Tara was silent for a beat. “I cannot say. But that is not, now, my problem.” Her dark, stone lips moved in something that resembled a smile. “I am happy to have met you both. Accept my apologies for our poor hospitality.”
Mandoran’s jaw dropped. Annarion’s didn’t. But neither of them had the implacable neutrality of Teela.
“Come on,” Kaylin said, moving toward the now doorless frame. “We’re leaving.” She paused in the door, and then impulsively hugged Tara—who felt as much like stone as she looked. Being hugged in return by stone wasn’t entirely comfortable. Or it shouldn’t have been.
* * *
No one spoke a word for four city blocks. Bellusdeo’s cheerful expression had evaporated, and Maggaron was looking around for exit routes, in case they were necessary. Kaylin recognized the look, because it often haunted her own expression. She was generally good with other people’s silences. Today, not so much.
“Did Tara tell either of you why she was concerned about the house on Ashwood?”
“Not directly,” Mandoran replied. Of course it would be Mandoran. “Oh, don’t give me that,” he added, although no one had spoken out loud. “It’s clear that Tara hears every word Kaylin’s thinking. She answers the questions Kaylin’s trying to be smart about keeping to herself—out loud, where anyone can hear them.
“She’s concerned because the building itself is as old as she is. In mortal terms, it probably shouldn’t be standing. Annarion pointed out that the Keeper’s Garden is probably older than she is, and it’s been here in one form or another all along.”
“It has had other Keepers,” Teela observed.
“Yes, but the Garden itself?”
Since he had a point, Kaylin nodded. “She thinks the home on Ashwood is like she is.”
“Not exactly like she is, no.” This was said in the wrong tone of voice.
“How did she feel it was different?” Severn asked, after a long, awkward pause.
“The Towers were created to be helmed or captained. They were meant to be tactical weapons in a time of war.”
“That is not—”
“All that they are? We know. Believe,” Mandoran added, with wry emphasis, “that we understand that now. But Tara herself said this. She’s not you. She doesn’t find facts offensive.”
“Because she understands they’re selective. When she says it, she’s not assuming that’s all that can be said about herself!”
“Kitling.”
Kaylin shut her mouth. The small dragon squawked quietly, and rubbed her cheek with the side of his face. “...Sorry.”
Mandoran shrugged. He had taken the presence of Maggaron in stride, as had Annarion, but he kept throwing side glances at Bellusdeo. She didn’t return them; she was quietly conversing with Maggaron, who was leaning in attentively to catch her words. This dropped a few feet from his height.
“The house on Ashford wasn’t meant to be a Tower.”
“What was it meant to be?”
“Tara’s not certain.”
“Is she worried because she’s uncertain?”
“She’s worried because she knows most of your kind live in hovels,” was his cheerful reply. “You don’t know how to cut wood or quarry stone in a way that preserves the life inherent in it.”
Stones weren’t, by any definition of the word, alive. Kaylin failed to point this out, but only barely. She alternated between finding Mandoran charming and charismatic, and finding him annoying and condescending. “Fine. We’re primitive mortals. We’re incapable of turning any building—sentient or otherwise—into a raving danger to life.” The minute the words left her mouth, she wanted to claw them back. This is what happened when she let annoyance do the speaking.
There was a block of fast, silent walking. This time, it was Annarion who spoke. “This is far more complicated than we thought it would be.”
“Less boring,” Mandoran added, but with less humor. “And yes, clearly the elemental water at its purest doesn’t attempt to drown you, either.”
“It didn’t attempt to drown me,” Teela pointed out—purely for Kaylin’s sake, as she had no need to verbalize with the two, otherwise. “And Bellusdeo—a Dragon—was treated like a welcome guest. Look, I understand that this is difficult for the two of you; it’s difficult for all of us. But we’re heading to Ashwood now, and if we could concentrate on the possible difficulties there, I’m sure we’d all be more appreciative.” As an invitation to truce, it looked a lot like a club. A big, heavy, Barrani-wielded club.
“As we were saying,” Mandoran began again, “the Towers were created to be captained. Their creators depended on their own knowledge of Shadows and their abilities; they built the Towers to withstand encroaching attacks. They were also aware that the nature of Shadow was not, and could not be, fixed. That they melded and transformed the living, in ways their creators had not intended to be possible. The Lords of the Towers were meant to be their eyes; they were meant to give instructions where their current knowledge superseded the initial knowledge built into the Towers themselves.
“The Towers, however, were built to be proof against subversion.”
“And the house at Ashwood?”
“Tara is uncertain. She knows that it was not meant to stand as a bulwark against the Shadows; that was neither its design nor its intent.”
“What was it built for?”
Mandoran shrugged. “Which part of uncertain wasn’t clear?”
“Does she think it’s possibly dangerous simply because it was created at the same time?”
“Yes,” Mandoran replied.
“No,” Annarion said. They spoke in unison. Sort of.
Kaylin turned to Annarion. “I’ll take the no for five silver.”
