But green? Green is the happy color!
Do not be facile.
The High Lord walked; the ranks of the Barrani closed at his back. Kaylin couldn’t see the Consort’s distinctive white armor anywhere.
“Arkon,” the High Lord said, the spoken words delivered as if they were incantation. “We are in your debt.”
It was a signal. The fire that burned in patches between melted rock suddenly expanded. The fire didn’t burn the Emperor or Sanabalis. But it didn’t touch the High Lord as he made his way toward the ancestor.
The ancestor glanced—for the first time—away from the Emperor. What he saw in the High Lord caused his eyes to widen. To widen and then narrow into dark, lash-framed edges. A silence fell upon them all, broken only by the sound of fire. Elemental fire had a voice that Dragon fire didn’t; Dragon fire sounded a lot like miles of breaking earth. It was hard to even see the ancestor, the heat caused so much distortion.
Is nothing going to drop this guy?
As if she could hear the thought, the hovering golden Dragon reversed the direction of her skyward climb, folded her wings, and dived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
She dropped the way a bird might have; her body straight, her legs drawn in close. Weight increased the speed of her descent. She came in on a very steep angle, and once she’d set her course, she didn’t deviate.
Even Ynpharion was impressed. We once spent our lives at war with them. She is the essence of the historical flights.
She seemed to fall forever; it was barely a few seconds. She disappeared beneath the eddies of ash and the height of flames.
The earth shuddered at the impact. For one long breath, silence reigned.
And then the flames went out.
* * *
It is over, Lord Kaylin, Ynpharion said.
Where is Bellusdeo?
She is alive. She is with the Emperor. Perhaps you can hear them. The last was said with just a touch of humor. He does not appear to be pleased with her intervention.
Thank you, she said. She let him go. Or let herself return. She had been, in the past ten minutes, more aware of his body than her own.
Exhaling, she leaned back into Annarion. This was not, sadly, deliberate. He put his arms out to either side of her.
“I’m not going to fall,” she told him, as the familiar continued his flight. Her voice came out in a whisper barely louder than the familiar’s wings.
“No, you’re not. Teela would kill me.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault.”
“How long did you say you’ve known Teela?”
She laughed. It hurt. The laughter faded as she gazed into gray and seamless horizon. “Do you know why your brother was made outcaste?”
“No. Because you are not Barrani, I will take no offense at the question.”
“Is it more offensive to ask you than to ask anyone else?”
“He is blood of my blood. Your question implies that my knowledge implicates me in his crime—whatever the alleged crime might be. In the hands of my people, the question would be highly political; it is the type of question that Evarrim might ask. He would, of course, drip with sympathy while speaking. Regardless, I do not know.”
“The Consort doesn’t know either. Or she lied to me.” Kaylin was exhausted enough that the thought didn’t offend her. “But the Consort seems to like your brother.”
“Yes. The Consort’s position, however, is unique. She can afford to like—and forgive—whomever she pleases. Social stigma cannot be wielded as a weapon against the Consort; she cannot be toppled. She can be killed, but that serves none of my kin.”
“Did you know her?”
Annarion was silent for so long, Kaylin thought he’d chosen not to answer. “Once, yes. But she, like Teela, has lived in this world for centuries. I do not know if she has changed as much as Teela—and I am not at all certain I want to find out.”
“If you still want to take the Test of Name, you will, though.”
“I know. At the moment, I am more concerned with my brother’s absence. You haven’t spoken with him since the ancestor was brought down?”
“No. I tried.” She hesitated. “He’s not in the outlands. He’s nowhere in our world. There are places where I can’t hear his voice—”
“Oh?”
“If the Towers or the Keeper want to give me privacy—or give themselves privacy, more likely—they can stop his words from reaching me, somehow. I haven’t asked how—and we can ask that. But not now.”
“Now is?”
“Home. And no,” she added, when he drew breath, “that doesn’t mean Castle Nightshade.”
Silence.
“I’ve promised that we’ll find him. But now is not the time.”
“We do not know if time is of the essence,” he countered.
“No, we don’t. But I know that we came this close to losing you. Not to death—but it would have had the same effect on everyone. Look—whatever you are now, it’s not what Teela is. It’s not what Evarrim is. We don’t understand what you are—but I don’t think any of you understand it either. And I’m sorry for that. I keep wondering if some of you wish you’d made Terrano’s choice instead. This world—it’s got rules. It’s got physical laws. It’s got boundaries. Most of us can’t get around them.
“You did—for most of your existence. But you couldn’t live here until now. So, please: live here. Relearn what it’s like. Come back to the world. Or...don’t. But don’t walk out in a rage when you don’t even intend to leave. If you decide that you can’t live with Teela—if any of you decide that—do it properly.
“Because I have to live with Teela, and I can’t just find an entirely different world to hide in when she’s in a foul mood.”
“She feels,” Annarion replied, “that you already inhabit an entirely different world.”
“Yeah. The mortal one.” Kaylin frowned as distant thunder pierced the featureless sky through which the familiar was now flying.
