Cast in Chaos. Michelle Sagara

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СКАЧАТЬ difficulty outdoors, because he didn’t even blink at the state of their tabards. Or hair. Or, Kaylin thought, clasping her hands behind her back, their fingernails.

      “You are Private Neya?”

      She nodded.

      “Corporal Handred?”

      “I am.”

      “Good. Lord Sanabalis is waiting for both of you. Please follow me.”

      “We know the way—”

      “He is not waiting for you in his usual chambers,” was the clipped reply. “He is waiting for you in the Library.”

      It seemed a bit unfair that she could piss off both Sanabalis and the Arkon at the same damn time when she was only doing her job; she had no doubt whatsoever that the Arkon had also been waiting. For two hours. She glanced at Severn, whose expression had fallen into a state of grim which offered no comfort.

      The man led them through the halls at a speed that was almost a run. Since the Library was not close to the entrance halls or any of the rooms that appeared to be used as semipublic meeting space, it took a while. But at this speed, Kaylin didn’t have time to let the usual height of ceilings and random finery intimidate her. Nor did she have time to try to recognize the almost-familiar halls.

      She did not, however, have any problems recognizing the Library doors. They were huge, and they were warded. They were also closed.

      Any hope that their escort would open the door himself, sparing her the momentary pain of placing her own palm against the ward, was instantly dashed as he performed a curt, but mostly respectful, bow. “I will leave you both and return to my post.”

      “It’s your turn,” Kaylin told Severn when she was certain the man was far enough away he couldn’t hear them.

      He chuckled. Easy for him to do; the first time she’d touched the door, alarms had sounded—and she’d been expected. But he lifted his hand and placed it firmly across the ward. Blue light spread in an instant uniform layer across the face of both doors, twitching slightly.

      “This is…different,” he said.

      They waited until the light faded, but the doors remained closed. Kaylin cursed under her breath, which meant she had to settle for the slightly inferior Elantran words she knew. She lifted a hand and pressed it firmly against the ward. This time, there was no loud noise, and she didn’t feel as though she’d been struck by lightning. The same blue light covered the doors like a translucent, fitted sheet, fading slowly.

      The doors, however, didn’t open.

      “I don’t suppose we could tell them we’ve been trying to get in for two hours?”

      “No. Here, help me push them open.”

      She put her shoulder into the motion; the doors were large and, more important, they were heavy.

      The Arkon was standing about ten yards from the door, looking as if he’d swallowed whatever was left of the storm clouds that had caused so much panic. Beside him, less obviously annoyed—or at least less surprised—was Sanabalis.

      “Sorry,” Kaylin began.

      “While I’m sure it would be amusing to hear your excuse this time,” Sanabalis broke in, “it would probably take at least another half an hour.”

      She shut up.

      “We’ve set up a mirror in the Library,” he added, as the Arkon’s eyes narrowed. “There are containment fields in the Library which are stronger than any other such enchantments to which we have immediate access. Sergeant Kassan has kindly sent some preliminary reports of your evening’s work.” He turned and began to walk away, by which Kaylin understood he meant them to follow.

      The Arkon, however, said, “I have volunteered to cede some space in my collection for use by the Dragon Court, so that we might deal with the difficulties that this current crisis has caused. I will not regain that space until the crisis is deemed to be concluded.”

      Which would, Kaylin thought, explain some of his mood.

      They passed through the largest of the Library rooms—in which the books were placed on shelves so high there were rolling ladders to accommodate people who were still about half a foot taller than Kaylin—and into another hall. This in turn led to a room with multiple doors nesting against one wall that seemed to be curved stone.

      She had seen a similar room before, and wondered, briefly, if it was the same one; she didn’t visit the Library unless she was pretty much ordered to do so. It was, for one, huge; it contained many sculptures and odds and ends—scrolls, armor bits, what was left of armor bits, odd weapons, carpets, clothing—much of which was delicate, and all of which the Arkon guarded zealously. For two, it was the Arkon’s hoard, and while Kaylin didn’t understand the subtleties of hoard law at all, there wasn’t much that was subtle about the parts she did understand: touch my stuff and die was pretty straightforward.

      There was, however, no stuff here, where here was a room that looked very familiar: rounded walls, a long, flat—and uncluttered—table in the room’s center, around which were placed six chairs. None of those chairs were occupied.

      But first appearances were deceiving. The Arkon was last into the room, and when he closed the door at their backs, it vanished into the wall. It left no seams and no trace of its previous existence at all. Kaylin looked at the curved gray of walls; there were wall sconces set at regular intervals—six—about six feet off the ground, but instead of torches, they contained stones. There did not appear to be much else in the room.

      She glanced at Sanabalis.

      Sanabalis walked over to the top of the unadorned table, placed his palm across its surface, and spoke a few words. They were High Barrani, and they were softly spoken.

      The surface of the table rippled beneath his steady palm, as if the wood grain had turned, in that instant, to water. The table, Kaylin realized, was a mirror.

      CHAPTER 5

      It was more than a little disconcerting to watch the surface of the table re-form. Why it was worse than watching an actual mirror do it, Kaylin wasn’t certain. “Why is the table a mirror?”

      Sanabalis lifted his hand. “Almost any surface can be used, in theory. In practice, some surfaces dampen magic. They don’t conduct it well. The table, or more particularly, the wood out of which it is constructed, would be considered one such surface.

      “It therefore requires a great deal more power to initialize the contact between the table’s surface and the whole of Imperial Records. It takes more power, in theory, to maintain that connection. It does not, however,” he added, casting a glance toward the Arkon as if it were a protective charm, “destroy the table.”

      “The table is the Arkon’s?”

      “It is a very old table. If you look at the legs, you will find—”

      “I would prefer,” the Arkon broke in, in a chilly voice, “that she not make the attempt. I would, in fact, insist that she not touch the mirror at all.”

      Kaylin СКАЧАТЬ