“Yes, Kaylin. You have seen them. You have heard them. Everyone here now, everyone who can hear, has. I hear them,” she added softly. “And the Lake weeps at the sound.”
Kaylin bowed her head for a moment, a gesture of instinctive respect for the lost. But when she lifted it, she said, “Neutral doesn’t mean unobservant.”
The Consort’s smile deepened. “No. It is unusual for someone to come to me seeking political advice, however.” Unusual as a description didn’t cut it, according to Ynpharion who was just one side of enraged. The wrong side, as it happened.
“There’s no one else. Teela won’t talk to me at all.”
“Perhaps there are reasons for that. And perhaps that is why she accompanied you today.”
“I doubt it.”
“Then explain why you want information about Candallar.” The Consort was watching Teela, although in theory the question had been aimed at Kaylin.
Kaylin sucked in air. It’s Hawk business as a reply wasn’t going to get her anything, and she knew it. “Fine. You know that Mandoran and Annarion are living with me, right?”
“I’d suggest you continue to speak in High Barrani,” Teela said quietly.
“I am aware, yes. I believe most of the Court is aware of their current placement.” The words and tone were neutral.
“I like them both,” Kaylin continued, trying—and failing—to keep defensiveness out of her voice. “Mandoran, I’m told, is what you’d consider childish. Annarion isn’t.”
The Consort nodded, her expression hooded.
Kaylin teetered for one long minute, trying to choose the words for her next sentence, and finding that there were far too many of them demanding her attention. Or demanding the Consort’s. She wanted to know about Candallar. It had been the reason she had requested the meeting—a meeting that had been granted with almost alarming speed.
But last night had upended priorities, as emergencies often did. And if Annarion and Mandoran weren’t like Teela anymore, Teela was still one of them. She was just better at hiding panic because she’d had centuries of practice.
“You’re aware that the rest of their friends have decided to come to Elantra.” It wasn’t a question.
The Consort nodded.
“They left the West March. They were traveling the portal paths—don’t ask me why, I think it’s suicidal. But something happened to them on the way there, and now we have no contact with them.”
The Consort’s eyes had not shifted back to green, and given the way the rest of her expression changed, they weren’t going to today, either.
“We think they were attacked.”
“Were they attacked by the Hallionne?”
“We don’t have that information.”
“The Hallionne are not political.”
“They were created for war.”
“Not entirely. Hallionne Alsanis protected Teela’s friends. In as much as they were allowed to be, they were his only company. But in order to escape the cage he made for them, they altered themselves—or so Alsanis believes.”
“You’ve spoken with Alsanis.”
“Does it surprise you?”
Did it? Kaylin examined the question. “You spoke with him after we returned from the green.”
She nodded. “I will not ask you how Annarion and Mandoran fare. They have not come to the High Halls, and they have not been formally introduced to me. Even were they to desire such an introduction, it is likely it would be denied. I could actively campaign to meet with them, but the High Halls are not the Hallionne. If Annarion and Mandoran are a danger—if they are an unintentional danger—I cannot in good conscience take that risk.” She waited.
And Kaylin heard herself say, “You could come meet them at my place.”
“That is very thoughtful of you,” the Consort said, affecting a surprise Kaylin was suddenly certain she did not feel.
Ynpharion was both elated and furious. Elated because Kaylin had managed against all odds to do exactly as the Consort wished her to do, but could not—for political reasons—demand or even ask, and furious because Kaylin had failed to understand the very obvious request until the last minute.
“I know you’re pretty busy,” Kaylin began.
An’Teela is correct. Speak in High Barrani.
“So you might not be able to make it anytime soon,” she continued, irritated enough to ignore what was just possibly good advice. “But you’d be welcome to just show up at any time.”
The Consort laughed. Her laughter was almost the essence of delight, and her eyes practically glowed green. She did hug Kaylin, then, and Kaylin didn’t even hesitate to return that hug.
“Ynpharion is much more typical of my kin than either Lord Nightshade or my brother.”
“I don’t suppose you know how to rid someone of the knowledge of a True Name?”
“Outside of perhaps death, no. And even if I did, I would not share.” In a more serious tone, she added, “He is my one conduit to you, and he understands why you are important. He is not, perhaps, overjoyed—but joy is not a characteristic of my people; it is considered too youthful, and therefore, too easily destroyed.” She stepped back. “We are not so informal as An’Teela might be, for she is kyuthe to you, and I am not.
“But if you would be willing to entertain in perhaps three days, I will visit.”
Kaylin said yes, without thinking.
* * *
The thought part came later, in a carriage that was almost chilly with Teela’s silence.
Since Teela and Kaylin did not share knowledge of a True Name, Kaylin wasn’t privy to Teela’s thoughts—not that it was actually necessary.
“You did not get the information you sought,” Teela said pointedly. “You allowed yourself to be sidetracked.”
