gibberish?”
“I’ll tell you in a month or two.”
He did chuckle at that. “I’ll mirror Lord Sanabalis. You two, hop in a carriage.”
“The yard’s closed.”
“I didn’t tell you to use one of ours.”
“Sir.”
“The department,” he added, “will reimburse you.” Which meant he really was pleased.
Severn had enough money to pay the driver; Kaylin didn’t.
Severn shook his head as they parked themselves on opposite benches. “You can’t be paid so little that you’re scrounging for meals for the last week or two of every month.”
“Clearly, I can.”
“I live in a larger apartment than you do, and I can afford to eat.”
“My point. You’re a Corporal. You get paid more.”
“Some, yes, but I have the larger expense. I realize now is not the time for this discussion, but if you sat down and ran some numbers, you could plan out a month in advance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Budget.”
She snorted. “You need money to budget.”
“You have money. At the start of the month.”
“You’ve been to my place—it’s not like I’m spending it on anything. It just doesn’t last.”
It wasn’t exactly an old argument, but the few times they’d had it, it sounded the same, although admittedly sometimes there were more actual Leontine words thrown in.
He raised a brow, and then said, “Maybe you should cut back on the betting, given how often you lose.”
This, on the other hand, was new. He might as well have told her to stop speaking. She opened her mouth and no words came out. That lasted for about a minute, and she gave up on the effort and turned to look out the window instead. It was dark now.
There were puddles in small dips in the road, but their color wasn’t immediately obvious.
Given a combination of Records, the rest of the Hawks, and their own trek into and out of warm, red rain, they now had a roughly circular area. Elani fit easily within its parameters; the Halls of Law and the Imperial Palace were close to the edges, albeit on opposite sides. The circle didn’t encompass the Arcanum, for which they could all be momentarily thankful.
The carriage pulled up the road that led to the Palace; it was met before the courtyard. Kaylin jumped out; Severn followed. It was not, inasmuch as they existed, visiting hours for the Emperor or the Imperial Staff. On the other hand, like the Hawks, the Palace Guards had seen their share of blood-rain, and they didn’t blink at the sight of either Kaylin or Severn.
Kaylin wished she’d had time to clean up, anyway.
“We’re here to see Lord Sanabalis,” she began.
“We know,” was the curt reply. “He’s been expecting you.”
She wilted.
“For the past two hours.”
Sanabalis was not, however, waiting at the front doors. A pinched-face, somewhat harried man was. He was obviously aware that there’d been some 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