Cast in Deception

by Sagara, Michelle

  “Helen is a building. She is your home.”

  “I’ll tell her she can say no.”

  “She knows the likely outcome of that—and it is an outcome that affects you directly. You want them under your roof because you trust Helen to minimize the danger, both to them, and from them. But Helen, I think, is less certain about that ability, precisely because of the choices she made in the distant past.

  “But they will not stay in Tiamaris, and it is a disaster to even think of placing them in Nightshade—and those are the only two Towers that might, just might, be able to do what Helen is afraid she cannot.” She exhaled steam.

  Something in her tone of voice caught Kaylin’s attention, and she stopped walking in order to catch Bellusdeo’s. It took the Dragon half a block to notice, but she did reverse course. “The Emperor does not yet know about the cohort and their imminent arrival. According to Annarion, I’ll have six weeks in which to smooth over future difficulties.

  “The politics of the High Court, when it comes to the internal hierarchy of Barrani lords, has been largely irrelevant to his concerns. An attempted assassination at the Halls of Law will not be.”

  Kaylin winced. “And you’re living with me.”

  “Yes. The Emperor is confident of Helen’s ability to protect me from the immediately lethal: arcane bombs, for one. I am uncertain that his confidence will remain intact with the addition of eight Barrani would-be Lords of the High Court. In the worst case, I expect that I will be ‘invited’ to return to the palace.” The orange of her eyes made clear just how welcome that would be.

  * * *

  It was not a surprise that the Hawks ended up at Evanton’s shop. It wasn’t intentional, but Evanton’s shop was part of their beat, and Grethan had appeared at the window to wave as the Hawks patrolled.

  “Is he in?” Kaylin asked Evanton’s apprentice. Her familiar immediately leapt off her shoulder onto Grethan’s, who—as always—seemed delighted to have him. Hope had always liked the Tha’alani apprentice.

  “I think—I’m not certain—he’s expecting you.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “He’s been absentminded, but not grouchy, if that helps. I think he’s in the garden. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  * * *

  They gathered around the kitchen table in the cramped, small space. Kaylin understood that the cookies Evanton offered were a type of bribe, and truly didn’t care. She also drank the tea he made. He wasn’t having enough of a bad day that he was willing to drink any himself, which was probably a good sign. Then again, with Evanton, it was hard to tell.

  “I have had the opportunity to speak with the elemental water this morning,” he now said.

  The cookies lost all taste. “And she told you to speak to us?”

  “I am not sure that ‘she’ is the appropriate pronoun, but I will endeavor not to criticize.”

  Try harder, Kaylin thought. “What did the water have to say?”

  “I would consider it mostly irrelevant to you in different circumstances.” He was not in a terrible mood, but was obviously feeling testy. Kaylin, however, understood this test, and she could pass it, if not with flying colors, at least with passable grades.

  One bushy brow rose as he considered her. “Very good. Teela’s confederates are—as I believe you must now know—leaving the green. The heart of the green is concerned.”

  Kaylin nodded, but had to bite back the obvious how do you know this that wanted to leap out of her mouth. He wouldn’t answer and it would annoy him, which meant there was no possible gain.

  “The water believes they will travel between Hallionne, making use of the portal paths to avoid unwanted attention. You are expecting visitors?”

  Kaylin hesitated; Bellusdeo—who treated Evanton with far more respect than most mortals did—stepped on her foot. “Yes. What does the water want from me?”

  “I do not believe the water intends to command you in any fashion,” was the slightly defensive reply.

  “Fine. What do you want?”

  “I’d like you to stay out of trouble, if that’s at all possible.”

  “Something I can actually do.”

  This pulled a smile from the older man. He looked worn, tired, and entirely more fragile than he had when she’d first met him. He didn’t look any older, though. “I would like to make certain that Teela’s friends are staying with you. Helen’s intervention to date has been both fortuitous and necessary, especially with regard to Annarion. That young man has an unfortunate temper.”

  Kaylin blinked. “Annarion?”

  “You cannot hear him.”

  “No. He’s generally the quiet, reasonable one.”

  “A terrifying thought.” Evanton exhaled. “His actions—over which he does have some control—are quiet and reasonable. But he is in pain, Kaylin, and when he leaves Helen—on the rare occasions he does—his anguish can be heard. It can practically be felt.”

  “And Mandoran?”

  “Mandoran does not have that effect.”

  “You think the others will?”

  “That is the question. The water does not hear as I hear. The heart of the green hears more. The Hallionne in which Teela’s friends have made their home since your intervention, hears all. There has been much discussion, and much concern shared. I believe that at least two of the visitors would have voices as loud, as detrimental, as Annarion’s were they to be left to their own devices. They do not need to break the law you have made it your life to uphold,” he added. “No conscious choice is required.

  “But they are not—as I am certain even you are aware—what they were. Some of them recognize and accept this fact; some do not. It is those who do not who are the biggest danger. And no, don’t make that face. Annarion is a threat, with no intent, no desire to be one.” His eyes narrowed. “Do not let them interfere with Helen,” he said, which was not what she’d expected.