The gray fog didn’t magically clear at the intrusive roar of Dragons. The familiar hadn’t returned them to the real world. Except for the sound of angry Dragons, the only voices here were hers and Annarion’s. Even the familiar was silent.
“Ask Teela about the Hawks.”
Silence.
“Teela doesn’t know?”
“She doesn’t know the whole of it. There were losses. She says to tell you that Clint isn’t dead—yet.”
Kaylin sucked in air. She was on the back of a translucent dragon in the middle of nowhere. She needed to get back. “Moran?”
“Is singed, but whole; she’s taken Clint under wing. The Hawklord is likewise uninjured. Your Sergeant has lost half of his facial fur. Tanner broke his leg—upper left thigh. She asks if you would like her to continue.” He added, in case this wasn’t obvious, that Teela did not find list-making amusing.
“Tain?” Kaylin asked, pressing her luck.
“Tain is, according to Teela, a bloody idiot.”
Which meant he was alive.
“Where are we going?” Annarion asked.
“I’m taking you back to Helen’s.”
“I—”
“If we get debriefed, I don’t want you to be anywhere near the High Lord or the Emperor. I don’t know what you did in Castle Nightshade. I’m certain it wasn’t deliberate. But the ancestors were part of Nightshade’s basement, and I got the impression they’d been there a long damn time.
“I don’t think the High Lord or the Emperor are going to be thrilled if they find out you woke them. Given the damage done, and the lives lost, I don’t think they’ll care how it happened. You don’t know what you did—and I’m fine with that.
“But I doubt they will be. They’ll p
robably blame it on your brother—but he’s already outcaste. There’s nothing worse they can do to him.”
“If you believe that, you do not understand the Barrani.”
“No,” Kaylin agreed. “But in this, at least, I understand Nightshade.”
“We don’t have to return to the High Halls. But the Castle—”
“You called them from the Castle and they came. You have no idea how. Gods only know what else might drag itself out of Ravellon to pay a visit. If you’re in Nightshade, there’s nothing that can take down another ancestor. And I’m not sure—but I think Castle Nightshade was waking. If the Castle is awake and the Castle accepts your presence without, oh, trying to kill you as a dangerous intruder, then it might be safe for you to stay there.
“But that’s a lot of ifs. Given what happened tonight? Home—at least for the next little while—is going to be Helen’s.”
* * *
Severn?
Here, he replied. She felt a tinge of concern and relief in his voice. Still here.
You’re injured, she said.
You’re not. Relief. Again.
Annarion is with me. We’re heading back to Helen’s; given Annarion, I think that’s smart.
It is. I have an indigo-eyed Teela and a slightly less irate Tain. If the Emperor and Bellusdeo don’t stop their “discussion” soon, my ears—and the ears of every other person in the city—will be ringing for a day.
Glad it’s you, not me.
So am I.
* * *
The familiar continued his desultory flight in the gray emptiness that passed for sky, until Kaylin saw the peak of a tower emerge from the fog. She recognized it: it was the tower they’d left. It was Helen’s. The aperture was open; the room itself was empty.
The familiar landed, which took more time than departure had; the room really wasn’t designed for Dragons. Aerians would have loved it, except for the lack of actual sky.
Annarion slid off the familiar’s back; Kaylin waited. Having brought Annarion to the only place she was relatively certain was now safe—for the city, if not for Annarion himself—she intended to rejoin the Hawks. There were injuries, and she could heal them. But she couldn’t heal them from across the city.
We cannot return that way, the familiar said. And I am weary. It has been an interesting evening.
But I have to go back. She thought of Teela’s relayed message.
Annarion, apparently, was prepared for this. “Teela says Clint will wait. He’s too terrified of Moran to actually expire.”
“Teela doesn’t want me there either.”
“She feels that if you must meet the Emperor, doing it publicly isn’t your best bet.” He repeated the words in Elantran; he did not speak them like a native. “The Emperor is already ill-pleased with you.”
Great. “Why me, this time?”
“Bellusdeo was in danger.”
“And that’s my fault how? It’s not like she actually listens to me!”
“Teela says: now that you understand the problem, stay home. She also says that she thinks Bellusdeo is heading here now.”
“While the Emperor is talking to her?” Kaylin wilted.
“It’s causing a bit of consternation in all quarters. Apparently the Emperor doesn’t lose his temper often. Teela says the Arkon has joined the conversation.”
“Tell her she wins. I’m staying put,” Kaylin said, sliding off of her familiar’s back.
“Teela also points out that your ability to heal is dependent on your own physical state, and she says—I’m sorry, I’m just the messenger—that you look like crap.”
“That’s not what she said.”
“No. It was longer and more distasteful. Do you want it word-for-word?”
“I really, really don’t.” Her legs were shaking. She leaned back into the familiar’s side—and fell over. Annarion caught her before her butt hit the stone floor. Or before her butt hit the familiar, who had shrunk into his small and squawky form.
