Cast in Oblivion

by Michelle Sagara

  “It is his hand that moves the High Court now. It was at his command that the war band approached the Imperial Palace. If the High Lord favors you, it will not save you.”

  “We have very seldom relied on others for salvation,” Sedarias replied.

  “You are to take the Test of Name.”

  She nodded.

  “Pass it, become Lord Sedarias, and in return for the safety of my line, I will pledge my service to you.”

  Lord Lorimar, Ynpharion said, is the man who carried Spike out of Ravellon. He is Lord Bressarian’s father, An’Veranelle.

  Chapter 16

  “I always wanted a brother,” Kaylin told Helen on the morning of the cohort’s introduction to the High Halls. The Consort had sent clothing for each of the cohort, save only Teela, and although there had been no measurements taken, all of the clothing fit. Which should have been impossible.

  Sadly, the cohort were not the only people to be sent suitable clothing. The Consort had earmarked a dress for Kaylin, as well. It was that dress that she now grumbled her way into.

  “Or a sister,” she added as cloth cleared her face and she tried to settle into the shape of the dress, which—with her luck—she’d put on backward or inside out.

  “You’ve changed your mind?” Helen’s glance was almost critical as she began to adjust the dress.

  “Annarion and Nightshade can barely sit in the same room without coming to blows, and Annarion is in pain for days afterward. But Sedarias...” She grimaced.

  “Lift your arms, dear. The fabric is bunching up because you’re folding them so tightly and I can’t quite make adjustments unless you relax.”

  “Her sister tried to kill her. Her brother sent assassins. I’m beginning to think that my daydreams of siblings are just that—daydreams.”

  “Not all brothers or sisters are murderous in their fearful ambition,” Helen replied.

  “No. Nightshade wouldn’t kill Annarion. He’d never even try. I don’t think there’s anything or anyone he values more.”

  “But?”

  “But it doesn’t stop him from causing pain. Or from feeling pain.” She looked at herself in the mirror that Helen had thoughtfully brought into her room; it was much, much larger than any mirror Kaylin had owned, or did own. “And I think I thought...”

  “That love doesn’t cause pain?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It doesn’t have to cause pain,” Helen said. “I think the skirt may be a little long if you insist on wearing those shoes.”

  “They’re practical, they don’t hurt my feet and, given the number of people who’ve already tried to kill the cohort, I may have to pick up these skirts and run. I’m not wearing the other shoes.” She exhaled. “This is Barrani clothing. The skirts are wide enough to run in, and they don’t seem to cause their wearer to trip. If they didn’t scream Barrani, and if I were rich, I’d probably never wear any other dress.”

  “I believe the Consort intended you to wear the shoes. Are you certain she will take no offense if you leave them behind?”

  Kaylin bit back words that would have vehemently declared how little she cared, because if there was vehemence, they probably weren’t accurate.

  “It is possible that the Consort will be judged by the cohort’s appearance,” Helen added, her preference quite clear.

  “Fine. But I’m already a Lord of the Court, and that means I’m not her problem. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t wear the dress at all, and if you’re going to make the shoes the all or nothing sticking point, I’m not wearing the dress. Look, at the moment, I’m concentrating on not punching Sedarias’s brother in the face.”

  “You are not.”

  “I am. But what I’m really wondering is what kind of a family Sedarias grew up in. Because she didn’t seem at all surprised to see her sister, and she had no problems—at all—killing her. She also said it wasn’t the first time her sister had tried to end her life. I just...” Kaylin exhaled. “I think it’s a bloody miracle that she’s part of the cohort at all.”

  “I think,” Helen said gently, “that the giving of True Names was the only way that she could bring herself to trust anyone. And, Kaylin?”

  “What?”

  “If you want to see evidence of happy Barrani families, perhaps the last place you should look is the High Court.”

  * * *

  “What are you wearing on your feet?” Sedarias demanded as Kaylin joined the cohort in the foyer. “Were you not sent appropriate footwear?”

  Everyone except Teela and Terrano were present and waiting. Severn had somehow been overlooked in the mass gifting of formal dress, and Kaylin tried hard not to resent this. It implied that the Consort considered Severn’s ability to dress himself a nonissue.

  “I already own appropriate footwear. I’m wearing it. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I can’t run on my toes, which is practically all of my foot that’ll be in contact with floor if I wear the things she sent. Is Allaron going to wear that sword?”

  “I think the sword far more appropriate than those boots.”

  “Did he even have that sword?”

  “Swords are, for certain occasions, considered part of formal clothing.”

  “So...accessories?”

  Mandoran snorted. He wasn’t, Kaylin noted, wearing a similar sword.

  “Please do not strangle her.” Teela’s voice drifted down from the height of the stairs above. “I’ve managed not to strangle her—often at great cost—and I would hate for those years of monumental self-control to be wasted.” Teela wore green.

  The rest of the cohort, however, did not. Nor did Kaylin.

  Terrano wore blue, a shade of night that suited the color of his eyes. Teela had a grip on his arm that looked natural, except for the whitening of the knuckles.

  “You don’t want to go?” Kaylin asked him.

