Cast in Deception

by Michelle Sagara

  Kaylin shrugged. They’re yours. They serve you. You wouldn’t have brought us here if you thought you couldn’t protect her.

  This surprised him. I better understand my sister’s concern, kyuthe. You are far, far too trusting. He signaled. The last of the guards thinned in number until only one remained—a man with midnight blue eyes, but a pleasant expression. He bowed to both Kaylin and Bellusdeo.

  “You wished to visit the fountain,” the Lord of the West March said. “I have taken the liberty of instituting some precautions while you do so. I assume that after you have finished there, you would like to be escorted to the Hallionne Alsanis.”

  Kaylin nodded.

  Terrano, utterly silent until that moment, said, “Can I just wait here and go with the two of you?”

  Every intelligent instinct Kaylin possessed screamed no, very, very loudly. Before she could give voice to a politer, less visceral response, Bellusdeo said, “Yes.”

  Terrano gave her the side-eye. “Does she speak for you?”

  “Frequently,” the Hawk replied. To the Lord of the West March, she said, “Can we see the fountain now?”

  * * *

  The courtyard in which the fountain was housed was immaculate. And empty. Kaylin knew that the elemental water ran through it because it was the elemental water that controlled entrance into the heart of Lirienne’s territory. As she neared the fountain’s stone base, she told her familiar to go sit with Bellusdeo.

  Squawk.

  “I mean it. I’m not Barrani; I can’t pay attention to more than two things at once.”

  Squawk.

  “I trust Lirienne. I don’t trust the rest of the Barrani I haven’t laid eyes on yet. And frankly, Terrano’s attitude toward Dragons is a touch on the hostile side.”

  “I like her better than your familiar,” Terrano volunteered.

  This was greeted with a hiss, rather than the usual overly loud squawks, but the familiar did push himself off Kaylin’s shoulder. Bellusdeo accepted him without apparently noticing that he existed, which meant she didn’t approve.

  Kaylin, however, trusted the familiar; he’d already saved the Dragon’s life once, in an attack that had destroyed Kaylin’s first home in Elantra. She seated herself on the bench, lifted an arm, and reached out to let the falling water make contact with her palm. The water was clear and cool to the touch.

  All of the marks of the Chosen flared to life on her arms; the hair on her neck stood on end. This was not a promising sign, and it wasn’t entirely pleasant. Her skin was tingling, as if it had been slapped. The water, however, caused no pain. Kaylin closed her eyes and reached, in as much as she was able, for the Tha’alaan.

  There was a moment of terrifying silence before the thoughts of the Tha’alani group mind opened up to embrace Kaylin’s more human isolation. Usually, this was comforting. Today, it was not.

  Kaylin. Not the voice of the water. Kaylin recognized the caste leader, Ybelline. Where are you?

  I’m in the West March.

  A moment of confusion, a hint of other voices. In the West March.

  Yes. Did you not hear it from the water?

  We heard only that there was a grave danger and you had been sent to deal with it.

  The water is overconfident.

  A ripple of amusement. The problem is in the West March?

  Apparently. It’s not that simple. I hoped to reach the water, she added. Can you—can you hear the water?

  I can—but her voice is very, very faint. We are not certain what was done, or how; it has caused confusion, and in some instances, panic.

  The water dropped us in the middle of one of the Hallionne. We didn’t exactly have time to pack.

  We.

  Yes, sorry. Lord Bellusdeo is with me. Kaylin tried to visualize the events of the past day; she was now worried. Usually Ybelline could touch those thoughts if Kaylin could hear her at all.

  The water carried you to the West March?

  Yes.

  I would not have said that was possible without the intervention of a very gifted, very powerful elementalist. Are you certain—

  We were in the Keeper’s garden. We’re now in the West March. I’m pretty certain that random elementalists or Arcanists didn’t have much chance to interfere. And I’d bet my own money that Evanton had nothing to do with it, either. But—I can’t hear the water. I can’t ask why there was an emergency here. Something did go wrong here, but...

