Cast in Sorrow

by Michelle Sagara

“She is now. She’s not in a great mood.”

  “Your ankle?”

  “Oh, not that bad a mood. I injured it trying to get her to wake up.” When his brows rose, she added, “Long story, and probably boring to anyone who wasn’t in it.”

  “As long and repetitive as your rants about Margot and Elani street?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Heading to your rooms? I know where they are.”

  The small dragon hissed in that broken way that implied laughter. “Do you know where Teela’s staying?”

  Severn nodded.

  “Can you take me there?”

  “Kaylin—”

  “I’m worried about her,” Kaylin said, lowering her voice instinctively. “I didn’t realize what the West March meant to her. She offered to come and I said yes.”

  “I insisted I accompany you,” a familiar voice said, in the same Elantran Kaylin and Severn were using.

  Chapter 11

  “Don’t make that face. You asked Corporal Handred if he knew where I was staying. You didn’t ask him if I was there.”

  “It’s the middle of the night, Teela. It’s dark.”

  “And Barrani require how much sleep? You, on the other hand, look terrible.”

  “And I know you mean that in the nicest possible way.”

  “Kitling, what happened to your ankle?”

  “I landed badly.”

  “From what height?”

  “Six feet.”

  “And you did that?”

  “My hands were full at the time, Teela. I couldn’t drop what I was carrying.”

  “From six feet? You could cut off my hands and I’d stick that landing.” Teela’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me the light in this rustic hall is so appalling the hole in that dress is actually a wrinkle.”

  “Can I compromise and say I didn’t put it there?”

  “That’s not much of a compromise.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Truth is not an excuse.”

  Kaylin wanted to shriek. Her stomach made noise instead. Teela’s eyes slid from blue to their resting blue-green state. “Your rooms.”

  Kaylin nodded.

  “The servants will no doubt be waiting; it is quite late. They will provide food if food is requested.”

  Kaylin nodded again; it was generally the safe bet when Teela took charge. She glanced at Severn. A look passed between the two Hawks, but Severn didn’t disappear. He didn’t take the lead, though; Teela had it and didn’t look like surrendering it could ever occur to her.

  Only when she reached a familiar door—with a ward that made her cringe—did Teela stop.

  “I swear,” Kaylin said between slightly clenched teeth, “if the door ward sounds the alarm again, I’m going to find an axe.”

  “That might be more difficult than you imagine. I’d open the door for you, but I believe it’s keyed to you.”

  At least she didn’t have to hit it with her forehead. She lifted her left hand and gritted her teeth as she placed her palm against the ward. This time, however, there was no blaring alarms, and no accompanying armored guards. The door swung open, into the hall, and Kaylin entered rooms that were hers while she wore this dress.

  They didn’t feel like hers. Nothing Barrani really did.

  To draw a line under this point, the servants were waiting. Kaylin remembered Teela’s pointed words. These servants had their sense of worth and duty tied up in doing their job well. If Kaylin was obviously uncomfortable—and damn it, she was—she was telling them they were doing it badly.

  Inhaling, she drew herself to her full height—which was not impressive in comparison—and said, “I was called from Lord Barian’s residence to tend to the Consort by the dreams of Alsanis, and I’ve only just emerged. I twisted my ankle in a fall, I’ve spent what feels like hours in the nightmares of a Hallionne and I’m—” Her stomach growled. She flushed. “Hungry.” The last word was Elantran.

  They waited, and she added, “Please bring refreshments for my guests and me.” She wasn’t used to sitting rooms that were basically small dining halls, and she had no problem eating while draped across her bed, because if Teela and Tain dropped into her apartment, someone had to sit there.

  But she tried. She led the way to the not-so-small sitting room, and chose the largest chair she could find. The servants departed, and Kaylin glared at Teela. “If you think I’m going to usher you to a damn chair, bite me.”

  Severn, however, sat in the chair closest to Kaylin’s. He rested his head against the back of the chair, and as it was low, he was pretty much facing the ceiling. With closed eyes. “You need to talk to Teela,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  Kaylin didn’t answer immediately.

  “The Barrani are naturally suspicious. I imagine they don’t start that way—but most of the ones who didn’t develop suspicion quickly are dead,” he continued, eyes still closed. “What Teela faces in the West March isn’t the usual, natural suspicion.”

  Teela sat—on the table, which was situated in front of Kaylin and Severn. It was a low, flat table with edges that curved toward the light in the ceiling. She even crossed her legs.

  “I don’t think the servants are going to be all that impressed with that,” Kaylin pointed out.

  “They’re not my servants,” Teela replied, with a feline smile. “Continue, Corporal.”

  Severn hadn’t even opened his eyes. “You’re family, to Kaylin. In a very real way, kyuthe. She trusts you.”

  “I’ve always told her that was a bad idea.”

  “Yes. But bad or no, she’s grown up under your wing. She trusts you, and I’m willing to do the same. But, Teela—I think the threat they feel is real. The fear behind the suspicion is too solid. You can’t normally get the Barrani to agree on anything; the agreement—in the West March—is almost oppressive.”