He frowned at Teela, to indicate that perhaps he had not understood the Elantran he heard. Teela, however, laughed, which caused him to flush. “Tara does not believe that any building was created for its own sake. Buildings serve a function. The Hallionne were created to keep the peace between factions who might otherwise murder each other in their sleep—if they bothered with the pretense of sleep or rest at all.
“Tara was created to keep the fief free of the contaminant of Shadow, and to find a Lord who would share this responsibility. She does not understand what the purpose of Ashwood was; if she understood it, she would know what we faced.”
“Not we,” Kaylin told him. “I’m looking for a new place to live. Me.”
* * *
If Teela had second thoughts—and given Teela, she was probably well into fifth and sixth by now—she kept them mostly to herself. She was as good as her word; she knew where Ashwood was, and knew how to reach it. She was comfortable in any of the streets of this city; Kaylin wasn’t. The minute they hit the large, perfectly maintained roads with the very fancy magical lighting, her shoulders began to tense.
“You did mirror Jared?” Severn asked quietly.
Kaylin nodded.
Teela walked like she owned the street. Bellusdeo, sensing Kaylin’s discomfort, drew herself up to her full height and did the same. Neither Mandoran nor Annarion had fully recovered from their visit with Tara, and if Mandoran rallied from time to time, it was clear he was unsettled. He didn’t, however, walk as if nothing on these streets could possibly be of interest; stray elements of streetfront fences and architecture caught his attention. Kaylin wasn’t certain if Annarion was likewise engaged; he had adopted Teela’s stance and expression.
“You did tell Lord Emmerian that we were going to inspect possible living quarters?” Kaylin asked, quickening her pace to keep up with the two women who had taken the lead.
Bellusdeo shrugged.
“...You didn’t.”
“You were with me the entire afternoon, except within the Tower. No, I did not think to do so.
It may come as a surprise to you, but I dislike the constant, unwelcome interference.”
Kaylin winced. “We don’t have portable mirrors here,” she pointed out.
“No. I understand that they are possible.”
“They are—but they’re finicky; we cart them around in emergencies, with full departmental approval. Full departmental approval requires a cartload of paperwork.”
“Ah. Your Sergeant is well-known for the regard in which he holds that paperwork.”
“Yes. Very well-known.”
“I did, however, ask Tara for a list of known previous residents of the house we will visit this evening.”
“When? She was with—”
“She’s a Tower. I asked, and she answered. She is perfectly capable of holding a dozen conversations simultaneously; she understands that most of us find this perplexing, and attempts to confine herself to one Avatar. She does not, however, do so because she lacks the ability to be in many places at once. I know you’re fond of her,” Bellusdeo added, her voice gentling. “I even understand why.
“What I didn’t entirely understand was that she is just as fond of you. If you asked her, she would allow you to move in before you’d finished making the request. She doesn’t have door wards—anywhere—because she knows how much discomfort they cause you. She doesn’t have multiple Avatars—which would be more efficient—for similar reasons. I feel this unfair,” Bellusdeo added, “but she pointed out that you’ve never said anything; she intuits it because you are, to use an Elantran phrase, an open book. She doesn’t want you to feel unhappy or uncomfortable when you visit her, because she’s afraid you will visit even less than you do now.”
Kaylin said nothing. She felt...guilty. She was effectively telling Tara to be less herself—in her own home. “I think I could get used to it,” she said, in a much quieter voice. “She shouldn’t have to change herself because she’s afraid of what I’ll think.”
“Why not? Isn’t it what you yourself do?”
Kaylin was at a momentary loss for words. Teela, being Teela, filled the gap. “She has you there, kitling. You spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the opinions of other people as they relate to yourself.”
“I don’t—”
“You do. You dislike old, judgmental men. In the past, you made yourself so obnoxious they were bound to dislike you on principal. Why do you think you did that?”
Kaylin said nothing.
“Because then you’d be in control. You’d know what they judged, and why. You’ve improved greatly over the past few years,” Teela added. “You don’t assume that every authority figure in the city will automatically assume you are an ignorant, venal wretch from the fiefs. What Tara does is vastly less offensive—but Tara makes no assumptions of the kind you did. She knows what you think; you hide nothing. You don’t even try. She’s aware that she caused you pain in the past, and she regrets it; she is determined never to make that mistake again.”
Kaylin said more nothing, as Teela glanced at Bellusdeo. “Were there any names on that list?”
“Yes.”
“Any recent names?”
“No.”
“How would Tara even have the early names?” Kaylin asked.
“That,” Bellusdeo said, “was the important point. Your Imperial Records are an echo of the communication and collective memory of structures such as Tara, the Hallionne, and apparently places like Ashwood. Before you ask, the Keeper’s Garden is not part of what Tara considered an array.”
“Did Tara know any of the previous occupants?”
“Not personally, no.” She glanced at Kaylin, and then continued to watch the road.
“What?”
“It is nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. What?”
“It does not appear that you fully understand that Tara, like any sentient being who can speak and think, is fully capable of lying when it suits her purposes. You,” she continued, “are an incompetent liar. This does not mean that you do not, from time to time, make that attempt. It’s my suspicion that, were it not for the emergency on her borders, Tara would have asked Lord Tiamaris to accompany us.”
