Part 31 (2/2)
Since she knew the Tower already knew the answer, she nodded.
”I'm asking,” Tara said gravely, ”even though I already know the answer because my Lord says this will be important. There are other questions to which I know the answer that I must nonetheless learn to ask.”
”Really? Like what?”
Tara frowned. ”How is the weather?”
Kaylin snorted. ”Tiamaris is teaching you this?”
Tara nodded.
”Do you think he'd teach me at the same time?”
”Tiamaris says this is what Lord Diarmat is teaching you.”
”Yes, but there's a difference. Tiamaris doesn't hate the sight of you.”
”I'm certain Lord Diarmat doesn't hate the sight of you, either.”
Severn cleared his throat, and Kaylin reddened. Maggaron was so silent and still it was almost easy to forget he was sitting right there. Kaylin let the rest of that conversation drop as if it were molten.
”Maggaron,” she said softly.
He looked up at the sound of her voice, but his eyes were still empty.
”We need your help.”
”I cannot leave this place,” was his bitter reply. ”You understand why.”
”I do. We don't need you to leave. We need you to accompany us.”
Maggaron looked at the walls, the floors, and the ceiling without really seeing them. The only thing that drew his attention-and not in a good way-was the scabbard that hung at Kaylin's side. He didn't ask, and she didn't offer the information; there wasn't any point in upsetting him any further.
The halls were familiar; they were wide enough-and tall enough-to allow a Dragon in flight form easy access. The doors at the hall's end were just as wide. They began to open well before anyone had reached them, and they opened into a familiar room.
Maggaron stopped on the threshold, staring at the walls, his eyes wide. They were a shade of emerald green that in Barrani would have been a good sign; Kaylin wasn't completely certain what that color meant in the Norannir. She thought it was surprise. He turned to her. ”Those words-”
Kaylin nodded. She lifted an exposed arm.
”Do you understand them, Chosen?”
”No. I'm sorry, I don't.”
He deflated, losing about three inches of his height, which was still considerable. Before she could find anything comforting to say-and comfort was, sadly, not her strong suit-he walked to the edge of the shallow pool that served as Tara's mirror. There, he knelt, his knees on the lip of the stone circle. He bowed his head until his chin touched his collarbone, and rested the palms of his hands flat against the tops of his upper thighs.
Tara looked down-barely-at the top of his head. The black drained out of her eyes, leaving them oddly human in the warm light of the room. Lifting a hand, she pressed her palm gently against his head, as if offering a benediction. Or absolution. The line of Maggaron's shoulders relaxed slowly, as did his breathing.
Kaylin wanted to ask Tara what she was doing; she didn't because there wasn't any s.p.a.ce in which to wedge the question-not without breaking the very strange communion. She walked to where Severn stood and joined him in silence, waiting for either Tara or Maggaron to speak.
Tara moved first, breaking contact by slowly lifting her hand. She didn't move away from Maggaron, but she didn't have to move-she was at the edge of the still pool. Kaylin cleared her throat, but Tara lifted a hand, demanding silence by gesture alone.
The water began to glow. It rose as Tara nodded, building a familiar image, inch by inch, starting at the feet-or rather, at the edge of blue skirt-and continuing upward until the woman they'd found in the fief stood facing Maggaron.
He whispered a single word. ”Bellusdeo.”
Kaylin glanced at Severn; Severn was watching Maggaron's expression with something that looked suspiciously like pity.
Tara left the former Ascendant's side and came to stand beside Kaylin. ”He recognizes her,” she said, although it wasn't necessary. ”But, Kaylin, I don't think now is the time to question him.”
”No, it probably isn't,” was the soft reply.
”He's seen a room very similar to this one before, Kaylin. I believe part of his training occurred in one. She taught there. She chose him.”
”How do you know?”
Tara lifted a brow. It was very similar to the expression Kaylin used when someone asked her a question to which the answer was obvious.
”Never mind. Does he have any idea why she wants to die?”
”No; that's not part of his memory.”
”What is?”
”She chose him,” Tara replied. ”And she left him. It is not clear how; it is not clear-to me-why. I believe he understood it.”
”You can't touch that?”
”No. I can touch the pain, but the cause is protected. I am reluctant to press him.”
Kaylin, remembering her first walk through the Tower at its awakening, flinched but nodded. ”It hurt,” she said, as if speaking about the weather. ”But it helped in a way. It helped me.”
”I didn't intend to hurt you.”
”I know. You wanted to tell me that you understood what had hurt me in the past. That you understood the pain I was in.”
”Yes. I no longer think that's an effective way to communicate understanding,” she added. ”But it would be that, or nothing; it's buried too deep.”
”You could let me ask him a few questions.”
Tara shook her head. ”Not yet. Look at his expression.”
While they'd been conversing, Maggaron had started to cry. He didn't sob; the tears fell in utter silence. He lifted only his face; his hands remained in his lap. The image of Bellusdeo s.h.i.+fted as he gazed at her. s.h.i.+fted, walking from the center of the pool to the edge. His edge. She knelt on the other side of the pool's lip; only an inch or two of rounded stone separated them. She was taller than Tara; taller than Kaylin.
Kaylin glanced sharply at Tara; Tara nodded, her attention absorbed by what the pool revealed. Or by what Maggaron revealed. Kaylin felt distinctly uncomfortable watching him now, as if she was intruding on something intensely, personally private. The image of Bellusdeo began to speak.
Kaylin recognized the voice. She knew Tara was concentrating, but spoke-quietly-anyway. ”Tara-what are you doing? How do you know what she might have said?”
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