“What do you fear it will do to us?”
“In the worst case? Destroy you. In the best case, injure you gravely. The fires were created as weapons against taint, against Shadow. And at the time, we did not know that there were Shadows trapped against their will in Ravellon, just as I was once trapped. You are not,” she added, “Shadow, or of those Shadows. But there is, to you, a taint that would immediately render you outcaste among my own kin.” She paused, and then added, “Taint is not perhaps the correct word.
“In our long history, we did not attempt to divest ourselves of the names that gave us life and form. But in Barrani history, there have been many such attempts. I would consider—pragmatically—that yours, as a whole, has been the most successful.”
“We have our names.”
“Yes. But whatever it was that the names gave you, you learned to exist without. Terrano does not have his name. He did not teach the others to do what he did.”
“No. Just to change their form. I don’t think the rest of our people could do what we did for centuries, unless they devoted almost all of their time to it. But even then, I am doubtful. What the regalia did, in the heart of the green, changed us.” Sedarias glanced at Terrano and exhaled. “We did not exist entirely without our names. Our names were within the Hallionne. He considered them to be abandoned, but they were present; they had not returned to the Lake of Life, as names do when the lives they sustain are extinguished. I do not know if knowledge of those names that were only barely ours would have allowed others to control us.”
“Your circumstances were admittedly unusual.”
“They were. And they will not occur again; it is now against Barrani law to expose children to the regalia, as we were once exposed.” Sedarias looked at the raw, red splash of livid color, arms folded. It did not look like fire to Kaylin, and clearly Sedarias had her doubts as well. She held out her left arm just as Terrano began to move forward, and caught him. “I will strangle you myself,” she told him, lips compressed.
“What? I’m trying to stand closer to the fire because there won’t be Shadows near it!”
Judging by the expressions on half of the cohorts’s faces, Sedarias wasn’t the only one who didn’t believe him.
* * *
“Kaewenn, I bid you welcome,” a familiar voice said.
Kaylin turned. In the ether that existed in the boundary beyond Ravellon stood a familiar figure. “Tara!”
The Avatar of the Tower of Tiamaris stood in full armor, a sword in one hand, her helm in the other. Her eyes were a pale silver from which sparks seemed to fly when she blinked. At a distance, Kaylin thought she might not have recognized her.
Tara, however, was not addressing Kaylin, and when she bowed, she bowed to Bellusdeo. “My lord asked me to greet you, and to offer you and your companions the hospitality of Tiamaris.” The words were stilted and formal.
The Dragon said, “A moment, Tara.” Her voice lost some of its rumble as she finally slid back into her human form, losing the wings, the neck, the tail and the very impressive teeth. The scales reformed around her in the natural armor of her kin. Draconic faces didn’t show a lot of expression that was easily recognizable to Kaylin. Human faces, like the one Bellusdeo now wore, did. “Who taught you that word?”
“The Norannir did. It is how they sometimes refer to you, even now.”
“They should not use it.”
“No? My lord did not think its use harmful; he said it was a sign of respect, or even reverence—and he believes that you are due that.”
“Does he?” Bellusdeo’s smile was weary; it held pain. “In the end, I failed them.”
“If we judge all of life only by one moment, perhaps. But we do not, and they do not consider you a failure. You are here. They are here. And they light these fires in your name. Come. It is difficult for me to greet you thus, and I would speak with you at greater length from the confines of a safer environment.” The red fire that was not hot and did not burn was reflected in the silver of her eyes, as if her eyes were mirrors.
Terrano was staring, openmouthed, at Tara. But to be fair, the rest of the cohort were staring only a little bit more discreetly.
“I am not Hallionne,” Tara, said, her voice serene. “That was not my function. It is true that the full range of my power is only available within the Tower proper, but the fief is my domain—it is my duty to watch it, and to watch the borders. I see Ravellon no matter where I am; I see it no matter what form I take. I hear its Shadows, but they cannot reach you yet.” She bowed, once again, to Bellusdeo. “I can contain the voices of your compatriots, but they are unstable here. It is not good for them to be here.”
Bellusdeo nodded.
“And it’s good for us?”
“You, Chosen, are what you are. The place in which you stand does not change that. Bellusdeo is a known duality; she, too, is uninfluenced by her surroundings. But your companions are...” Tara frowned, and that expression was completely familiar. “They are fuzzy around the edges.” The last sentence was spoken in Elantran. “I understand what your Helen has done for her tenants, and I can do the same. I understand the reaction of Castle Nightshade to Annarion, but I think it unnecessary.”
“Why did Nightshade’s Tower react that way?”
“Because he could hear Annarion’s voice, and he believed—as I might once have—that it was a deliberate call, a deliberate beacon. My Lord is waiting, and he is perhaps not waiting patiently. He wished to come here himself.”
“And he didn’t?”
Tara smiled. “I judged it too great a risk.”
“He really does trust you.”
Tara looked surprised. “Of course.” She smiled and added, “Severn is also waiting. He came to the Tower. It is how I knew that you would come here.” She frowned. “Do not do that,” she said, to Terrano.
