Page 25 of Cast in Conflict

“I think a year, maybe a bit more or a bit less. Time here—at least when none of us could leave—was a bit strange. It’s normal now.”

So it might have been longer. She didn’t ask if he was certain his friend had survived in the interim. No profit to that question.

“Did you come to talk to the chancellor?”

“If he’s available, yes.”

“You’re supposed to make an appointment.”

“We didn’t know we were coming. Tell me, have you seen Bellusdeo? She was the gold Dragon.”

Robin nodded. “She’s helping the chancellor. Somehow.”

“I live with her. Well, she lives with me.”

“She’s not supposed to be helping the chancellor?”

“Robin, you are way too observant. There’s some disagreement about what Bellusdeo should be doing—but take it from me: it’s never safe to tell a Dragon what to do. Or what not to do. Can you take us to the chancellor’s office?”

“It’s the same place it was before.”

“Yes, but I’m not familiar enough with the building to remember it.”

He nodded and led the way. “We’ll have to hurry,” he added, half apologetically. “Lunch is almost over.”

There was no door ward on the very closed door. Kaylin hesitated. Robin didn’t. He knocked. He was not yet full-grown, and his hands were lighter than Kaylin’s, although the length of his fingers implied they wouldn’t, in the fullness of time, remain that way. He was clearly not afraid to knock on this door or face this particular Dragon in his personal den.

The door rolled open.

The chancellor was in his office, which Robin had said wasn’t guaranteed. He was even seated behind his desk, but didn’t appear to be attending to paperwork. A mirror—long and oval—was situated beside that desk; it was active.

There was a lot of roaring from the mirror, and a few words of similar volume from the chancellor, who appeared to be wreathed in smoke. Kaylin covered both of Robin’s ears with her hands.

In mortals, this volume would have been an indication of dangerous fury.

The Arkon’s eyes, however, as he turned toward the door and the people foolish enough to interrupt him, were orange. Not red-orange; he was annoyed or concerned, but not yet angry.

Kaylin hoped that her presence here wouldn’t change that.

The Arkon turned to the mirror—Kaylin could see its shape, but couldn’t see what the Arkon saw; she knew he spoke to a Dragon, but not which one. When they spoke in their native tongue, there was often too much sound distortion for her to distinguish between their voices. “We will continue this later,” he said, in Barrani.

He then turned fully to face her. “Corporal.”

“Chancellor.”

“What brings you to my office? In general, one is required to have an appointment.”

“Yes, sir. But...I needed appointments to see you in the palace, as well.”

“And never had the courtesy to make them.”

“I mostly came with Bellusdeo, and—”

He lifted a hand. “Yes. I understand. You are not, however, with Bellusdeo today, and you still lack an appointment.” He glanced at Robin. “If you hurry, you will make your class on time. And Robin? The matters that bring the corporal here are not matters that involve the Academia; they are the sad detritus of my previous duties. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Robin bobbed a bow that would have had Diarmat raging at Kaylin for weeks, grinned at Kaylin as he rose, and was gone.

“Do not run in the halls!” The chancellor’s raised voice followed him, bouncing off the walls of the office. But his eyes were a shade of gold that strongly implied he was fond of Robin, that he knew Robin knew this, but was content to let it be.

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