  What went wrong?

  Kaylin explained in the more awkward way: with words that she had to choose herself. Where once she had been terrified of the Tha’alani and their ability to ferret out hidden, dark secrets, now she was comfortable with it, even at home in it. Which is why, of course, it wasn’t working properly.

  For the water to make the choice it did requires a vast outlay of power—and will. The water is not, as you are aware, a single individual; it has a will that is divided, and the divisions are not always complementary. The part of the water that is the Tha’alaan was the part of the water that chose to move you. But it moved you instinctively, Kaylin. There is trouble, but...it can’t clearly articulate what that trouble is.

  Ybelline sounded troubled as well. Troubled and yet oddly relieved.

  We thought the water was under attack by something new and terrifying. We do not have access to the Keeper’s garden, and the rest of Elantra is...not friendly when it comes to my people; we were discussing our possible options. A runner has been sent to Grethan, in the Keeper’s abode. Now, however, we understand that the weakening was at the will of the water, and not due to an outside attack.

  I can’t hear the water.

  No. I am sorry. We can, but it is very, very weak. The water bids me tell you that she can hear you, and that you must...silence. The silence continued for a beat too long. I am sorry, the caste leader said again. I am forced to contain the communication, to keep it separate from the Tha’alaan. We will...attempt to understand what she is trying to tell us; it is confusing. We can see what she sees—no, we can experience what she experienced—but we cannot...understand it. It is not an experience we, any of us, could have. But Kaylin? She is afraid.

  Fear was poison to the Tha’alani; it was the entirety of the reason they avoided contact with other races unless commanded to break into their thoughts by the Imperial service. She felt Ybelline’s presence, as reassuring as a hug offered in comfort, and she thought that fear itself, run rampant, writ large, was poison to anyone, not just the Tha’alani. But it was here, in the Tha’alaan, that she understood what its absence meant. She could be herself. She could reveal her thoughts. They could see her lack of confidence, her lack of intelligence, her lack of strength—and to them, that was part of life. It was not the whole of it. They accepted it so calmly, so peacefully, that Kaylin could accept it all as well. Everyone felt these things some of the time.

  But one couldn’t let those thoughts dominate all others; one couldn’t make decisions based only on fear, large or small. She exhaled. If I can, I’ll try to contact the water again.

  If?

  I have the only female Dragon we know about in the West March, an ancient stronghold of her enemies. I’d like to move to a different stronghold, just in case—but the water is active here, and I’m not certain it’s active everywhere. Its presence in the Hallionne we arrived in was extinguished by our arrival.

  And they needed to speak with the Consort. They needed to speak with the Consort someplace safe from eavesdropping. The Consort didn’t trust her brother. Or perhaps she didn’t trust someone close to her brother. Or perhaps she didn’t trust Kaylin herself. The weave of suspicion, of the fear of deception, and of the actual deception itself seemed both fine and delicate—unless one were a fly.

  But if you were a figurative fly, you couldn’t ignore that web.

  The thing is, she thought a
s she withdrew her hand, you couldn’t live in it, either. If you were trapped in it, the only thing you could see was the web itself, and the web brought the fear of the spider until that was the whole of the world. But webs were in corners, in out of the way places; they weren’t the whole world. And it would be easy to forget that.

  It had been easy to forget it.

  But...it was tricky. If the entire world wasn’t treachery and deception, treachery and deception existed. How safely could one approach that web without being caught up in it again?

  “You’re thinking,” Bellusdeo said.

  Kaylin shrugged. “Brooding, mostly.”

  “Well, possibly now is not the best time. Your familiar is chewing on my hair and glaring at everything.”

  “That’s not a glare—that’s the way his face always looks. And, umm, sorry about your hair.” Kaylin lifted an arm, retrieved her familiar, and turned to offer the Lord of the West March a very correct bow. This surprised him, so Diarmat’s infernal lessons were clearly useful for something. “We would like, if possible, to visit Alsanis now.”

