“Or not as invested as Karriamis, I feel he will value it now. I must repair to the Tower. We have much to discuss.”
“I hesitate to advise discussion,” Killian said, surprising Kaylin slightly. The advice did not appear to surprise Nightshade; it did appear to amuse him, if darkly.
“Durandel and I have reached an armistice of sorts. I am fieflord; I am captain of the Tower. He has accepted that, and has even gone so far as to save my life. The method of salvation, on the other hand, left something to be desired—what little I clearly remember of it.
“I will speak with Durandel; if I understand what has happened here, Karriamis was instrumental in preserving what he could of the Academia. There are six Towers. It is not a burden I would see him bear alone.”
Killian bowed again. “I believe you will find all of the Towers are peripherally aware of my existence; they have accepted it in some fashion, if not consciously. I have never quite understood the nature of the dreams of such buildings.”
“Karriamis will need a new Lord, a new captain.”
“Ah. Yes.”
“And the Dragons,” Nightshade added softly, “a new Arkon.”
“I hope they do not resent him for his decision. He meant to confer with his Emperor and his Dragon Council—but he did not have time. It is typical of Kavallac’s machinations.”
“Oh?”
“Starrante might have built a door such as the one that delivered Robin and the rest of your friends. I note that your mark is upon the Chosen,” he added, voice neutral.
“What caused Starrante to hesitate?” Nightshade asked, avoiding the topic of that mark entirely.
“Kavallac. She pointed out that Starrante was already well past the limits of his endurance—a half truth, given the intervention of the Chosen—but Starrante did not argue; he was becoming frantic.”
“And you were not?”
“No, although it is difficult to move with ease between the library and the rest of the grounds. I understood what Kavallac wished to test.”
“And you were willing to risk the students?”
“You were here. Larrantin was here.”
“You were willing to let Kavallac play this game.”
“I wanted what Kavallac wanted,” he said, which sounded like a multisyllabic yes. “Lannagaros understood that if he accepted what was offered by our very minimal council, he might come immediately to Robin’s aid. To the aid,” he added, “of the rest of the students. He understood Kavallac’s game and Kavallac’s calculus; he understood the damage that might be done to me should that gambit fail.
“It is not as grim a manipulation as you seem to be afraid it is, Chosen.”
“Because the Arkon wants this.”
“Because he wants it so clearly. I am slightly surprised you cannot hear the echoes of his internal roaring. He is old, and he was always responsible; he was responsible enough to walk away from the Academia when he was called to war. So, too, did Aramechtis, the last of the great chancellors. But that war is done; one war hovers on the horizon, now, and it does not require the gathering of the flights—or the sole flight that now wakes and rides the wind. He wants this—and we want him no less intensely.
“He took office to save the students—you among them. And now Lannagaros is chancellor. You will have to stop calling him the Arkon, however; it is not a name, but a title, and he has renounced it as of today.”
“He can’t stay here.”
“He most certainly can.”
“He can’t stay here without somehow relocating the contents of his personal library.”
“Ah.” Killian paused, blinked and nodded. “You are correct. He also feels he owes at least the duty of apology and proper transfer of responsibility to the one who will carry the duties of Arkon in his stead.”
“Can you make it less difficult for us tofind you?”
“I believe that can be done, yes. Return at your leisure. I do not think you have the makings of a diligent student in you—not yet; you are given to the practical, or to what you see as practical; you want an immediate use for the knowledge you gain, and you want to study only those things that will have that immediate use.
“Perhaps this will change with time; perhaps not. I believe there are those among your houseguests who might be at home in the Academia, but Candallar’s method of inducting students was never ours.” He bowed again. “You will always be welcome as a visitor.”
