Page 132 of Cast in Conflict

Karriamis coughed. His orange-eyed glare reminded Kaylin very much of the Arkon. She touched nothing but wondered why these two Dragons were so powerfully attached to words, even dead words—languages that no living person spoke in daily life.

“You cannot know that,” the Avatar said. “There are worlds that are hidden, even from the wise, and it is possible that that language, or variants and descendants of it, survive. Once, we might have discovered it. But the ways are—with some exceptions—closed.”

“Do you want them to be opened again?” It wasn’t the question Kaylin had intended to ask.

Karriamis turned to her, orange-eyed. “You did not see Ravellon in my youth. You do not know what was lost when it fell. Could I have that city again absent the danger? Yes. Yes, I would like it, even if it is no longer something I could visit. We all have desires that are considered impossible. An end to war is one of them.”

Emmerian lifted his head. “And what would you do were there an end to this war?”

“An unkind question,” Karriamis replied, although his eyes didn’t darken.

“It was not meant to be unkind,” Emmerian replied, bowing.

“No. It was not, which is why you are still here.” Before Kaylin could speak, he added, “It is my home, and my rules apply only to visitors.”

“My home would never, ever do this.”

“Your home has done worse to intruders; you do not consider intruders guests. When I have no captain, you are all intruders. Today,” he added, “is different. Today, I have invited you in; you are guests. There will be no tests, no testing.”

“We were intruders when we first visited Helen, by your definition.”

“Yes. And in this, Helen and I have something in common. But if we are searching for a tenant or a captain, their role of necessity will be different. Helen can exist without a tenant.”

“Towers can exist without a captain.”

“You witnessed, in person, what almost happened to the Tower of Tiamaris. That did not, and would not, happen to Helen.”

“And to you?”

Karriamis said nothing for a long beat. He turned toward the highest of the shelves. “I am arrogant enough to believe that I would not be subject to that fate. But young Emmerian’s question is a relevant question.

“Lack of war will not immediately dissolve the boundaries of the responsibility I voluntarily accepted. There is no freedom in that, for me. Perhaps the Ancients will return to release us.”

It sounded like death.

“That is my supposition, yes. And perhaps we, like Helen and other abandoned, sentient buildings, will dwindle in significance and import. I am not Helen. Had Candallar not lost himself, he and I would have continued into the eternity that is our birthright.

“If Bellusdeo were to become the captain of this Tower, the same could be said.” He turned, then. “I would, however, have you answer Emmerian’s question. In the absence of war, what do you plan to do?”

Bellusdeo did not answer.

“We cannot eradicate war. In some corner of the land, war will be fought, by different people, for different reasons. If our war with Shadow ends, do you intend to leave this place in search of a war you can fight? Will you continue until you can find a war that can finally kill you?”

Emmerian stiffened, but remained silent. Kaylin couldn’t see the color of his eyes, because he closed them. His hands by his sides were completely still. Unnaturally still.

Bellusdeo smiled. With teeth in. “I may appear impulsive in your eyes; I cannot deny that I have earned that. But I have no desire to throw my life away on some distant battle that will be swallowed by history and leave no trace.”

“As your war was?”

“No. I remember. My people remember. My people’s children will remember.”

“They are mortal.”

She said nothing. It was true.

Karriamis nodded, as if in approval. “I would have you answer my question.”

“I cannot conceive of an end to this war. What I do when there is peace has not been my driving concern, it seems so impractical—a daydream, surely. The dream of—”

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