  He did not argue. He spoke a word to his attendant, and the attendant nodded, vanishing down one of the halls that led away from the fountain.

  * * *

  “Yes, we understand that,” Kaylin said, with barely contained exasperation. “What we want to know is what your other allies wanted from the alliance.”

  “Well, the mortals probably wanted to live forever,” Terrano replied.

  “The mortals weren’t your only allies. They weren’t even the most significant of your allies. And they weren’t the ones who were attempting to write the rest of us out of existence.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked. I think.” Terrano didn’t seem all that upset about genocide as a concept, at least when it didn’t involve the race he was born to.

  “Did you never talk to them?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you offer them?”

  He rolled his eyes. His response was High Barrani, but it was not a word Kaylin recognized. Or rather, not a series of words.

  The Lord of the West March, however, did, and he grew pale, which was not a terribly good look on the Barrani. His eyes devolved instantly from blue into a midnight blue that suggested black.

  I take it that’s bad?

  No response. Kaylin understood that she could push for one, but didn’t; it would cause them both unnecessary pain. And one of them, a lot of guilt.

  “This was your idea?”

  “Not really. We could have offered them ripe oranges for all the difference it made to the rest of us. Or gold. Actually, we did offer gold, if I recall.”

  “And where did the gold come from?”

  “The mortal caste court—the human one. At least I think it did.”

  Kaylin could not remember wanting to strangle Mandoran this intensely, but maybe her memory was being kind. Had Terrano not been so confused and so...whatever he was, she would have seriously considered letting her familiar eat him. Or whatever it was he’d attempted to do the first time.

  But if she wanted to see him as an enemy, she was failing. She thought if foundlings were given the power Terrano had been given, the world might be in just the same trouble: he didn’t understand consequences. He didn’t understand the world in which Kaylin and almost all of her friends actually lived.

  “You don’t happen to remember names?”

  “You asked that one already. Humans don’t have names, anyway.”

  “Well, neither do you, anymore.”

  “I don’t need one.”

  “Neither do we!”

  Bellusdeo cleared her throat, which sounded a little like she’d swallowed an earthquake.

  Kaylin shoved her hands into her pockets and strode ahead.

  * * *

  Alsanis was not, like Orbaranne or the other Hallionne, a way station in the wilderness. He was situated in the heart of the Lord of the West March’s territory. For centuries he had been an impassible prison, a symbol of the cost of ambition and hubris. Now, he was a Hallionne. But if what Lirienne said was true, old habits died hard; he had visitors, but they were few.

  One of those visitors was, however, in the courtyard.

  Kaylin recognized Lord Barian, the Warden of the West March. If she understood the position correctly, he was second only to Lirienne—but he was not a Lord of the High Court, which had caused some friction in his family. His eyes, when he turned to face her, were green; his smile seemed genuine.

  “Lord Kaylin,” Lord Barian said, offering her a low and deeply respectful bow.

  “Lord Barian.” She became instantly aware of the difference in their clothing, their deportment, and their appearance. Kaylin returned the bow, mindful of Diarmat’s words, which now seemed to be replaying with annoying frequency in the inside of her head.

  She rose and glanced around the courtyard, aware that it was the very edge of Hallionne Alsanis. “You’ve been visiting the Hallionne?”

  He nodded, his expression serious; he glanced, once, at the Lord of the West March. It was not an entirely friendly glance, but Kaylin didn’t have a deep understanding of the politics of the West March, except for those employed by Lord Barian’s mother, who detested Kaylin, and whom Kaylin would be overjoyed to avoid on this unexpected visit. Contempt and condescension were things Kaylin understood quite well.

  His glance once again flickered to—and away from—the Lord of the West March. “The Lord of the West March has, perhaps, acquainted you with the details?”

