arkon said. “I feel that the chances of that are diminishing with each passing sentence.”
Chapter 18
The Arkon then led Bellusdeo and Kaylin to the far end of the many, many rooms in his possession. This was one of the theoretically safe rooms; it had no actual doors until the Arkon approached it, whereupon a door materialized in a stretch of unadorned wall. Kaylin’s arms ached in protest, but she expected that; she’d been both surprised and grateful that the library’s large doors had been open when she’d arrived.
The Arkon did not ask questions. He didn’t speak at all until they were safely ensconced in the room and the door had been firmly shut.
“You will now explain,” he said—to Kaylin. Of course. “The comment about Shadow.”
“I didn’t make the comment!”
“I did not say you did. I did, however, say that you will explain it.”
Bellusdeo chuckled. If Diarmat had said something similar—and it was exactly the kind of thing hewouldsay—she would have been orange-eyed and threatening fire with each breath she expelled. She seemed to expect it, and even to treasure it, from the Arkon.
Kaylin found it difficult to do the same, and reminded herself that she actually liked the Arkon. Sometimes it was harder than others. “You know,” she told him, “it’s not that I mind answering your questions, but when I’ve answered them you come up with a hundred more, none of which Icananswer.”
“I will endeavor to keep that in mind. Your explanation?”
“The bomb was, in theory, an Arcane bomb—but tiny.”
“It destroyed the infirmary.”
“Yes.”
“It damaged the bearing wall.”
“Did it?”
The Arkon threw a significant and slightly accusing glance at Bellusdeo, who shrugged. “I have learned with experience,” she told the Hawk, “that the Arkon is certain of his facts. He does not make statements of that nature frivolously.”
“Fine. It did. At the time, I was focused on Moran.”
“Continue.”
“You know I’ve often been called in for investigations where magic is a suspected part of the crime. And that I’ve had some experience with the aftermath of Arcane bombs.”
“Indeed.”
“This one was, in theory, far too small to do the damage it did. The magical signature heavily implied—to me—that unless the bomb had been ingested, it wouldn’t cause death, let alone the destruction it did cause. But the signature of the mage—and before you ask, no, I didn’t recognize it, it wasn’t familiar—wasn’t the only aftereffect of the bomb’s explosion.”
“Continue.”
“There was Shadow spread unevenly across most of the room. It follows the magical splash patterns, and it’s strongest where we believe the bomb was planted.” Now, she hesitated. She looked to Bellusdeo.
“I’m not a Hawk,” the gold Dragon replied, “but regardless of your answers, I intend to continue to guard Moran.” A thread of defiance bound the words of that sentence together.
Kaylin very much feared that any goodwill generated by the Emperor’s informal dinner was going to be ash very soon. The Emperor wasnotgoing to be happy. “The Shadow wasn’t sentient. At all. I’m not a mage—I can only barely light a candle—but I’d guess, given the splash patterns and the presence of Shadow, that the actual force of the explosion was providedbythe Shadow the bomb contained.”
