Cast in Peril

by Michelle Sagara

  Teela was dressed as a Lord of the High Court. Gone was the comforting and familiar tabard of the Hawks; gone was the practical leather. She carried no sticks, either; instead, a scabbard hung from her left hip. It was as fine as the jewelry that dripped off her fingers, wrist, and neck.

  “Please don’t tell me I was expected to wear jewelry.”

  “The only important piece for you is the ring.” Teela lifted a languid arm. “You don’t like my jewelry?”

  “No one—not even the nobles that crossed the bridge for their entertainment—wore jewelry like that in the fiefs. It’s practically a demand.”

  “To be robbed?”

  “And killed, yes.”

  “And it’s been eight years since you called Nightshade your home.”

  Kaylin nodded. Hesitated.

  “Kitling.”

  Surrendered. “You know he’s going to be in the West March, right?” she whispered in a voice so low Severn wouldn’t catch it, and he was standing beside her.

  Teela’s smile was almost feral. “I have not been informed of that fact.” Her voice was sweet and soft. “And as a Lord of the High Court, I am certain I would have been if such an…unusual…exception were to be made. Come. You and your Corporal will ride with me.”

  Kaylin, however, froze.

  Teela sighed pointedly. “Kaylin?”

  “Please tell me that’s not Evarrim.”

  “If you insist.”

  “Please tell me truthfully that Evarrim isn’t coming to the West March.”

  “Oh, truth.” She shrugged delicately. “Since he is demonstrably here, I cannot fathom why you are even asking.”

  “Kill me now.”

  “Nonsense. Dead, you will provide no relief from the interminable boredom.”

  Everybody needed a purpose in life. Kaylin, however, wished fervently for a better one at this moment.

  * * *

  The best thing about the carriage ride was that Teela did not insist on driving. The most surprising thing about the carriage—other than the fact that it was actually almost comfortable—was the fourth passenger.

  “Andellen!”

  “Lord Kaylin.”

  “…You’re coming to the West March.”

  “While you live, by the grace of the High Lord, I am granted the rights and privileges of a Lord of the High Court. Yes, I intend to travel to the West March.” He glanced at Severn. “I was not informed that you would be joining us.”

  “I am a little-known Lord of the High Court,” Severn replied. “But as you are sworn to the service of Lord Nightshade, I will tell you this. I am not here at the request of Imperial Hawks; nor am I here to serve or protect Lord Kaylin.”

  “Yet you have received an invitation to the gathering.”

  “In an informal fashion, yes.”

  Andellen nodded, as if he could easily read between the lines of Severn’s reply. “Lord Kaylin.”

  “Yes?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  It took her five seconds to realize that he wasn’t asking about the dress, which was too bad, because that one, she was less worried about answering. “It’s a small dragon.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “Why?”

  “I have seen, as you call them, small dragons, if by small, you meant to imply young. They would not be so easily draped across your shoulders, even as hatchlings.”

  The small dragon lifted its head, pressed its cheek against Kaylin’s; she assumed he was staring at Andellen, but didn’t turn to look. He’d become much more aware, in the past few days, of when people were talking about him. It didn’t seem to bother him. It did make him curious, though. She glanced at Teela. Teela didn’t seem to mind Andellen, although Andellen had chosen to forsake the High Court in service to an Outcaste Lord.

  Kaylin exhaled and explained.

  Andellen’s eyes narrowed as he listened. He was staring at the small dragon. The small dragon must have been staring back. She would have told Andellen he was wasting his time, but the only person she’d ever seen win a staring contest with a cat was Teela, a Barrani.

  “The newest talk is the presence of the Lady in our gathering,” Teela added casually.

  “Is it bad that she’s here?”

  “For you? I cannot fully say; you find minor things needlessly upsetting. But to us, it is significant.”

  “Why?”

  “Lord Andellen, please answer the question. I will no doubt be tasked with answering many, many more during the long weeks of travel and would like to preserve some of my energy.”

  “She is the Lady of the Lake.” Andellen did not seem overly concerned or resentful at Kaylin’s lack of knowledge. “You fail, consistently, to understand her significance to our people as a whole. If she is not the woman we would have chosen—”

  “She’s perfect for it.”

  “It is not a statement of preference, Lord Kaylin; it is merely observation. She is oft considered too sentimental to hold such a position, but not one of the Lords of the High Court has any say. She is not appointed; she just is. There is an undercurrent of fear because she is seen as weak. If we do not breed as quickly as mortal races, children are still our future, and without the Lady, there are none.”

  “So…she’s Bellusdeo.”

  “Bellusdeo is the female Dragon currently in residence in the Imperial Palace?”

  “Yes.”

  “She is, and is not, the same. If, among all the females born to clutches, only one would ever be fertile, she would be.”

  “But there are no other female Dragons. Not in this world.”

  Andellen nodded. “True. Bellusdeo is a weakness to the Dragons and their flights in the same way as the Lady is to the Barrani. The Lady does not travel.”

  “But she lived in the West March—”

  “Before the death of the previous Consort, yes. She did. But now? If she dies, we are plunged into a chaos of seeking. Those who would attempt to take her position—and there are not a few—must take the test. Most are doomed to failure. And while they fail, there will be no children. There will be none until a successor is found. The previous Consort did not leave the High Halls.”

