Cast in Deception

by Michelle Sagara

  Silence.

  It’s too late—it’ll take her weeks.

  More silence. It was not replete with disapproval, and Kaylin realized, with surprise, that Ynpharion actually agreed with her. And was powerless to change anything.

  I’m telling her brother.

  No. Do not. There was a hint of plea in the words, which must have been costly. Kaylin accepted them. Ynpharion was never going to like her, but he was the bridge between Kaylin and the Consort, and he understood the Barrani Court—High or low—far better than Kaylin was ever likely to understand it.

  She stopped talking to Ynpharion when her familiar bit her ear. She glared at him, but became aware of a widening circle of silence. Bellusdeo had raised a brow in her direction, but had done nothing else to catch her attention.

  Lirienne was amused. Lord Barian has asked you if you wish to request the hospitality of the Hallionne.

  Damn it. When?

  Perhaps a minute ago.

  Kaylin, red-faced, bowed to Lord Barian, mostly to hide her expression. She composed it as she rose. “My apologies, Lord Barian. We did not intend to travel to the West March, and we were not prepared for the journey; I am a little fatigued.”

  Lord Barian’s smile was perfect, genial; his eyes, however, remained blue.

  “If it is acceptable to the Hallionne, I request his hospitality for both myself and my companions.”

  “And your companions are?”

  “Lord Bellusdeo of the Imperial Dragon Court, my familiar, and Terrano of...Terrano.”

  “Terrano may speak with the Hallionne on his own behalf; he has been guest here before.”

  Kaylin, however, did not retract the request. “I’m aware that Terrano is not considered a friend of the Barrani High Court at the moment. But he is a friend of Annarion and Mandoran’s, and they currently live with me.” Clearing her throat, she added, “I consider them family.”

  “You have claimed them as kyuthen?”

  Kaylin nodded. “And Terrano is their brother.”

  “He would not be considered kin among his own people.”

  “I’m not even sure who ‘his own people’ are. Other than the people he lived with while in captivity in the Hallionne. But Annarion and Mandoran would make that claim themselves, if they were here. I’m pretty sure they’d die defending him. And they aren’t here to make the request.” She flushed as she realized she’d dropped into Elantran, and repeated the phrase in High Barrani, which took longer.

  Terrano was staring at her. His eyes were natural in appearance, except for their color, which was brown. “I will ask the Hallionne about me,” he told her. “Let me be responsible for my own mess.”

  “What mess?”

  “You pointed out that I’m not what I was. I don’t always recognize what I’m doing. No—I know what I’m doing, but I don’t always see how it affects the rest of you. I don’t want you to be responsible for my mistakes.” At Kaylin’s expression, he exhaled noisily. “Just let me speak for myself.”

  Lord Barian waited until he was certain Kaylin had nothing else to say, and then he turned toward the large arches that led away from the courtyard in which they were all standing. “Lord Kaylin, if you will make your request of the Hallionne, make it in peace. No harm will come to your companions until Alsanis makes his decision.”

  He led Kaylin toward the arches. Terrano followed. Bellusdeo and the Lord of the West March remained behind.

  I know you hate Dragons, she told the man who had publicly claimed her as kin, but please, please, please keep her safe.

  * * *

  The arch led not to the interior of the Hallionne, but to a cloister of smaller arches that bounded an interior garden with a fountain as its centerpiece. Standing by that fountain was a man she did not recognize until he turned to greet her. His eyes were all of black.

  “Hallionne Alsanis?” she asked.

  His smile was both deep and warm. “Lord Kaylin.” He bowed. “I did not expect to see you again so soon.”

  She relaxed in his presence and allowed herself to think of the events that had brought her here. It was easier by far than speaking about them, and she felt no need to pretend that he couldn’t hear what she was thinking.

  “You did not intend to bring a Dragon to the West March. I see. She is kin to you, as are Annarion and Mandoran.” His expression was openly troubled as he turned to Terrano. “You understand the burden you place upon Lord Kaylin.”

