Chapter 18

18

Androsse's smile deepened. Kaylin had never cared for Arbiter Androsse, and that neutrality crystallized into strong dislike. "I did not lie, Corporal."

"You led her to believe that your physical bodies were materially the same as a Barrani body?"

"In a broad context, we are. But our construction, as you have clearly guessed, is different. It is a pity that you could intuit this where she could not."

"I could intuit it because I've had to fight your kin before," she snapped. "And I saw where they fought, and how. They weren't only rooted in my world; they were rooted across at least three different planes. At the same time."

"You fought my kin?" The Arbiter's voice lost its edge. "And you survived? I almost do not believe you."

"Almost?"

"You are a very simple mortal; were you not Chosen, you would be beneath notice."

Really, really disliked him.

"And it was not a lie in the sense you believe it was. You must also acknowledge that."

"How?"

"You know Terrano. You know Mandoran. And you know Serralyn and Valliant. They are not what they were born to be; they are flexible in a way that the Barrani were created not to be." His smile was now a slash of anger. "What lives knows change. What lives must know change.

"You are mortal. Your changes are multiple, and they occur so quickly, were you to attain immortality, you might reach out to challenge the Ancients. Azoria had that ambition: to become more than she had been created to be. To reach beyond the world the Ancients made to contain us."

"And if she destroyed the rest of us in the attempt?"

Androsse's eyes were narrow, almost glittering. Kaylin felt the hair on her arms begin to rise; her skin started to ache.

Hope sat up and squawked, leaning forward.

"Should we care, little mortal? Should I care? Almost all my kin are long dead, buried beneath the wave of the wrath of our creators; do you think that destruction touched only us? No. The Ancients were willing to destroy what they had created if it meant we ourselves would be stopped. Only some handful were spared, and even we were transformed, frozen in time, immutable and unchanging.

"You have divined that Azoria inferred, from our many conversations, that there was little difference between her kin and mine. She was curious, focused, ambitious, and perhaps I felt embers of nostalgia. Perhaps not.

"But why should I care for the creations of the Ancients when the Ancients themselves abandoned us? Why should I be concerned when the Shadows destroyed entire worlds, with no action from the Ancients, no attempt to preserve them? Think you that your lives have more value than that of an entire world?"

"Without life," Kaylin said, voice swamped a moment by Hope's squawking, "there would be no knowledge. There would be nothing new in your library—everything would come to a halt. The library would become a relic, a forgotten storeroom of history; if people don't exist who can come to the library, if people can't read its books, what's the point? Why did you even become an Arbiter?"

The brief flare of magic receded. Hope, however, was leaning forward, as if at any moment he might lunge at Androsse. Kaylin reached up and curved a hand around his legs to prevent it. Hope was a familiar, and she was certain she hadn't seen everything he was capable of—but Androsse was an Arbiter, and this library was the seat of his power.

"That is perhaps the first intelligent question you have asked today," the Arbiter replied. "I have been Arbiter for a very, very long time. I was the first. I was one of the survivors of the purge; I and a handful of others. We are not what you are. We were never what you are. We are not like Barrani, or even the Dragons with their very narrow mutability.

"Barrani are not what we were; we are called Ancestors for a reason. What we were given to alter ourselves, to transform ourselves with time and effort, the Barrani were not given—as if the Ancients loved us only as children, as immature versions of ourselves.

"Not all our choices were wise. Not all our choices were safe. Some choices killed my brethren, and some transformed them beyond all recognition. But some became powerful, Corporal. Some could reach the shoulders of their creators. They were of us, but they were no longer us.

"How could I not understand what she wanted? Hobbled by her physical body, limited in ways we were not, she nonetheless desired to transform herself. To reach for those heights, even if none were there to see it, to take the hand with which she reached out.

"Your friends have done the same thing, in very different ways."

"We did not," Serralyn said, her voice steady but low. "We never wanted what she wanted. We never wanted what your kin wanted. We wanted freedom to be what we were. We wanted each other's company."

Androsse said, "Now, you must speak for yourself. What you want—you who revere our library—is not what your friends want."

"Because we're not the same people. But that was always the thing we prioritized: each other. We don't want to hurt people who aren't hurting us." She glanced at Kaylin then. "Or who don't want to hurt us."

Kaylin had no intention of speaking about their attacks against the Consort—and possibly all of humanity. At base, Serralyn was right. Terrano had become the key to open the door that would let them live outside of their permanent, sentient prison—and when the door had opened fully, they stopped those attacks and severed their questionable alliances.