  Kaylin turned to glare at the side of Severn’s face. The bruised side, damn it. He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and met Teela’s gaze. “Warn me, if it comes to that. No matter what’s required, Kaylin will never lift a hand against you—not in any serious way.”

  “And you will?” Teela was amused.

  Severn wasn’t.

  Severn’s expression won; the amusement drained from Teela’s expression. “If it comes to that, Corporal, I will count on you. What warning I can give, I’ll give. But in return?”

  Severn inclined his head, his gaze unwavering.

  “Be as competent as you are rumored to be.”

  It took Kaylin a moment to understand what Teela was asking. During that moment, Severn deserted his chair. “I will.” He turned to Kaylin, offered a lopsided grin that never reached his eyes, and headed out the door. She rose, as well, and her ankle almost collapsed.

  Teela laughed.

  “You could find all this less amusing, you know.”

  “Yes. I could. But it wouldn’t change anything, and I prefer to be amused.”

  To Kaylin’s surprise, the small dragon leaped off her shoulders and headed—at high speed—out the door. After Severn.

  Teela raised a black brow. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

  “I didn’t tell him to leave.”

  “You didn’t tell him to stay.”

  “He’s a cat, Teela. He goes where he wants.” She sank back into her chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “If I had to catalog all of the events in my life, kitling, you would be dead of old age before I’d finished.”

  Kaylin inhaled. “You hear Alsanis.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You can hear Alsanis.”

  “You’re guessing.”

  “I’m asking.”

  “You’re wrong.” Teela rose. “Move over.”

  “There are sixteen chairs in this room, Teela.”

  “There are seven. Move over.”

  Kaylin shuttled to one side, and Teela flopped down beside her. Kaylin closed her eyes and leaned against Teela; she felt, for
a moment, that she was in her own apartment, and Teela was lounging on her bed and stealing her pillow. “What did you see?”

  “Not what the Consort saw.”

  “You know this how?”

  “She asked me what I saw, and I told her.”

  “Not wise.”

  “There’s a bunch of not wise in my life today. Being here. Waking the Consort. Talking to you. Severn’s worried.”

  “Yes. I don’t, before you whine, find his worry as irritating as yours because he’s not worried about me.”

  “He is—”

  “His worry is less insulting; he thinks I’ll become far more dangerous than I currently am. You worry that something will break me. What happened to the dress?”

  “I’m not sure. No, I know what happened—but I don’t understand why. I was here the entire time.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ice shattered. Splinters flew. One of them hit me.”

  “There?”

  Kaylin nodded. “It doesn’t seem to have pierced skin—there’s no blood on the dress.”

  Teela shook her and Kaylin opened her eyes. “Do not bleed on that dress. I mean it.”

  “I’m unlikely to make myself bleed, Teela. Tell everyone else that.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Has anyone else bled on this dress?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Something Barian said.”

  “Lord Barian.”

  “Yes, him. He said there were reasons for all of the laws in the West March.”

  “There are. There are reasons why it is forbidden to fight—or kill—in the heart of the green.”

  “It happened before. Before you—”

  “Yes. You are not, of course, the first harmoniste; merely the first mortal one. One such man was a Lord of the East. It was before my birth,” she added. “But not before my mother’s. He was reputed to be cold and proud; a Lord of the High Court. He was not of the West March, and even in the wars, he remained in the East.”

  “The East is where the High Halls are?”

  “Close, yes. After the wars, he came West. He was a political man, and as such, considered the customs of the West March rustic and unnecessary. He was not chosen as either Teller or harmoniste—and at that recitation, there were both. He did not set out from the High Halls, but he joined the pilgrimage when it became clear that this recitation was to be significant.

  “The Teller was a man of power and significance in his own right; he traveled with an armed contingent. To challenge him would be costly. The harmoniste, however, was a man newly come to the High Court, and newly come from the test of name. He had very little standing in the Court itself. The Lord therefore chose to challenge the harmoniste.” At Kaylin’s expression, Teela added, “A genuine challenge, yes. The man could not refuse.”

  “But—”

  “The Lord of the West March did not travel with the pilgrims; nor did the Lord of the High Court. The Lord from the East was therefore one of two who might issue commands to the Hallionne, and the harmoniste was, as I mentioned, considered insignificant. He could not refuse.”

  Something about the way she said this felt subtly wrong, but Kaylin couldn’t put her finger on what.

  “He therefore did not refuse. He was not from an insignificant line,” she added softly, “so he could not be disposed of in a more convenient way—but the Lord in question felt a lost challenge would serve his purpose.” She was smiling again.

  “You didn’t know this man.”

  “No. As I said, it was just before my time. But I understood the condescension with which the West March was—and often is—viewed. During the fight itself, the harmoniste was injured. This was not unexpected.

  “His robes, however, were cut, and the blood from the wound seeped into the fabric.”

  Kaylin looked down at her lap with a growing sense of discomfort. “What happened?”

  “Fully half of the party that had set out from the High Halls perished.”

  “But—but from what?”

  “The green,” Teela replied softly. “I told you—the Lord in question had set out from the East only when word of the significance of the recitation had reached his ears. There are always ambitious Lords; our party was larger when it arrived in Bertolle than it had been when it set out.”