  “I’m not placing a burden on her—I’m making the request for myself.”

  “That is not, sadly, the way it must work. I would accept you—and willingly—at any other time. But you tried to harm the Consort.”

  “She was going to—”

  Kaylin clapped a hand over Terrano’s mouth. “I’ll accept responsibility for Terrano as well as the Dragon. The Dragon is not a threat to the Hallionne. She’s not a threat to the West March or the Barrani.”

  “No. But she is not as Terrano is; she lives in the same space, and under the same constraints, as you do. Dragons are not much loved by the Hallionne. But we were not, as you believe, created as tools in the wars between the Dragons and the Barrani; we are older than that.”

  “Lirienne thought—”

  “Yes. I understand his thought. And were she to arrive here without you as kin and sponsor, we would not accept her. It is not the way of the Hallionne to accept guests we intend to kill.” He nodded to Kaylin, then. “If you will sponsor Terrano—”

  “Terrano can speak for himself!” Terrano was almost shouting.

  Kaylin glanced at the young almost-Barrani man, and noticed he’d lost control of his eyes again. She exhaled heavily. “He knows that. No one knows it better than he does. Look—I’d rather you stay in the Hallionne than in the Lord of the West March’s residence. So would the Lord of the West March. You’re not being practical.”

  “And you are?”

  “Demonstrably. I’m staying as well. Look—what we want is to stay in the Hallionne. We’ve been given permission to do that.” She forced herself to switch to High Barrani. “We can mark that as accomplished and worry about more important things. Or you can argue with Alsanis, but my prior experience in arguing with buildings doesn’t imply you’re going to win.” She wished, fervently and briefly, that Annarion and Mandoran had come along with her; she thought they’d be able to influence Terrano in a way she couldn’t. Hells, even Teela would have been helpful. Angry, but helpful.

  Terrano did look as if he wanted to argue. Alsanis looked serene and immoveable. It was therefore a bit of a surprise when Terrano abruptly exhaled. He said something in Barrani which she didn’t recognize and assumed was a curse word.

  “It is,” Alsanis said. “And no, Lord Kaylin, I am not about to teach it to you.”

  Terrano, however, calmed down. “Teach her what I just said?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’ll teach you,” he said to Kaylin.

  “You have more like that?”

  “A lot more. You don’t?”

  “I generally curse in other tongues.”

  He brightened. “Maybe I should become a linguist.”

  “Maybe,” Alsanis said, more severely, “you should go and retrieve the rest of your companions.” He gestured Terrano toward the cloister, and placed a hand on Kaylin’s arm when she went to follow.

  “He should not have returned,” he said quietly. “He is not what he was.”

  “We don’t understand what he was, never mind what he is now.”

  “You are beginning to. My apologies for subterfuge.”

  “You could have accepted him.”

  “Yes. It would have been difficult; I did not lie. He attempted to harm the Consort, and there is no greater crime, where the Barrani are involved. Not even matricide or patricide comes close. But I am acc
ustomed to being shunned by the Barrani; I have had centuries of experience with it.

  “Were he, however, to be held responsible for his own actions, he would not attempt to confine those actions. He is now aware that you will suffer for what he does, and I believe it will—how do you say it?—rein him in. I am no longer a cage for Terrano—for any of his cohort, as you call them—but it would be best for you, and for the rest of the Barrani in the West March, if he at least made the attempt to cohere and interact as if he were one of them.

  “As for your Dragon, you need not worry. While she is a guest in the Hallionne, she will come to no harm. I admit to curiosity, but she is not the first Dragon to have kept me company in my long existence, and if she is willing to stay, she does not appear to have the distrust most of her kind would have of my kind.”

  “She’s practical.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s you or the Barrani Court of the West March.”

  He smiled, then, a flicker of expression on an otherwise serene face. “Stay here a moment, Lord Kaylin. Ah, apologies, Kaylin.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have something of a gift for you.” He faded almost instantly from view.

