“The Towers could not, no matter the desire of their lords.”
“Helen’s not a Tower.”
“No. But in my opinion, Helen is unique. She desired self-determination, had the will to destroy those parts of herself that prevented it, and did not manage to destroy the parts necessary for her to become the home that she now is. What she now provides for you—and by extension, your guests—was not what she was created to provide; it lacks ambition.”
“I don’t know, Lannagaros,” Bellusdeo said. “I consider it beyond ambitious, given the difficulties Kaylin stumbles into on a constant basis. And in my experience, a happy, safe homeisa daydream. It’s an idle wish, an impossible yearning.”
The Arkon’s gaze had moved to Bellusdeo, and the gold of his eyes dimmed. The inner membrane rose, muting the color even further.
“If a Tower or a Hallionne could grant that wish, could maintain it in the face of the truth of the rest of the world, I would think it a grand design on the part of the Ancients. She could house my people. Maggaron is happy with his rooms—happy enough he almost never leaves them.”
The Arkon bowed his head; his hand touched his beard. It was almost as if he were offering respect for the dead and the lost.
“That’s unfair. He left them today,” Kaylin said.
“Yes, true. But he is not what he was and I am not what I was; I think he feels at a loss. I should return him to theNorannir.”
“I don’t think that’s what he wants.”
“Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need.” Bellusdeo shook herself. “My apologies. I did not mean to interrupt, and these ladders are not particularly comfortable.”
“I should have my beard singed off for this,” the Arkon replied—in Elantran. “You may, with my permission, forgo the ladder; try not to destroy the dress in the process; the Emperor is always uncomfortable with the armor in the open streets.”
It took Kaylin a moment to fully understand that the Arkon was giving Bellusdeo permission to transform. There was certainly enough room for it, given that this was a cavern.
Bellusdeo hesitated for one long breath, and then leaped off the ladder, landing heavily enough to cause a tremor. She then disrobed; Kaylin turned away from her as she transformed. She’d seen it often enough that it shouldn’t have been disturbing to watch, but it was; there was something about watching flesh melt that was always going to be a bit uncomfortable.
Bellusdeo returned to the altar. Or rather, the altar side. She could now look down on the surface of the mirror without effort.
Hope squawked at her.
She roared back.
The Arkon roared, as well.
Kaylin wished she were at her unambitious home, where Helen could mute conversational Dragons. “Records,” she said. The surface of this gold-tinged mirror began to glitter. “If it’s all right with you,” she added to the Arkon, “the mirror will respond to me when I speak at the volume my ears were made for. You have to speak in your native tongue, and...I’d really, really appreciate it if you told me what you wanted to know and let me ask.”
Bellusdeo chuckled. The Arkon did not. He did, however, nod. “We wish to know about the creation of the Towers.”
Kaylin exhaled. To the mirror, to the swirling, moving water, she said, “Killian. Helen.”
“Helen’s name is not a name that should exist within these Records.”
“No. I’m testing a theory.”
Chapter 7
“Not smart,” Bellusdeo rumbled.
Kaylin looked up and met the Arkon’s eyes. “Sorry. I should have asked first.”
“Continue.”
“Groveling?”
“Explaining yourself.”
The mirror, however, was now shimmering in place. The liquid was affected by a tremor that touched nothing else. As she watched, her attention split between annoyed Dragon and ancient Records, the liquid itself rose, as if it were elemental water.