“I allowed myself to be sidetracked,” Kaylin countered, “because it’s probably impossible for her to say much that isn’t heard or reported on. I can guarantee that that won’t happen if she’s with Helen.”
“That is almost a good excuse.”
“Almost? No, wait, I’ve got this. Almost doesn’t cut it.”
Teela exhaled. She glared at the familiar, who squawked and shrugged. “I realize you are not responsible for her, but honestly, could you not do something?”
Squawk.
“Look—being shouted at is probably better than being third-personed. And I did what she wanted.”
“I have no doubt of that; she was not particularly subtle. In fact, she was possibly the exact opposite of subtle. But she is a power, Kaylin, and she is Consort to the High Lord. The concerns raised at Court about my cohort are valid; they are real concerns.”
“Someone’s trying to use those concerns in an entirely invalid way.”
“And?” Teela wore her most water-is-wet expression. “Everything is a tool.”
“I’d like the Hawks to go back to a semblance of normal.”
“Ah. That.”
“I’m sure Candallar was meeting with Barrani Hawks.”
“Yes.” The water-is-wet look receded. “I would like you to stay out of my business.”
“No dice. You’re living in my home.”
“And so are Mandoran and Annarion.” Teela tilted her head back against the seat, exposing the line of her perfect throat. She even closed her eyes. “Candallar has not been outcaste for as long as Nightshade. I am uncertain whether or not he is working in concert with members of the High Court in the faint hope of being somehow reinstated; I assume that is the case—but I do not know. Nightshade has never made that attempt. And given the circumstances, I think it far more likely that Nightshade would be granted his title; he would, of course, have to fight for his lands and his ancestral home.”
“They’re not really his anymore.”
“Oh?”
“Well
, they’ve kind of been home to other people for a lot of centuries. People have probably been born there.”
“And died there. I believe the death count outnumbers the birth count, but it is often the case that births are secluded, private, and frequently hidden affairs. There is too much risk, when the families play for power. It matters little. Were he somehow to receive the High Lord’s approval, were he to become the returning son, those lands would in theory return to him.”
“And the people against this are powerful enough that it’s not a possibility?”
“Anything is possible where there is will and drive, but the cost might be prohibitive. Annarion understands this,” she added softly. “I think, in the end, it is not a price you would be willing to pay. From your perspective, his claim predates the Empire. In your world, were you the long lost scion of Kings, and the throne still extant, you would have to slaughter untold thousands to return to it—you would not be able to take it back without an army to clear the way.
“And you would not have the stomach for that.”
“Would you?”
“Yes. Were it of import to me, yes.” She opened one eye and added, “If you don’t like the answer, don’t ask the question when the answer is obvious. While I have nothing particular against lying, I see no reason to do so merely as a sop to your sentiments.” She closed the eye and continued. “Do you think Annarion is not aware of the cost of his return? He is the line—or was; his claim is almost impeccable.”
“Almost?”
“He was lost to the ceremony in the green. Kitling, I know you like them both. I am fond of them myself. But when he loses his temper—or when he’s distracted—he loses his form. He loses cohesion. Helen has done work with him; she has worked with both of what she calls ‘the boys.’ Annarion is easily upset, easily offended; we all were, when we were his age. Except Sedarias. Sedarias, however, is perfectly capable of nursing a grudge while waiting for an adequate moment to act on it.”
“So...she’s like you.”
Teela did smile then; it was feline. “She is somewhat like me, yes. Or rather, it was of Sedarias that I thought in my long isolation.” The smile dimmed. “I want them back,” she said, voice low, eyes closed. “I want them by my side. But I understand the danger, Kaylin. The Consort doesn’t—but she will. She will fully understand it when she visits. You confuse trust and affection; you believe that people you both like and trust will, by the nature of your attachment, share your views.
“It is a mistake. The cohort will not harm her, or so I believe; only Terrano was willing to do so. I trust the Consort, I hold her in high regard, but I also believe it likely that she will agree with those who now work to prevent their entry into the High Court. She will not do so for the same reasons—no one who has power or claim has any desire to shed it, after all—but the reasons won’t change the facts.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Kaylin replied.
“Of course you aren’t.”
“No, I mean it. You can’t hear what she hears, day in and day out. I could hardly bear it for the hour that I could. She hears the wails and the cries of the damned—it’s a literal version of hell. I think she has hope, somewhere, that if the cohort are so very changed, they might be able to do what no one has dared to do.”
“Don’t say it.”
“Fine.” But she could think it, and did. They might be able to free the damned. “She might be willing to take the risk.”
“And if they fail? Do you understand what happens if they fail?”
“They’re trapped.”
Teela’s laugh was bitter and joyless, a stark contrast to the Consort’s. “No. If it were that alone, it would signify little, except to friends and possibly family. Imagine that they are one with the Shadow. Imagine that they are twined with it. They don’t have to stay solid. They don’t have to remain in the bowels of the cavern that jails that Shadow. They can leave, as they left before. They can do irreparable damage to the High Halls, and to Elantra. It would be worse, in many ways, than the attack of the ancestors upon the Halls, and that was very costly for the Hawks.”
