"It is." She hesitated, and then said, "But I don't think it's safe for anyone else to actually attempt to wield it."

"No one will wield it," was the Librarian's response. But he looked at the blade with distinctly less comfort. "No one will touch it. If you will bring it to the back of the desk?"

Behind the desk was what looked like a long counter. Its gleaming wooden surface caught light, which it then scattered because the Librarian lifted it. It was hinged, and beneath its surface was something that looked very much like gla.s.s casing. It made Kaylin queasy as she approached, which made it clear that it was magical.

"When artifacts are brought to the Arkon," the man explained, motioning toward the empty case without once attempting to touch the sword in her hands, "this is where they are kept if they are deemed either fragile or magical and of unknown origin. I will remain here until you leave the Library. No one else, besides the Arkon, can open the case. If you will?"

Half relieved, she set the sword down and took a step back. He dropped the countertop, and it once again looked like normal, necessary desk s.p.a.ce.

"Let me guess. The Arkon is not in the best of moods," Kaylin ventured when they were out of the normal human earshot of the supervisor.

"He has certainly been in worse in your direct experience," Sanabalis replied. "But he has been attempting to ascertain that no damage was done during the recent magical surge, and this takes both time and very focused attention to detail. He does not like," he added, "to be disturbed."

He had never liked to be disturbed. In the time she'd known him, he'd left the Palace exactly once, and that had involved the possible end of the world.

The Arkon was working in the third hall of artifacts, as the man at the desk had called it. Kaylin didn't consider what was essentially a closed, dark room to be a hall. There were no windows, or at least if there were, none of them let any light in. She'd been in a similar room in the bowels of the Library before; the walls were mostly lined with shelves, and there were standing items that only spiders appeared to have touched in the intervening centuries since they'd been collected. Sanabalis was considerate enough to retrieve lamps for their use; the usual magical lights were forbidden.

The Arkon had already left off work when the light from the open door alerted him to their presence. He looked like a moving antique; the dust and the cobwebs that time and spiders had deposited clung to his robes and the edge of his beard. His eyes were a shade of unfortunate orange, but given both Tiamaris and Sanabalis today, he seemed relatively calm.

"This," he told Sanabalis in a rumble of a voice that implied he was speaking Barrani out of a minimal courtesy that could vanish at any second, "had better be important."

"In my opinion, it is," Sanabalis replied.

"Obviously." The Arkon now condescended to notice the two silent Hawks who had accompanied Sanabalis. He sighed, which sounded suspiciously like a snort, with about the same smoke content. "I have not failed to notice, Private Neya," he said as he all but shoved them out of the doors and back into the light, "that Lord Sanabalis's disdain for my orders that I remain undisturbed frequently intersect with his interactions with you."

The Arkon's annoyance at the interruption was not, sadly, improved by the nature of Sanabalis's request. It did, however, leave him speechless and slightly openmouthed for at least thirty seconds. Sanabalis's expression could have been carved out of stone; he didn't even blink.

"I a.s.sume you have a more than adequate reason for this request?"

"I do. And it is, I believe, a situation in which time-in the mortal sense-is of the essence. The usual process for requisitions of note from the Imperial Order-which I will, of course, begin immediately-will require more time than we have."

The Arkon was not impressed. Dusting his hands on the folds of his robes, he snorted more smoke. "This had better at least be interesting, Sanabalis. I have discovered some possible damage to some of the more unusual items in the collection, and I am not pleased."

There wasn't a colloquial phrase or curse that went something like "may your day be full of angry dragons" or "may every dragon you meet today be p.i.s.sed off," but there should have been. Had the floors not been so solid, the Arkon would have left footprints in the stone.

"Where is he going?" Kaylin asked as Sanabalis began to follow.

"Probably one of the conference rooms. The artifacts in the third hall are delicate, and shouting-in our native tongue-might cause them harm."

The Arkon did indeed lead them to one of the almost featureless rooms several halls and a few doors away. It contained a table that was flat, long and practical; chairs were tucked beneath its surface. The walls were bare. The door was warded, or appeared to be warded, but the Arkon didn't bother to touch it; he barked at it and it flew open. Even the inanimate objects in the Library apparently knew enough to try to stay on his good side.

The door slammed shut the minute Sanabalis entered the room behind Kaylin.

"Well?" the Arkon said, folding his arms across the trailing edge of his unkempt beard.