  Beware of Barrani gifts, Lord Nightshade said softly. She felt the edge of his curiosity. You must learn caution, especially now.

  He’s not Barrani, he’s a Hallionne.

  Yes. But remember, Kaylin: Annarion’s friends—Nightshade did not care for the term “cohort”—departed from Alsanis.

  Before Nightshade could continue, Alsanis returned. In his hands he carried a small, wooden box, into which had been carved both leaves and flowers. It was small enough to be a ring box.

  “It is not a ring,” the Hallionne said quietly. “And it may be of no significance to you at all in future. But if it is, you will know when to use it.”

  “What is it? Can I open this?”

  “Try.”

  She did. The lid would not budge. “I don’t get it.”

  He smiled. “No, Kaylin, you don’t. It is a gift. What you call a home, some call a cage. Remember.”

  She slid the box into the small pack she wore across her hips.

  “It is time to go back to your companions. Terrano is not malicious. Nor are his friends. Even the harm they did—the great harm—they did for the sake of each other. If the Hallionne are both Immortal and all powerful within our boundaries, those boundaries are fixed and immoveable. You have a power that we do not have: the freedom to choose. To judge. Judgment is oft misused, as any other weapon. Therefore, use both wisely.”

  * * *

  Bellusdeo and Lord Barian appeared to be involved in lively conversation when Kaylin returned. Lively, even friendly, conversation. Although their eyes retained the racial hue that implied caution or danger, both the blue and the orange had lightened somewhat. Lirienne stood to the side in silence, but looked across the courtyard when Kaylin entered it.

  What are they talking about?

  The war, he replied. Or rather, the shape of the lands before the final war. The placement of Aeries. The appearance of flights that have long since ceased to grace the skies. She remembers some few of their number and name—and of course, so does Barian.

  Weren’t they trying to kill each other, back then?

  Ah, yes. But as is oft the case with those who stood on the front lines of war, they have more in common with their individual enemies than they have with those who were not affected by war at all. The Dragonflights were worthy of fear and respect, but so, too, the Barrani units.

  I thought Barian was younger.

  None of us are young compared to you.

  She looked pointedly at Terrano, who appeared to be trying to catch a butterfly. Loudly.

  The Lord of the West March smiled, but even as Kaylin turned to catch a glimpse of actual warmth on his face, it drained away, and not slowly, either. She felt the moment amusement gave way to alarm. Before she could speak, the familiar did: loudly, and in her ear.

  Both the Dragon and the Warden stopped speaking; they turned toward the familiar and then away, to Terrano. And Kaylin realized then that her assumptions of immaturity were very, very wrong. Yes, he was chasing a butterfly.

  And no, it wasn’t playful.

  “Go,” she told the familiar, as she drew a dagger and started to move. “Alsanis!” There was no reply.

  “We are not in his dominion, yet,” Lirienne said. He had not drawn sword, but had brought both of his palms together in a strangely deliberate way that implied prayer without any of its actual reverence.

  The familiar flew to Terrano. No, she thought, he flew to the butterfly. And now that she looked, she realized it had the appearance of a butterfly, but not its delicate, haphazard flight. Its colors were bright, the wings strangely glittery. And as she watched, she realized that the colors were not fixed; they were changing.

  The familiar roared, its voice a kind of high screech given his size. Where the butterfly darted—with speed—from place to place, the familiar did not; his wings allowed him to hover as he inhaled. And inhaled. And inhaled.

  “Terrano, watch out!” she shouted, and Terrano turned to see the familiar just as the small, translucent lizard exhaled.

  No fool, Terrano leapt to the side, rolling along the ground, and uttering more unfamiliar Barrani as he did. Both Lirienne and Lord Barian appeared to be shocked by whatever it was he was saying. Bellusdeo didn’t, but then again, she lived with Mandoran.

  A stream of silver smoke left the familiar’s open jaws, billowing as it expanded in a rush, like a kind of portable fog that could be wielded on command. It enveloped the courtyard, and Kaylin ran into it, unafraid. Bellusdeo did not move; Lord Barian attempted to withdraw. Lirienne, however, did not.

