The Chronicles of Elantra 6 - Cast in Chaos (40 page)

“Or until next week, to the day. Whichever comes first.”

His expression made clear that there was no point in arguing; Kaylin wasn’t tempted to try. She did, however, feel it fair to ask why.

“It would have been extremely convenient to have you present in Court. Diarmat is not a man who enjoys being a conduit for another’s words, and he was in that unenviable position. He is not, however, willing to be in that position again because of your lack of competence at something as simple as reasonable behavior.”

“His words?”

“Not his exact words, no. I will refrain from repeating those. It is not a concession to your sensibilities, such as they are,” he added, as she opened her mouth. “It is an attempt to spare your hearing.”

She shut up.

“Eat,” he told her, looking out the window toward the flags of the Halls of Law. “The Emperor has asked the Swordlord to prepare his men for a very large, very unstable group of strangers, most of whom will not speak any of our official languages. He has sent word to Ybelline and the Tha’alanari school, and she should be present shortly. The Linguists are also waiting—that meeting, which you will be expected to attend, will occur in the Library.

“When your duties at the Palace are done for the day, you are to return to Elani street. There, you will spend whatever time you deem necessary with the Keeper.” He hesitated, and then added, “There is some possibility that you will see the Dragon Court, in full, in Elani street. They will not be present in their human forms.

“For that reason, the quarantine will be in full effect until further notice. You may inform Evanton of this fact.”

“Oh, I’m sure he already knows. If you could make sure that his apprentice can get to and from the market, that would be helpful.”

“I will leave that in your hands.”

Some two hours of silence—which was accompanied by food—later, Kaylin and Severn were escorted, by Sanabalis, to the Library.

Ybelline was waiting, as were two members of the Tha’alani that Kaylin recognized. One was Scoros, a gray-haired, middle-aged man with an expression so severe he would have made a fabulous Sergeant. He was, she recalled, one of the founding teachers in the Tha’alanari. The other, also an older male, was Draalzyn. Kaylin felt her brows lift into her hairline.

“Missing persons is off your schedule?” she asked.

Although he, too, was one of the oldest of the serving Tha’alani, his face had not set into unfriendly lines more reminiscent of stone than flesh. “The office during the current crisis is not terribly busy,” he told her quietly. “The Swords have a triage system, and they will not let anyone pass the barricades if they do not feel the situation urgent enough.

“I imagine, once some resolution has been arrived at, the office will be far, far too busy for a single Tha’alani.”

“Mallory must be having kittens.”

“The Sergeant is aware of the state of emergency, and it must be noted that
his
department’s use of magic is the most minimal and careful in the entirety of the Halls.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Mallory never met a rule he didn’t love.”

Severn gave her a look; she subsided. She was never going to like Mallory, and Mallory was never going to like her. Draalzyn, on most days, didn’t particularly care for Mallory, either, but he was managing to be more than fair.

Draalzyn lifted his chin slightly, and then lowered it; he was conversing with either Ybelline or Scoros. They would do this until the Linguists arrived; they seldom conversed in this utter silence otherwise. Kaylin, Severn, and the Dragons didn’t seem to count, a fact which once might have infuriated Kaylin, but which she now accepted as the compliment it was.

She was surprised when Ybelline touched her shoulder, and she turned toward the Tha’alani castelord, whose stalks were weaving in a delicate, slow dance. The movement of those stalks was, in some ways, a second layer of conversation. Its meaning was completely clear to her. She nodded.

Ybelline touched her forehead with those stalks.

The Tha’alaan was not as quiet or as serene as its three representatives were. It was never exactly silent; as the living racial memory of the Tha’alani people, it couldn’t be. But for the most part, when you wanted to speak to your ancestors, you went
looking
for them.

The Tha’alaan was not silent today. More than three voices could be heard, and they were speaking over each other, or around each other. In a room, this would have muddied all syllables to a point where only focus and concentration would make them clear. It wasn’t as difficult in the Tha’alaan—but it was close.