"There is a problem in the fief of Tiamaris."

This didn't seem to mollify the Arkon. "Given the known problems that occur in lands that border the fiefs, I fail to see how a projection crystal is justified. It is not a useful teaching tool." He referred, Kaylin realized belatedly, to Sanabalis's work with the Norannir. "Nor is it a shield against the incursions of Shadow. It is a fine research tool," he added, "and any grant from my library will of course decrease the effective ability to do research here."

Kaylin cleared her throat.

"Yes?"

"It's also an effective tool for investigations."

"It is, and the usual method for requisitioning such equipment results-on occasion-in a grant of a crystal for those purposes. Has the Hawklord acceded to your request?"

Silence.

"Ah, no, of course not. The fief of Tiamaris is not considered Imperial territory, and any investigations would not fall under the jurisdiction of the Halls of Law. Sanabalis," he added, losing the honorific that he usually used, at least when in the presence of mere mortals. "Explain yourself. Now."

"There have been a series of highly unusual murders in the fief of Tiamaris. While we are all aware that the general conditions of rule in the fiefs are somewhat lacking-" He glanced at Kaylin, who had clamped her jaw shut. She'd become used to the roundabout understatements of people who'd never actually had to live in the fiefs, but she was never going to like them. "There are indications that a subtle magic is involved."

Mindful of Sanabalis's orders to let him do the talking, Kaylin said nothing. She was, however, Kaylin; she said nothing loudly.

It was not to Kaylin that the Arkon turned, however; it was to the almost invisible Severn. "Corporal Handred," he said in his succinct and biting High Barrani, "I have been impressed with your calm and your sense of order in trying and difficult times. You accompanied Private Neya on this excursion into Tiamaris?"

"I did."

"Good. I would like to hear your version of the difficulty, and your opinion about the use of the crystal." When Severn did not immediately launch into speech, he added "Now."

In very spa.r.s.e words, and in an entirely even and matter-of-fact tone, Severn offered the Arkon an account of events. He made clear, in the same tone, that the only hands-on investigation either he or Kaylin had done so far was a brief and cursory examination of the bodies.

"On the morrow," he added in his flawless High Barrani, "we will visit the discovery sites and attempt to discern what the victims may-or may not-have in common."

But the Arkon had fallen utterly silent; he didn't even seem to be breathing. "You are certain," he finally said, "that all the bodies were identical? Mortals often look very similar."

Kaylin winced; Severn didn't. He nodded smoothly. "There are known cases of multiple births that result in children who appear-to strangers-to be identical. There are always distinguishing marks or differences that yield to a closer inspection."

"You have reason to suspect that the seven discovered will not be the last?"

"No. Given the discovery of seven in such a short span of time, however, I feel it unlikely."

"You do not possess the magical sensitivity that Private Neya has demonstrated."

"No, Arkon."

"Private Neya." He glanced once at Sanabalis, and added, "You were not present, Lord Sanabalis. Your word will not carry the weight of hers here, no matter how carefully you speak. Or how carelessly she does." He turned back to Kaylin. "You will wait here. I will return with the object you have requested."

"Thank you."

The Arkon raised a brow. "I am certain that when we are done you will be markedly less thankful. There is a second reason that the crystals are not deemed suitable for frequent use."

When the Arkon had exited the room, Sanabalis ran his fingers through his beard. "That did not go well," he finally said.

"I tried, Sanabalis. What did he mean, I won't be happy?"

"Imbuing the crystal with an image that can be seen directly by those with no magical training or inclination requires magic."

"Yes. That's why it's a magic crystal."

"Very amusing. What it also requires," he continued, "is a process that is somewhat similar to the one used to imbue memory crystals. You are familiar with memory crystals?"

"Intimately," she said, her shoulders sloping toward the ground. "I don't suppose Corporal Handred can be the imaging source?"

"He can be one of the sources, yes. I highly doubt he will be the only one." The Dragon Lord was frowning.

"Sanabalis, what do you think is happening in the fiefs?"

"I am not entirely certain," was his reply. "Let us leave the question of the subtle difficulty for the Arkon's return. I have a different one. What possessed you to cross the border into the Shadows on the edge of Tiamaris?"

"Maggaron. He wouldn't come to us."

"I have a few questions about the nature of Maggaron," Sanabalis replied.