Teela knew how to shut her up. Kaylin never wanted a police action that had such a high body account again. Ever.
“Were you Consort, would you take that risk?”
Kaylin considered it. She didn’t like any of the answers she could come up with.
“The Consort’s anger with you over your last disagreement—which was very, very short-lived for one of my kin—was due to the fact that you were willing to take a risk that she could not, and would never have, countenanced. She could not prevent you. She could prevent this.”
“But it worked out.”
“Yes, and I am certain that that is the only reason her anger has abated. I believe that this is a greater risk to my people. In the case of the Devourer, the risk was universal, shared, absolute.”
“You think I shouldn’t have invited her?”
“I think you would have, regardless. I would just like evidence that you had thought about all of the consequences before you opened your mouth.”
“Oh.”
* * *
By the time the carriage had reached the Halls of Law, Kaylin had had more than enough time to think; thinking had devolved into fretting, which had sunk further into self-recrimination. Severn was so silent, he might not have been there at all. But he’d been that way in the Court as well. The Consort seldom addressed him directly, as if he were a simple bodyguard or even servant, neither of which Kaylin had the money or the status to acquire.
Teela dropped them off at the front gates. The Barrani Hawks were still not on the active roster, and she was not therefore expected to be in at a given time. Her clothing was meant for the High Halls, and while she could perform her duties dressed like a queen, the rest of the Hawks would find it uncomfortable. Either that, or they’d be gawking.
“I didn’t think,” Kaylin said, almost before her foot hit actual street. She glanced up at the Halls of Law, and at the door guards.
“You’re worried about Bellusdeo,” Severn observed.
“I’m not worried about her. The Consort would never try to harm her. I’m worried about what’s going to be said to me if I don’t somehow clear the visit first.”
“But you’re not going to clear it.”
She shook her head. “My home isn’t a political place, all visitors aside. If I have to ask permission to have guests in my own home, it won’t feel like it’s mine at all. Plus, it’ll just piss Bellusdeo off. Especially if they say no.”
“And by they you mean the Dragon Court.”
“Diarmat’s going to flip a table. Or worse.”
“And the Emperor?”
That was the crux of it. “He won’t say no. He just won’t say it really, really loudly. If Bellusdeo’s around when he’s doing it, she’ll say something.”
Severn’s grimace made clear that he understood what “something” entailed.
“They’ve just started almost speaking like civil adults. I’d just as soon not break that immediately.”
Severn lead the way through Clint and Tanner before he continued. “And Annarion?”
“What if Teela’s right?”
“Look at it this way. If Teela’s right—and I consider the chance high—it’s information that would come out regardless. This way, they’ll have warning.”
This didn’t make Kaylin feel any more cheerful. “If the High Court can pretend the cohort doesn’t exist, the cohort are safe. But what if the High Court decides that they’re all to be made outcaste? Before the cohort made the decision to join Annarion, we could all pretend that they were normal Barrani.
“Now? Not so much. And if the not so much holds true, the High Court has to make a decision.”
“And this is part of Teela’s business.”
“Yeah. The part she asked us to stay out of.”
“Not us.”
Kaylin glared at her partner. “But...Candallar’s probably involved in it as well. And there’s the not insignificant fact that Teela is a Lord of the High Court and someone tried to kill her.”
“She considers that both normal and acceptable.”
“I’m not so sure.” Kaylin could clearly recall Teela’s expression in the infirmary. “Oh, about the assassination attempt? Sure. But not the method. She’s angry. If the High Lord attempted to kill her—without making her outcaste—she’d consider it normal and acceptable. She’s a power. He’s a power.
“But the Hawks? They’re not. For one reason or another, they didn’t take the Test of Name. They followed her when she came to join the Hawks, as far as I can tell. They’re not powers. It’s like they decided not to join the game when they decided not to face the Test. And they’re being dragged into it as well.”
“And you think Candallar has something to do with it.”
“You don’t?”
He shrugged. “What you are to Teela, I’m not. When she tells me to stay out of her business, I listen.”
“But—it interfered with the Hawks. It’s Hawk business.”
He was politic enough not to bother answering. Even the Hawks stayed out of Barrani business if the Barrani happened to be Hawks.
* * *
After filing her report, Kaylin made a detour to the infirmary, and was not surprised—or not very surprised—to see Teela sitting by the bedside of the man who had tried to kill her. She would have looked like thunder, if thunder happened in the middle of a very icy blizzard.
Moran gave her the side-eye as she entered the room. “If you were any other Hawk,” she said, her voice pitched low enough that it wouldn’t disturb the patient, but not low enough that it wouldn’t be picked up by Teela, “I’d tell you to mind your own business. I have, however, lived with you, and what you define as your own business is almost criminally broad.”
Cast in Deception Page 14
