Cast in Deception

by Michelle Sagara

  He was, regardless of the physical distance, also her line of communication with Kaylin. The Consort had left in a furious rush, taking little time to pack or arrange for more comfortable modes of travel. He did not believe the High Lord was pleased. Kaylin could well imagine. But why was she in such a rush?

  Why did the elemental water deposit you within Orbaranne without warning?

  We don’t know.

  Exactly. There has been some movement between the Imperial Court and the High Halls; the High Lord has taken the matter into his own hands. She felt the faintest edge of something that might be fear, but when she tried to examine it, she met wall. She didn’t push. In theory she could—but if she did, it would cause her pain, and it would likely cause the Consort pain as well, if the Consort agreed that Ynpharion should not speak of it.

  At the moment, Kaylin was exhausted enough that the thought of trying was beyond her.

  It is not exhaustion, Ynpharion said, with his usual level of annoyance. Even were you to be well rested and focused, it is not something you would attempt. You lack the will.

  She shut him out in as much as that was possible, and turned to the next in line, as if her mind were now a queue. Nightshade was largely silent. Ynpharion is correct, he said, when Kaylin complained. But not for his own sake, nor for the Consort’s. Your ability to lie is abysmal, and all of the politics of the realm require one form of lie or another. One must be able to feign delight, surprise or anger—and one must be able to hide those things when they are genuine at inconvenient times. Were you to understand the plans of the High Lord—or his Consort—anyone with eyes and ears in your vicinity would also understand them. Do not seek that information unless it is critical for your survival.

  Or the Consort’s?

  Or the Lady’s, yes.

  Lirienne merely wished to know that Kaylin was alive. He also wished to ascertain that Bellusdeo was alive, which surprised her.

  Alsanis accepted her as guest. It is not our wish to antagonize the Hallionne. What happened?

  There were two Barrani in the heart of Alsanis.

  A pause. Did you recognize them?

  While Kaylin was accustomed enough to Barrani that she could tell them apart, she couldn’t do so as easily as she could with mortals; they had similar distinguishing features, were almost—Allaron was a notable exception—roughly the same height, with hair of the same color, except the Consort’s. No. I think Sedarias recognized the woman, though.

  More silence. This one, he didn’t elect to fill. She could sense his brooding concern.

  Do not mention the Lady to him, Ynpharion said. Kaylin, however, had figured that out on her own, and hoped that she had managed to contain enough information. What she needed was practice. She was used to clamping down on her own thoughts; she had reached a point where she could—usually—manage to keep her thoughts to herself. She didn’t need to say what she was thinking, and didn’t need to blurt it in anger or rage.

  Keeping her thoughts to herself while other people were part of them was far, far harder. Just another reason to hate True Names, but thinking this, she reached for the last one. Severn.

  Did you recognize them?

  I couldn’t see them when you did. I did see the corpse of the woman when communication was reestablished; the man escaped?

  Not exactly.

  Bellusdeo?

  Yes.

  She wasn’t injured?

  Not according to her, and no, I’m not about to argue with her. She’s in a better mood than she was, but not by enough. Not by nearly enough. Kaylin did, on the other hand, check Bellusdeo for injuries. To her surprise, most of the injuries she’d sustained were bruises and light, normal burns.

  She roared and Kaylin instantly lifted her hand, flushing. She kept that hand to herself, and tried to come up with enough in the way of groveling apology that Bellusdeo wouldn’t be tempted to bite it off when they finally landed.

  But Severn was her partner, and Severn was fully capable of covering the ground she couldn’t cover. If she were honest, he was probably better at it—he had contacts in the Wolves, and through the Wolves, that the Hawks had never fully developed.

  He heard the thought; of course he did. She’d practically thrown it. I’m going to start investigating on this end.

  In private?

