Chapter 06

06

Bellusdeo was at the door before Kaylin had finished eating. Mandoran finished quickly so he could offer Bellusdeo his particular brand of support, which meant mostly friendly sarcasm. Her eyes were fluctuating between gold and orange—but the gold, in Mandoran's presence, was stronger.

Annarion was distracted; he didn't join in. But he'd never been prone to the same friendly teasing as Mandoran.

"You're sure Mrs. Erickson is okay?" Kaylin asked Helen, as she stood.

"I'm certain she's exhausted—and she feels guilty about it. I've tried to explain that, in my opinion, she is utilizing power she doesn't understand to communicate with these particular ghosts, but she feels ‘just talking' shouldn't have this much of an effect. And she had been planning to visit the Halls of Law today—she hasn't seen the Hawks at the front desk for a while now."

Bellusdeo frowned, her eyes shading instantly to orange.

"Mrs. Erickson is fine. She's just tired."

The gold Dragon crossed her arms.

"I'll explain it as we walk to work. I'm on a winning streak for timely arrival, and I don't want to break it."

"Because you'll lose a bet?"

"Something like that."

Mandoran said he was bored enough that walking through the Elantran streets with a Dragon as a companion seemed far better than being stuck in the house—no disrespect to Helen.

"Fine. You carry the basket."

"The basket?"

"Mrs. Erickson baked for the Hawks; I think she'd've accompanied me to work if it hadn't been for last night's excitement."

"Which you're about to explain," Bellusdeo added, voice and expression grim. Ugh. Of course it was. Mrs. Erickson was her only conduit to her dead sisters. Mrs. Erickson's untrained powers might—just might—be able to somehow free them, just as Jamal and company had been freed.

Kaylin didn't expect Bellusdeo to care all that much about the other ghosts. Which made sense. Bellusdeo was no longer living with Helen, so her experience with the danger these ghosts presented wasn't visceral.

As they walked to work, Kaylin attempted to change that. The walk was therefore slower than usual. Mandoran was quiet, which wasn't like him; words would have deflected Bellusdeo's attention, where silence drew it.

By the time they'd reached the Halls of Law, Bellusdeo was caught up on anything she'd missed. She didn't set aside her own request of Mrs. Erickson, but understood that the old woman's safety might be at risk. There were just too many things that were overlapping Mrs. Erickson—most of them were questions, not answers.

Hope didn't snore, but it wouldn't have surprised Kaylin if he started today; he seemed floppier and more exhausted than usual. She wondered what she would do if he ever got sick. Wondered if there were anything she could do. Wondered, last, if Hope could die, or if Hope were even alive in any meaning of the word Kaylin, as a Hawk, understood it.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

She knew he'd hatched from a very odd egg, but still wondered where he'd come from, and why he'd come to her. It wasn't just the marks of the Chosen. He'd even eaten one of them. Or maybe it was the marks, because he had eaten one of them.

Hope squawked, but it was a pathetic squawk; it barely rose above the sound of the people in the streets.

Kaylin clocked in on time. She then turned to Mandoran and liberated the basket of baked goods Mrs. Erickson had sent before heading to the public desk, where Rybatte was on duty. He was one of the older Hawks; he'd lost three fingers on his left hand, and unless there was a terrible emergency, he was on permanent desk work.

"I hear you covered the desk in my absence," he said, glancing at the basket. "That's from Mrs. Erickson?"

Kaylin nodded.

"We haven't seen her around much this past week. Did she injure herself?"

"No—but she's living with me, and she's just settling in. I keep an eye out."

"And gain weight?"

"How many cookies can I eat in a day?"

Rybatte laughed. "One of the only perks of this rotating desk is her baking. She's come in with some pretty wild stories—but mostly, they're mundane."

Kaylin grimaced. "She meant to come in person today, but she was just too tired."

"You're making her work?"

