Kaylin nodded. “I just don’t understand what they want.”
“And you can’t follow the money.”
“Not if I don’t understand the coin, no. You have any suggestions?”
“Yes, oddly enough.”
“Let’s hear them—I assume you’re not going to accompany me into the Arkon’s library.”
“I have never been comfortable standing in the middle of a Dragon’s hoard, for reasons which will perhaps be obvious if you pause to reflect.” When Kaylin failed to answer, Teela said, “Tain and I are going home. Or rather, we’re going to your home. We’ll wait there.”
“But—”
“Mandoran is in a snit.”
“Did he get stuck in another wall?”
“Something like that. He’s not speaking to Annarion. Forcefully and loudly not speaking.”
Great. Just what they all needed. “I suppose Nightshade is there, as well.”
“Now that you mention it, yes.”
The Arkon’s condescension was looking better with each step she took toward the palace.
* * *
Bellusdeo met Kaylin at the library’s closed and forbidding doors. Bellusdeo’s was therefore the hand that pressed the door wards that caused those doors to roll open. Kaylin could have hugged her.
“Your appointment in the High Halls?”
“No one swore at anyone else, no weapons were drawn, and no blows were exchanged.”
“That bad?” the Dragon asked in sympathetic Elantran.
Kaylin grimaced. The familiar, mostly forgotten in the excitement of the rest of the day, lifted his head. He squawked, but it was a sleepy sound. “I don’t suppose you want to go home and keep Mandoran and Annarion from doing something they’ll regret?”
His answering squawk was longer.
Bellusdeo winced. “Teela told you?”
“She said Mandoran was in a snit, and also that Nightshade was visiting.”
“‘Snit’ is not how I would have described it.”
“How would you describe it?”
“Later,” the Arkon said. “She would describe it later, when it doesn’t waste my time.” He glared at Kaylin, but offered Bellusdeo a very exact bow.
Bellusdeo laughed at Kaylin’s expression.
* * *
Kaylin, Severn and Bellusdeo followed the Arkon; generally he preferred to have private meetings in the rooms that didn’t house any of his vast collection. This time, however, he took a left turn instead of a right. They didn’t end up facing a wall while he magically summoned an arch or a door; they ended up in a room. The significant feature of this room was the many glass cases that made it seem much smaller; in those cases were a variety of smaller objects, with the single exception of a suit of armor that had clearly seen actual battle. Or earthquakes.
But one object drew her eye almost instantly. It was a feather, a long, pale flight feather.
“Yes,” the Arkon said, before she could ask. “It is, as you no doubt suspect, Aerian.”