Of course their families—especially Sedarias's—might disagree.

"Very well. I did not discourage Azoria. But as the corporal suggests, I did not speak of the history of the Ancestors. I do not wish to use my people as some sort of childish morality play. Had I discouraged her, she would have simply ceased to speak frankly.

"And, Corporal: I failed to answer the question I deemed intelligent. I was the first of the Arbiters chosen. I am the only Ancestor chosen as Arbiter. I believed, as many of my kin did not, that these traces of history deserved—perhaps needed—to be preserved. Here, there is proof that worlds long destroyed once existed; that research of value was conducted by every race on any lost world—and is conducted by any race on worlds that survived.

"Here, that knowledge is not destroyed; it is not consumed. And here, the seekers of knowledge might find all matter of information, should they desire to find it. There are times when I consider retirement; it is students with Azoria's drive that remind me of the reason I accepted the request of the Ancients to become a steward, a guardian, of this growing collection of words and languages. But I am not like you, Corporal. I am not like any of you.

"It is the spark, the drive, the burning ambition that justifies our existence at all. The Arbiters Starrante and Kavallac will have different reasons for their tenure here—and different definitions of responsibility. We are not—as I'm sure even you perceive—of one mind; it was because we were not, and would not be, of one mind that we were chosen.

"And it is because we are not, that you may find some answer about the goal Azoria struggled—and failed—to achieve."

Kavallac was red-eyed; it was clearly a conversation that would have caused a deafening argument between at least two of the Arbiters.

The chancellor cleared his throat. He might have roared, but there was already one distinctly angry Dragon in the room; if she had little effect, his input wouldn't change anything.

Instead, he began to speak. "According to Killianas, Azoria was obsessed with the Lake of Life when she arrived at the Academia. There was, in her family—as in many Barrani families—pressure. Everyone wanted the Consort to come from their family line; the perceived power would elevate even the most minor of families.

"She was not considered a suitable candidate, but another family member was. This did not work out. She had considered a marriage alliance, but could not find one that suited her; Killianas believes no eligible Barrani would. Her interest in Arbiter Androsse was less academic than ideal—but she was the woman she had been raised to be: power was compelling.

"Being trapped in a library for eternity was not. She was pragmatic. But she became very, very interested in the genesis of Ancestral names. In Barrani history, many men and women of power sought freedom from the vulnerability, the weakness, of the True Name, to great ruin, for themselves and those around them. They sought to remove themselves from their name."

Androsse nodded. "Azoria understood that my people gained power with the acquisition of words, but the words were not our weakness. Should one of our kin know our name—an analogy—it could not easily be used to control us; our names evolved. Our lack of Barrani weakness was not because we divested ourselves of the essence of our lives—it was because we expanded upon it, building sentences, paragraphs, poetry that could not be spoken with the will and power to grant another command of us.

"What she did not—or could not—understand was that that option was not available to her. Not at that time. Tell me, Corporal, what did Azoria look like when she died? Did she look Barrani at all?"

"You already know the answer."

"I do. But were Terrano to join you in the library now, neither would he. I have never seen Valliant take a different form. I have never seen Serralyn do so, either. I am certain An'Teela does not. And yet, I am equally certain that they could, should they desire to do so. Do you believe it was her form that defined her?"

Kaylin frowned.

"If she had one flaw," Androsse continued, "it was her vanity."

In Kaylin's opinion, she'd had a lot more flaws than one. A lot.

"She desired to be more than she was born to be. It is a common desire. Did you not, in your childhood, desire the same?"

Kaylin shrugged. "I don't care if she wanted to be what Terrano is. I care that she murdered dozens of people—of at least two races—to do it. It's not my job to tell people who they should or shouldn't be. It's my job to tell them what they should or shouldn't do ."

"Very well. Azoria failed. But she clearly found tools that could have pushed her across the boundary of failure into success." Androsse turned to Starrante. "You believe that Azoria found a fallow birthing space, for want of a better word."

"Bakkon suspected it; his recent visit confirmed that suspicion."

"And she built her house in it?" Kaylin was surprised, and shouldn't have been.

"If you were under the impression that her manor was a mortal building, you are mistaken," Androsse said, frowning. Kaylin guessed that mistaken was not the first word that had come to him. "The acquisition of her home and the building of it imply that this fallow space was discovered recently."

"Those spaces are not easily moved."