  Sadly, no. The Emperor has not traditionally concerned himself with the politics of the Barrani Court; he has turned a blind eye, except in cases where those politics spill into the open streets. Things are...tense. The Hawklord and the Wolflord have been closeted in an Imperial Tower; the Emperor is now very interested in Candallar, Teela, the cohort and the politics of the High Court itself.

  Marcus?

  He’s been coordinating with the Lord of Swords in the Hawklord’s absence.

  Why?

  People were understandably concerned when a Barrani war band, armed to the teeth, made their way to the Imperial Palace.

  Ugh. Kaylin could just imagine the paperwork pouring out of the public facing office of the Halls of Law. And onto the Leontine’s desk. We’ll be back as soon as we can.

  Come back in one piece. Come back, he corrected himself, when you can be certain of arriving in one piece. Nothing less is going to calm the Emperor down.

  ...He’s angry?

  He’s beyond angry.

  24

  Lord Barian was waiting inside the Hallionne when Bellusdeo finally landed and once again assumed her human form. Lirienne was not. Kaylin wondered if this was significant. The Dragon looked worse for wear herself, but most of that wear was survivable. There were no obvious burns or rents in the Dragon’s armor; she was just incredibly rumpled. Especially her hair.

  The familiar was once again slumped across Kaylin’s shoulders; she thought he might be snoring. She offered Lord Barian a bow, certain for once that it was the correct one.

  He returned it, and his bow was not—according to the Diarmat school of etiquette—the correct response; it was far too deep. This did not make her feel more respected; it made her feel instantly more paranoid.

  As well you should, Ynpharion said.

  Barian looked paler, his color off. “I regret to be forced to ask you to remain within the Hallionne,” he said, before she could speak. She realized that he was actually injured; his color was off because he’d been bleeding. Etiquette did not cover what to do in circumstances such as this.

  Wisdom should, Ynpharion snapped.

  “What happened?” She was petty enough to ask the question just to hear Ynpharion’s version of a shriek.

  “There was a misunderstanding. The war band remains on the threshold of Alsanis. Its leader has asked Alsanis for permission to enter; he has failed to grant it.”

  “Why? If they try to harm Bellusdeo, he’ll stop them.”

  Barian bowed his head for one long moment. When he lifted it, Kaylin could see that his eyes were blue—and narrow. He was, she realized, angry. Long years of experience as a Hawk stopped her from taking a step back, but he must have seen her stiffen; he held up one hand. “My apologies, Lord Kaylin. I am not angry with you; I am not angry with Lord Bellusdeo. Her...presence here has been explained to the satisfaction of both myself and the Lord of the West March. Neither you nor your companion have done anything to engender either anger or suspicion.”

  In him. Kaylin did not say this aloud.

  Given the difficulties you just faced while in the Hallionne, none of this should come as a surprise to you.

  Kaylin blinked. “You can’t think that members of the war band are responsible for what happened in Alsanis?”

  Because Ynpharion was not present in person, he felt free to continue to vent his frustration. Loudly, because no one else could hear it.

  Barian’s answer was clear in his expression, although he shuttered it immediately. He was
angry at what must feel like betrayal; he was Warden of the West March, and one of his duties was the Hallionne Alsanis. This meant, on the other hand, that he was not responsible for what had happened.

  Ynpharion told her not to be so certain.

  Alsanis, however, said, “No, he is not. Your namebound fails to explain the concept of Lord Barian’s duty—perhaps because he does not understand it himself. Regardless, no. Lord Barian was not responsible in any way for the intrusion.”

  But he had some idea who was, Kaylin thought.

  “Yes, he does.”

  Barian looked distinctly less comfortable. “I am investigating,” he said. “But at the moment, investigations are...fraught. The war band is not under my immediate control; nor is it under the immediate control of the Lord of the West March, which is the greater danger.”

  “Where is the Lord of the West March?”

  “He is not within the Hallionne.”

  “He’s not with the war band, either.”