Kaylin,
Ybelline said.

There was a ripple in outward discussion, and then a greeting that seemed to echo as tens of voices or more picked it up. Someone young—and it was obvious that it
was
a young voice, although how, Kaylin couldn’t immediately tell—said,
Is the world going to end again?
She sounded inordinately pleased with herself, and somewhat excited. There was, of course, a tiny edge of fear in the words, but the consciousness just didn’t stretch far enough to truly imagine the end of the world.

No,
Kaylin told her, hoping it was the truth.

Of course, the hope
also
translated into the Tha’alaan, which was the problem with thinking. Because the Tha’alani themselves were raised within the Tha’alaan, to an extent that made lying sort of pointless, Kaylin’s muddied thoughts immediately prompted a flood of questions from voices that had been quiet until that point.

Kaylin grimaced at Ybelline, by way of apology.

What I meant,
she said,
was that the world is not ending if
we
have anything to say about it.

Are there monsters?

There are
always
monsters,
Kaylin replied firmly.
Not all of the monsters, however, look dangerous.

Will you talk to the Tha’alaan?

Kaylin started to withdraw from Ybelline, and Ybelline caught her hands.
Tell them,
she said.

Yes.

Will you tell us what she says?

If I can. I can only…visit the Tha’alaan. I can’t live here.

Why not?

Because,
another voice said,
she’s deaf, idiot.

There was a wave of concern and mild disapproval, more felt than heard. But feeling it was enough. Kaylin, however, said,
No. It’s true. I’m deaf. It’s what I know. And…I need to talk with Ybelline, now. I’m not used to this, and I can’t talk to lots of people all at the same time.

Ybelline smiled, and again, this was more felt than seen.
What do you require of us, Kaylin?

I need you to teach the Linguists what you already know. The language, or what you have of it. Those people are coming. How long they’ll survive, I don’t know—but we need to be able to speak with them.
She hesitated, and then said,
Ybelline, do you know the
names
of the elements? All of them?

This produced a frown. It was not a frown of disapproval; it was more of a grimace.
I know,
she finally said,
what the Tha’alaan knows. Why?

That question was echoed in silence by Scoros and Draalzyn. Kaylin was now guarding her thoughts like a Dragon guarded its hoard, not so much for her own safety, but because she had been reminded, by the naive intrusion of a child—or children—that what the Tha’alaan heard, it remembered.

A portal—Ybelline saw a painting of it in the Oracles’ Hall, and I’m pretty sure it’s accurate—is going to open in Elani street in four days.

They were Tha’alani, and they knew about the portal because Ybelline knew.
Four?

By the Oracles’ best guess. That could be off by a few days, but only in one direction, if I know Master Sabrai. He’s not a man who reaches for the middle when he knows we’re facing a crisis. People will come through that portal, probably a few thousand. We have no solid estimate of numbers. This is all guesswork. They’re likely to be armed, but they’re also likely to be underfed and underslept.

Are they of the people?

It took Kaylin a moment to understand what the question actually meant.
They’re deaf,
she replied.
With luck, you’ll be able to deal with the Linguists in the Palace, and
they’ll
be able to speak to the travelers. I don’t know if the travelers will have any experience with Tha’alani, or people like them, but…
She grimaced.
If they don’t, you’ll probably be one of their worst nightmares, so direct interaction is the Court of last resort.

Which means?

A lot of people will probably be dead before you’re asked.

This is not the whole of your concern.
It was Scoros who spoke, and his voice was as flat in the Tha’alaan as it would have been in the room.
You asked us about the names of the elements. Are you concerned that the newcomers will be mages?

The thought, which hadn’t even occurred to Kaylin, filled her with almost instant horror, in part because it was a damn good question.
I wasn’t,
she admitted.

Then why is the question relevant?