"Not intentionally." Kaylin set the basket on the desk, lifted its lid, and discovered that it wasn't cookies today, it was muffins. She took one. "I'll tell her she's missed."

The door behind the desk opened. Bridget stood in the frame. "Tell her she's free to come visit without forcing the people on desk duty to write up a report."

"She misses her daily routine," Kaylin replied. "But I think she'd feel guilty if she came for no reason."

Bridget took one muffin out of the basket, considered the contents, and took another one. She left the two on the desk and took the basket instead. "I'll send the empty basket to your desk."

Severn didn't appear to notice that Bellusdeo had shouldered her way into their two-person patrol. He offered the Dragon a nod as if she were a natural third partner. Mandoran, in theory, headed home. In practice, he pulled a Terrano, and trailed them as if he were an invisible shadow.

Elani street wasn't a danger. It was annoying, sometimes enraging, but that was the reaction of anyone who wasn't interested in fleecing the gullible of money. And if she were being fair—which was difficult, especially when she passed Margot's shop and saw the small lineup outside the closed door—Evanton's store was here, and some stores that sold jewelry and clothing were interspersed with the seeing the future, cures for baldness, and communicating with the deceased.

Kaylin wondered what it would be like if Mrs. Erickson could set up a small store here. She probably wouldn't have nearly the clientele that Margot had fostered, because Margot was young and, in some eyes, beautiful, and Mrs. Erickson was old. But Mrs. Erickson's gift was genuine.

And Mrs. Erickson couldn't see ghosts that weren't there. She didn't have a way to communicate with the dead on command; she could see ghosts anchored to the places not even death let them escape, but she couldn't magically bring them here, to Elani, where the grieving and desperate came.

Why was so much of life about death?

Hope squawked; it was his complaining squawk, not his alert one.

Bellusdeo's eyes were orange with flecks of gold; she agreed with Kaylin's general disgust about the merchants on Elani street. But her gaze was often aimed beyond the city streets.

"Why did you come to visit the other night?" Kaylin finally asked.

"I needed to get out of the Tower for a bit."

"Who were you arguing with?"

"Why do you think I was arguing with anyone?"

Kaylin rolled her eyes. "You generally don't need to get out of the house unless you want to prevent yourself from murdering someone. You can't murder the Tower."

"Some days I'd like to try. Karriamis is a smug, arrogant, condescending—" She bit back the rest of the sentence.

Some days. So it wasn't Karriamis. "Lord Emmerian is living in the Tower, isn't he?"

Bellusdeo's jaws snapped shut. It was a wonder she didn't crack her own teeth, and her eyes' gold flecks changed to crimson flecks.

Kaylin lifted a hand. "You can say anything you want about Emmerian. I can't, not publicly—he's a member of the Dragon Court."

Bellusdeo exhaled a stream of smoke from her nostrils.

"And I'm the worst person in the city to come to for any relationship advice. Trust me on this."

"I don't want advice," the gold Dragon snapped. "Not about Emmerian. I can deal with Emmerian."

"The Emperor values him. Hells, I value him. He's the only Dragon I've met who knows how to be consistently considerate."

"I know. And I hate it."

Dragons were definitely not human. "How could you hate that? Don't touch the small dragon," she added, when someone whose gaze was welded to Hope approached.

"He never, ever says what he's thinking. He always takes time to find words; if it weren't for the color of his eyes, I'd have no idea how he feels about anything."

"That's generally considered a good thing—Hey, I'm serious. Don't touch." Before Kaylin could say it a third time, Severn intercepted the large hand—which was attached to an equally large man. Severn's silent intervention was far more effective than Kaylin's spoken warning, which irritated her immensely. She was at least as dangerous as Severn—possibly more so, given her visceral reactions—but it was always Severn people avoided offending.

Ugh. This was life. It was life as she'd experienced it as a child; it was life even when she wore the Hawk's tabard. She wasn't as tall, or as large, as Severn, and people didn't immediately equate her with danger. She could hate it all she wanted, but unless she stepped out of line and beat the crap out of the stranger, she couldn't change it. Even if she did—and she'd be back down to private from corporal—it would change exactly one person's reaction.