  “He doesn’t want to wait,” Teela replied in a tone that would have made her younger self shrivel. “He thought he’d go ahead and scout the location. I believe those were his exact words.”

  Sedarias clearly agreed with Teela’s shriveling annoyance, because she turned the same glare on Terrano.

  Mandoran, on the other hand, grinned and offered Terrano a sympathetic and very theatrical shrug. “Someone should,” he said.

  “Someone we can actually talk to.”

  “You mean order around,” Terrano murmured.

  “Of course she does. She’s Sedarias.”

  It was hard for Sedarias to split a glare between Mandoran and Terrano, given their positions—one by the door, one on the stairs—but she did try.

  * * *

  Several carriages had been sent for the cohort, all bearing the heraldry of the Consort. Helen let them in through the gates and Kaylin was certain by the time they reached the front door, her house knew the location of every speck of dust—not that there seemed to be any—inside and outside of their very elegant cabins. If there was a trap of any kind waiting within, Helen couldn’t find it. Sedarias, however, was not concerned. Nor was Teela. Severn trusted Helen’s assessment, but wanted that assessment before the cohort embarked.

  When they were at last loaded into their various conveyances, Teela was in the carriage with Tain, Severn and Kaylin. Tain, unlike Teela, wore the garb the Consort had sent, because she had included Tain in the number of people unlikely to be well dressed enough.

  Enough, Kaylin thought, to face a monster. Because court dress was so good for that.

  “You are to let either Sedarias or me do the talking,” Teela said quietly. “If a question is directed toward you by anyone other than the High Lord or the Consort, please allow us to field it. You will be given some leeway because you are mortal, but at this point, please assume that every single person who approaches you is looking for openings.”

&nbs
p; “To kill me?”

  “Not you precisely; you would be collateral damage. But if they could find a way to use you in your presumed ignorance—don’t make that face, I’m not the one doing the presuming—they would do it in a heartbeat. If they could use you to embarrass or humiliate the cohort, they would do it. I think it likely that any approach will have that goal in mind. Under other circumstances, it wouldn’t matter.”

  Tain coughed.

  “It’s true. Kaylin has survived being almost entirely herself at Court. Here, however, she will not be the target. What she does will affect the rest of us. How she does it. Where.”

  Kaylin swallowed the words she’d been trying not to say and, with them, most of her annoyance at the perceived condescension. She was used to being judged. She was bullish in her determination to be judged for the person she was. But reflecting poorly on the cohort at this particular time? She could manage to stay silent. She could let Teela and Sedarias carry the heavy weight. If she thought that she was doing it for the cohort, she’d manage.

  * * *

  Kaylin was not surprised to see the Consort at the height of the grand, wide stairs that led into the High Halls. Nor was she surprised to see Ynpharion at her side. The Consort had an escort of four guards, which was—according to Teela—considered minimal. Two was a gesture of almost unheard of trust. And she’d brought only two on her visit to Kaylin’s home.

  Of course, she’d brought two for very specific reasons, but outsiders didn’t know those reasons; they saw the two guards, knew that the Consort had entered Kaylin’s home and understood that the Consort’s trust in Kaylin—and, by extension, her guests—was high. Probably unreasonably high, given all available facts.

  Ynpharion was predictably annoyed by her thoughts, which conversely brightened her mood. Not his, of course, but that wasn’t her job.

  It is certainly not mine. His annoyance took the edge off what might, in another less touchy person, be called fear.

  Sedarias reached the height of the stairs, and there, she performed the most obsequious bow Kaylin had ever seen her produce. It was graceful, elegant and bold in the way that total obeisance could be when offered by the powerful.

  She is not powerful, Ynpharion snapped. She offers the Consort her due. But he, too, found it almost discomfiting.

  The Consort bid her rise when it became clear that she would not rise without permission—or command. Sedarias then moved to the side, where Ynpharion waited.

  One by one the rest of the cohort approached the Consort—and the High Halls behind her—and offered the same gesture of absolute respect that Sedarias had offered. Only Terrano fidgeted before he approached the Consort, and his bow, while technically just as respectful, was nowhere near as perfect in form. He was too nervous.

  Teela did not offer the same bow, although she did bend; nor did she wait to be told to rise.

  “I see you bear Kariannos,” the Consort said.

  “A gesture of respect, Lady, no more,” Teela replied. So, Kaylin thought. Teela’s sword, like Nightshade’s, had a name.

  “For their return?”

  “For their return.” Teela’s eyes were blue. The Consort’s, however, were their usual green, and that green was—as it almost always was—in sharp contrast to the shade of the eyes of every other Barrani present.

  “The High Lord,” the Consort then said, “wishes to greet you all, and welcome you back to the lands of your birth. Please, join us.”

  * * *

  The cavernous halls were almost empty; the guards, almost superfluous. The cohort, however, moved more slowly as they walked. They didn’t appear to be gawking, but they found the halls, or perhaps what the halls represented, almost awe-inspiring.

  Kaylin understood; the architecture was intimidating. The ceilings were so high above the ground they seemed designed to make anyone walking beneath them feel small and insignificant, and if that didn’t work, the alcoves with their towering statues or intricate fountains were there for emphasis. Kaylin had seen it all before, and architecture wasn’t her first concern.

