“Agreed on both counts.” Tain then turned to Kaylin and opened his mouth to speak. Severn, however, gave them all a quiet heads-up as Moran descended the stairs.
* * *
The absolute ruler of the infirmary stopped for a moment in the doorway when she saw Severn and Tain. Then she walked past them to the table, and to the backless stool positioned in its center. She sat heavily.
Helen appeared with food—which was to say, food appeared on the table and Helen came into the room. “You’ll want to speak with Annarion, dear,” she told Kaylin.
That was not the first item on Kaylin’s list of desirable activities.
“I know. But he is upset. I’ve created a containment; he should be able to rage as much as he wants without ill effect on the rest of the house. I cannot, however, continue to confine him.”
“Meaning he can leave anytime he wants.”
“He is a guest, not a prisoner—but even were he to be a prisoner, I have become too diminished to maintain a cell for either him or Mandoran for long. Mandoran did ask,” she added. “He is also very, very worried about Annarion.”
“Is Teela less worried than she was?”
“No, dear. I would say she is vastly more worried than she was.”
Tain grimaced. Teela worried was about as much fun as Marcus enraged.
“Did I come at a bad time?” Moran asked, entering the conversation.
“No!” Kaylin said, before Helen could reply, although it was to Helen she’d directed the question.
“In my experience,” Helen replied, with a gentle smile, “there is never a good or a bad time. There is only time. Please, eat. You haven’t had dinner yet, and neither has Kaylin.” She turned to Tain. “I don’t believe we’ve met, and I am not always conversant with the social customs of my guests.”
“This is Tain,” Kaylin immediately said. “He’s Teela’s partner in the Hawks.”
Tain’s eyes, which had lightened a bit while talking with Bellusdeo, darkened instantly. Helen ignored this.
“I’m Helen. Kaylin has agreed to make her home with me, and I have agreed to make that home safe and secure. Her friends are, by her choice, her family; you are welcome here. I apologize if ancient buildings are not comfortable for you. I cannot change my nature, but I will attempt to give you the privacy you crave.”
Tain nodded slowly.
“Will you join us for dinner? And Corporal Handred?”
Severn, fiefborn, nodded. Kaylin looked with longing at the food, but pushed her chair away from the table. “Did you leave small and squawky with Annarion?”
“Yes. He thought it best that he remain.”
“I’m sorry, Moran—I’ll be right back.”
“I hope so,” the sergeant said, in her usual clipped tones. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
* * *
Helen did not leave the guests when Kaylin did. But Helen’s disembodied voice joined her as she made her way to the stairs that led to the basement. “Is there anything you would like me to do?”
“I think you’ve done enough. Thanks for dealing with Annarion.”
“I don’t think Moran was expecting Severn or Tain.”
No, she probably hadn’t been—but to be fair, neither had Kaylin. Tain had been an intermittent fixture in her early life with the Hawks, which was probably Teela’s doing, since Tain wasn’t particularly nurturing on his own. Kaylin grimaced. Then again, neither was Teela.
Severn was Severn. Both of them were so much a part of her life that she didn’t blink an eye at their presence. But...Moran had never just walked into Kaylin’s old apartment. Moran had never dropped by to check on her. Clint had, in the early years. Marcus had, and so had his wives.
Then again, Marcus would probably rip out her throat if she tried to force living quarters on him—even if he had none. She’d have to stand behind Kayala, the first wife, in order to safely make the offer.
People were complicated. If someone had offered Kaylin shelter and a safe, clean space—with food!—she would have leaped through the door, gratefully. The only thing that would have held her back was the lack of trust that anyone living on the edge of survival developed. If she trusted the person offering her safety, then what reason would she have had to refuse?
And yet, clearly, Moran had her reasons.
The door to the basement opened before Kaylin could touch it, but at this point, such things didn’t spook her. She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with angry, blue-eyed Teela, and that was dread enough.
“She isn’t angry,” Helen said.
“Fine. Scared or worried Teela. In case it’s not obvious, that’s worse.”
“She should be worried. I am worried myself. Annarion can be contained; he is struggling to control impulses of which he is only barely aware. If he decides that they are no longer a concern—or a primary concern—I do not think I can keep him here without harming him.
“And no, Kaylin, quite aside from your own concerns, that is not what I wish. He knows the debt he owes you and the people of your city. Teela has made that quite clear.”
“But that wasn’t his fault—”
“Fault? Perhaps not. But he cannot claim ignorance a second time. It is only the terrible sense of guilt at what transpired that has kept him here these three weeks. He has worked without stop. But he cannot completely contain his fear.”
Fear for Nightshade.
* * *
Teela was blue-eyed and stiff as a board; absent was the usual sense of grace that even motionless Barrani naturally exuded.
To Kaylin’s eyes, Annarion was not in anything resembling a jail cell. He was sitting in the middle of the room—a Barrani room, by the look of the furnishings—his eyes the same color as Teela’s. Mandoran was beside him, arms folded, shoulders slumped. There was a window in the far wall. The view outside it looked very quiet and very peaceful.