  “They can’t.”

  He said, after a long pause, “You rescued them, in a fashion. You believe that the Hallionne Alsanis sheltered them because that was the purpose for which the Hallionne were constructed. You believe that they were forced to change their nature to better slide between the bars of a very forgiving cage. You have correctly divined that the Hallionne, being sentient, have some access to living emotion; you have even correctly understood that the Hallionne are subject to isolation and loneliness.

  “But you have failed to understand the subtleties.”

  “And you’re going to explain my failure.”

  “Yes, now that you’ve asked.”

  It wasn’t a question; Kaylin shrugged.

  “Annarion’s friends didn’t just reform or reshape themselves. They created subtle changes in the Hallionne as well. Before you ask, no, I do not know the specifics. I am not Hallionne. I have access to the Hallionne in a fashion, because I am Keeper, but the language of the Hallionne is notoriously difficult to learn, let alone master. Were I Barrani, or High Barrani, I do not think it would be this difficult; I am not. Nor is Grethan.

  “The Hallionne Alsanis was altered by the children who were themselves altered by the green. This will likely make their passage through the portal paths safer for them. It will make any presence in Hallionne other than their own more difficult. I do not think the changes they made were made immediately. I am less certain that they were made unintentionally. I am not,” he added, at some twitch of Kaylin’s expression, “blaming them; it serves no point. They were captives, they were children, and they desired freedom.

  “It is possible, however, that their sense of what ‘home’ is or means is radically different from your own. They were captives for far, far longer than they were Barrani children. Helen can create living quarters for Annarion. She is therefore confident that she can create those same quarters for the rest of Teela’s friends. She was, i
f I understand her history correctly, equivalent to the Towers that guard the borders of the fiefs, but the commands at her core were not the same.

  “Discuss this with Teela. She will better understand the dangers.” He looked at the cooling tea. “What did happen this morning?”

  Kaylin explained. She left out names, with the exception of Teela’s. Severn’s expression made clear that he didn’t think this was an appropriate discussion to have outside of the Halls, but he didn’t actively try to shut her down.

  Evanton looked vastly less pleased when she’d finished. “I am almost sorry I asked,” he said, pushing himself up from his chair. “But politics are entirely political. Meaning they are not my problem.”

  “Neither is my home,” Kaylin pointed out.

  “If things go awry in your home, it could well become my problem, and I would like to avoid that. I am old, Kaylin. In the past decade I have seen more threats and upheavals than in the previous century, with one or two notable exceptions, neither of which can be blamed on you.”

  “None of them can be blamed on me!”

  “Grethan!”

  Evanton’s apprentice appeared before the last loud syllable had died out. The familiar on his shoulder sighed and squawked before leaping off to land at his home base, Kaylin’s shoulder.

  Evanton headed out the door into the rickety hall that led to the Keeper’s Garden. He turned in the door frame. “Understand,” he said softly, “that the world and the Keeper will almost certainly continue to exist if there are no people in it. My job is not actually to choose sides. The elements are adversely affected by Shadow, but not in the same fashion as we are. My job, such as it is, is to stop the elements from destroying the world in their attempts to destroy each other. There are no Shadows in my garden. Do you understand?”

  Kaylin nodded.

  “I am the Keeper. My power, where it exists, exists because of that. I am, however, partial to people in general. The location of the garden does not change, and I would rather have the occasionally irritating company—”

  “Most people call them customers, in this part of town.”

  “—than not. I understand what exists beneath the High Halls. Where I can, I will aid you, as I have always done. But the political—and yes, when we speak of politics with the Barrani it inevitably defaults to assassination or war—is not my arena.”

  “It’s not mine, either.”

  “Not yet. It will be. I’m sorry.”

  “If I’m forced to enter that arena, will I have to be diplomatic?”

  “Only if your commanding officers drop dead and someone who has never had to work anywhere near you is then put in charge.”

  * * *

  The first thing Kaylin did when they returned to the office from their shortened Elani patrol was stop by the duty roster to see if the Barrani were once again being assigned their regular patrols. The second was to visit the infirmary. Teela was no longer there.

  Moran, however, was, and the long day hadn’t improved her temper any. The sergeant was glaring at a small mirror. If looks could kill, that mirror wouldn’t be in pieces—it would be melted glass with little rivulets of silver in it.

  “Go home.”

  “Moran—”

  “I mean it.”

  “Has anyone else come to visit your Barrani patient?”

  “No one has been permitted to visit, with the exception of Teela.” Moran turned away from the mirror to face Kaylin directly. “Given how successful I was at getting you to ignore the politics of my entirely personal situation, I am not going to waste breath telling you to ignore hers. But kitling? I wouldn’t have broken your arms or legs.”

  “Teela won’t—”

  “No, she probably won’t. Being a Hawk has been a lark for the Barrani—or at least that’s the impression they’ve always given. It’s the reason that most of the nonpatrolling Hawks find it hard to work with them.”