  “No, Lord Kaylin,” Alsanis said, when Lord Barian failed to answer. “He is, even now, almost in the heart of the green.”

  Bellusdeo, silent until that moment, turned to the Hallionne’s Avatar. “Would we be expected to join him there?”

  “Ah, no, Lord Bellusdeo. We believe that would be materially unsafe for you at this time.” The Avatar bowed. “Forgive the deplorable lack of hospitality. Terrano has informed me of the possible weaknesses in my connections to the portal gateways, and I am attempting to repair them. If you would join me? Terrano’s friends are waiting.”

  Kaylin glanced at Terrano. She wondered why he’d followed a Dragon and a human instead of joining his friends, and couldn’t come up with an answer. But he did follow Bellusdeo and Alsanis as they traveled farther into the Hallionne.

  * * *

  Kaylin expected the dining hall to be noisy. It wasn’t. Although the cohort were all seated—in various postures, most informal—around a large dining table, they didn’t speak at all. Their faces implied speech—or rather, reactions to speech—but no words followed.

  “I think,” Bellusdeo said quietly, “that I would find Mandoran much more pleasant if he were this silent.”

  “He can’t be,” Allaron said, looking past his cohort to the new arrivals. “If he were, he couldn’t interact with the rest of you.”

  “And here I was thinking,” the Dragon said in Elantran, “that the house would be much quieter with the lot of you as guests.”

  “Mandoran does not approve of that,” Eddorian said, grinning broadly. “I will not, however, repeat what he just said.”

  “Can I?” Karian asked.

  “No,” Sedarias told him, frowning. “It was inappropriate. My apologies, Lord Bellusdeo, but—”

  “He lives with her—and they’re both still alive. How inappropriate can it be?”

  Oh yes, much quieter, Kaylin thought. The presence of two people whose names did not exist in the mental space the cohort occupied had instantly added color and sound to the Barrani cohort. Kaylin glanced at Terrano, and found the answer to the question she hadn’t asked him.

  He stared at the table—at the cohort—his expression incredibly bleak. It was something she hadn’t expected to see on his face, he was otherwise so much like Mandoran. But...he couldn’t hear them, now. He couldn’t be part of their conversation, except in the normal way: by speaking out loud. By putting his thoughts, such as they were, into words—and at that, words that were well chosen enough to make the thought understood to the rest.

  He hadn’t had to do that before.

  He had come from wherever it was he’d so happily ventured because he had heard them in the wilderness of the pathways. He had come because he thought they needed his help—and they had. But he was no longer part of them. This, Kaylin thought, was the flip side of the freedom coin. He had desired nothing but freedom, and he had leapt into the unknown with both arms thrown wide to embrace it, almost literally.

  He had seen things that the cohort had not seen; had done things that the cohort had not done. But he had come home when he had heard their cries.

  Alsanis, however, was not Terrano’s home. They understood each other; their long struggle—the one to keep Terrano caged, and the other to be free of all cages—had bred the kind of affection and respect that only long rivalry could. Terrano was comfortable in Alsanis’s confines because he understood the mechanisms of the cage; he understood it better than any other Barrani.

  But his home, she thought, almost pensive now, was not Alsanis. It was not a place. It was there, at that table, surrounded by Barrani who had been brought to the green on the whim of the High Court in a desperate bid for power. Where they were, home was.

  And he was discovering that he could not come home. Home no longer existed for Terrano.

  As if they could hear the thought that Kaylin did not put into words, one of the cohort rose—Allaron, the giant—and crossed the room toward Terrano. Terrano stiffened, staring at that giant as if he were thinking at him, as if willpower alone could force the words he didn’t say out loud to stop him.

  Allaron reached out and cuffed Terrano on the shoulder, but caught him when he staggered. He didn’t let go, either. Instead, he dragged Terrano to the table, pulled out an empty chair, and pretty much forced him to sit in it. He then sat beside Terrano, and dropped an arm around his shoulder which he didn’t look like he was going to lift anytime soon.

