“You could at least get ladders that are somewhat easier to move.”
“I did not intend to have visitors.”
To Kaylin’s surprise, Bellusdeo didn’t ask what was atop the altar. She assumed that the use of ladders would answer that question. “I don’t suppose shedding clothing and this somewhat diminutive form would be acceptable?”
“Since you have already done so once today—yes, we were aware of it—I fail to see why it would be necessary that you do so again.” Which was no.
Given the color of Bellusdeo’s eyes in this admittedly poorly lit space, it was clear that she’d expected the answer she received. She then positioned two of the ladders, leaving the Arkon to manage his own. The Arkon glanced briefly at a ceiling Kaylin’s eyes couldn’t see; it was a look that would have been at home on Marcus’s face, in the office. And sadly, usually was.
The Arkon then reached the top of the altar, joining the Dragon and the Hawk; Severn neither asked for a ladder nor expressed an interest in seeing what the altar contained.
Bellusdeo, however, drew breath. “This is a mirror.”
“It is an ancient mirror, yes.”
“Tara’s version of a mirror appears to be similar to this—and she doesn’t require an ancient cavern and a hall that is meant for—”
“Me,” Kaylin said quickly; the Arkon’s eyes were a shade of orange that Bellusdeo didn’t generally cause.
“Records,” Bellusdeo said. She spoke in Elantran, and followed it with Barrani. Kaylin had enough time to cover her ears before she tried it a third time in her native tongue.
The Arkon waited until the echoes had died out—which, given they were in a cavern, took a while. “If you will allow me. The mirror is old. It requires a specific language.”
“You might have warned me.”
“You might have listened, but my experience has taught me better. I am too old to waste breath.”
“You are wasting it now.”
Kaylin thought it, but could not be paid enough to say it out loud.
The Arkon exhaled smoke. “Perhaps. I will need to concentrate. I am speaking in the old tongue.”
Bellusdeo’s eyes widened, but she fell silent and stayed that way.
Kaylin had come to understand that the old tongue and true words were almost the same. The Arkon found them difficult to speak—but he had an easier time than Kaylin, who spoke them only with prompting and coaching by others. Languages had been one of the few so-called academic subjects in which she’d been any good—but no basic classes of any kind taught true words.
The Arkon spoke, and as he uttered each syllable, Kaylin saw a golden rune begin to take shape in the air above the still, almost clear, water. She had seen it once, or something like it, the only other time she’d been brought to this cavern.
“We don’t have the information in basic Records anywhere?” Bellusdeo nudged her gently. Kaylin, however, persisted. “This is about the Towers in the fiefs, right?”
The Arkon finished speaking, and the rune speech had produced, glowing brightly in the poor light, began to revolve in the air. Bellusdeo didn’t seem to see the word the way Kaylin did, but she did see the marks on Kaylin’s arms begin to glow, as if in sympathy. Or resonance. It didn’t hurt, and the marks stayed where they were, beneath a layer of shirt.
“I will excuse you your infernal impatience,” the older Dragon said as the word his speech had brought into being began its slow descent into the liquid the altar contained. “Because you have so little natural time. No, Corporal, this is not about the Towers in the fiefs. I’m certain you could just ask the Barrani.”
“They don’t generally answer.”
“You are not offering them the right incentives.”
“I can’t fly, breathe fire or otherwise easily kill them, no.”
The Arkon snorted. “The names you have mentioned are, I believe, the names the Towers were given when they were first created. But the name of Towers change. The Towers are not the Hallionne, although the Hallionne have similar function with regards to Shadow and its contaminant.
“Shadow is flexible. The form and shape it might take could not easily be predicted. Ah, no. The knowledge of future forms and shapes could not be predicted. The Hallionne have no masters. The Towers, however, do. The reason for that difference lies entirely in Shadow and its lack of predictability. The living lords are meant to inform and update the Towers so that knowledge is gained and understanding remains firmly wed to the present.
“But the lords of the Towers are not meant to exercise that control to the benefit of Shadow. There are, therefore, some lines that cannot be crossed; the base internal structure of the Tower will not permit it. You housed Gilbert.”
“Not housed, exactly.”
