Page 70 of Cast in Conflict

“Interesting.” Liatt’s expression implied the opposite. She fell silent again; it was the silence of winter. “Does the Academia accept visitors?”

“The chancellor accepts visitors, yes.”

“And is the library open to visitors?”

Ah. “You want to speak with Arbiter Starrante?”

“I wish to ascertain the veracity of your statements, yes.”

This was what they wanted, if sideways; Kaylin took a moment to untangle her offense at the implication she was lying. She glanced once at Bellusdeo, whose eyes remained a martial orange. But...Aggarok was a Tower. Even if Maggaron’s memories were entirely accurate—and Kaylin suspected they were—she knew what it was like to be enslaved by Shadow.

And she wasn’t enslaved, now. Shadow made everything complicated. It had been way easier to dismiss all of the Shadows as evil, as if anyone of any race could be counted on to be monolithic—a new word for Kaylin—in their behavior. Kaylin could even understand part of Bellusdeo’s concern: Candallar was a fieflord, and Candallar had allowed a Barrani lord to walk into—and out of—Ravellon, carrying a Shadow with him.

Where before, the fieflords would be above suspicion, now they were all...people. People with their own goals and their own desires, some of which conflicted with the duties the Towers were created to fulfill.

“If you are comfortable doing so, we can take you to the Academia.”

“I require a few moments,” Liatt replied. She vanished, leaving a sparkling afterimage in the air in her wake.

“She’s gone,” Mandoran said. “She hasn’t turned invisible.” He was staring, brow furrowed in concentration, at the space she’d occupied. “There’s something here, though—something sticky.”

Kaylin passed a hand through the space she’d occupied. “I can’t feel anything.”

“It’s not that kind of sticky. I think... I think she doesn’t bother to walk to a destination if she wants to get there.”

“Well, Aggarok—the heart of Liatt’s Tower—is like Starrante; they’re the same race. And Starrante weaves portals out of...”

“Stuff he spits out of his mouth, yes.” He frowned. “We really don’t understand how Towers work. The Hallionne are sentient buildings, but their internal architecture is very similar.”

“They had a different purpose; they were built to stop you all from killing each other when you checked in.”

“Which is why so many of our people won’t, as you call it, check in. But that’s beside the point. I think Liatt is making use of the portals Aggarok could once spin.”

“I wonder if he talks to her. Durandel doesn’t talk to Nightshade much.”

“And according to you, Tara never stops. It’s fifty-fifty. We don’t know. But I’d guess there’s more communication because she wants to visit the library.”

“Maybe because she doesn’t believe me.”

Mandoran shrugged. “You are so accustomed to people believing you, it must be frustrating to be you.”

“You aren’t?”

“We can’t lie to each other,” he replied, indirectly referencing the cohort. “But we certainly don’t expect anyone else to tell us the truth. A version of the truth, yes—but people are different. They want different things. They might consider us rivals or enemies in the far future. Or,” he added, with far more guilt, “the near future.”

“I do not consider you an enemy,” Bellusdeo said softly.

“A rival?”

She snorted, with smoke. “Hardly.”

Mandoran laughed. His eyes were green-blue, which was a distinct improvement; Bellusdeo’s also showed flecks of gold. Kaylin wanted them to remain friends, but she understood, better than many, the rules of scarcity. They could not both get what they wanted—or even needed—here. There was only one Tower.

“I think...she’s coming back.” Mandoran’s face lost even the hint of amusement.

Seconds later, Liatt once again emerged from thin air—or at least thin air in the vision of anyone who wasn’t part of Mandoran’s cohort.

“I would like to take a few of my own people with me. Will this cause difficulties?”

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