  Kaylin’s familiar was seated in a rigid posture on her left shoulder, eyes wide and unblinking, wings folded. Kaylin glanced at him once and then let him fade into the background. Spike, however, was whirring. She hoped that this was audible only to her, but that hope was dashed when the Consort paused.

  “Spike,” Kaylin hissed.

  The whirring stopped. When Kaylin lifted her hand, there was nothing in it, which was disconcerting, because she could feel the underside of Spike in her palm.

  I am here, he told her. But I am attempting to be unobtrusive.

  Kaylin wasn’t certain that would be any better, but Hope seemed to draw the attention of the very few people they passed as they traversed the halls. And the Consort knew about Spike, and knew he would accompany Kaylin, so it wasn’t as if she was trying to sneak him in.

  More subtlety would be highly appreciated by all concerned, Ynpharion said.

  If she wanted subtle, she’d’ve found someone else, Kaylin snapped back. She was nervous. She hated to be judged—but the fear that her actions would affect the future of the cohort was worse, especially if the cohort themselves behaved flawlessly.

  Your actions always affect those around you, Ynpharion said, being his usual helpful self.

  She let loose an internal volley of Leontine, to his amusement.

  * * *

  Kaylin quickly discovered the reason the outer halls had been so empty: the entirety of the Court seemed to have gathered in the small forest nestled within the forbidding structure. The perfect, interlocking stones of the narrow forest path were clear, but as the cohort followed the Consort’s lead, the people standing nearest the path began to grow in number. Even before the shelter of trees had been cleared, it had become almost dangerously crowded, and the Consort’s four guards now seemed entirely inadequate.

  They are inadequate, Ynpharion informed her. But her presence is not. This close to the High Seat, none will attack her guests unless they intend to assassinate the High Lord simultaneously. If that is their intent, this is not the place at which to launch such an attack; it is the very seat of the High Lord’s power.

  Regardless, he was nervous and alert. So were the other three.

  Hope squawked, but it was a quiet, almost chirpy sound. Kaylin tried to relax, but abandoned that effort when her familiar lifted his wing. Mindful of what little dignity she had, he didn’t smack her face with it, but that was a tiny, tiny comfort, not unlike putting up an umbrella beneath an oncoming tidal wave.

  Room was made for the approaching cohort, although it didn’t involve the usual shoving for space that occurred in less upscale crowds. Space was required, and space appeared with no accompanying fuss. From where Kaylin now stood, she could see the High Seat; it was occupied by the High Lord. The Consort’s throne was empty, but it became clear that that’s where she intended to go, once the cohort had been safely delivered.

  Teela took the rear; Tain separated himself from his partner and joined the cohort. It wasn’t a surprise that Teela’s eyes were now midnight blue; although the two Barrani Hawks had argued—at significantly less volume than Annarion and his brother—it was clear that neither had budged from their initial positions. Tain intended to take the Test of Name. Teela couldn’t stop him.

  The Consort moved to take her seat on the empty throne at the High Lord’s side.

  The High Lord did not rise. Once the Consort was seated, the cohort executed a bow that encompassed both thrones. The gestures were astonishing in their perfect unison. Astonishing, Kaylin thought, even to the High Lord; the Consort, however, was not surprised. Kaylin bowed, as well.

  Severn reminded her to hold that bow until the High Lord bid them rise. She didn’t even count the seconds; she was too worried. Hope’s wing was usually a sign that something was wrong—but she�
��d seen nothing wrong, unless the crowd counted. Since she was a Hawk, not a Sword, she didn’t have the visceral reaction to crowds that the Swords did.

  “Rise and be welcome,” the High Lord said.

  Kaylin rose. For once, her fear for the people in front of her eclipsed her own sense of inadequacy. Years of practice doing nothing but bowing might give her the peculiar power and understated strength of Barrani gestures—but she doubted it. One couldn’t make a career in bowing and scraping, and if one couldn’t, it didn’t pay. Money was a necessity.

  She then examined the gathering through Hope’s lifted wing.

  Ynpharion thought her rude and ungainly; he criticized her timing and her lack of subtlety. He did not, however, expect her to stop. Nor, she thought, did he want her to.

  What do you know that we haven’t been told?

  Many things. But about this? Nothing. Had I, I would share it; your success—and the success of your friends—is of vital importance to the Lady. She has considered this since she first heard of your impromptu arrival in the West March—but it has long haunted both her and the High Lord, as you must suspect.

  I think it would kill me, to rule here.

  It would kill you, he said, far more sharply, to rule anywhere.

  I meant the voices—I meant hearing the pleas and the screams of the trapped.

  Ah. Yes, I imagine you would find that difficult, as well. Ynpharion was not an easy person to like, and Kaylin was almost certain she would never achieve it. He did not consider affection or friendship necessary or desirable, and the thought annoyed him intensely, because it was so trivial. As if affection of any kind were poison.

  There was nothing in this gathered crowd that looked remotely out of place to Kaylin’s eyes, even given the familiar’s wing. She couldn’t see the entirety of the gathered crowd, however, and she was certain that Hope wanted her to see something.