It was the only thing in the room that was the latter.
Kaylin took a chair, because there just happened to be one that suited her. Whether it had existed in the seconds before she opened the door, she didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter. “Teela told you about our morning.” Teela’s glare drilled the side of her face, but Kaylin continued, “I still can’t reach your brother. I can’t hear him. But I don’t think he’s dead.”
“On what are you basing that assumption?” Annarion asked.
“Instinct.” She had a clear idea how much he valued mortal instinct, but he was better behaved than Mandoran and kept his thoughts to himself. “Did Teela also tell you about our visit to the Keeper?”
Mandoran lifted a dark brow. “No.”
“And you didn’t notice we were there?”
“Teela’s pretty good at keeping things to herself. What were you doing at the Keeper’s?”
“Asking him about Gilbert,” she replied. “Sort of. And possibly listening to his take on gaining entry to ancient ruins, some of which might be malevolent.”
They both glanced at Teela.
Mandoran rolled his eyes and glared at the Barrani Hawk. Clearly another conversation was unfolding between the two Barrani, courtesy of their exchanged True Names. Mandoran confirmed this. “I don’t understand why Teela considers it such a bad idea to give you my name. I’m not insisting anyone else do it. But this style of speech is slow and inexact, and your verbal explanations leave a lot to be desired.”
“She probably considers it a bad idea because I’m terrible at filtering. If I had your name, you’d probably know everything I was thinking the moment I thought it.”
“And that’s bad how?”
“For me, it would be bad.”
Mandoran glared at Teela again. Teela was probably glaring at Kaylin. Something invisible squawked. Kaylin recog
nized the voice instantly, but couldn’t actually see where it was coming from.
“Teela, where is small and squawky?”
Annarion tensed; Mandoran rolled his eyes. Mandoran was easily the most human Barrani Kaylin had ever met. Clearly, this had its pros and cons. “He’s sitting about a foot above the table, chewing on his wing tips.”
Squawk.
“You honestly can’t see him?”
“Kaylin,” Teela interjected, “is one of the worst liars you will ever meet.”
“I didn’t always suck at lying.”
“You probably didn’t speak as much, then. If she says she can’t see him, she can’t see him. I don’t see why it’s so difficult to believe; I can’t see him, either.”
“You can hear him, though,” Mandoran pointed out.
“The entire house can probably hear him.” Teela rose. “Is he trying to prove a point?”
It was Kaylin who answered. “Probably.”
“Which?”
“In general? I’m mortal and therefore incompetent. It’s the same point most of my friends try to prove when they’re on a tear. If he’s not uncomfortable where he is, he can stay there for a bit.” Kaylin folded her arms. “Helen says you’ve learned a lot in the past three weeks.”
“That’s not what she’s been telling us.”
“I believe she was talking about Annarion.”
Annarion’s lips twitched.
“How much control do you think you have?” Kaylin directed her question to Nightshade’s guilt-ridden younger brother.
“If I was certain I had enough, do you think I would still be here?”
“Fair enough. How uncertain are you?”
“I constantly feel like I have enough control. Helen, however, does not agree. In this case, I have chosen to trust Helen’s judgment over both my own and my need for haste and movement.”
Squawk. SQUAWK.
“It appears,” Helen’s disembodied voice said, “that Hope considers me overly cautious. If you are willing to accept his company, he believes he understands the difficulty now.”
“And he didn’t before?”
“Apparently not, dear.
“I’m not certain I consider that wise,” Helen then said, to the very noisy thin air.
The small dragon appeared to be telling her just how much her opinion counted. Had the small creature been on Kaylin’s shoulders, she would have attempted to cover his mouth. Annarion rose, walked over to where Kaylin sat and knelt before her. It made Kaylin incredibly uncomfortable.
“Your familiar believes he can counter the worst of the...noise...I make if he remains in his current form.”
Kaylin nodded. “Look, can you get up? This is kind of ridiculous.”
Annarion ignored her request. She looked to Teela for help. Teela shrugged. It was a stiff shrug; her lips were thin, her eyes narrowed.
“The familiar cannot provide the dampening effect if he is not in his current form.”
“The invisible one?”
Squawk.
Kaylin said, “No, wait, let me guess. He isn’t actually invisible. He’s just invisible to anyone who naturally lives in the mortal world.”
Teela cleared her throat.
“You know what I meant.”
“Yes. And I still take exception to it. You are, however, correct. I can see what Mandoran and Annarion see—but it takes a great deal of effort and it gives me an almost instant headache. Our eyes were not meant to see the familiar as he exists now. If it’s any consolation, without shifting out of the state he occupies, he can’t cause actual harm—to us, anyway.”
“Can he bite the other two?”
“They seem to feel so.”
“If you want my permission,” Kaylin told Annarion, “it’s yours. You have it.”
Annarion clearly wasn’t begging for her permission to take the small dragon. “Your familiar cannot remain anchored to the plane—as Mandoran and I are—in this form. Not if you’re not with him.”