Hope surprised Kaylin; he sat up, his body rigid. When she continued to walk, he squawked, loudly, in her ear. She sighed. "I think Hope wants us to check in with Evanton."

Severn nodded. Evanton was part of their regular patrol.

"Why does he want us to visit the Keeper?" Bellusdeo asked, her eyes losing the crimson flecks.

"I don't know—you can ask him."

Bellusdeo raised an eyebrow in Hope's direction, and Hope squawked. Bellusdeo's expression grew thoughtful, neutral; her anger, her ire, at Emmerian was pushed aside.

"What did he say?"

"He thinks Evanton wants to see us."

Evanton was sitting behind his long desk, a glass over his right eye. He looked up as the door chimed entry. In the Elani merchant shops, exterior doors weren't warded; it was seen as discouraging possible customers.

"Corporal. Corporal." Evanton was seated on a bar stool, which made him seem taller than he actually was. "It's good to see you. Did Helen pass on the message?"

"I'm working. If you sent it during my patrol hours, I haven't heard it yet. It's better to contact me through the Halls of Law during normal working hours."

"Perhaps. It's not safer, and I prize safety."

"Where's your apprentice?"

"He's in the garden. I should be there myself, but he is adept at calming the elements, and it is good practice for him."

"The elements needed calming."

"Indeed. They have been unsettled for the past few weeks."

Kaylin glanced at Severn. "How many weeks?"

"I see by your question you have some idea of what the root cause might be."

"We had a bit of difficulty with an almost-dead Barrani woman."

"Barrani are born to cause difficulty; I fail to see how that would disturb the elements."

"When I say almost dead, I mean she probably should have been dead. But she'd somehow tapped into the power of the green."

"In the West March."

"No, she was here—but I'm given to understand that the power of the green is more pervasive than a simple physical location."

"And the fate of that almost-dead Barrani?"

"We got rid of the almost."

"Might I ask her identity?"

"I'm not sure if you'd know her, but Azoria An'Berranin is what she was called while she lived."

Evanton was, in theory, human; he had lived well beyond the normal measure of years because he had become the Keeper of the garden in which the heart of the elements resided. His job wasn't actually running a store—which the cobwebs and dust clearly signaled; it was keeping the world functional. It was holding the elemental forces together in such a way that they didn't escape and turn the world to ash, drown it, or bury it. A new addition to the garden was the Destroyer of Worlds. The name was not decorative.

Kaylin sometimes whined about her job, but at base she loved it. She did not envy Evanton at all.

Evanton's eyes widened. "Did you say Azoria An'Berranin?"

Kaylin nodded.

"When did this happen?" His tone was sharper. "Let me guess: two weeks ago."

"Around then."

Evanton exhaled heavily. "There have been disturbances in the past month. Small disturbances, but the elementals have been progressively less happy. Two weeks ago, there was a sharp increase in aggression—with us, and with each other. It has calmed down somewhat, but they are still uneasy.

"I would invite you into the garden, but you are not guaranteed to survive it, at the moment." His frown reworked the many lines of his face. "I suppose I should not be surprised that you had some hand in this."

Life, Kaylin thought, was never going to be fair. "I didn't do anything except stop Azoria."

"Stop her from doing what?" He paused, turned to Bellusdeo, and offered her a surprisingly graceful bow. "Apologies; my manners are terrible. I see you are accompanying the corporal on her rounds today. Corporal?"

Bellusdeo nodded. She had genuine respect for Evanton. Most days, so did Kaylin.

"From harming an old woman who's a regular fixture in the Halls of Law."

"Azoria had an interest in an old woman? I find that almost difficult to believe."

"You knew her."