There’s something
else
caught on the outside of the world. Which is what I’ll call anything that isn’t part of the world we can see and touch, for now. It was called the Devourer. I think it belongs in the Elemental Garden, with the water, fire, earth, and air. I…don’t know how to put him there, but I think that’s the only option we have. And to do that, I think we’ll need to speak with the elements, and to do
that
we need people who know their names.

CHAPTER 22

The Linguists arrived shortly thereafter. There were three, one woman, and two men; none of them could be called young, although standing beside the Arkon made them look a little more robust than they might have in other circumstances. They were, clearly, intimidated by the presence of the Dragons, although not to the point of cowering in the farthest corner. On the other hand, they were
also
intimidated by the presence of the Tha’alani.

Given the two obvious threats, they clearly didn’t fear the Hawk. Kaylin grimaced, and then forced her face into something resembling a smile. She turned that smile on Ybelline and waited until Ybelline’s natural presence transformed it into something more genuine. She moved toward, rather than away from, the Tha’alani castelord, and she spoke, briefly, of the Foundling Halls, because Catti was pushing for another visit to the quarter.

Ybelline took this in stride. Scoros raised a brow; Draalzyn, who was, of the three, accustomed to dealing with humans in crisis, rather than in the suspected commission of a crime, had steeled himself for their lack of ease.

But the discussion had some of the intended effect on the listeners, and they relaxed—albeit slowly—before they began to discuss the matter at hand.

“But you’re
certain,”
the woman said, drawing slightly closer to Kaylin, in spite of the fact that this
also
brought her closer to the Tha’alani, “that this is an entirely
new
language?”

“Lord Sanabalis seemed to think it was, and it’s not a language that’s used in the City. It may have some variants on the outer edges of the Empire. I don’t travel much.”

“No? Oh, no, I suppose your line of work would prohibit it. We were informed that the Tha’alani understand the language.”

“That would not be
entirely
accurate. But the Tha’alani castelord,” Kaylin added, putting emphasis on the title, “has heard and absorbed some of it. Not enough to speak well, but enough to give you the information. She’s not a Linguist,” Kaylin added, in case it needed to be said.

The man now frowned. “You could read the minds of people who speak this unknown language, and understand it?”

Ybelline said, “I did not directly read their minds or thoughts. It is one way of learning a language, but it is
not
quick, and it requires constant contact.”

“So if my thoughts were in a language you don’t speak—”

Ybelline lifted a delicate hand. “I would understand your thoughts,” she replied.

“You’re saying thought and language aren’t entwined?”

“I am not saying that, no. But I would understand your thoughts, regardless. I am not in the habit of repeating those thoughts to any save those the Emperor chooses, and the words I would speak would not necessarily be the words you would think. But not all thought forms around words, and strong reaction or strong emotion is often separate from them.”

“Which,” Kaylin said, stepping in, “is beside the point. Ybelline has heard, and can understand, some of the language. What she knows, she’s shared with her companions, Scoros and Draalzyn. They’re here
solely
to give you the information in their possession. If we had time, they wouldn’t be here at all. They could write or transcribe what occurred.

“We don’t have time.”

The man raised a peppered brow. He didn’t look down his nose, but he wasn’t all that tall. “Learning a language is not something done in a matter of days, Officer.”

“Private Neya. And that’s unfortunate because learning enough
functional
language is something that has to be done in four days, if we’re lucky.”

While the Linguists picked up their collective jaws and added panic of an entirely different nature to the mix of their suspicions, Kaylin retreated to the back wall. She watched them; she couldn’t help it. But she had to admit that their reaction to the Tha’alani was a
lot
more civil than hers had once been.

“Ybelline doesn’t need your protection,” Severn whispered. He was smiling, but his tone was grave.

“I know.” The oldest Linguist present had volunteered to allow contact first, and that had helped, because even with the Tha’alani stalks forcing her face to stay relatively still, her sudden widening of eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything
but
excitement. She actually physically turned toward her colleagues once, breaking the connection; Ybelline did not hold or restrain her. But the minute the connection was broken—and she realized it—she turned back in a different panic, as if she was afraid to lose what had been offered.