Cast in Deception

by Michelle Sagara

  “What will you do?” Terrano asked of Sedarias. Of all of them.

  “We will go to Elantra. We will go to the High Halls. We will take the Test of Name. In as much as we can, we will live as our people have lived for millennia. I will take my family. Annarion will regain his. Mandoran will do the same.”

  “Mandoran’s not going to like that,” Terrano said.

  Sedarias raised a brow. “We will become what we were meant to become, before our lives were interrupted. And when it is time, Terrano, when it is time, we will turn our gaze and attention into the heart of Ravellon, and we will break it. We will reclaim what was lost to our people.”

  Terrano’s brows had risen into the line of his falling hair. “How, exactly, do you intend to do that?” Clearly, this plan was a new one, made after his departure from the cohort.

  “We don’t know. But the Shadows appear to be hunting us—us—and I intend to make certain that they can never do so again.”

  He surprised Kaylin; he laughed. His laughter was almost joyful. He then crossed the distance that separated them, and threw his arms around Sedarias. Kaylin, even at her most comfortable, would never have dared. Sedarias was not a huggable presence.

  “You really don’t change,” he said; she endured his embrace, but did not return it. On the other hand, she made no attempt to disengage, either. To Kaylin he added, “They didn’t originally intend to take on Ravellon. Sedarias is angry at the thing that’s hunting us, so it’s become personal. No one can hold a grudge as long as Sedarias. No one, ever.”

  Kaylin didn’t personally consider this a good thing, but kept that to herself.

  Terrano let his arms fall away. “What I taught the Barrani who were interested in forging an alliance with us, I taught here. Here in the outlands. It’s not something that can easily be done in your world. I’m certain it can be taught there—but in spaces that draw on, that rely on, the much more malleable and amorphous environment. Places like the Hallionne. Or possibly Helen. Without the outlands, those buildings couldn’t exist.

  “Sedarias believed that without the outlands, the Keeper couldn’t exist, either. This place is tied to all places in some fashion.” His expression darkened. “The Shadows appear to be able to move here—but not all Shadows. They can’t as easily leave it, either. But there were buildings in Ravellon that were the equal of the Hallionne, or so history tells us; I’ve never seen one, but even I know to stay away from Ravellon.”

  “You can see it from the outlands?”

  “Yes. It’s not safe to approach—not for me as I usually travel. It’s a sticky web of strands and barbs, and it absorbs everything it can comfortably grasp.”

  “What does it look like, here?”

  Terrano shrugged. “What does anything look like, here? I can’t describe it to you because you won’t understand what I see—you can’t see it yourself, and you won’t have the reference points. But if you could, I think even you might recognize it as a city. A congregation of cages, some taller than the Towers. I can,” he added, “see the Towers that bind the fief of Ravellon in place.”

  “Right now?”

  “Not right this exact minute, no.”

  “But you can see the Towers if you’re in a different location?”

  “Yes, why?”

  Kaylin bit her lip.

  “Winston, can you?”

  Winston was frowning. “I do not approach the dark lands. None of us do.”

  “Because you might be lost?”

  “Because we might be trapped and enslaved, or we might be contaminated. Bertolle is home to us; we have no other. That was the choice we made. But Bertolle would not have the flexibility of choice, were one of us to become infected. He would have to refuse us entry. In the worst case, he would be forced—by the words at his heart—to destroy us. We would not do that to him.” He then said, to Terrano, “You should not play games so close to Ravellon.”

  “I didn’t know it was Ravellon to start with, and I never approach anything that big carelessly. And before you ask, no. I haven’t entered Ravellon. Had I, Alsanis would know, and I wouldn’t be here. I’d be dead.” He frowned. “Sedarias, don’t do anything yet.”

  “Oh?”

  “Winston is right. Something’s wrong.”