"Can they be moved with difficulty?" Androsse asked the Wevaran.

"I would have said they could not be found—or moved—at all."

"The flower from the green couldn't be grown outside of the green, either," Kaylin pointed out. She exhaled. "What we now have is a set of assumptions. Azoria found an...extradimensional egg. She moved it. She used something that was contained in the egg as the atmosphere in which she built her manor. We don't know if there were actual Wevaran in the fallow egg."

Starrante's eyes instantly rose in a wave across his body.

"They might have all died, right?" Kaylin asked. "If they hadn't, the egg wouldn't be fallow. There would have been a Wevaran baby."

The Arbiter said nothing, his eyes waving like a field of bloodied stalks in a gale.

Kaylin's frown deepened. "Could the hatchlings survive if they couldn't devour each other? They don't seem to need food the way our young do."

"Not enough is known. We remember the struggle to become, and we emerge. Our accounts, our studies, are always written by those who did. Some of the eggs don't hatch. It's possible that instead of one being emerging as the strongest, there are two, and the number of siblings each devours is even. If that was the case, it is possible that proto-Wevaran could exist in an unhatched egg. I remind you that the egg analogy is simple because it is wrong."

Kaylin nodded. "If she found almost-Wevaran in that environment, could she devour the partial names?"

"I am not at all certain it would have the effect it would for our own immature young."

"Which is yes?"

"Biology was not my specialty," Starrante replied, his eyes slowing their frantic wave, although they didn't return to his body. "But theoretically, if she was within the birthing space, she could."

"And if that was the case, she would consume or subsume the partial words?"

"Corporal, this is so theoretical it is not worth the paper it is written on."

"Fine. I'm not going to ding you for accuracy. We want to know what you all think she intended. Killianas and the two Arbiters had the advantage of knowing her in person." She then turned to the only other member of the Academia who could make the same claim.

Larrantin had been utterly silent. Barrani skin was naturally pale, but there was an almost blue tinge to the Barrani scholar's, as if he had been holding his breath so long he was nearly dead.

"Azoria was very skilled with advanced portal magics; she excelled in placement of portals; she could work with the smallest of openings, bypassing physical restrictions the rest of my many, many students could not."

"What does that mean to the layperson?" Kaylin asked.

"If one of the other students had to place a portal, they required the unencumbered physical space in which to work. Azoria could place a portal on the other side of a thick, large door if that door had a keyhole. If it did not, but it had hinges, or small spaces between door and frame, she was also efficient.

"It was a skill I did not have mastery of in the same fashion. She was astonishingly perceptive, and her certainty in her skills was unshakable. Her ability to create portals has not been equaled since—or during any part of my tenure. It is a distinct possibility that she could find an ‘egg' and move it.

"She felt constrained in the life she led; she loved the Academia but resented it in equal measure. She wanted the freedom to truly do her research. But yes, her interest in research included the nameless. If she began to research the dead, she did so after she had graduated.

"Not once in her tenure here did her study focus on the deaths of the Ancients. Chancellor?"

"Killianas also said, among her many ambitions and complaints, the death of an Ancient was no part of her studies."

"There would be very little to study," Androsse added.

"Given the direction of her early experiments—after the shutdown of the High Halls, but before she was made outcaste—it's unlikely that she had, at that point, discovered the Ancient in the outlands. Had she, her focus would have grown to encompass it.

"The deaths of the mortals whose...ghosts you found in Azoria's home appear to have happened very recently."

It wasn't recent by human standards, but Larrantin was Barrani. Kaylin didn't correct him.

"This would pin the discovery, in my opinion, to a short period of time before that."

"Short by Barrani standards."

"Of course. It is clear that she knew how to draw power from the outlands in a similar fashion sentient buildings such as Killianas do. It is clear, at this point, that she desired to amass power from True Names. If the Arbiter is correct, she wished to create a space in which she could predate on those names.

"But in her search, she stumbled onto the corpse of an Ancient. I find this difficult to believe, but I accept it as truth, given the Keeper's involvement and concerns.

"The Ancient, being dead, could not be so easily moved; I would guess that she tried, and failed. The container that she created was a glass; the Ancient, an ocean. What I do not understand is the concept of death. The Ancient that you freed from its captivity—and yes, I have received a report to that effect from Killianas, whose restrictions on privacy extend to members of the Academia, not visitors—could speak with you; they could effortlessly use the outlands to create. They were not, in any sense of the word that any of us understands, dead.