"So do I. I don't think we're going to get all the relevant answers until we can speak to Mejrah."

Sanabalis frowned. "I have not asked Ybelline to enter the fief. For obvious reasons, I consider the danger to the castelord to be too high to justify the request; she is, however, the single most adept speaker of the Norannir tongue. Very well." He looked as if he would say more, but the door opened and the Arkon walked in. He was holding a crystal the size of a coin in his hand; it was smaller than the memory crystals Kaylin had, on several occasions, been required to carry. Its base color seemed to be a transparent blue, or possibly a faded purple; it was hard to tell.

He set it on the tabletop and spoke a single word. An image rose, like solid mist, from the heart of the crystal, spreading both up and out until it occupied a much larger s.p.a.ce. The image was, oddly enough, a Dragon in draconic form. It was obviously scaled down, but even so, was about the size of a normal person, stretched lengthwise. It was also taller.

The Dragon was a cobalt blue. Its miniature scales caught and reflected the room's diffuse light as if they were solid. The Arkon spoke another-much louder-word and the Dragon lifted its neck and spread its wings to their full span.

"With your permission?" Severn said to the Arkon, who raised a brow and then nodded brusquely. He then approached the miniature Dragon and extended a hand. The Dragon attempted to remove it; Kaylin heard the snap of jaws that suddenly didn't seem so small and harmless as the Corporal quickly withdrew.

Sanabalis snorted. "It cannot actually harm you. The sounds and the visual representation of movement are present. The tactile components-unless one is in direct contact with the crystal-are not."

Severn nodded, but didn't offer the image his hand again. "If I were holding the crystal?"

"You would experience the physical sensation, but unless you were a mage with a great natural talent and no control whatsoever, you wouldn't be bleeding. Contact with the crystal also gives you more direct control over the image and its presentation." The Arkon spoke again, and this time, the miniature Dragon answered. Kaylin did not clap hands over her ears because she'd been expecting it.

"Will training the crystal require the loss of this image?" Severn asked quietly.

The Arkon lifted a brow. "No. In a lesser crystal, the answer would be different and in that case, I would cede you one over my ashes. This, and a handful of others like it, were created before the Empire. This image," he added, his voice inexplicably softening, "is the oldest it contains, and the strongest. If you do nothing, or if your focus is not strong, this is the image that you will present when you hold and invoke it."

Sanabalis was staring at the miniature Dragon in a very odd way. His eyes were, momentarily, gold-and most of the gold Kaylin had seen today had been in the eyes of a corpse. "Who is it?" she asked Sanabalis.

He didn't seem to hear her. "Arkon, I feel it germane to remind you of the unpredictable nature of the Private's magic."

"If the crystal is damaged, the unpredictable nature of her power-and the unfortunate squabbles about her training-will no longer be an issue," was the unpromising reply. "But I would prefer that Corporal Handred be both its keeper and its invoker for the time being." He gestured and the image of the Dragon was sucked back into the heart of the blue gem. "Please," he added, indicating the crystal. "Corporal."

Severn nodded, and without hesitation, picked up the crystal and held it cupped in his right palm.

"You will feel the crystal's power," the Arkon said. "It is not unlike brief contact with the Tha'alani. It is intrusive."

Severn nodded again.

"Concentrate on the central image-or related images-you wish the crystal to store. When you wish to begin recording, inform me."

Severn closed his eyes. His grip on the crystal didn't change. Kaylin, hands behind her back, watched as the hair on the back of her neck began to rise. It was her usual physical reaction to the sudden influx of magic, which was odd: the image of the Dragon itself had caused no discomfort.

Nothing discernible happened to either Severn or the crystal, but her skin began to tingle. The Arkon nodded to himself, but said nothing and did nothing. Minutes pa.s.sed and extended. There was no easy way to mark the pa.s.sage of time in the featureless, windowless room. Kaylin began to pace, her hands still locked behind her back.

The crystal in Severn's hand finally began to glow. Severn's eyes were still closed, but his grip on the crystal tightened involuntarily, and the line of his jaw tensed. His knuckles also whitened. Kaylin took a step toward him that was just as involuntary, and Sanabalis caught-and held-her arm. She quieted instantly, but the Dragon Lord didn't let go.

"How long is this going to go on?" she demanded.

"For as long as it takes. It will not cause the Corporal any permanent harm."