  It wasn’t, now; they had lost many in the attempt to reach Orbaranne through the portal paths.

  “He arrived at the edge of the green; he did not make his challenge until he was within the lands ruled by the Lord of the West March. He was not in the heart of the green, but he was upon it.

  “The green chooses. The green chose you.”

  “Teela,” Kaylin said, with some frustration, “just what exactly is the green?”

  The door opened. Teela stretched her legs, stretched her arms, and grinned as the servants entered the room. They carried slender silver trays, which they set upon the table to one side of Teela’s feet. Even Kaylin was appalled.

  The servants, however, said nothing. They didn’t look surprised, shocked, or disgusted. They offered Kaylin sweet water and wine; Teela took the wine. Kaylin waited until the servants had left the room before she turned on Teela.

  “I would pay everything I could earn in a year,” she said, “if you had to take etiquette lessons with Diarmat!”

  Teela laughed. “Kitling, if you could only see your expression. Don’t eat that,” she added, as Kaylin picked up what she assumed was some kind of strange fruit. “I know you’re not picky, but you won’t like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You will find it very spicy. It’s sweet,” she added, with a mild frown, “and you have a weakness for sweet food—but there’s a subtle spice that clings to the tongue, and you’ve never been fond of spicy food.”

  Kaylin set it aside. There was enough food here she could afford to be picky. “What is the green?” She needed to know.

  “I have never fully understood it myself. It is not the Hallionne, either separately or in concert, although it works through them; I believe it is part of them, and they are part of the green. They are whole in and of themselves.” She hesitated, as if searching for words—which was unusual for Teela. “You’re Elantran.”

  Kaylin nodded.

  “You live in the city. But you are not the city.”

  Kaylin nodded again.

  “The Emperor also lives in the city; he claims it, rules it, and hands down its laws. But if he perished, the city would not perish with him.”

  Given what it would take to actually kill the Emperor, Kaylin wasn’t as sure this was true. “The green is—is like a city?”

  “Like a sentient city,” Teela replied. “It is a place. It has geography. It has laws and rules and customs. We,” she added, refilling her glass, “are merely the least of its citizens. We do not make the laws; we merely live—as most of the people in Elantra do—by them. If there is an Emperor, or his equivalent, we—again, like most of Elantra’s citizens—will never meet him.

  “But cross him, break his laws, and his anger is felt. The green is like the Hallionne, and unlike. I don’t believe it hears our thoughts when we are in its domain; nor does it interfere in our lives in immediate, visceral ways. But it can. On that day, it did. Not all of the men who died intended to strip the chosen harmoniste of his role; the anger of the green is not so directed. No one will try to kill you while you wear that dress.

  “But, kitling, do not bleed on it.”

  “I didn’t exactly stab myself,” Kaylin replied.

  Teela fell silent, and not in a good way. She rose, and began to pace. The Barrani Hawk could pace for hours. She could wear ruts in stone. She had, when she chose, a light, graceful step that belied her size. Clearly that wasn’t her choice today. “I swear, I will strangle Nightshade myself.”

  “After he’s finished the telling.”

  Teela laughed. “Of course. I know the anger of the green quite well.”

  “What aren’t you
telling me?”

  “Nothing. Nothing you need to know, kitling.”

  Kaylin looked down at her hands. “Tell me about the others.”

  “The others?”

  “You’re stalling.”

  Teela chuckled. “You are not my keeper. I am not stalling; I am considering what you usually do with information you shouldn’t have.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You run full tilt into the heart of things. You let your fears propel you. You have the caution of a mortal child—what is the word again?”

  “Toddler,” Kaylin answered reflexively, and found annoyance after the two syllables had left her mouth.

  “Toddler. Why do you think I hear Alsanis? Don’t frown like that—your face will get stuck that way. Immortal faces don’t.”

  “I saw them, there.”

  Teela didn’t ask who. “Where?”

  “I think I was walking through either the dreams or the nightmares of Alsanis. I was trying to find the Consort at the time.”

  “With full hands.”

  Kaylin grimaced. “Yes. The full hands aren’t important here.” She fell silent. “Maybe they are. I was carrying words. I mean—runes. Like the marks on my skin.”

  “Like?”

  “Two of the marks on my skin. I needed to take them with me. I needed to take them to the Consort—don’t ask me why. I just did. But—I didn’t find the Consort immediately; I had to fly through—”

  “Fly?”

  “Well, the small dragon had to fly, but in the dreaming, his wings were larger. Anyway, there was a city there, eventually. On the walls of a gigantic pit. We landed in a tall building—that’s when I twisted my ankle. The Consort was there, but to get to her we had to walk down the side of a ridiculously long courtyard. I was still carrying the words.

  “And I found statues along that wall. They were—they looked like they were—made of glass. They were Barrani, Teela. There were eleven in all: two women, nine men. It’s funny,” she added. “I had the hardest time telling Barrani apart when I first joined the Hawks. They all looked the same to me. I mean, women looked different from men, but—you were almost the same height, with the same eyes, the same hair, the same general facial characteristics.

  “But...the statues, absent of color, didn’t. If I saw them again, I would know them.”