Kaylin wasn’t of a mind to feel grateful for the type of emergency that Tara and Tiamaris now faced—but it was close.
“He would have, at this point, been more welcome than Emmerian.”
“He’s still a Lord of the Dragon Court.”
“Yes—an independent Lord of that Court, with a fief that operates as a small, separate country under his command.” Bellusdeo exhaled heavily. “His existence—his continued existence—is possibly one of the only things that gives me hope for my own future.”
“You said you mirrored Jared?” Teela asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. There’s a rather unpleasant amount of activity at the various windows we’re passing; he’s probably cursing the existence of mirrors—at all—at the moment. Pick up the pace. I happen to like Jared.”
* * *
Ashwood did not, in Kaylin’s opinion, live up to the word street. It appeared, as they made their final right, to sport no sign that declared its name in precise, Imperial lettering, for one; it was short, for another. There were two manor homes—one to the right and one to the left—and they were very much in keeping with the general style of this neighborhood—the front doors were as far from actual pedestrians as it was possible to be while still facing the street; there were heavy, ornate fences, and there were gates. Very closed gates. There didn’t appear to be gatehouses, on the other hand.
The road itself led to a third residence. It was also fenced in. It was gated. There were no other homes.
“The one at the end is number three?” Kaylin asked their native guide.
Teela nodded.
“It looks a lot like one and two.”
“Which says more about mortal vision than it does about either of the three manors. You’re certain you’re expected?”
Kaylin stared at the back of Barrani head. Teela turned slowly. “I’m certain we’re not.”
“Given Tara’s concerns—”
“If I’d known that Tara had some sort of connection with Ashwood, I’d’ve asked to use her mirror. Evanton said the owner of the house is off the mirror network.”
“The owner of the house,” Bellusdeo added, “is off the Tower network—if such a thing exists—as well. Tara has no ability to communicate with the building here.”
“But she did in the past.”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you how or why that changed?”
“No. I did, however, ask.” Bellusdeo now approached the front gate. “She was concerned. You are important to her. But she understands that you—and myself, if I am being honest—are desperately unhappy living at the Palace. She is not certain that Ashwood is a danger; she is only certain that it can be. I, on the other hand, am a danger. Were it not for my presence in your life, you would not now be searching for another place to live. Teela is a danger. Were it not for Teela—”
“I get it, I get it. She thinks Ashwood is more like you or Teela than Shadows, which have intent to harm?”
“Yes, I believe so. She doesn’t have a finer understanding of either diplomacy or tact—”
Mandoran snorted.
“—but she has, with Tiamaris’s help and instruction, learned much in the past few months. She does not feel that you have learned as much.”
“She has a better teacher,” was Kaylin’s glum reply. She joined Bellusdeo at the very closed gate.
“She asks me to remind you that tact and diplomacy can be used without dishonesty.”
“Oh, I’ll be tactful.”
This time it was Teela who snorted. “The gate is closed.”
“Lo
cked?”
Teela carefully attempted to open the gate. “Yes.”
“And there doesn’t seem to be a gatekeeper,” Bellusdeo added.
Which meant Jared was getting a faceful of “concerned” citizenry for no reason. Kaylin muttered a few choice Leontine phrases, shoulders sagging.
“Tact, remember?” Teela chuckled.
“It’s not like anyone’s listening. Tact is the thing you use when people can actually hear you.” She reached out, grabbed a bar, and rattled the very, very solid gate. “I feel like I’m in jail,” she said, to no one in particular. It had been a damned long day.
No one was more surprised than Kaylin at the sharp sound of metallic click. She yanked her hand away as if burned, although the metal was cool and solid to the touch. The gates, however, began to roll in toward a lawn that was neither wild nor precisely tended. Grass rose on either side of a deliberate stone path; the stones were flat and even—wide enough to accommodate even the most fussy of Imperial carriages. Certainly wide enough to accommodate the diverse party that now stood at the foot of that path.
* * *
“Did I miss a ward?” she asked, although she knew the answer.
“You couldn’t have. You aren’t whining enough,” Teela replied. “Do you see magic here?”
“I see evidence of magic.”
“Very funny.”
The small dragon yawned. He draped himself across Kaylin’s shoulders, mimicking a very bored cat. He did not, however, attempt to speak to the moving gate. Kaylin took this as a good sign.
“How did the Keeper know that his friend was looking for a new tenant?” Mandoran asked, as Kaylin took her first hesitant step up the drive. “If neither he nor the Ashwood building are part of the mirror system?”
“Don’t ask me.”
* * *
The front doors were not as intimidating as the open gate, because they weren’t actually open. Doors were a little like people, in Kaylin’s experience; they told you a fair amount about what to expect on the interiors. The door to her old apartment building had been finicky; it was wider on the street than the interior doors. Getting furniture into—or out of—the apartment had been a nightmare that had only been resolved by removing that door from its hinges, and even then, the door frame was narrow. No one who lived in the apartments, the doors implied, could possibly have much of value or size to move either in or out.
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