  “That’s why we’re considering—”

  “I don’t think Kariastos has been compromised, exactly.” His eyes began to spread across his face. Kaylin found such transformations acceptable in Winston and his brother, but found it disturbing in Terrano. And why should she? Terrano was not Barrani, now. He wasn’t trying to be.

  “Winston?”

  Bertolle’s brother was frowning as well.

  And Sedarias said, “Everyone, be silent. Now.”

  * * *

  In the silence, Kaylin thought. And in the silence, the crowd inside her head took the opportunity to speak when it wouldn’t obviously distract her.

  She is dangerous, Ynpharion said. The sentiment was echoed by everyone except Severn, who—as he usually did—said nothing.

  Yes, but she’s ours.

  You are so certain. It wasn’t a question.

  Is Terrano right?

  There was a glimmering of amusement. Terrano is correct. The Consort chose Kariastos for a reason.

  All of Kaylin’s worry, all of her fear, took shape and form, transforming as it did into a bitter anger. She had led the cohort—or almost led the cohort—into a trap. Why didn’t you say anything? It was a stupid question. She knew it was stupid. But the anger had to go somewhere or it would overwhelm her.

  Because she is not concerned about the cohort, as you call them; not in the fashion you are. If they are caught in a trap, it is unlikely that Kariastos will destroy them immediately. She can disentangle them afterward.

  And me?

  She did not—she does not—believe you are at significant risk. What Kariastos might build at her request will not harm you, because you have your familiar.

  What is she trying to do?

  Frustration. What do you think?

  You do not wish to be involved in this, Nightshade said softly.

  I’m involved anyway.

  Limit your involvement.

  I can’t—I live with your brother. And Mandoran. The Barrani are trying to start a war because we have Bellusdeo, who had no intention of coming here at all. If I did nothing at all going forward, I would still be entangled in all of it.

  Sedarias is dangerous.

  Kaylin did not reply.

  Lirienne did not ask her what she thought the Consort intended. And that told her something that she needed to know, and conversely, didn’t want to. But that, she told herself, was life. You know what they’re doing, she said, not bothering to hide the severity of either her tone or the disappointment she felt.

  Yes.

  It’s beyond the political, now.

  Nothing is ever beyond the political, kyuthe. Nothing about my kin.

  Help us. Bellusdeo is with us. Bellusdeo isn’t part of the cohort; she’s a Dragon. If there’s—if something was planned, she’s going to get caught up in it, too. The Emperor will be enraged, and war is not in the interests of either of our people if Ravellon has somehow become involved. In fact, war is only of value to Ravellon; it’ll split our forces. And it seems pretty clear that Ravellon is involved.

  Lirienne said nothing. Kaylin let it go. She held his name, not the other way around, but she knew that she was not equal to enforcing her will. Not now, and probably not ever.

  Kaylin lifted a hand and exhaled. Using her Hawk voice, she said, “No one enter the Hallionne.”

  “Oh?” Sedarias’s voice was chilly.

  Ignoring this, Kaylin turned to Terrano. His expression made clear that he thought anyone who gave orders to Sedarias—and expected to be obeyed—was so far
beyond stupid they might as well be dead, which was what was going to happen when Sedarias was finished with them.

  The ground beneath her feet—beneath all of their feet—began to rumble in a peculiar way. It did not feel like a tremor, exactly; Kaylin thought that standing on Bellusdeo’s throat while she was attempting to roar would feel similar.

  “Sedarias—” Terrano’s voice was sharper and far less calm, but when she lifted a hand, he swallowed. “We’re too close to the Hallionne, and I really don’t think this is a good idea—”

  “What is she doing?” Kaylin asked him. Her arms had not started to ache; her skin felt normal. But Terrano’s queasy expression made clear that Sedarias, who seemed to be standing utterly still—as if she were a sword that had not yet been wielded—was doing something. Anything that could make Terrano nervous was bad.

  “Sedarias—the Hallionne does not—”

  Whatever she’d been about to say was lost to the sound of thunder, the flash of lightning and the buckling of the ground beneath their collective feet. Even Terrano’s.