  From his hands, sprouting suddenly, came a familiar globe; it covered him. It was permeable enough to allow Lord Barian entry. More than that, Kaylin didn’t see, because the fog lifted itself from the ground it had first touched and rose.

  “I’m not sure this is wise,” Bellusdeo said, somewhere to Kaylin’s left.

  Terrano continued to curse.

  “We don’t want to hurt him!” Kaylin shouted. She could no longer see Hope.

  “It will not hurt him,” a familiar voice replied. Her familiar. “Unless he attempts to control it or fight it, it will not cause him harm.”

  The barrage of cursing stopped. “What are you doing?” Terrano demanded.

  “I am attempting to contain the creature you were chasing,” came the reasonable reply. “Did you recognize it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You attempted to apprehend it.”

  “Yes.” This was said with unraveling patience. “It wasn’t exactly subtle.”

  To Kaylin, until Terrano began to chase it around the courtyard, it had been entirely inconsequential. “It looked like a butterfly.”

  “Are you blind?” he shrieked. She could imagine his expression, which was just as well, because she couldn’t actually see it.

  “She is not,” Bellusdeo replied. “To my eyes, and to the eyes of Lord Barian, it resembled a butterfly.”

  Kaylin could not see a butterfly. She couldn’t see anyone. She couldn’t hear Lord Barian or Lirienne, either.

  Lirienne?

  No answer. She wheeled, then, heading back in the direction she’d come from. “Hope! Drop the fog!”

  “That is not the way it works,” the familiar replied, “and I do not think it wise. The Lord of the West March attempts to protect himself, and his Warden.”

  She knew, then, where the butterfly was headed. “He’s not answering me!”

  “Kaylin—he’s the Lord of the West March,” Bellusdeo rumbled. And she did rumble. Kaylin stumbled, righting herself. Bellusdeo could speak perfect Dragon when in her human form. But Kaylin had a
sinking feeling that wasn’t what was happening here. “He is not helpless, he is not an orphan or a foundling, he is not mortal. He has had to hold his title against all who would wrest it from him, by either force of arms or magic. You are not responsible for him.”

  She felt the earth shake beneath her feet.

  A plume of raw fire cut through the fog.

  “I’ve got it!” Terrano shouted. She couldn’t track the direction of his voice; it seemed to surround her. The fog rippled; the familiar squawked in outrage, presumably at the Dragon’s fiery breath. “I have it now,” Terrano repeated. The fog continued its odd climb, and Terrano cursed liberally. Kaylin was too worried to memorize the words.

  “Kaylin, can you do something about him?”

  “I don’t think he thinks it’s safe.”

  “He’s making it less safe for some of us! I’ve got the damn thing—tell him to cut it out!”

  Shouting he doesn’t listen to me in front of Lirienne and Lord Barian didn’t seem like a wise idea.

  It is not, Lirienne said. And we are both safe. He is yours?

  He stays with me. Yes, he’s mine. I don’t think he’d do anything that he thought would really upset me.

  But?

  Well, he’s not me, and he’s not mortal; he can keep up with Mandoran and Annarion, but he doesn’t cause the issues they can—she stopped. Turned her thoughts to something else: Terrano’s language.

  This amused the Lord of the West March. You are becoming wiser.

  Can you see?

  I see fog. And Lord Barian. I admit that the fog is more pleasant. No harm has come to us. Although it pains me to concur with a Dragon, Lord Bellusdeo is correct. I am not your responsibility.

  Can you see her?

  No.

  “Bellusdeo—”

  “Yes, I understand.” Her voice was a rumble of sound. Kaylin turned to her right, because unlike Terrano’s voice, Bellusdeo’s seemed to come from a concrete location. The fog drifted slowly away, and Lord Bellusdeo of the Dragon Court now stood in gleaming plate armor. Of course she did. Dragon clothing wasn’t magical; it didn’t change shape and form when its wearer did. It turned into expensive cloth scraps.