Part 38 (1/2)
”It is almost criminal that you're allowed to touch that sword,” the Arkon replied. ”Anyone with any sense knows that magical swords cannot be allowed to rule their bearers.”
”I don't make the laws, I just enforce them.”
”Then remind me to introduce a new set of laws, since the ones we have clearly a.s.sume a level of common sense that's lacking.”
Knowing the Arkon, who wasn't famous for his sense of humor, he meant it. Kaylin wondered if his proposed new law would be constructed for the general case, or if it would have her name in it somewhere.
Severn joined her; Severn, in silence, surveyed the street at all levels. Most of the windows above ground were shuttered, although many of the shutters had been warped by rain and years of constant temperature s.h.i.+fts. None of them were open at the moment. Kaylin felt herself relaxing as she began to acclimatize herself to the rhythm of the beat. It was a fief beat, to be sure-but there were rules about surviving fief streets; Severn had adopted them as easily as he had adopted the Hawk.
He didn't chide, didn't nag, didn't remind her to do the same. Instead, he did what she should have been doing because she couldn't. The sword was making her arm tingle. It had also made her marks glow; she couldn't turn the light off. But she watched in horrified fascination as that light began to spread to her other arm.
”Severn?”
He nodded without looking at her.
”Please tell me the back of my neck isn't glowing.”
He was silent for a beat too long, and then said, ”You can't see most of it because of your hair.”
”The hair that's pinned up?”
”The hair that needs to be pinned up again, yes.”
She said something under her breath in Leontine. The Dragons, who could almost certainly hear-and understand-pretended they couldn't. The Arkon, however, pretended badly. It occurred to Kaylin that in some ways, he lived the emotional life she wanted: he said what he was thinking, he worked on whatever caught his interest, and he mostly scared people who'd interfere out of his territory simply by breathing. It wasn't an entirely comforting thought.
On the other hand, it was better than thinking about the sword, and about the Outcaste Dragon. It was better than thinking about the sudden thunder that started in entirely the wrong direction in an otherwise cloudless, clear sky.
Severn slowed, but this time so did Kaylin. They both turned toward Tara.
”Yes,” Tara said quietly.
”Drums?”
”Yes. But not just drums.”
If she'd thought the Dragon Lords had looked grim in the room that now housed the eighth corpse of Bellusdeo, she'd been wrong. They looked grim now. The streets, which had been fairly busy by fief standards, suddenly began to empty as people standing close enough to see the Dragons clearly-especially their eyes-now streamed toward doors, and through them. There was a lot of slamming.
This sudden surge of self-preservation clearly met with the Arkon's approval. Tara looked as if she felt vaguely guilty.
”It's not you,” Kaylin told her in what she hoped was a rea.s.suring tone of voice.
”No. But...my Lord wants his people to be comfortable in the presence of Dragons.”
Kaylin raised a brow at Severn, who as usual said nothing.
”I think your Lord is being overly ambitious.” The last syllable was lost to the sound of thunder. ”Do you want to head to the border?”
Tara looked torn, and Kaylin pointed at the sword's blade. ”We're heading that way anyway, if I had to bet.”
”What would you be willing to bet?” the Tower's Avatar asked. She was serious. Betting, as a fief pastime, had caught her interest, but that interest had failed to blossom into actual understanding.
”Not more than a week's pay-but my own money.”
”I understand that that phrase means you're very serious.” Tara tilted her head to one side. ”What I don't understand is what you would bet with otherwise.”
”Severn's money.”
”Hey!”
”You're teasing me, Kaylin.”
”A little. All you really need to understand is that it means I'm fairly certain I won't lose.” She began to walk more quickly, which wasn't always the smartest thing to do in the fiefs.
”Private.” Sanabalis's voice was on the edge of a growl, or would have been had he been Leontine. She tried to slow down and almost overbalanced.
”Lord Sanabalis?”
”Do you think it unlikely that the Outcaste will seek the border?”
Thunder.
”No.”
”Do you think it wise that you carry this sword-and the Ascendant by default-to where he is headed?”
”No.”
”Then?”
”I think wisdom in this case won't cut it. If the Arkon is right, and if Maggaron is right, we're headed to the ninth appearance of Bellusdeo. If, for some reason, the Outcaste gets there first, we've lost her.” She added because he looked as if he would say more, ”We both know that the Outcaste isn't a Shadow. The border won't keep him out; he can come-and leave-at will.”
”That is entirely our concern,” Sanabalis replied. Kaylin tried not to meet his gaze because she really didn't like the color of his eyes.
”We know the streets. He doesn't.”
”There is a chance that he knows what he is looking for.”
”He's probably looking for Maggaron. He has to have a good idea of where Maggaron actually is.” The other possibility, that he was now looking for Kaylin, she didn't mention.
Sanabalis, however, wasn't a fool.
”Sanabalis,” she said, ditching his t.i.tle. ”Can we afford to let him find her first?”
The Arkon roared. There were syllables in it.
Sanabalis closed his eyes briefly. ”Very well. Lead, Private. Lead quickly.”