"But it seems clear to me as well that Azoria could not communicate with the dead. The Ancient was bound in some fashion; you freed them from that binding. Before that, you could not bespeak them, either. And so, she searched for a Necromancer. Or perhaps, she attempted to create one. Mrs. Erickson's mother worked as a servant for Azoria before her pregnancy; she worked in that capacity during it.

"I highly doubt that the proliferation of the dead Azoria had collected was in any way visible to Mrs. Erickson's mother. But Mrs. Erickson may have been subject to Azoria's attempts to create, to grow, the power she needed."

Kaylin frowned in Larrantin's direction, although it was a thinking frown. "You believe her talent wasn't natural?"

"I cannot say that with absolute certainty. I would need to know far more about Mrs. Erickson's parentage. It's highly probable that Azoria knew more about Mrs. Erickson's lineage than we do. She may have taken the risk of augmenting, or attempting to augment, the child in utero; it would be far simpler."

None of this sounded simple to Kaylin.

"I would suggest you ask Mrs. Erickson if her mother ever had a miscarriage—I believe that's the correct term?"

"It's not the type of thing mothers usually discuss with their children."

"If she doesn't know, she doesn't know. If she does, and if there were, that would give us information."

"Not information about the environment we want to enter."

"Kitling."

Kaylin glanced at Teela, but Teela had turned to Larrantin. "Corporal Neya is substantially correct. While I would be in favor of making the inquiries you suggest, they do not address the safety of a second excursion. The most helpful information or suggestions you might offer would be those that focus on the environment. We understand that we are dealing with guesswork, but given the minds involved in those guesses, we will treat the information with respect."

"You cannot assume that Mrs. Erickson is not fundamentally part of the design," Larrantin replied, obviously displeased.

"How, then, does the answer to that question aid us in determination of the possible threats?" Teela did not back down.

The chancellor watched them both.

"It is possible that the entire space is, or was, a work in progress. Understand that Azoria was not master of her experiments—by nature, experiments deal with the unknown. I believe Bakkon and Serralyn have a way to enter only the laboratory, bypassing the hall entirely. Were I to join them, I would focus on that.

"The notes that Azoria kept there might answer some of the questions we now have." He then turned from Teela to the chancellor. "If our opinions matter in your decision, that would be my choice. If, of course, Serralyn is willing."

Serralyn looked to the chancellor. He nodded, as if the glance was a request for permission to speak.

She cleared her throat. "This is what I understand. The hall was built, in part, on the detritus of a fallow hatching space. It's possible that it was created as an attempt to kill those who possessed True Names in order to devour those names and make them part of her own name going forward.

"If such a space wasn't to collapse once the partial names became a full one, she needed a way to keep that space open. I think—and I'm not a scholar or an expert—the power to do that was rooted in the outlands. I'm uncertain that the power that came from the green was used for that purpose. If it was woven into the structure of her home, and its purpose was to grow plants that couldn't be grown outside of the green, it shouldn't be dangerous for those of us who aren't plants."

"Unless the green is aware of the intrusion," Androsse said. "If Azoria was foolish enough to create such a connection, she was doubtless wise enough to obscure or hide it."

"Not all enchantments end with the death of their creators."

"No. But the green is wild, unpredictable, and dangerous. Were I to attempt what she attempted, it would require constant supervision."

"Would you have attempted it?"

"No. None of my kin would have dared. The green is quiet now; it is contained. But in our time, it was a wild, dangerous force. There is no guarantee that it will not or could not become such a threat again. I see no advantage to such a connection. The anger of the green was not easily assuaged. The world has changed, and perhaps that is no longer the case."

"Evanton said the Keeper's garden had been disturbed," Serralyn replied. Her voice was soft, her tone hesitant. "But that disturbance began before Azoria's death. If her attempt to hide the connection relied on being alive, that disturbance wouldn't have been felt so strongly in the garden."

Androsse's nod was reluctant.

"But the dead Ancient in the outlands, and the persistent connection to that location, seems the more likely cause. If she had discovered the Ancient recently, she may have focused all of her effort on somehow subsuming the Ancient's power. None of us understand how that power works. All we know is that it could change the world. If she interfered somehow with that, and she strengthened the channel between her home and the corpse..." Serralyn waited for interruption. There wasn't any.

"Evanton vanished when he touched the portal that existed between the manse and the outlands. But the Ancient in the outlands, according to Kaylin, wasn't inactive. The Ancient considered themselves dead—but dead people don't speak and interact in a purely physical way. Kaylin broke the bindings around the Ancient's corpse the day Azoria died.