  “I know only that Sedarias and her friends had decided to visit us, and that they disappeared in transit. They chose to travel by the portal paths.” She cleared her throat and started with the easiest introduction first. “This is Terrano. I’m not sure if you’ve been formally introduced.”

  His eyes widened. “You are one of the twelve.”

  Terrano nodded.

  “You are the one who did not choose to remain.”

  He nodded again. He looked slightly nervous.

  “Have you had word of your friends? Contact with them? The Hallionne Alsanis would be very interested.”

  “No. I heard them, but I was too far away to come to their aid, and I do not know where they are.”

  “Do you know if they are still alive?”

  Terrano stiffened, but did not reply.

  Lord Barian bowed immediately. “My apologies, Terrano. The Hallionne is concerned; it is much on his mind.”

  Kaylin cleared her throat and considered avoiding the introduction of the Dragon. Her familiar squawked, and she relented. “This,” she said, when she had Lord Barian’s attention, “is Lord Bellusdeo of the Imperial Dragon Court.”

  18

  Accustomed as she was to Barrani blue, Kaylin still found the instant transformation daunting. Lord Barian was not a Lord of the High Court, but Barrani across the world hated the Dragons. Mortal memories were fragile and imperfect. Barrani memories, like Dragon memories, were not. It made Kaylin wonder what she would have been like if her memories of life in the fiefs never dimmed with time.

  She didn’t really like the answer.

  Kaylin almost blurted out a groveling apology, but held her tongue. She was not ashamed of Bellusdeo; the gold Dragon didn’t deserve that.

  Lord Barian’s gaze went instantly to Lirienne’s, held it for a few seconds, and then returned to the Dragon. Bellusdeo stood quietly, arms by her side, chin slightly lifted; her eyes were orange, but at this point orange was the new gold.

  “Lord Bellusdeo,” Kaylin continued, when no weapons had been drawn. “This is Lord Barian, the Warden of the West March. The responsibility of the Hallionne Alsanis has been his line’s.”

  Bellusdeo offered Lord Barian an exquisite Barrani bow. It was lower and more exact than the bow she’d offered the Lord
of the West March. Kaylin wondered if Lirienne noticed. Wait, what was she thinking? He was a Barrani man of power. Of course he’d noticed.

  Yes. It is interesting. She is not what I expected of a Dragon.

  I don’t think she meant to insult you.

  No, kyuthe, she did not. The bow she offers Lord Barian is exact and correct; it is also graceful, something for which the Dragons were not noted. The bow she offered me is the bow she might offer to the respected head of a familial line.

  Pardon?

  She understands that you are kyuthe; you are kin to me. Lord Barian, however, has made no such claim; you are not under his protection, and your death or injury will not be his to avenge.

  It wouldn’t be yours, either.

  He chuckled as she turned once again to face Lord Barian. She had a habit of turning toward the person speaking to her if he was in the room—and Lirienne was. Bellusdeo was giving her the pointed side-eye, as well. Think, Kaylin, she told herself. You are in hostile territory. Every window could carry a person with a crossbow. Every shrub could conceal a person with a dagger. Or worse. Think. You’ve done this before.

  But when she’d done it before, there had been no making nice. There had been no bows, no courtesies. Just silence, fear, focus. The price of failure had been clear: injury or death, and probably not the fast painless kind, either.

  No. But you are kyuthe to the Lord of the West March, and it is his duty to avenge you. Even if he arranged for your death, someone would have to publicly pay the price of it; they would sacrifice their own lives—or the welfare of their family—in order to kill you.

  Hello, Ynpharion. Kaylin’s head was a crowded place, these days.

  The Consort feels you will be safe if you remain with her brother. She feels, however, that the Dragon is best housed in the Hallionne.

  And Terrano?

  She is not entirely certain what to make of him. Silence, and then, as if thought were whisper, She is worried.

  He did try to kill her. Or capture her.

  You do not believe he will do so again.

  No. He won’t. I think the only thing he cares about is the safety of his friends. Wait—she’s not coming here, is she?