"I met her on prior occasions. Had I imagined you would ever come in contact with her, I might have warned you to avoid her at all costs." His frown shifted. "Your instincts are generally good, and the warning itself may have been irrelevant. She is dead?"

Kaylin nodded. "I would say she's been almost entirely dead for centuries."

"Corporal, I have had a very trying month."

Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo. The gold Dragon's eyes were orange, her expression neutral. "It's a bit of a long story."

"Do your best to tell it in coherent order."

Evanton listened as she began. She focused on the past events and failed to mention Bellusdeo's sisters at all—if the gold Dragon wanted him to know, she'd tell him, and if she didn't want him to know—well, Kaylin wasn't the Keeper, and could survive far less ire.

He interrupted many times.

"You found two people Azoria An'Berranin had imprisoned in a painting."

Kaylin nodded. "They're still alive. I think they're in the High Halls right now. They were imprisoned when Elantra didn't exist; they were slaves. Elantra as a concept interests and frightens them." She hesitated, and then said, "I was thinking that they might find a home in the Academia, but that's not up to me."

"How did you find them?"

"Mrs. Erickson found them. They were, to her eyes, ghosts: people she could see and speak with, that no one else could see and speak with. I could see them only when Hope lifted a wing and placed it across my eyes. It's why I thought they might not actually be dead."

"Mrs. Erickson saw the dead in the palace?"

Kaylin nodded.

"You could not?"

"Not easily, no—and I can't see them the way she sees them. To her, they look like people. I'm sure she could describe age, facial features, gender, if asked."

"Interesting. What did you see?"

"I see words. I see True Words. The size can vary, but the shape of the words don't. Before you ask, no, I don't recognize their meaning. But when they possessed Sanabalis..."

"These ghosts possessed the current Arkon?"

Kaylin nodded. "I can't explain that part. It's true, they did—and they let him go because of Mrs. Erickson. She was pleading with them; she said they were very upset and afraid."

Evanton pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where are these ghosts now?"

"In my house."

"They reside within Helen?"

"Yes. It's been a bit tricky."

Evanton's final interruption—if one didn't count criticisms of Kaylin's architectural knowledge and therefore description—came when she talked about the outlands to which Azoria's painting of herself had been connected.

Evanton was human at base, so the color of his eyes didn't change, but his expression became an iron mask as he took in what she had to say.

"I would ask you what you've done, but your answers would be frustrating—at best. You found a dead Ancient in the outlands—one bound by Azoria; she had shaped the words, or some of the words, at the heart of the corpse into a language that had nothing to do with them: her own words, her attempt to rewrite her own name."

"That's what I think she was doing. I can't ask. I don't think her ghost, for want of a better word, lingers. Mrs. Erickson could ask her if it did, but..."

"But you feel protective of her."

Kaylin shrugged.

"Have you returned to speak with the Ancient who is not, by any stretch of our own concept of death, dead?"

Kaylin shook her head. "We went to Mrs. Erickson's house to help her move the few items she wanted to keep, but she's been living with us since then. I'm not sure she's gone back; she's getting used to Helen. Who adores her."

"Does the house Azoria occupied still stand?"

Kaylin fell silent.

Evanton's brows creased. "Do not tell me you have not checked."

"I've been a little busy."

"Be more productively busy." He pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I would like to meet Mrs. Erickson."

"But you never leave your store."

"I leave it very infrequently, it is true. But I have an apprentice now, and I believe it is necessary. Also: you should have that house checked. If it is still connected to Mrs. Erickson's humble abode, her house should not be sold to anyone else."

The only thing, beside Bellusdeo's sisters, Kaylin had purposely left out was the single moment when Mrs. Erickson had chosen to command Azoria An'Berranin—and Azoria, dead, had had no choice but to obey. Mrs. Erickson had done so only with Jamal's permission; she had promised him, or perhaps all of the children, that she would never use that power.

Which meant it was power they thought she did have: the power to command the dead.