  “At all?”

  “At all. The Court gossips as a way of passing the time. Your…pet would be worthy of far more note were it not for the presence of the Lady.”

  “What does the gossip say?”

  “I am not, except on sufferance, heavily entwined with the Court as it is currently composed.”

  She exhaled. “Teela?”

  “There are two possibilities. One: she travels because the Lord of the West March is in danger. If she were not who she is, this would not be credible. It is, however, a possibility. The second? That there is an event of import at the gathering itself and that your presence, Lord Kaylin, is a danger she seeks to offset.”

  “If it was a danger, I wouldn’t have been given permission to attend.”

  Teela raised a brow. “You do not understand the High Court. If the High Lord sought to deny permission, Evarrim would have countered him.”

  “Evarrim’s not the High Lord.”

  “No, he is not. But the High Lord is Barrani, Kaylin, not Dragon. He is Lord while he maintains his position against those who seek to unseat him.”

  “And why Evarrim?”

  “Because he wishes to separate you from the City and your defenders there. Certainly the Dragon whose pendant you currently wear. Evarrim has some standing in the Court. As you were granted the title of Lord, and as you have not made the voyage to the West March, it is well within your rights, by law.”

  “I’d sooner die than be in his debt.”

  “I imagine, in the short term, that is the idea,” was the agreeable reply. “The Lady is angry with you at the moment. But angry or no, she chose to speak to you in private and not in the heart of the Court over which she presides. This can be looked at in one of two ways.” She stopped speaking and waited.


  “Teela—”

  “It won’t harm you to try to think like a Barrani for the next two months. It may well prove to be of practical benefit.”

  She had a point. “I don’t hate this just for the sake of hating it; I hate it because I have to pretend I’m Evarrim.”

  Teela chuckled. “You could, instead, pretend that you’re me.”

  “Fine. You win.” Kaylin fell silent for a few minutes, during which the wheels began to turn. They didn’t even creak. “The most obvious would be that while the Lady is angry, she’s not willing to consign me to pariah status.”

  “Yes, that is the most obvious, and if she were mortal, that might well be the case. She is Barrani, and in most cases it would be inconceivable. It will, however, be considered possible precisely because the Lady is known for her weaknesses in that regard.”

  The silence was longer and more thoughtful. “It’s possible the Lady thought that a public argument would not go in her favor. If that was the case…”

  “Yes?”

  “She would conduct the argument in private. The assumption being that she would consider me no threat, or less of a threat than the loss of face the argument would cause in the High Court.”

  “Very good.”

  “There is a third possibility.”

  “Oh?”

  “That the Lady considers me an equal.”

  Teela did not, to Kaylin’s surprise, laugh. “Very good,” she said softly. “Andellen?”

  “The third possibility will never be spoken of in public. You are mortal, Kaylin. You are tolerated because you are Chosen. If the Lady, the Mother of the Race, condescends to consider you her equal…”

  “It’s bad.”

  “It would be bad. It would be bad because no one in the High Court who has not served in the position she now holds understands the whole of the power—and the ability—that comes with it. Nor do they fully understand you. It makes you much, much more of a threat.”

  “So they’ll ignore it.”

  “They will not speak of it.”

  “Which isn’t the same.”

  “Which is not, as you surmise, the same.”

  * * *

  The caravan did two things that Kaylin had not expected. First, it continued to travel well past sunset. In and of itself this wasn’t shocking. The Hawks had, in emergencies, been sent into the streets on patrol at later hours of night. But she had been under the impression that caravans, like most of the working world, tended to plan their routes around the sun’s light.

  “Perhaps mortals do. There are inns within a day’s easy travel along the Imperial roads, it is true. It is also, however, irrelevant. When we are three days out of the capital, our road will diverge from that most commonly used.”

  “But we—”

  “The Barrani High Court and its Lords do not often make use of mortal inns.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one, they require money. In and of itself, given the nature of mortal inns, this is not surprising, although it is considered distasteful by many of my kin. Second, and of more import, they frequently ask that we sign their ledgers as…proof of our stay.” As she spoke, she glanced pointedly at Severn.

  “This is a problem? You’re not doing anything illegal.”

  “We are not. But legality is oft in the eyes of the Emperor.”

  “Given the number of your party, you could probably refuse to sign.”

  “We could, but the interaction would be unpleasant for all involved. We do not travel to the inns.”

  Kaylin had, she hoped, prepared herself for camping out.

  * * *

  By the time night had truly overtaken the whole of the sky, the air was cool. The carriage, on the other hand, was on the stuffy side, even with open windows and a dwindling lack of the hot air speech produced. Teela and Andellen had dispensed with speech; Teela looked bored, which would have been worrisome if there had been anything she could do in a carriage—short of driving it—that could be dangerous. Andellen looked thoughtful. Severn was silent and watchful; Kaylin had gone from restive to sleepy. The small dragon squawked once when the tilt of her head threatened to crush him, and he’d nipped her ear to make his point, before rearranging himself in a pile in her lap.

