Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(51)

She did not want to touch these. Ever.

The air grew colder.

Squawk.

The Arkon frowned. His eyes were a steady, pale orange. If the words were as dangerous as they felt to Kaylin, they were not spoken in anger, if they were even being spoken at all. When Sanabalis spoke ancient, true words, Kaylin could hear them. She could hear the timbre of his voice, the rumbling native to Dragons, even in human form; she could hear the stretch of syllables. The language itself felt familiar, every time, but she could not understand a word of it. Nor could she easily memorize any of the spoken component.

This time, she didn’t even want to try.

Squawk. Squawk.

The Arkon’s hands stilled. His eyes narrowed. His expression fell into much more familiar lines, although the color of his eyes didn’t shift to gold. He closed his mouth. When he opened it again, it moved naturally, because he spoke normally.

Squawk.

“Yes, the Emperor advised me of your current state.”

Squawk. Kaylin had been holding her breath. She needed to breathe, but had almost forgotten how. In all of the reports she had written about the attack on the High Halls in the heart of the city, she had failed to mention Annarion’s visit to Castle Nightshade. Deliberately.

The Emperor would, of course, be enraged. He would demand Annarion and Mandoran be subject to confinement—in the best possible case. People had died. Hawks had died. Homes had been melted or burned to the ground. The fact that Annarion had had no intention of waking ancient, hostile demigods wouldn’t bring any of the dead back to life.

But as the small and invisible familiar continued to squawk, the true words faded, losing solidity and finally disappearing from view. It wasn’t those words she was now worried about, but she couldn’t make that clear without damning herself—or Annarion.

She was surprised when Severn touched her shoulder. He said nothing. But she found she could breathe again.

“Kaylin,” the Arkon said, as if her breathing was displeasing, “do you understand what your familiar is saying?”

“No more than usual.”

“He claims that it is not your companions who tripped my wards.”

Kaylin grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I wasn’t aware of any wards on the walk here.”

The Arkon frowned. “You are aware of wards in general.”

She nodded. “They make my skin itch. Door wards actually hurt. But silencing wards or privacy wards don’t, unless I trip them.”

“These wards are different. They are not meant to stop idle chatter. No wards of any significant power would stop that in these halls.”

“What are they meant to do, then?”

“They are a very rudimentary set of Shadow wards. They provide warning and detection of things that are not immediately visible to the naked eye.”

“They do more than that,” Mandoran said. Kaylin wanted to kick him. Given the way his jaw snapped shut, Teela probably had, and more effectively. This did not, however, shut him up. “What were you trying to do, there?”

“The wards are, as I said, rudimentary. The words I was attempting to speak are less so. They prevent unwanted intrusion. You wish to add something, Private?”

She didn’t. The Arkon, however, was glaring at her. “I wouldn’t walk past them if I had any choice.”

He raised a brow.

“They were true words.”

“Indeed.”

“They weren’t friendly.”

“They are not inflected. They serve a very specific purpose and they are seldom spoken.”

“I couldn’t hear you speak them at all.”

He frowned. To Mandoran, he asked, “Could you?”

“I can still hear the echoes.”

“And your friend?”

Annarion was tight-lipped and blue-eyed. He did not respond.

Mandoran answered for him. “Yes.”

Teela cleared her throat. “The man with whom you are conversing is Mandoran of Casarre.”

“And his companion?”

Teela exhaled. “Annarion.”

“Annarion.”

“Of Solanace,” Annarion added.

Teela’s breath cut the air.

“Interesting.” The Arkon clearly understood the significance of what had just been said. “I was under the impression that that line had come to an end.”

“You were mistaken.”

It was Mandoran’s turn to look queasy.

“I am a Dragon. I am not Barrani. The information that comes to us is, of necessity, incomplete. I apologize if I have been misinformed.” He turned to Kaylin. “Your familiar has claimed full responsibility for the safety of my archive.”

Meaning it would be her fault if anything unexpected happened. She exhaled a few inches of height. “Yes, sir.”

“Bellusdeo is waiting. She has been keeping an old man company.”

“Did she mention our latest investigation?”

“Yes. She also extended an invitation to dinner. Do not stand in the library gawking. If you have something to say, say it while we walk. Ah. My apologies,” he said, turning once again to the two Barrani visitors. “I am the Arkon of the Emperor’s flight. This library and the contents of its archives is my hoard.”