Page 213 of Cast in Conflict

Mandoran rolled his eyes.

“The war is important to me. Your war is important to you. Where I can, I will aid you. And you—all of you—will have a home here if you need it. I can’t offer more than that.”

Sedarias exhaled slowly. She closed her eyes. Nodded.

“You don’t have any say in this?” Mandoran asked Karriamis.

“Not apparently.” He did not seem displeased.

“I would like to return to Helen,” Sedarias said. “We should tell her that Kaylin has—yet again—survived. But we would all like to visit, even those of us who are currently resident in the Academia. Would that be acceptable?”

“More than acceptable. I will have to return to Helen myself—but not today.”

Sedarias smiled, then. “I didn’t ask,” she said, in Elantran.

Bellusdeo matched her smile and her language. “I guessed.”

EPILOGUE

It was dark by the time Kaylin made her way home. She didn’t arrive alone; the cohort—those who still remained beneath Helen’s roof—accompanied her, as did Severn and Emmerian.

The cohort was mostly silent. In fact, so were Severn and Emmerian; she could think of funereal marches that had been more lively. If the cohort didn’t have their True Name bonds, she was certain the walk would have been louder, and decided, given their expressions, that silent had advantages.

Severn didn’t return all the way to Helen; he peeled off toward his own apartment. Kaylin was almost tempted to follow—but if the conflict between the various members of the cohort got out of hand, she wanted to be with Helen. Hope, having intervened as much as he felt he was allowed, was now sprawling across her shoulders like a dishrag.

You’re worried about Emmerian, Severn said.

Just a little. I don’t understand why he didn’t stay with Bellusdeo and Karriamis. Karriamis seemed to expect it.

Did Bellusdeo?

She didn’t know. She could understand why the cohort felt no pressing desire—or even interest—in remaining beyond the time a celebratory meal demanded. And Karriamis had shown himself equal to Helen in hospitality—when he chose to offer it. But Bellusdeo was pale, Emmerian was pale, and Mandoran actually looked exhausted.

In fact, the only two people in that Tower who had seemed cheerful were Karriamis and Bakkon. They chittered and roared and spoke Barrani, switching seamlessly between the three languages depending on whom they were addressing, and Karriamis even left them all alone to take Bakkon on a tour of something or other. Since Towers could alter their interiors at will, Kaylin considered this symbolic. At best.

She thought Bellusdeo was the one who should be given a tour, but Bellusdeo was decidedly uninterested in doing so.

“I’ll have to come back for Maggaron,” the gold Dragon said. “I have one or two things I would like to bring with me—but very few.”

“You’ve got the court dresses.”

“Very funny.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with all this?”

“No matter how blighted my childhood, no matter how unnatural my coming of age, I am a Dragon. The moment I accepted the responsibility of the Tower—for whatever reasons—it became mine. I could not be here if I hadn’t accepted it.”

“That’s not what she means and you know it,” Mandoran said, his voice quiet, his expression almost forlorn.

“No?”

Mandoran snorted. “She wants to know if you’re happy with the decision.”

“Why don’t you explain it to her on the way home?”

“Because she hasn’t asked me if I’m happy with it?”

Bellusdeo snorted, with steam. “There was no other choice,” she finally said. “I did not think Kaylin could preserve Emmerian. I’ve seen similar...attacks before. And this may sound strange, but I wasn’t looking forward to killing him.”

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