  Kaylin nodded again.

  “It is not a lark at the moment. Teela may take a leave of absence when things get truly tense.”

  Kaylin did not ask how assassination attempts in the Halls failed to qualify as truly tense. “At the Hawklord’s request?”

  “No. The Barrani wear the tabard. He would not ask them to leave the office; it would send the wrong signals.”

  Kaylin blinked.

  “Having Barrani Hawks on the force give the Barrani an accessible public face. People are often terrified of the Barrani.”

  “People are sometimes terrified of the Hawks. But most of those are criminals.”

  “Most yes, but not all. Having Barrani on the street and wearing the Hawk makes them a little less frightening.” She was silent for a beat. “But surely you already know this.”

  Did she?

  She’d been a Hawk for seven years, unofficially. The Hawk had never terrified her the way Barrani in Nightshade had. It had never terrified her the way the howls of hunting Ferals did. It had never terrified her the way the cold did, the way hunger did. But the warrens were as close to the fiefs as anyplace inside the city could be—and if she’d been born there, and the warrens were her home?

  Would she love the Hawk then? Would she be unafraid of it?

  Fear of the Barrani made sense to Kaylin. Outside of the Law, they could kill most mortals on a whim. Barrani against Leontine was not as sure a thing.

  “I don’t know,” she finally said. “There wasn’t a lot of difference for us between Shadows and Barrani when I was a kid. And if I’m being honest, most mortals of my acquaintance I tried real hard to avoid as well. You don’t understand what it’s like. If I met me from back then—”

  “Yes?”

  “I wouldn’t have given me a chance if I didn’t want my throat slit.”

  Bellusdeo exhaled and moved to stand beside Kaylin. Moran’s glare did not—had never, apparently—included the gold Dragon. “It’s so hard to have productive discussions with you,” she said, but fondly. “Most men—most Barrani, most Dragons—when forced into the space you are standing in now might deflect. They might, if pressed in an unavoidable way, justify. They might give excuses—ah, pardon, I believe they would call them explanations.”

  Kaylin shrugged. “Look, I’m not proud of what I once did.”

  “No.”

  “But I understand why I did it. If I were there now, if I lost everything now, I’d make different choices. But I didn’t even see the possibilities, then. I saw death. When all you see is death, or probable death, you don’t trust much.”

  “And the tabard?”

  “I doubt I’d’ve trusted it, either.”

  “Even before you lived in Barren?”

  “Even then. I believed that paradise existed across the Ablayne. But none of that paradise came into the fiefs, and the Hawks? They didn’t, either. Can we drop this?”

  “Yes. But I expect you to accept Teela’s leave of absence.” She hesitated.

  Kaylin stared at her.

  “Or her resignation, if it comes to that.”

  6

  “Kaylin,” Helen repeated, in her most patient tone, “I cannot answer that question.”

  “You can.”

  “I cannot ethically answer that question.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Teela is a guest. Teela is not present. If she wishes to share that information with you, she will.”

  “She won’t!”

  “Then perhaps there is a reason for that.”

  “Yes—she thinks I can’t do anything. She still thinks I’m helpless—”

  “She does not think of you as helpless. She has told you so. It is hard for her to make that adjustment, but given your age when she first met you, you must be able to understand that.”

  “She treats me as if—”

  “You are morta
l. You are not Barrani. You are not a Dragon. You do not, objectively, have her power. Even were she not trained to the arcane, even were she entirely without magic or magical weapons, you would stand very little chance against her. Her enemies, at the moment, are not mortal.” Helen frowned. “Or perhaps some of them are; I find the politics of your cities confusing at times.”

  “Welcome to my life.” Kaylin looked down at her hands. They were fists. “Bellusdeo thinks Teela might resign.” Kaylin spoke the last word as if it were suicide. Or worse, somehow.

  “And Bellusdeo is speaking as a former ruler and an observer of Barrani, admittedly in a more martial context. She is not speaking with any certainty.”

  “No, she can’t. But you could.”

  “No, Kaylin, I can’t. Were I an entirely different building,” she added, “you could force that information from me, and I would have no choice but to give it to you.”

  “...That’s unfair.”

  “Yes, dear. But it is also fact. Teela is your friend.”

  “And you’re my home!”

  “Yes. But I do not think friendship is best served by using that home as a spy.”

  Kaylin flushed.

  “You are tired and hungry. I think this is possibly one of the only times I’ve seen you refuse food.” It was true. Kaylin could eat anything, at any time, because some of her instincts were still those of a starving, underfed street kid. You didn’t turn your nose up at food when there was never any guarantee of another meal. “In the morning, or perhaps even after you’ve eaten, I think you will see things more clearly.”

  She is correct.

  Kaylin bit back the urge to tell Lord Nightshade to do something anatomically impossible. And then glared at the Avatar of her house. Helen had fairly granular control of incoming communication; if Nightshade was speaking to her, it was because Helen let him. Yes, he was speaking to her because she knew his True Name—but Helen had proven that she could limit or curtail the connection.