Page 139 of Cast in Conflict

“Manners have very little to do with knowledge. He knows we’re here. He knows why; we are standing on land his Tower occupies and controls. Manners are rituals.”

“We didn’t have to knock at the cave.”

“No.”

“So why now?”

“Because there are doors.”

They bounced a glance between each other, and Kaylin grimaced and nodded. She walked up to the door. Before she reached it, she felt the ground move under her feet. She looked down, and then back at the door with growing dread. Or resentment. “It’s not a door,” she said. “It’s a portal. And I think we activate it by knocking.”

Severn moved to join her, but glanced at Mandoran.

The Barrani shrugged. “A portal’s a door. It’s more complicated than your normal doors, but—it’s a door. Karriamis has to open it if you’re going to enter. I have no idea why portals make you sick. Sedarias says there are rumors that it affected some of our people—or our Ancestors—the same way, but none of us have any personal experience with people who react like you do.”

“I’d love to know as well. Maybe it’s the marks of the Chosen?”

“None of us have ever met anyone who’s Chosen before. Maybe. Does it matter? I don’t really care, except I don’t want you to throw up on my shoes. So—I’ll go last. Or first.”

“I wish to point out,” Karriamis said, as Kaylin found her feet, “that there are possible reasons for your allergy, as you incorrectly style it, to portals.”

“Can I do anything about it?” she asked, still staring at the floor, although there were now feet in her limited view.

“Some experimentation would have to be done, and I believe you also consider yourself allergic to some variants of magic?”

A hand appeared. She hesitated, because she didn’t immediately recognize whose, which meant it was Karriamis.

“Indeed. Unless you wish to remain huddled on the floor. In general, I would be considered a poor host if I did not attempt to alleviate your discomfort.”

Given Bellusdeo’s first introduction, Kaylin was pretty certain that being seen as a poor host was not a huge concern for the Tower, but she accepted the hand he offered.

The lights went out. She lost sight of the floor, of the stairs that rose from it, of Mandoran—and Severn. She didn’t lose sight of Karriamis because she was attached by the hand.

“Your hospitality sucks.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Recently?”

“Yes. But it has been a lamentably constant theme throughout my existence. I did not become a Tower to make random strangers feel at home. And I feel that my hospitality is not lacking when compared to Durandel’s.”

“Where are we?”

“We are in the Tower.”

“Where are Severn and Mandoran?”

“I have left them in the front hall for the moment.”

“They’re not going to be happy, and Mandoran isn’t going to remain there.”

“He has incentive.”

Kaylin froze. “Please do not tell me you threatened him with me.”

“Not so bluntly, no. I am not completely oblivious. But I wish to speak to you without interference.”

“Why?”

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