  Barrani didn’t sleep. Clearly Severn didn’t sleep when facing two Barrani, either.

  Kaylin, however, began to nod off, jerking herself awake when the carriage wheels hit something on a road that was, in the best case, purely dirt.

  Severn glanced at her; she couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not. He didn’t speak. Instead, he lifted an arm, and after a brief hesitation, Kaylin leaned against him.

  Is this unfair?

  He stiffened for an instant, and she started to sit up, but he folded his arm carefully over her shoulder.

  No, Severn, I mean it. Is this unfair? I don’t know if— I’m not—

  Idiot.

  The small dragon gave a small wuffling snort, as if he agreed.

  “Easy for you to say,” Kaylin mumbled. I don’t want to—I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to be hurtful. You don’t deserve that.

  Kaylin, two things.

  Two?

  First: you think too much. Second: I’m a big boy. Let me decide what causes me pain. You get to decide what causes you pain. Don’t make choices for me.

  But—

  Although it would no doubt amuse Teela, we’re in a carriage with two Barrani companions. I don’t expect anything, and even if I did, here would not be the place I’d choose. Sleep, Kaylin. Sleep. I’ll keep watch.

  She drew one deep breath, exhaled, and leaned into his side, remembering as she did the faraway streets of Nightshade on Winter nights before anyone she knew had died. His arm tightened, but not uncomfortably, and she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  True to Teela’s word, the wagons didn’t stop at an inn; they didn’t stop on the road, either. Kaylin had assumed that there would be campgrounds tucked to one side of the road. Campgrounds, fire pits, tents—these were the things she’d been instructed, by Hawks who had done some travel on the cheap, to expect.

  Joey had never traveled with Barrani.

  Chapter 12

  She was still sleeping when the carriage rolled to a stop; the sound of doors opening woke her, although they didn’t wake her quickly. She could sleep standing up, as long as she could lean against a wall and fold her arms; she could certainly sleep while seated. But she rarely fell into a sleep as deep—and dreamless—as this one had been. She felt the urge to pull covers over her head and ignore sunlight, although she had no covers and it was demonstrably not morning.

  Severn was content to wait until she’d managed to shake off sleep; Teela and Andellen were not. The cabin was empty and silent for a few long minutes; Kaylin stretched as far as the cramped ceiling would allow. “Where are we?”

  “I’m not certain. The last time I traveled outside of the City, I wasn’t traveling with Barrani Lords.”

  She looked out the window and froze.

  She’d been told, by Joey, to expect campgrounds, which he described as dirt with a fire pit somewhere in its center. A place where you put up tents and hoped the ground wasn’t too lumpy. Campgrounds were characterized by proximity to water.

  The water part was true; Kaylin could hear it. Everything else was wrong.

  There was light here. It was a rich, ambient gold, not quite sunlight, but a cut above the flickering shadows of fire or torch. It yellowed the trunks of the standing trees and rose to gild their branches. She couldn’t easily see a source for that light.

  “Look up,” Severn said softly as he climbed out of the carriage. He offered her a hand; she took it without thinking; he was warm.

  There was a clearing here, although it was now so crowded with carriages it looked like the drive of a large, pompous manse on the night of an important event. “Are there more carriages than we started out with?”

  He nodded. He looked rela
xed, but she was holding his hand; he was tense. If Severn was at ease with the Barrani Hawks, he clearly had two categories for Barrani. Which made sense, given Evarrim was also here. The reminder pushed the last of sleep off the figurative cliff of her mind.

  “Where did everyone go?”

  The light caught the play of his smile as he looked down. “Inside. We’ve been granted passage.”

  “Passage? To where?” She looked around at the empty carriages; even the horses that had drawn them were nowhere to be seen.

  “Follow me,” he told her, although she would have had to follow anyway, as she was still attached by the hand. The dragon had taken up his usual position as smooth, scaled scarf, but his eyes were bright and his head flicked from side to side as they walked toward the trees.

  City streets weren’t as well lit as this. They weren’t as lovely, either. There was something about the shape and sheer height of the surrounding trees that suggested majesty in a way that was entirely unlike grand architectural edifices. She heard crickets in the distance, but the sounds of the City were entirely absent. Even the sounds of their footsteps as they walked were hushed and muted; there was no stone beneath their boots.

  Severn led her to a tree.

  It was four times her width—or larger—around the base of the trunk, and its roots lay in living knot-work above the ground. They parted almost naturally in only one place, and Severn followed the gap. “Umm, Severn?”

  He glanced down.

  “This is a tree.”

  And smiled. “It is. It’s also where we’re headed.”

  “They walked into a tree?”

  “That’s exactly what they did. There was a distinct pecking order to entry.”

  “That’s why you didn’t wake me.”

  His smile deepened. “Teela’s spoiling for a brawl; I recognized the expression. At this point, I don’t think she cares what the excuse is. If we enter last because you fell asleep and couldn’t be bothered waking, no insult is offered.”

  “Are you kidding? They’re Barrani. They can take insult at anything.”

  “They were mostly insulting each other. It was subtle. The Consort, of course, entered first.” He walked right up to the bark of the tree and let go of her hand. “Can you see it?”