  27

  “What did you do?” Kaylin shouted. She had to shout, to be heard; if Sedarias had not been not Barrani, she wouldn’t have heard, regardless.

  Sedarias might have looked smug, if smug had utterly lacked any sense of enjoyment. Kaylin searched for a word and came up with vindicated as the closest match for the Barrani woman’s expression.

  The portal that Winston had peered through changed shape as the thunderous cries continued. Kaylin remembered, then, that one of the Avatars of the Hallionne Kariastos was a dragon. A dragon made of water. She could hear his roar, absent the syllables necessary to make language of it.

  “I tested the water.”

  “Kariastos does not sound happy with your test.” Kaylin was disturbed; her skin had not informed her that magic was in use, and she had seen nothing but concentration—and suspicion—on Sedarias’s face.

  “You can’t imagine, at this particular moment, that that has any relevance to us at all.” There was, about Sedarias, a force of personality, a hint of danger, that made choosing one’s fights essential. This was not the hill to die on—Sedarias had been suspicious, and Sedarias had been right to be so.

  If Sedarias was right—had been right all along—that meant that the Consort was involved. The Consort had come here, not to save the cohort, but to more effectively entrap them before they reached Elantra. Before they passed beyond the Hallionne and their power entirely.

  Bellusdeo’s presence in the West March was outside of all plans. The cohort weren’t responsible for the war band and its arrival at Alsanis’s doorstep. What she couldn’t be as certain of was Lirienne. Lord Barian had been injured. Lirienne was both alive and conscious, and he had not returned from his meeting with the war band.

  Nor did he speak to her now.

  She really hated this. She hated the suspicion, but why? She’d spent the first thirteen years of her life—or as much of it as she remembered—being suspicious. She’d called it caution, and it had been necessary. And when she had fallen into Barren, suspicion had become her only way of life. She assumed that everyone was out to kill her or sell her out, because that’s what she was doing.

  She’d walked away from that. At the time, she’d believed that the only way out of it—the only way—was death. Her death. And it had been hard, to change. She remembered. She had asked herself, almost constantly, Why do I have to do this?

  She could still hear the answer—given to her by herself, but also by Teela, by Marcus, by Tain; by Caitlin and by Clint. Because if you can’t make yourself do this, you’ll never believe that anyone can. You make the world you live in.

  And now she was a Hawk. She inhaled and exhaled as she balanced her weight over slightly bent knees in order to retain her footing. Suspicion was a useful tool. It was necessary in the life she’d chosen—but she had to be in control of it, not the other way around. She had, in her career as a Hawk, mastered a rudimentary objectivity.

  Something was wrong, here. Something did not add up. She hated being suspicious, yes. But she hated being stupid even more.

  “Sedarias. Terrano.”

  Something in her tone caught and held their attention. Sedarias’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

  “I think—for all of you—Kariastos is never going to be safe to enter.” To Winston she said, “That’s why we weren’t asked to travel to Bertolle, who’s closer. I don’t think Bertolle would do whatever it is Kariastos has done.”

  Winston said nothing.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “But the path—” Winston began.

  She told him, in descriptive Leontine, what he could do with his path. He looked dubious, and she said, “That wasn’t literal. It was cursing. Terrano—”

  Terrano had become a shade of almost green that meant he was distressed, or at least that’s how she interpreted it. “That Shadow that Spike drew off was not conjured by Kariastos.”

  “No,” she agreed. “And it doesn’t matter. We’ll be grateful to run into a Shadow, at this rate. Move. Winston—”

  “On it,” he said, mimicking Kaylin. He began to run, retracing the path they had taken. The cohort followed. So did Bellusdeo, but she held the rear, as if being a Dragon would be enough protection from the tendrils of a Hallionne. When they had run perhaps a mile in real world distance, Winston began to thin out, literally.

