Page 114 of Cast in Atonement

“And if it does not?”

“Then we’ll have to find another way out.” She folded her arms.

“Kitling,” Teela said. “He has not refused the chancellor’s request; he merely wishes us to be apprised of the possible danger. I am certain the chancellor understands that we are Hawks and adults, but should anyone be that risk averse, they may remain here.” Her tone implied that no further conversation or debate was necessary. Or acceptable.

The chancellor agreed.

Bakkon therefore exhaled—loudly—and began to spit webbing. Kaylin had seen this before but still found it disturbing. The Wevaran said he was connected to Serralyn for the duration of this investigation; she wondered if the connection, established the first time they’d entered Azoria’s manor, had persisted. If it did, Serralyn wasn’t uncomfortable with it.

Bakkon had left strands of Wevaran silk in the lab; he could follow that back or create a portal round it. He did this, lifting his forelimbs as if to anchor what he’d woven in place. “Step through,” he told them all. “I will close the portal when you’ve reached your destination.” To the chancellor, he added, “I will not take the risk of leaving the portal open; I cannot confirm that the protections in place in the research area will hold.”

The chancellor nodded. “You can, of course, return without it.”

“Yes. And I can bring Serralyn with me, as we will be together.”

“Lord Emmerian,” the chancellor said.

Emmerian nodded and went through the portal. When no immediate sound of alarm or combat came back, Teela and Tain entered; Kaylin and Severn followed. The portal was one way—Kaylin could turn and see a brightly lit room at her back. And Larrantin, who arrived before she’d fully turned.

When Bakkon appeared, Serralyn was on his back.

“Are you certain you will not remain to sift through her papers and spells?” Bakkon asked the scholar. Larrantin looked torn. “It is likely to be faster with your expertise.”

“I believe my expertise, such as it is, might be of value in our attempt to find and retrieve the Keeper,” Larrantin finally replied.

Bakkon accepted this. “We found an entrance from the hall we traversed—it was not the hall in which the Keeper’s examination was conducted. There is no reason why that entrance should not work. Come, I will take you there.”

Azoria had clearly been careful to protect the area in which she had crafted the theories she put to use from the experiments themselves; Bakkon’s lead was slow, careful, and frequently interrupted. Hope stood on Kaylin’s head; he’d abandoned the lizard-shawl position when they’d entered the library and remained on high alert. Larrantin conversed with Bakkon, usually when Bakkon stopped to test the air—or the enchantments Kaylin could only barely perceive on the floors or walls. In other words, everything. Larrantin, not exactly a font of patience, had pretty much chewed through all his by the time Bakkon found the exit, such as it was.

“I want you to be careful,” Bakkon finally snapped.

“Not everyone present is Immortal,” Larrantin snapped back. “And the world without marks mortal time. We do not have the time to examine every tiny detail on the way—that is your duty, not ours.”

“It is not the details here that will doom you.” Bakkon’s voice grew louder, more grating. “What rules, Larrantin? What rules bind the dead?”

Larrantin’s lips were compressed, his eyes an irritated blue. “The dead have no need of rules.”

“The dead are everywhere in Azoria’s space. You did not feel it; you did not see it. The dead are present, and they demand respect. You are reckless, rude, inconsiderate at best, but you are accompanied by those who are not. I ask that you step with care, speak with care—if you speak at all; I would not recommend it.”

“And will you have all communication borne by children?”

“No, Larrantin. By the Chosen. It is my opinion—and we have so little research with which to confirm it—that this dead, this Ancient, speaks and wakes because of the Chosen, for good or ill. An Ancient’s power is not a power that is meant for us. Do not touch it.”

“Can we leave now? I am no longer a student in some inescapable class, and we are very short on time.”

Bakkon’s eyes were red and in motion, but he walked toward one alcove—there were eight—on the curve of the wall. He paused in front of Kaylin, his forelegs passing above her head in a brief, sharp dance. “Do not get lost. But if you do, if you cannot prevent it, stay still; I may be able to find you.”

“Bakkon,” Larrantin said, the two syllables almost an angry shout.

Bakkon growled. It was a very low sound, but unbroken by the usual clicks. Lifting three of his limbs, he began to trace a pattern in the air; Kaylin’s arm hair instantly stood on end. She could see a shimmering between the two smaller pillars that punctuated the alcove. Ugh. Portal.

“Kitling.”

Kaylin had said nothing and tried not to resent the correction. Portals nauseated her, but she used them when it was necessary; it was necessary now.

Teela cursed in genial Leontine and held out a hand. It was empty. “Take it,” the Barrani Hawk said. “We don’t want to lose you in transit.”

Oh. Kaylin felt like a foundling, didn’t like it, and accepted it. She took Teela’s hand. Emmerian then passed into the portal. Larrantin followed. Teela dragged Kaylin through, leaving Severn and Tain to pull up the rear.

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