“It’s fine,” Sedarias replied, before Terrano could. Allaron was standing closest to Terrano, and he slid an arm firmly around Terrano’s shoulders.
“I don’t need hospitality—”
“It is not a necessity,” Tara told him gently. “But I do not think your friends are willing to part with you yet. There will be absence enough in the future.”
When they turned to look at her—Allaron still firmly attached to Terrano—Tara smiled. “I am not a Hallionne, but I told you: the fief is my domain. I do not hear all thoughts or all voices unless I listen carefully, but I am capable of something as simple as this. And here, your voices are much, much clearer.”
She turned and led them to the Tower.
28
Tiamaris and Severn were, as Tara had said, waiting. They were waiting in a room that looked suspiciously like one of Helen’s “isolation chambers,” and they were silent as the company entered the modest door Tara opened for them.
Terrano and Allaron were the first through the door, which took a bit of navigating, because it wasn’t really two people wide—not when one was Allaron’s size. Terrano looked disgusted and demanded that Allaron let go, but as Terrano would not promise not to make a break for it, Allaron didn’t.
Everyone else followed, Sedarias taking up the rear of the line as if she were mother hen and not captain of the cohort. To be fair to Sedarias, both Kaylin and Bellusdeo remained behind her, and although Kaylin wanted to be last through the door, the look Bellusdeo gave her at the implication that Kaylin’s presence at her back would be of aid should anything go disastrously wrong was probably only a little bit cooler than Dragon breath.
So: Bellusdeo entered last, all golden armor, all warrior queen.
Neither Tiamaris nor Severn seemed particularly relieved; they waited as if waiting for the entire cohort were an everyday activity. Tiamaris took on the duties of a host, and did so with grace and wit; Diarmat would have been proud of him. Severn lingered as Tiamaris and Tara led the cohort to less m
artial looking rooms, and he fell in beside Kaylin as she followed the line.
She stopped walking, allowing the distance between them and the rest of their companions to grow. Turning to Severn, she hugged him. She didn’t have words for him, because important words were often the difficult ones, but then again, he didn’t require them.
“Sorry,” she said, when she pulled away. “I didn’t intend to leave Elantra.”
“I know.”
“Someone should probably let the Emperor know we’re safe.”
“I believe Bellusdeo has asked for permission to do just that. What are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“I’m going to eat something, and then we’re heading to Helen, where we will hole up and discuss our various options. I think the Consort is going to be angry at me forever.” This last was said glumly, Kaylin’s anger having died somewhere on the long march.
She was surprised to discover that her anger was not the only anger in the room; Severn was angry. None of it showed. No one who was not connected to him the way she now was would have noticed it at all.
“Things will probably be ugly. I think we should skip the meal and head straight to Helen before the High Halls is aware of your presence here.”
“They’re already aware,” she replied, thinking of Ynpharion.
“The Consort professed that she did not want any harm to come to either you or Bellusdeo.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“You do?”
Did she? She knew that she wanted to, and that that desire muddied the waters of objectivity. But Ynpharion had believed it. She nodded almost reluctantly. It was easier not to be upset with the Consort’s anger if she believed that the Consort was somehow her enemy. But she held Ynpharion’s True Name. He could keep things from her, but she was almost certain he couldn’t lie.
But maybe that was wrong. The Consort also held his name, and she was not afraid, as Kaylin was, of using it. Ynpharion had known, when he had offered the Consort his name, that that was what awaited him. He hadn’t offered it to Kaylin.
“I don’t believe she ever intended to harm or cage either Bellusdeo or me.”
“Then I doubt she’ll inform the gathered war band that the Dragon has returned. But the Barrani have eyes everywhere.”
Kaylin nodded. “We’re going to have to sort that out before the Emperor attempts to reduce the High Halls to ash.”
“He’ll probably have help.”
Kaylin winced. “Things have been bad?”
“Bad? That would be good, about now.” He ran his hands through his hair, and she noted the circles beneath his eyes.
“I really am sorry. I wouldn’t have gone without you if I’d had any warning.” She certainly wouldn’t have taken Bellusdeo.
“I know,” he said again. “It was fine until—” He shook his head.
“Until?”
“We lost you. You’ve managed, against all odds, to survive, no matter where you land. But when you cut out, when I couldn’t hear you and couldn’t reach you at all...” Severn, so much better with words, even when he used far fewer of them, abandoned the attempt and again ran a hand through his hair. “I understand why Annarion, Mandoran and Teela became so upset.”
“Is that why you went to Helen?”
He nodded. “I know as much about True Names as you do. I thought Mandoran and Annarion might know more. As it happened, Teela was there to answer questions.”
“What was the general consensus?”
“...Not particularly good. Mandoran, however, said it was too sudden, too immediate; there was no hint of struggle. He would have expected the voices to die out singly, one at a time, otherwise. Mandoran assumed you’d found the rest of the cohort.”
Kaylin could imagine just how much fun that conversation had been. “Sorry,” she said again.
“Your own death has never truly terrified you.”