As long as it takes, in Dragon parlance, was almost three hours. Kaylin, who had experienced the sting of melding with a memory crystal, decided then and there that she was never, ever going to requisition one of these things again, unless her career depended on it. Memory crystals, while sharp and painful, took no time. Added to that was the fact that Severn's face was the color of white cheese by the end of those hours.

The crystal, on the other hand, looked unchanged.

"Good, Corporal. Concentrate on the image now, and let me see whether or not the impression you've made is a solid one."

"It had better be," Kaylin muttered. The piercing and entirely unfriendly look she immediately received from the Arkon was a reminder that Dragon hearing was superior to human hearing.

Severn closed his eyes. The heart of the crystal began to glow, and light spread out through its hard sides in narrow filaments that looked disturbingly like tendrils. They slithered-that really was the word for it-toward each other, intertwining as they moved, and merging, at last, into a central standing figure in a familiar blue dress.

The dress itself was a perfect replica of the seven similar dresses that Kaylin had seen; the woman, however, took longer to come into focus; the edges of her jaw and nose were blurred, as were the contours of her cheekbones, the hollows of her eyes. They radiated light, bleaching her skin of color. Sanabalis let go of Kaylin's arm and she moved away from him, toward both Severn and the image that was solidifying above his hand.

Her own visual memory of the dead woman-all seven of them-was not so clear that she could have painted a picture; it was clear enough that she could tell Severn what she thought was missing. But even as she opened her mouth to do just that, the image suddenly sharpened.

"That's it," she said softly. "That's her. Or one of her. I don't think she'd be that pale if she were alive."

Severn nodded. He was sweating, and his jaw was locked in place; she couldn't have wedged words out of him had she tried. She didn't. She meant to ask Severn about the woman's eye color, because the crystal was meant to imply that this was a living, missing person. Her eyes were closed.

When they opened, they were a liquid, perfect gold, and Kaylin was momentarily deafened by the Arkon's sudden roar.

The roar was wordless, but it went on for at least a minute, shorn of syllables, of anything that would elevate it above the dangerously b.e.s.t.i.a.l. His familiar eyes had shaded to a red that was almost deeper than Tiamaris's eyes had gone. Familiarity with the booming voices of Dragons speaking in their native tongue meant she didn't immediately dive for cover under the room's only table, but it was close.

Severn, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. He was closer to the Arkon and he waited with what seemed to be his usual calm. He was faking.

"If this is some attempt at humor," the Arkon finally said, literal fire around the edges of his words, "you have survived it. You will not, however, continue to do so if you do not cease."

Kaylin glanced back at Sanabalis, whose eyes were a very dark shade of orange. He, however, was as outwardly calm as Severn; if it weren't for his eyes, she wouldn't have known he was worried at all. "Arkon," he said in quiet High Barrani.

The Arkon swiveled. This time, he didn't bother to contain his fire; he roared, and it hit Sanabalis full on. Apparently, this is what enraged Dragons did-to each other-because Sanabalis flinched as his robes blackened, but he didn't otherwise move or spew fire in return.

This would be a very, very good time to leave, Kaylin thought. On the other hand, it would only catch his attention. The underside of the table was looking better and better all the time. Sanabalis opened his mouth and drew a longer-than-usual breath, which gave Kaylin just enough time to cover her ears. Not that it helped.

Severn took a step back, toward the wall farthest from where the two Dragons were now shouting at each other and not incidentally blocking the room's only known door. The two Hawks exchanged a glance-words wouldn't carry-and Severn's lips turned up in a brief grimace. He mouthed the words This was your idea, remember, as they settled in to wait.

Dragon wings did not magically unfurl and native forms did not magically appear, which, given the size and the thick stone walls of a room that would have trouble accommodating one Dragon, never mind two, was a d.a.m.n good thing. But it was clear that the Arkon was actually upset. Or enraged. He focused the full force of his ire on Sanabalis for the duration of a turbulent hour before he heaved one more fiery breath and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sanabalis, in robes that were mostly ash, now readjusted his clothing into a more Dragon military style: scales grew out of the folds of his flesh and more or less armored him. It was disturbing to watch, but it was probably a touch less disturbing than watching him walk through the Library b.u.t.t naked would have been.

"You couldn't have warned us?" Kaylin asked, although she kept her voice as low as she could.