Are you still there? she asked him.
Squawk.
“I don’t understand why you can’t speak when you’re tiny.”
Squawk squawk.
“Fine. I probably have enough people rattling around the inside of my head anyway.” She knelt, picked him up, and plunked him across her shoulders; his entire body felt like limp lettuce.
Annarion stared at her.
“What?”
He shook his head. “I can see why Teela finds you interesting,” he said. By way of compliments, it wasn’t. She studied his face for one silent minute. His eyes were Barrani—and blue, but that was the Barrani resting state. His face had lost the edges that she found so disturbing in his fight with the ancestor.
“Helen?”
“Yes, Kaylin,” Helen’s voice replied. “I will close the aperture. You might want to send Annarion to speak with Mandoran. He’s sulking.”
“What have you done with the ancestor?”
“I did not think it safe to contain him here,” she replied.
“Fine. Where did you contain him?”
“It is not someplace that you can easily reach.”
“Are you being deliberately evasive?”
“Yes.”
“...We need to find out what they did with Annarion’s brother.”
“I do not think it wise to ask him at this juncture. You are weak and exhausted. Annarion is too close to the edge.”
“Not that I disagree, but edge of what?”
“Himself,” Helen replied. “There are boundaries into which he—and Mandoran—have poured themselves, but those boundaries are not yet fully inhabited.” There was an obvious hesitation before Helen continued. “It would be best for your city if they remained indoors for a while. While they are here, they will not be heard.”
“Heard by what?”
“By beings who exist beyond the boundaries transcribed by the lives of the city’s inhabitants. Mandoran and Annarion have willingly accepted those boundaries. I am sorry to say that they are not entirely aware of the ways they overstep them. Not yet. It is something they can learn. It would be best if they learned them in the West March, in the green—but I do not think they will agree to do so.”
“I will not,” Annarion said, with some heat. “Not while my brother is missing.”
“And Mandoran will not leave you, as he has made clear.”
Kaylin nodded and headed down the stairs.
“Bellusdeo has just arrived with her friend.”
“And she’s sulking?”
“No, dear. I think she’s very, very upset.”
“What color are her eyes?”
“Copper, I think.”
Kaylin exhaled. “I’m heading down. Is she in a room?”
“Yes. She is in her room.” Helen paused. “I am not sure she wishes to speak with anyone. Maggaron is standing outside her door, and she won’t let him in.”
Kaylin grimaced. She looked up at Annarion, who hadn’t moved. “Did Teela understand any of what was said by the Emperor?”
“She says she did not.” Annarion frowned. “I would consider that a lie. She is not adept at the language, but—no. She thinks it was probably personal.”
Dragon voices did not lend themselves to the subtle and personal. “I serve the Emperor,” she said, as she turned back down the stairs. “I’ve made my oath to the Halls of Law. I would die in his service. But sometimes I think he’s the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
* * *
Helen was not wrong. Bellusdeo would not leave her rooms. Nor would she open the door to allow anyone else to enter them. Maggaron, far from being happy that he could— finally—occupy the same building as his Dragon Queen, stood to one side of her
door, looking morose.
“Did you understand a word the Emperor said?”
Maggaron shook his head. “He was afraid, for her. I have learned, with time, that this is not the way to approach Bellusdeo. She does what she has to do. She did that, here. Without her...”
“She killed the ancestor?”
“Her blow was—the word, it means important?”
“Decisive?”
He nodded. “It was a risk—but the magical attacks hadn’t been working as well as hoped, and the Arkon’s ability to dampen the ancestor’s magic was fading.” Maggaron’s shoulders slumped. “She is a warrior. She has always been that, even when she—even as a sword. She’s smarter than I am. She sees the whole of the battle, she observes. She makes decisions based on those observations. Yes, she takes risks—but Lord Kaylin—”
“Do not ever call me that again. Please.”
He was clearly filing this under the peculiarities-of-Kaylin category. “She was necessary. Her action was not a matter of ego. It was a risk, yes. But it was a calculated risk. And it worked. The Emperor should have been grateful. He should have honored her choice and her attack.
“He did not.”
“What did Bellusdeo say to the Emperor?”
Maggaron lowered his chin. Kaylin hadn’t quite figured out how someone so bloody large could look so vulnerable. Clearly, it was a talent. When he lifted his chin again, she revised that opinion. “She said she would take the long sleep.”
“I’m not going to ask you how you could understand what she said when you couldn’t understand the Emperor.”
“I am her Ascendant. Even if she is no longer a weapon, I hear her.”
“How likely is that? The sleep, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I do not understand the long sleep of the Dragons. I think—” He exhaled. “If you did not live in this city, she would leave it. I’m not certain she will not leave it regardless. If she does—if that is her choice—go with her.” He looked pained as he added, “She won’t take me.”
Kaylin, who had knocked on the door until her knuckles hurt—to no visible or audible effect—said, “I’m not sure she’ll take me, either. She understands what’s at stake for the Dragons.”
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