  Terrano flushed red. But Kaylin thought, beneath the embarrassment, he was pleased. Maybe.

  “Now I really want you all to visit,” Bellusdeo said, grinning. “I can only imagine what Mandoran would say if he were in Terrano’s position.”

  “We don’t have to imagine it. Sadly.” Sedarias, Kaylin decided, was cut from the Annarion school of good manners.

  Kaylin and Bellusdeo then joined the cohort at the table.

  “We were just talking about what happened,” Sedarias said.

  “Which part?” Bellusdeo asked.

  “All of it.”

  “Did you already cover the part about the two Barrani intruders?”

  There was a full beat of silence, during which the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Kaylin was certain the cohort were shouting up a storm on the insides of their own heads.

  “We were waiting for Terrano,” Sedarias finally said. “Alsanis believes he understands how they got in. It is not a method that they could use from the West March.” She exhaled, her brows folding momentarily. “Do you understand what that is?”

  When no one answered, Sedarias lifted a hand and pointed. At Spike. Kaylin had almost forgotten Spike was there.

  “Not really. From what I’ve seen so far, Spike is like portable Records, only better.”

  “That is not all that he is.”

  “Do you know?” Kaylin asked, folding her arms and shifting her hips slightly. Before she did, however, she dislodged Spike, so that he was once again floating freely by her side.

  Eddorian broke out laughing.

  “You’re talking to Mandoran again.”

  “Mostly listening,” he said, in apologetic Elantran. “He thinks it unfair that we won’t repeat what he’s saying—but I told him that Sedarias is here, and he’s across the continent.”

  Sedarias glared at him, but her eyes were almost green. Almost. “The intruders came by the outlands. They found the portal path. They could not have entered the Hallionne from above.” At Kaylin’s brief frown, she added, “In as much as direction makes sense in the confines of the portal lands, above is what we use to describe it. They couldn’t have come in through front doors; I don’t think they would have been allowed entry.”

  “They would not,” Alsanis said. “Will Spike be remaining with you?”

  “I don’t know?” She turned to the floating, spiked ball. “Did you want to go back ho
me?”

  “Yes.” The single word was spoken with far more vehemence than any other word that had left his—well, not exactly mouth.

  “Lord Kaylin does not think she has asked the question you are answering,” Alsanis then said. “I believe she means to ask if you wish to return to Ravellon.”

  “No.”

  “Ah. I believe her question implies a second question. If you do not wish to return to Ravellon, from whence she believes you came, where would you wish to go?”

  Spike began to hum and spin.

  Kaylin turned back to Sedarias. “You recognized at least one of the two intruders.”

  “I recognized the intruders as a serious threat to both my friends and the Hallionne.”

  “That, too.”

  It was Terrano who spoke, probably because he had to, to be heard. “She’s going to find out who they were, anyway. We have one corpse. Lord Kaylin is kyuthe to the Lord of the West March, and the Lady is waiting in one of the Hallionne to speak with her. If you think you’re keeping anything to yourself given events here, you are hopelessly optimistic.”

  “This is not a matter for outsiders; it is purely a matter for our people.”

  Terrano raised a brow. He really did remind Kaylin of Mandoran. “There’s a war band on Alsanis’s doorstep, waiting to kill the Dragon. There’s a war band in the Imperial City because the Dragon in theory attacked the West March, and they consider this a racial act of war.”

  “The Dragon,” Kaylin added, in case it was necessary, “did not attack the West March.”

  “It’s already gone beyond the boundaries of the High Court, and if the West March is not beholden to the Emperor, the High Court is.”

  “Annarion doesn’t want her involved in this.”

  “Annarion’s in Elantra. Kaylin is here. She is definitively involved.”

  Bellusdeo cleared her throat. Dragon-style. This broke the discussion into smaller pieces. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be picked up by the cohort immediately.