Annarion didn’t draw his sword; he sheathed it. He displaced Bellusdeo, not Emmerian, and Bellusdeo gave him her spot at this small front, with a whisper that didn’t reach Kaylin’s ears. It did, apparently, reach Emmerian’s and Sedarias’s, judging by their reactions.
They didn’t respond. Before they could, Annarion reached out and grabbed the tendrils.
Caught between Starrante’s iron legs, Kaylin watched as Annarion dissolved. She felt Nightshade’s fear, but it vanished as he severed most of their already tenuous link; there were some things Barrani Lords did not share with anyone, and fear was probably at the head of the long list. He had not argued, had not attempted to make an argument through Kaylin; he had, as Kaylin had, remained silent.
Had Annarion been her baby brother, she wasn’t sure she could have done the same.
“Arbiter,” Sedarias said, the force of her voice denying the inherent politeness in using the title, “speed is now of the essence.”
Starrante understood. His chatter, such as it was, vanished as Annarion did. The only time he spoke, he spoke to Robin, and Robin’s replies were brief and muted.
They began to move.
Candallar’s palms were pressed flat against the portal, his mouth open, his eyes slits. Kaylin could see the upper edge of the portal waver, as if it were liquid; it didn’t break, but the undulations expanded. She had no idea if this would grant Candallar access to the library or not.
She turned to look ahead, rather than behind at the portal, squinting into the darkness with its flashes of moving light. Around Starrante, the library could be clearly seen. The ceiling above their heads was cracked, as the floor beneath their feet was; Starrante made no effort to change what lay above. Instead, his forelegs moved at almost blinding speed, interrupted only by the coughing spit of globs of web. Some of those hung in the air, as if they’d hit invisible walls; some traveled ahead and landed on floor. It was in the direction of the floored webbing that he appeared to be working.
There was a method to his madness, a reason for his rush. It came into view as illumination followed his path, clinging to it rather than moving with him and leaving darkness in his wake. Ahead of Starrante and to the left, she could make out the form of a Dragon. It crossed three broken panes, its wings across them bent at odd angles, its central body preserved.
“She is Arbiter,” Starrante said before Kaylin could speak. “Even broken, this is her space. She is injured, and there is a danger—but Androsse was not caught in the same way.”
“And he’s helping.”
“We are a trinity, Chosen. If one falls, we will dwindle, and what we protect will be lost. We are not, perhaps, friends or kin; we are comrades, and our duties are the common ground that binds us.” He roared.
Kavallac roared back—and Bellusdeo snickered; Emmerian winced.
“Clearly she is still healthy,” Starrante said in Barrani.
Kaylin couldn’t hear the Arkon in the distance. Sedarias had said Terrano was with him; she hoped Hope was with him as well, but didn’t ask. She looked back for any sign of the reappearance of Annarion.
Someone else stepped onto the path, but not through the portal. He was pale; the whole of his body seemed haloed in a gentle light.
It was Androsse. “If you could hurry,” he said, “we might preservesomeof our hearing.” His eyes were Barrani blue, but lacking whites, and his hair had lost all color; it was a thing of light, a cape that moved in a breeze that, as usual, touched nothing else. “I will aid the child; this is more than he can accomplish on his own. Had he more time, I might be content to watch his progress.”
“Be wary—the interstices here are more fragile; they are wild, almost primal.”
“Ah. I would not have noticed that myself,” Androsse replied, demonstrating that Ancestors, with all their supposed power and gravitas, still understood the weight of sarcasm. He walked, tracing Starrante’s path, toward the portal and the threats contained on the other side.
“I would appreciate it,” he said without looking back, “if you could mend the difficulties soon. I have some desire to have words with the children who have dared to invade my space.” As he spoke, he began to fade, just as Annarion had done; the shadow left in his wake was light in Barrani shape and form.
Starrante’s repairs, such as they were, continued. Kaylin peered into the distance that Kavallac’s shards implied. No Arkon there, and no Terrano. No familiar, either.
“There is a danger,” Starrante said as he reached Kavallac’s feet. “The repairs that are done here are a boon to any who enter the library—and with theregaliaof interim chancellor, your enemies will be able to do so in some fashion. They made their way in the first time.”
“Where did you wake?” Kaylin asked.
“I am not like the other Arbiters; some essential part of my nature allows an existence that spans many spaces. They could not do the same for the others, or to the others.” For a moment, his voice rumbled, the Barrani syllables oddly draconian in nature.
“Be ready.”
“Androsse—”
“Yes. But Androsse is not chancellor. None of us can be now. Were it not for the presence of the children, I do not think I would have allowed it.” By children, Kaylin thought he meant Annarion, as Robin remained with him. He spat a gob of thread, and this one had a faint tinge of pink to it. Kaylin immediately placed a palm against the bulk of his continually moving body.
“Yes,” he said, although she hadn’t asked, “there is a cost and a danger. But if we do not have Kavallac, we cannot repair the damage.”
They didn’t have Androsse at the moment, either, but Kaylin said nothing. Instead, she let her power hum through the Arbiter as if it were a song. It hadn’t occurred to her—to any of them—to question his ability to do what he was now doing. He could clearly achieve it. But the cost? They hadn’t questioned that, either.
