In the aftermath of the events in
the High Halls, there are loose ends. One of those loose ends is the fieflord,
Candallar. In an attempt to understand his involvement—with the Barrani, with
the High Court, and with the much hated Arcanum—Kaylin has been sent to the
fiefs.
She has mixed feelings about
this. There’s nothing mixed about her feelings when she discovers a very
unusual building in the border zone between two fiefs, and far more questions
are raised than are answered. Her attempt to get answers leads her back to the
Imperial Palace and its resident Dragon librarian, the Arkon.
Things that were lost in the dim
past were not, perhaps, destroyed or obliterated—and what remains appears to be
in the hands of a fieflord and his allies—allies who would like to destroy Kaylin’s
friends, the Emperor, and possibly the Barrani High Court itself. This is bad.
What’s worse: The librarian who
hates to leave his library has a very strong interest in the things that might,
just might, have been preserved, and—he is leaving his library to do in person
research, no matter what Kaylin, the Hawks, or the Emperor think.
He is not the only one. Other
people are gathering in the border zone; people who believe knowledge is power.
But power is also power, and it might be too late for the Empire’s most
dedicated Historian—and Kaylin and her friends, who’ve been tasked with his
safety.
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Excerpt
“You are such a coward,” Bellusdeo said when they’d reached the
relative safety of the street. The roads in and around Helen were sparsely
populated at the busiest of times, which this wasn’t. They would soon join
roads that were crowded at the slowest of times, but Kaylin was dressed for the
office. The Hawk emblazoned on her tabard encouraged people to make space.
Had Bellusdeo hit the streets in her Draconic form, she’d have
cleared far more of it—but some of that space would be created by panic, and
panic could cause both accidents and the type of traffic congestion that caused
the Swords to investigate. Also, it was illegal.
“It’s not cowardice,” Kaylin replied, scanning the windows of
the buildings above ground level.
“What would you call it?”
“Wisdom.”
“Oh, please.”
“There’s no point in arguing with them now. Sedarias thinks
it’ll be months before this ridiculous command performance occurs. We have
months to attempt to talk her out of—”
“Out of expressing any appreciation or gratitude?”
Ugh. “You know they’re grateful. This isn’t about gratitude.
It’s about rubbing that gratitude in the faces of the Barrani who attempted to
brand you a—an army. An attacking army.”
“I believe the term you want is Flight.” Bellusdeo’s eyes were
orange.
Hope squawked at the Dragon. Kaylin didn’t understand what he
was saying. Bellusdeo did, but her eyes didn’t get any lighter.
“You know as well as I do,” Kaylin said, emboldened by Hope’s
entry into the discussion, “that this is not the time to visit the High Halls.
I’m not sure the Emperor has ever been a guest there.”
“We visited the Halls—more or less—when they came under attack,
and the Barrani needed our help.”
“From the outside. No
one invited the Dragon Court in.”
The chorus of Barrani voices that sometimes offered entirely
unasked for opinions on the inside of her head maintained their silence for
half a beat. The first person to break that silence was the fieflord. His words
were tinged with amusement.
You cannot expect that the
cohort would suddenly cease to cause any difficulty, surely?
I’m almost certain that the
cohort understands why inviting a Dragon—any Dragon—to attend the High Halls
would be a disaster.
For the Dragons?
For everyone.
I believe some of the more
conservative High Lords might be surprisingly supportive of such an invitation.
Of course they would. It would be their best shot at killing
Bellusdeo. If Bellusdeo died, there would be no new Dragons. No hatchlings.
There’s no way the Emperor would
give her permission to attend.
Nightshade concurred. In
his position, I would not. But I would be prepared, should I refuse to grant
that permission, for all-out war. My brother has grown inordinately fond of
her; living with you has made him reckless.
He’s not—
He has known Bellusdeo for even
less time than you. He is willing to trust her in a fashion no one older would.
And do not cite the Consort, please.
Kaylin hadn’t intended to. The
Consort seems to like her.
Kaylin, the Consort “likes” me.
But she does not trust me.
She does.
“Stop making that face, or it will freeze that way.” Kaylin
reddened.
I understand that you are
attempting to avoid the Emperor’s ire. I consider this wise on your part. It is
not, however, the ire of the Emperor that will be your most significant
problem; he will do nothing to harm Bellusdeo.
I know that.
It is the ire of the High Lords.
Sedarias is, I believe, genuinely grateful for Bellusdeo’s intervention. She
does wish to honor her. But gratitude can be expressed privately—and in most
cases, it is. Only rulers feel obliged to make that expression public because
the public expression elevates those to whom one feels gratitude. It makes
clear to witnesses that the aid tendered—in whatever fashion—is important and
significant. The Emperor has codified such significance in public ceremonies
and public titles, has he not?
Kaylin shrugged.
For Sedarias, however, genuine
gratitude is not an impediment to political displays. She can be genuinely
grateful and simultaneously, extremely political. She wishes
to highlight Bellusdeo’s aid and import to Mellarionne. Why do you think this
is?
Kaylin thought about this. After a long pause, she said, She wants to thumb her nose at the rest of
the High Lords, many of whom weren’t helpful at all?
Nightshade’s silence was one of encouragement.