“It has. But—not the same way. I mean, I won’t be around after it happens.” She shrugged, uncomfortable now. She understood Severn’s fear—it was the fear that governed and shadowed her own life; the fear that had done so since the day her mother had failed to wake in the fiefs in the barely remembered past. She had nothing to say to that child, that other Kaylin, changed by the fiefs and by Severn and by deaths that she still couldn’t think about without flinching; she had nothing to say to the girl who had run into Barren and become something darker, something far more dangerous.
And she found that she had nothing to say to Severn, either. The difference was that she wanted to. She wanted to say anything that would ease those shadows, visible across the whole of his expression.
Someone in the distance roared. In Dragon.
Kaylin reddened. “I think Bellusdeo wants us to hurry up.”
* * *
A dress had been procured—somehow—for the Dragon. It was not a particularly fancy dress, but it was real, and it wasn’t armor. Her hair had been plaited in a single braid that pulled hair off her face and made her look more severe. Or maybe it was just her expression. Her eyes were orange, but close enough to red to make conversation seem life-threatening.
The cohort were, unsurprisingly, blue-eyed. But the blue varied in shades, and two of the cohort were almost calm. Tara had led the cohort into a large room with various small tables situated across a carpet that absorbed all incidental noise. Terrano was seated between Sedarias and Allaron, but seemed to have given up on sulking; he was talking, in low tones, with the leader of the cohort.
Tiamaris stood at the center of the room, arms folded, eyes orange. “We have informed the Imperial Court that you have made a safe—if unconventional—return to Elantra. The unconventional will of course be a matter of grave concern. Lord Bellusdeo has claimed that the decision to take the path you took was hers.”
“That’s not—”
“Sedarias has likewise claimed the decision as her own. Do you have anything to add?”
“Yes. You’re doing a damn good imitation of Diarmat.”
Bellusdeo was surprised enough to laugh, which lessened the deadly color of her Dragon eyes. Tiamaris grimaced, which, given his demeanor, was unexpected.
“The Dragon Court is in an uproar,” he said. “The Swords have been—I have been expressly commanded to inform you—working nonstop since your abrupt departure.”
“By who?”
“Who else can give commands that I am obliged to obey?”
Ugh.
“Bellusdeo has been granted conditional approval to remain with you—as long as you are situated within your own home. The Emperor trusts Helen.”
Kaylin would have resented this, but given the circumstances, felt it unwise. She also happened to agree, and was being cowardly; she knew the Emperor would be blamed if Bellusdeo resented what might amount to house arrest, and the Emperor was in the Imperial Palace. Kaylin would be living with Bellusdeo under the same roof.
“And everyone else?”
“The Barrani are not the concern of the Dragon Court—or rather, these particular Barrani are not. The war band is. However, one possible benefit of a declaration of war is that the High Court and its lord are not in a position to make racial demands of the Emperor. Discussions and negotiations are tense enough that the Emperor would reject, outright, any attempt to forcibly repatriate your friends.”
“You’re speaking theoretically, right?” Kaylin asked, without much hope.
“He’s not,” Tara replied, before Tiamaris could. “Things have moved quickly, here, but nothing is on fire.” She hesitated, which was unusual for Tara. “Ah, I forgot to mention something. You will not be able to speak with Lord Ynpharion, nor he with you, while you are within the Tower.”
Kaylin folded her arms. “Thank you.” She meant it. “Now that we�
�re home and as safe as we’re likely to get, we’re going to have to visit Candallar. You’re a fieflord, he’s a fieflord. If you have any way of making that meeting safer, we’d appreciate it. His job as lord of a Tower is to stop Shadow from escaping to eat the rest of the city.” To Tara, she said, “He apparently allowed a Barrani Lord—of the High Court—to enter and leave Ravellon. When he left, he was carrying a passenger.”
Tara’s eyes were obsidian.
“You let us in. You had that option. Could you let me walk into Ravellon and come out carrying Shadow?”
Tara’s skin turned to stone. Literally. “No.”
“Well, that’s what the Tower of Candallar seems to have allowed.”
“Impossible.”
So not the word Kaylin wanted to hear. Before she could continue, Tiamaris lifted a staying hand. “We have been informed—by Corporal Handred—of Candallar’s possible collusion with both assassins and...something at the heart of Ravellon.”
I told him what you knew. If Shadows are leaving Ravellon and entering Elantra that way...
Kaylin relaxed. Marginally.
Tara said, “We are also investigating. My lord has begun the process of—”
Tiamaris coughed. Very, very loudly. Tara subsided.
Interesting, Nightshade said. Clearly not all Barrani had been forbidden communication.
“No,” Tara said. “Lord Nightshade is a fieflord, and the possible problems with Candallar might affect us all. But you are tangled in too many names, and at the moment, we deem the information flow problematic. Lord Ynpharion and the Lord of the West March cannot hear you here; nor can you speak to them, unless it is absolutely necessary. We have not impeded the communication of your cohort.” In a different tone, she added, “It is more complex, and the process would be more complicated; I am not entirely certain I would succeed. Has Helen tried?”
“I really wish you could visit and talk to Helen; I think you’d like each other. And no, I don’t think she’s ever tried. The cohort are part of Mandoran and Annarion. Losing that connection would be like losing a limb. She’s not big on causing harm to her tenants.”
Cast in Deception Page 45