Given that most people couldn't even see the dead, it hadn't seemed like all that much of a danger to Kaylin; sure, Mrs. Erickson could order ghosts around, but the ghosts couldn't do anything.

But as Evanton had reminded her, at least some of the dead weren't dead in the normal way. And some of them had possessed Sanabalis—a living Dragon. If Mrs. Erickson could command those ghosts, she could do a lot of damage. The fact that she would never, ever do it would count for very little.

"When did you want to visit?"

"I will speak with Helen and arrange a time."

"Could you come after my work hours? I mean, tomorrow or the day after that."

"That could be arranged, yes. I believe I understand some part of the unease the elements have been feeling—but not all. In the meantime, arrange to visit Mrs. Erickson's empty house."

"I'm going to have to do that after hours—we still have the rest of our patrol and any resulting paperwork to get through."

"I believe you will be allowed to inspect that house as part of your legal duties."

"You've never met my sergeant."

"As it happens, I have—when he was much younger. But as you say, you have work to do and I have interrupted it. Do not let me further detain you."

"Academia tonight," Bellusdeo said, after Evanton's door was firmly closed behind them. "He can visit Mrs. Erickson some other time."

This didn't come as a surprise to Kaylin. Bellusdeo had no desire to harm—or even cage—Mrs. Erickson, and she assumed speaking with the ghosts of her beloved sisters would cause no harm. Her sisters—her weeping sisters—were the highest priority to the gold Dragon. Kaylin understood it. But she was far less certain that Mrs. Erickson would be safe. "I think I should revisit her home; Evanton's going to have more questions that I can't answer, and maybe I can get ahead of a couple of them."

"I'm not certain that visiting her house will supply answers to those questions."

Probably not. "Not visiting will mean he has fewer questions and way more criticisms. But if I'm going to her house, I think Mrs. Erickson should come with us."

"You're against this?"

Kaylin shook her head.

"You're afraid she'll be too tired?"

"Normally I wouldn't be—she walked to the Halls of Law hauling her basket of baked goods every single day. But...the new ghosts have been acting up, and I think she's been calming them. They remind me of newborn infant schedules. She's exhausted. But yes, Academia this evening. I just don't want Mrs. Erickson to be overwhelmed or intimidated. I promised Jamal I'd keep her safe."

"You don't intend to bring her to the Academia?"

"I would have—but we had an incident last night and right now she's living in the same rooms as the ghosts we brought back from the Imperial Palace. The cohort will be at home; if we need to ask Mrs. Erickson questions, Serralyn can ask Annarion, and he can ask Mrs. Erickson.

"If it gets more complicated than that, we can ask Bakkon to serve as interpreter and go-between for Mrs. Erickson and Starrante."

"We?"

Kaylin grimaced. "You, then. Bakkon is a Wevaran who lives with Liatt, the fieflord, and she's probably going to be more willing to negotiate with Bellusdeo the fieflord than with me."

"She won't interfere with Bakkon," Bellusdeo replied. "If you gave yourself more of a chance, I think you'd approve of Liatt."

"Her streets aren't that different from Nightshade's."

"Neither are the warrens. You approve of Elantra because you didn't have to live in them."

Kaylin clenched her teeth, swallowed, and accepted Bellusdeo's words as truth.

Severn didn't choose to join them at the Academia when the work shift ended. Bellusdeo is with you, and I have some research to do.

Bellusdeo wasn't interested in dinner. She allowed Kaylin to grab something from a market stall toward the end of the shift, but otherwise herded her, insistently, toward the bridge that entered Tiamaris. That bridge had become the safe focal point of all Elantrans who had interests in the fiefs, possibly because Tiamaris's money was spent on rebuilding whole sections of the lands he called his own.

Bellusdeo was on good behavior; she waited until she'd set foot in Tiamaris before she shed her human form and demanded Kaylin climb up on her back. Kaylin wished she hadn't. She didn't want the two Dragons to continue their interrupted argument. If they did, she wanted to be safely elsewhere first.