Which explained Teela’s expression.
“He is willing to accompany me—”
“Us,” Mandoran interjected.
“...Us. But to do so, you must also accompany us.” He swallowed. “You have no reason to trust my brother, and little reason to love him. He has sacrificed much. But he is the only living member of my family that I acknowledge.”
Kaylin almost asked him if he had unacknowledged family members who were still alive, but decided against it. “You want me to go with you.”
He swallowed. Kneeling there in supplication, he looked much younger than he normally did. “Yes. I understand the debt it will incur.”
“Please don’t say that.”
He lifted his head. His lips, his eyes, the whole of his expression, were adorned with visceral pride.
“I know exactly how the Barrani feel about debts.” When this failed to achieve the intended enlightenment, she added, “They hate them. I’d just as soon not have you in my debt, because, your brother aside, I actually like you.” She exhaled. “Nightshade’s fief almost destroyed my life. Some of the decisions he’s made in the past—” She stopped. After a long pause, which no one filled, she continued, “But he’s saved my life, as well. I never intended to let you go to the fiefs alone.”
He bowed his head.
“But does this mean small and squawky—”
Squawk.
“—will be invisible the entire time?”
“Invisible to you,” Mandoran muttered, which caused another round of squawking.
“Yes, I believe so,” Annarion replied.
She turned to look at the empty space that wasn’t, in theory, empty. “You’re going to have to make less noise when we’re outside,” she told her familiar. “Most of the time, people think you’re cute or valuable. You don’t want them to think they’re crazy.”
Squawk.
She glanced at Teela, who had said a very loud nothing for almost the entire conversation. “Tain and Severn are upstairs with Moran.”
“Just what we need.” Teela glanced at Kaylin. “Don’t think that you’re going to Nightshade—or anywhere else—without me.”
“Teela—”
“I mean it. I will break your left leg if you attempt to leave me behind. Anything that you can survive, I can survive.”
Mandoran cleared his throat, opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. For a moment, Kaylin reconsidered the value of knowing Mandoran’s True Name.
“He is pointing out that you are Chosen,” Annarion said as he rose.
“I bet she’s pointing out that I don’t even understand what that means.”
“Yes. Though much more colorfully.”
“You can’t stop her from coming with us,” Kaylin added more quietly. “Because she doesn’t want me to go. She’s still pissed off that your brother marked my face.”
“Yes. Very. I am not terribly happy about that myself. But...”
“But it doesn’t seem to have altered my life?”
“It doesn’t seem—and I do not know your life well—to have damaged your life, no. The mark is used to denote ownership, and it can be used to enforce it. It does not have the strength of a name—but it doesn’t require it. Had you been of equivalent power, he could not have placed that mark upon you without your explicit consent. You did not consent, yet you are marked.”
“He hasn’t used it against me. But I know his name.”
Teela coughed.
Mandoran made a face at her.
“That is not generally common knowledge,” Annarion finally said.
“I know—but everyone in this room already knows it.”
“Everyone in this room also knows that I have sex,” Teel
a cut in. “But no one needs to hear about it.”
Mandoran lifted a hand. “Actually, I would—”
Annarion said, “I would not. Helen?”
“Yes,” Helen’s disembodied voice replied.
“I’m ready to resume our lessons. I apologize for my frustration.”
“Very well. Kaylin, dear, you will have to see to our guests.”
* * *
Kaylin and Teela returned to the dining room; Mandoran and Annarion remained below. Teela was not exactly green-eyed by the time they’d reached the kitchen.
“You don’t want me to go.”
“I don’t want either of you to go. I am not the only one,” she added. “Sedarias is distinctly cool to the idea. She’s been arguing against it. I can’t understand all of what’s being said—and yes, before you ask, I find that frustrating. Mandoran is neutral. He doesn’t think it’s wise, but wisdom is not something he prizes. He will not, however, remain behind.”
“And the others?”
“Varying degrees of neutrality. We hold each other’s names, but we have never used that knowledge to attempt to dominate. I’m not certain their names could be used that way now. What will you do with Moran?”
“If she’ll stay, I’ll keep her. I’m not you—I’ll whine at her if she tries to say no. But I can’t force her.”
“Good. She is not like me in most ways, but she is like me in a few notable ones. I would be quite annoyed if you whined at me, but at the same time, unoffended. You whine a lot.”
“Thanks, Teela.” She squared her shoulders as they reached the dining room. To Kaylin’s relief, Moran was still there. So was the food. It said something about her that the relief at seeing each was about equal.
Squawk.
Chapter 9
“Can you give me a few days to think it over?” Moran asked while Kaylin ate.
“I can try.” At Moran’s expression, Kaylin said, “What? No one else is ever going to use those specific rooms. They’re yours. I said I would try.”
“Which is like saying no.” Moran’s frown was a familiar sight. “There’s some chance that certain elements of Aerian society won’t appreciate your offer or my decision.”
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