"I think the changes, the instability, in Azoria's home are entirely due to the Ancient, or what's left of the Ancient. And I think Azoria wanted Mrs. Erickson desperately because she felt if she possessed Mrs. Erickson's body, she could command the Ancient for as long as Mrs. Erickson's body survived."

Kaylin frowned and lifted a hand.

Serralyn immediately turned to her, obviously relieved.

"Azoria kidnapped children—and killed them so she could use their bodies. She was desperately trying to find something that had, I believe, been given to Mrs. Erickson's mother. Some piece of jewelry. She didn't limit herself to children, but her attempt to use their bodies usually ended up in the bodies being executed. Before you ask, no, I have no idea where that item might be found. I suspect she meant it to somehow enhance her control of Mrs. Erickson.

"Since that didn't happen, her plans were stymied. But while Mrs. Erickson remained alive, she still had some hope she could find the item."

"Have you searched for it?"

"When I don't know exactly what it was? I suspect, as I said, it was jewelry, and it's quite possible it was pawned. Her family wasn't exactly rolling in money. Mrs. Erickson doesn't recall it, and it's very possible it was never worn. But Azoria was trying to find it using enchantments and compulsion very recently."

"Attempt to find it," Androsse said quietly. "If Mrs. Erickson was the linchpin of this plan, it might tell us what we need to know about the current iteration of Azoria's halls."

Kaylin shook her head. "The current iteration of her halls is the Ancient. And possibly, through the construction, the green. But the halls were changing as we ran out of them. I'm almost certain that the changes were imposed at a distance by what remains of the Ancient. It's what the chancellor suspects."

The chancellor raised a brow in Kaylin's direction.

"Am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. It is most of the reason I am extremely reluctant to send Serralyn back to them."

"We're assuming that communication from the lab area will be limited," Teela said. "We therefore want the person sent to have access to the most immediate knowledge. We could communicate when Mandoran was in the halls proper; Serralyn was very muted."

Kaylin cleared her throat. "We split up when we entered her abode. We lost Evanton and Terrano when the hall was flooded by light. I have no idea what the hall will look like if we attempt to enter it again. But I think we can communicate with the Ancient."

Teela's eyes became indigo in that instant. "Absolutely not."

"I haven't even started yet."

"Please. Your face is an open book. You were about to suggest that you go into the outlands to talk to the Ancient again."

"The Ancient was grateful to me. I might be able to use gratitude as a bargaining chip. Whatever else happens, we need Evanton back. I still think Terrano can get out of wherever it is he's stuck—and he's got as long as he needs. Evanton might not, and if there's no Keeper, the rest of the world is going to suffer."

"You assume you can talk the Ancient into returning the Keeper to us."

"I think it's worth a shot."

"And if you are unsuccessful?"

Kaylin shrugged. "Then I'll be stuck with Evanton and Terrano."

"Or dead."

Kaylin exhaled. "Bakkon and Serralyn will be safe. If they can unearth more of Azoria's research, they can figure out her intentions. We're obviously going to spend some of that research time figuring out both the outlands connection and the connection to the green. But we don't want to break the outlands connection until we can get Evanton back."

"And the green?"

"I don't think the connection was meant to serve the same purpose. But Bakkon and Serralyn can probably figure that out."

"I would like to accompany you," Larrantin said.

"As would I," Teela added.

Kaylin's intention had been to take Severn with her, if he insisted.

I do.

She couldn't control Teela. Teela's As would I was pretty much a command. She turned to Larrantin. "Do you intend to accompany Serralyn?"

"I intend to accompany you, should you attempt to communicate with the Ancient."

The chancellor cleared his throat. "You have classes," he told the scholar.

"Which may or may not be relevant if the world becomes an elemental storm. Azoria was my student. I cannot see what she created from the Academia, but if I walk in her halls, I may understand—in a way the Hawks will not—how she used my lessons and my expertise." He smiled; it was thin. "Surely the choice is mine?"

The chancellor exhaled.

Kavallac exhaled as well, but there was steam in hers. "You want to see the Ancient."

"Yes. But as the Ancient is no doubt part of the entire enchantment, there is good reason for my curiosity."

She snorted. "Chancellor?"

"Very well." He then turned to Serralyn. "You have permission, but it is granted with grave misgivings. Were it not for the urgency of this particular emergency, I would not grant it at all."