Tiamaris, however, did not arrive, and Bellusdeo bypassed foot traffic—most of it crossing the bridge back to Elantra at the end of their working day—as intended.

She landed in the quad; students moved quickly out of her shadow as it grew larger over their heads. Kaylin had just enough time to dismount before Bellusdeo shifted into her human form; she wore golden plate armor. Clothing existed that could magically survive the transition to and from draconic form, but it was expensive and Bellusdeo clearly didn't consider it worth the bother.

The former Arkon was waiting for her when the doors to the building opened.

"Mrs. Erickson is not with you today."

Kaylin exhaled. "We had a bit of trouble last night. She's exhausted."

"I believe it was Mrs. Erickson who was to be the recipient of the librarian's research."

"Serralyn is here, and classes are over—I thought she could serve as a go-between. We have Annarion on the other end, ready to go."

"Or I could do it," Terrano said. His voice was quite clear; the rest of him wasn't.

Kaylin poked Hope, who squawked, but did lift a wing to cover one of her eyes. "Or Terrano could do it, if Serralyn is busy."

"Oh, she's not," was the cheeky reply.

"Given Mrs. Erickson's friends, don't you think you might be needed at home?"

Terrano shrugged. "I think she has things under control for now."

The chancellor's eyes were orange, but he ignored Terrano.

"He is not ignoring Terrano," Killian said, as disembodied as the most difficult member of the cohort. "But he considers Terrano to be like mice or cockroaches; persistent but not ultimately immediately dangerous."

"Easier to get rid of, too."

Killian's Avatar was waiting for them in the building proper. He took the lead, bypassing the chancellor's office entirely as he led them to the library. One or two students exited that space. The Barrani student threw a glare in Kaylin's direction; she was the only safe target for his obvious displeasure.

"Did they throw out students who had appointments?" Kaylin asked.

"That is what appears to have happened, yes, although you could ask the librarians."

No wonder she was hated. "Serralyn's not coming?"

"She's actually in the library," Terrano replied, grinning.

The library doors opened. Killian turned to Bellusdeo and said, "The librarians will see you now. I ask that you remember that books are flammable."

"Given the way Androsse and Kavallac fight, those books must be indestructible," Kaylin said.

"They are part of the library itself; Lord Bellusdeo is not."

Kaylin hoped to see Starrante. He was present and waiting.

Sadly so were the warring librarians; Androsse was to the left of the Wevaran, and Kavallac to the right. The Dragon librarian offered Bellusdeo and the chancellor a nod, the type that would pass between equals.

"Corporal," she said, skipping that gesture of respect as she addressed Kaylin. "We have spent the past mortal day researching the tomes that might contain information."

"What she is failing to say," Androsse added, "is that we were forced—for the first time in some decades—to shift the passage of time between the Academia and the library. More time has passed within the confines of the library. Serralyn is on her way now. She has been helping us as she can; she doesn't yet have the proper range of languages to access some of the older works, but we are arranging for a broader range of languages in future. We have been pleased by her intuition, even in the absence of concrete linguistic skills."

Bellusdeo stepped forward. "Have you discovered any salient information?"

"Serralyn says maybe." Terrano delivered her opinion before she had arrived to do it herself.

Androsse was ill-pleased to have his work so easily dismissed or reduced. Kaylin, however, thought that was for the best—Bellusdeo was hovering at the edge of her limited supply of patience.

To no one's surprise, it was Starrante who began the research progress report. "We have uncovered different accounts of both ghosts—as we will call them, with the understanding that the term is not entirely technical—and those who might exorcise them. We have also found two separate accounts of what would be referred to as shamanism, where those accounts overlap exorcism and ghosts.

"What we have not found—and we did warn you—is a better account of what constitutes shamanism. Much of the learning that passed between master and student was not consigned to written words. Shamans themselves seemed to be mortal in nature; we could uncover no knowledge of a similar discipline among the Immortals. The closest we have come involves the tending of the green in the West March, and those who study and serve the Warden there—but such endeavors do not touch upon the dead.