Bellusdeo’s a Dragon. So…her
presence means that even Dragons—with whom you’ve had a war or two—
Three.
Fine, a war or three, were more
helpful, or at least more of a genuine ally, than any of the Barrani.
Yes. I believe that is some part
of Sedarias’s intent. That’s not going to help Mellarionne any.
Perhaps, perhaps not. She will
do so as An’Mellarionne. It would be considered a very bold move—but there are
those who would assume that Sedarias is confident in her own power, and they
would hesitate to challenge her.
“If you are speaking about me,” Bellusdeo said, her voice almost
a whisper of sound, “I must insist that you include me.”
Hope squawked.
“Well, yes, that could cause some difficulty,” the Dragon
replied. “But I dislike Kaylin’s worry. She is mortal.” Squawk. “The marks of
the Chosen don’t matter. She’s mortal. I may be a displaced person in these
lands; I may no longer have a home or lands of my own. But I am a Dragon.”
“I’m not exactly worried about you,” Kaylin said. When one
golden brow rose in response, she added, “Not about you specifically.
But—there’s no way for Dragon and High Halls to combine that isn’t political.
Explosively political. On your own, you can survive more than any of the rest
of the cohort—or me. But you won’t be on your own. The cohort won’t abandon
you.”
It was the Dragon’s turn to snort.
Kaylin reconsidered her words and chose better ones. “Most of
the cohort wouldn’t abandon you. Annarion wouldn’t. Mandoran wouldn’t. I don’t
believe Allaron would either, from what I’ve seen. And you know what the cohort
is like. The minute one of them enters combat to save you, they’re all going to
rush in. It doesn’t matter if they’re there for your sake or their friends’;
they’ll be there. But this is political, and anything political is far above my
pay grade.”
“You don’t seem to find this insulting.”
“I consider it one of the biggest advantages of my rank. Which
is the lowest rank I could be given and still be called a Hawk.”
“One of? What’s another one?”
“I’m not in command. I don’t need to make decisions that might
cost the lives of other Hawks. No matter what happens in an action, large or
small, I won’t have their deaths on my hands.”
“But you don’t like being a private.”
“Well, I could be a corporal, and it would still be mostly true.
And the pay is higher.”
“It’s not much higher,” a familiar voice said. It was
Mandoran’s. Of course it was. Kaylin didn’t miss a step.
“I don’t suggest you try to enter the Halls of Law looking like
that.”
“Like what?”
“Like thin air.”
“Oh. That.” Mandoran caused other people some consternation as
he materialized to the side of Kaylin that Bellusdeo wasn’t occupying. To be
fair, most of the street didn’t notice; people always had their own problems
and their own schedules. “I was going to follow Teela into the office, but
Teela’s not heading there directly.”
“So you followed us?”
“Not most of the way, no. I decided to head straight here to
wait, but I caught up because you’re doing the Hawk-walk.” He glanced at
Bellusdeo. “For what it’s worth, I think insisting on your presence on the
inside of the High Halls is suicidal.”
“Oh?” The Dragon’s voice was cool. “For who?”
Mandoran grinned. “Mostly Kaylin.”
Kaylin watched as flecks of gold appeared in Bellusdeo’s eyes.
Mandoran had, once again, managed to set Bellusdeo at ease. Kaylin wondered if
that was why he’d chosen to speak when he had. He never treated the Dragon with
respect; had the Emperor been present for most of their spats, she wasn’t
certain Mandoran wouldn’t be a pile of bleeding ash. Well, ash, because ash
didn’t bleed, but still.
“You left the rest of the cohort behind?” Kaylin asked.
“We had a vote, and Helen decided it was safest to send me.”
“She was the tie-breaker?”
“Ah, no. She didn’t consider the first choice viable. But— we
can all see what I see anyway, so unless there’s an attack, having more than
one person here is superfluous. If Teela had been coming directly to the
office, someone would have followed Teela.”
“Not you?” Bellusdeo asked.
“I had to live with Tain for a few years. Compressed into a few
weeks, I might add. He’s stuffy and remarkably straightforward. Also, he hates
fun.”
“He hates mess,”
Kaylin said, as they approached the stairs that led into the Halls of Law.
“Define mess. No,
wait, don’t. The problem with Tain—at least for me—is that Teela might actually
kill us if we’re indirectly responsible for his death. He’s not like the rest
of us; we can’t speak to him without shouting, and even if we can, he doesn’t
listen half the time. So…it’s a lot less safe to tail Tain.”
“I imagine it’s safer to tail Tain than it is to tail Kaylin if
you’re worried about Teela’s reaction,” Bellusdeo said, frowning slightly.
“You need a better imagination.”
Excerpted from Cast In Wisdom by Michelle Sagara,
Copyright © 2020 by Michelle Sagara.
Published by MIRA Books.
Author Bio
Michelle Sagara is an author, bookseller,
and lover of literature based in Toronto. She writes fantasy novels and lives with
her husband and her two children, and to her regret has no dogs. Reading is one
of her life-long passions, and she is sometimes paid for her opinions about
what she’s read by the venerable Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. No
matter how many bookshelves she buys, there is Never Enough Shelf space. Ever.
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