  “I really hate this,” he said, as he did. “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Yes, and you’re not going to like it. But you don’t have to form a path for us all the way there.”

  Terrano, running alongside, said, “Please tell me you don’t intend to walk the outlands all the way to Elantra.”

  “I don’t see that we’ve got much choice. We could—maybe—head back to Alsanis. Or we could head to Bertolle, if Winston’s brother manages to make it there in one piece to plead our case. But even if we reach Alsanis or Bertolle, we’re not going to be able to leave again.”

  Sedarias said, “You’re certain?”

  “You’re not?”

  Sedarias did not answer the question, which Kaylin supposed was answer enough. “Why are you certain?”

  “I have a couple of important True Names. I hold them. Start walking.”

  “...On Winston?”

  “Does it look like we’re going to be able to build ourselves another path?”

  “Teela doesn’t like it.”

  “Ask her for alternatives. Have her tell me—and you—that this is not actually some type of trap meant for you guys, and I will happily believe it.”

  “She says the Consort would never harm you. You’d be safe—”

  Kaylin shrieked in outrage. “And Bellusdeo?”

  “She does not believe the High Lord responsible for the war band.”

  “I would like to believe that. In fact, I do believe it. But I’m not willing to send the rest of you out into the outlands alone.”

  “Teela says—”

  “You know how you said I should have these arguments in person, rather than through you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was a great idea.”

  It was Eddorian who picked up the thread of Teela’s conversation. “Teela asks what in the hells do you think you’re doing?”

  “Tell her we’re running to the outskirts of Ravellon.”

  Cacophony, then. If normal hearing had been the key to their detection, they would all be swarmed, by now. She started to tell them all to shut up, but Kariastos did that more effectively. He roared.

  The cohort froze and turned to look over their shoulders, as did Kaylin. She could see what had once been a portal; it was no longer even a tiny bit welcoming. It was Kariastos, all right, but in a form that was much more like a Dragon—an enormous Dragon—than a bu
ilding. Although Hallionne were not actual Dragons, Kaylin understood from his tone that he was not particularly happy. And as long as they could escape him, she didn’t much care.

  * * *

  Kaylin.

  Go away, she told Ynpharion.

  Kaylin!

  I mean it, damn you. Go the hells away right bloody now.

  The Consort is waiting.

  Kaylin struggled, hard, not to tell him where the Consort could go. She was upset. Angry. Possibly a bit confused. Mostly upset, though. I am not about to turn around and betray them. They live with me. And you can tell her to forget dinner. Ever.

  Kaylin, you are not thinking. The cohort are dangerous—and you know why. You’ve seen why.

  She said they might be able to help defeat the thing beneath the High Halls!

  They will not help if they are not contained. She does not intend to destroy them; what she said to you was materially true. But she wants some guarantee that they will not become more of a danger to the High Halls than the Test in the tower.

  I don’t care.

  Kaylin—do not do what you’re considering. The Consort is against it.

  If she hadn’t been running, she would have shrieked for a good five minutes in fury and frustration.

  She does not wish to lose you. Send the cohort on their way, if you must; she will guarantee—absolutely and unconditionally—your safety and the safety of your Dragon companion.

  No dice.

  Pardon?

  No. Damn. Dice. And there’s no point in guaranteeing their safety, either—I won’t believe it. And I will never, ever speak to you again if you attempt to make me believe it. Now leave us alone.

  She was practically leaking fury, and part of that was aimed at herself. She’d been stupid. She hated being stupid.

  Kaylin. A different voice. She almost snapped at this one as well, but Severn had done nothing to deserve it. What are you now doing? Teela has just turned a shade of ash and her eyes are practically black.

  You’re with Teela?

  We’re all at Helen’s, yes. Tain is worried about Teela. Mandoran and Annarion are indigo-eyed as well, but Mandoran’s lost control of his eyes, so it’s not as obvious. What’s happened?