"Kaylin? You have questions."

Kaylin exhaled. "Yes, but it's not going to decrease your workload."

"It is very seldom that intelligent questions have that effect." Starrante gave her the benefit of the doubt; Androsse clearly considered the questions of a mere mortal irrelevant for the most part. Kavallac's expression was neutral enough Kaylin couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"You know about the Keeper?"

Half of Starrante's eyes blinked. "We are aware of the position, yes."

"Did you ever meet any of the people who held that position?"

"I did not, no. Some of my distant kin did—but they are gone now." Starrante turned eyes in the direction of the other two Arbiters.

"I met the Keeper before I was chosen as Arbiter," Androsse said, sounding slightly less bored. "The current Keeper is not the same individual."

"No. The current Keeper is mortal. Or was mortal, before he became the Keeper. He's old now."

Kavallac rumbled. "Why are you asking this question? I perceive there is a reason for it."

Bellusdeo didn't consider that reason to be as urgent as her own, but she didn't interrupt the older Dragon.

"I spoke with the current Keeper while on my regular patrol for the Halls of Law." Kaylin hesitated, which was what she should have done before she'd asked the first question. But anything that unsettled the Keeper—or, to be fair, the elementals for whom he had responsibility—could cause problems on a worldwide scale.

Kaylin understood why Bellusdeo was frantic. In the gold Dragon's position, she'd've felt the same way. But her sisters were already dead; their lives couldn't be saved. Kavallac cleared her throat. Loudly.

"The Keeper has noticed a disturbance in the garden he tends; the elementals have been unsettled for half of the past month."

"And you feel this is relevant to our research."

Kaylin sucked in stale air. She didn't like to talk about Mrs. Erickson, and in specific the current difficulties her abilities had brought to Helen. But Mrs. Erickson was at the heart of the research, the very strange ghosts, and Bellusdeo's pain and guilt. They were entwined.

"Mrs. Erickson found ghosts in the heart of the Imperial Palace. She managed to talk those ghosts into coming home with her—with us. Those ghosts were capable of possessing the current Arkon. I mean, that's already dangerous, but I think Mrs. Erickson has those ghosts under control for now."

"Ghosts of which race?" Kavallac asked.

"That's the problem. I could, with effort, see them. Terrano, with effort, can see something. But they don't look like they were ever alive in any way I understand life—not to me. Mrs. Erickson sees them as people. Normal people. Upset and uncertain people. She could coax them into my house, and Helen has tried to create rooms or containments for them."

"And that has worked?"

Kaylin grimaced. "It's a work in progress."

"This is relevant, then."

"More than relevant, sadly. But these ghosts were in the Imperial Palace; there were many ghosts in the phased house attached to Mrs. Erickson's home, but they were all human, or had been when they were alive." She inhaled again. "I think the elementals in the Keeper's garden had become at least peripherally aware of the work Azoria An'Berranin was doing before her death; something about her work had begun to overlap our world, although she did most of it from a pocket space."

Starrante clicked as Serralyn came into view; she made a beeline for Starrante and stood just in front of him—as Robin, one of the Academia's human students, often did when in the Arbiter's presence.

"What work, then?" Starrante said, his eyes lifted from his body.

"I'm sure she kept notes. Not all of those notes might overlap our current research—but I think some probably should, if notebooks make their way here." Kaylin inhaled and then exhaled slowly.

Starrante clicked for a long moment before replying. "That will depend. The library boasts a collection of all written endeavor—but that writing occurs in what you would consider our reality. Your reality. The extensive search might take too long," he added, "to be of use to Mrs. Erickson."

Kaylin shook her head and decided to lay all of her remaining cards on the figurative table. "Azoria found the remnants of a dead Ancient in the outlands. She was using their corpse, and the power inherent in it, for some goal of her own."