Cast in Deception

by Michelle Sagara

  “I don’t particularly care if you do—you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with their reaction. But tell them if they attempt to leave in pursuit of either Teela or Kaylin, I will personally melt the hair off their Barrani heads.”

  Helen’s Avatar opened her mouth.

  “I will. You can protect them when we’re all at home, but you can’t if we’re not—and if they leave the house, they won’t have you to back them up.” The entire sentence was offered in Elantran.

  Helen smiled. “I will pass the message on. Mandoran is going to be annoyed.”

  “Mandoran is always annoyed.” Bellusdeo lifted a hand and cut the mirror connection.

  “The Emperor would be annoyed,” Lord Sanabalis told her. He had waited until the only witness to the comment was Kaylin herself.

  “And that will be his problem.”

  Kaylin winced. Sanabalis’s eyes were a pale shade of orange. He turned to Kaylin and offered her a slight nod. “It’s been a while since our last lesson, hasn’t it? I’m sure you’ve been practicing in my absence.”

  “I...uh, I’ve been really busy.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “The Arkon’s coming to dinner with us.”

  “That had escaped my attention. I’m sure the Emperor will be relieved.”

  Bellusdeo snorted smoke. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Kaylin by the arm. “If I don’t get out of the palace, I’ll burn a wall down—and then hate myself for my lack of self-control in the morning. And in the morning, I’ll be in our house, not here.”

  “...Where the rest of us will have to deal with it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Leaving now.” Kaylin turned, bowed deeply to Sanabalis—and properly, judging by the way his brows rose in surprise—and allowed herself to be bodily dragged from his rooms.

  * * *

  “There is no point fretting,” Bellusdeo said sharply as she settled herself into the carriage.

  “Why can’t we walk?”

  “It will take longer and I need to cool down before I see anything else that annoys me.”

  “Diarmat?”

  “Everything. The constant reminders of my uselessness.”

  “No one said—” Kaylin stopped herself. She understood how Bellusdeo felt because it was clear that Diarmat considered her exactly that. She was not, in his opinion, a member of the Dragon Court, because the vows necessary to join it would never in a million years be uttered by Bellusdeo.

  “Exactly. You’re certain the Keeper is expecting you?”

  “As in, to show up right now? Probably not. He won’t throw me out, and he won’t throw you out, either. He probably won’t offer me any cookies.”

  “He’ll probably offer you something, given the noise your stomach is making.”

  * * *

  Evanton did not answer the door, but that was no longer surprising. Grethan did. Grethan, however, was dressed in a fine blue robe that was similar to the robe Evanton wore while in the garden. His eyes were the Tha’alani color of relief—not quite gold, but not quite calm, either.

  Kaylin stared at him; the familiar fled, as always, to the apprentice’s shoulders. “Is everything okay?”

  Grethan shook his head. The Tha’alani were not among nature’s liars, and Grethan, cut off from their group mind for the majority of his life, had nonetheless not fared much better. Under Evanton’s tutelage, he’d given up trying. The Tha’alani didn’t hide.

  They didn’t need to hide.

  “Something’s upset the elemental water. It’s—”

  “It’s not storming around the garden, is it?” She thought of the first time Mandoran had entered the Keeper’s domain and shuddered.

  “N-no. The water is talking to Evanton, but...it’s kind of agitated. We’re kind of hoping to avoid a flood.”

  She remembered the flooding in the rest of the building, as well, and glanced back at Bellusdeo.

  “Do not even think it. Anything you can survive, I can survive.” Bellusdeo had a killer glare, which was leveled, all orange-eyed, at Kaylin.

  “I was just thinking you don’t particularly like swimming or almost drowning. And your clothing might get wrecked.”

  “I’m not the one who has to answer to the quartermaster, you are.”

  “Fine. But don’t blame anything on me, okay?”

  Bellusdeo chuckled. “If I wanted to do that, I’d have to stand in line. A very long line.”

  * * *

  Grethan led them down the rickety, narrow hall that pretty much forced visitors to walk single file.

  “Why are you wearing that robe, anyway?”

  “Evanton thought it might calm the water.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The color. And the gesture of respect.”

  Kaylin shook her head.

  “I’m not the Keeper—he is. And it didn’t make much sense to me, either, but I didn’t figure there was any harm in trying.” The familiar on his shoulder squawked—at Kaylin.

  “Fair enough. Look—are we going to get soaked?”

  “Not unless something’s changed in the last five minutes.”

  “Time doesn’t pass the same way in the garden.”

  “It does if Evanton’s really determined—but yes, it takes effort, and yes, it makes him grouchy. He says it gives him a headache.”

  “I don’t envy you.”

  “At least he’s not a Leontine who threatens to rip my throat out to keep me in line.”

  “Or fire her,” Bellusdeo added. “He’s done that a few times as well.”

  If the hall had been wider, Kaylin would have pushed past Grethan and into the garden just to escape the conversation she was sandwiched between. As it was, she counted. She’d been told that counting to ten was a way of cooling off. She was still skeptical, but apparently it only worked if you managed to reach a certain number.

  Grethan could talk and open doors at the same time, and as the door opened, the room seemed to lurch out from around its frame to envelope the visitors.

  Or rather, the water did. Like a hand made of liquid, enormous fingers reached out to wrap themselves around the Dragon and the Hawk. They seemed to ignore Grethan, but he was almost part of the garden, rather than a visitor. Or interloper. The water was cold.

  “Remember,” Kaylin said, as they were drawn into the room, “it’s not my fault.”

  * * *

  The water pulled them in.

  Kaylin took a deep breath as the shock of liquid hit her. She didn’t speak—she didn’t want a mouthful of water or more—but she could hear the sound of water, and all that the water contained. She could, as she did when she was in the grasp of the elemental water, hear the voice of the Tha’alaan.

  Kaylin? asked the Castelord of the Tha’alani, one of her favorite people in the world. What’s happened? What’s wrong?

  Nothing?

  Amusement and worry collided in Ybelline’s internal voice. You are with the water.

  In the Keeper’s Garden yes—ugh.

  ...The water appears to be...agitated.

  Yes, but she’s not mad at me. I think. There are no rocks here, and she’s not trying to drown us.

  Us?

  Bellusdeo’s here, too.

  Kaylin, you need to open your eyes.

  My eyes are—oh. Oh.

  * * *

  They were not in the Keeper’s Garden. Kaylin turned in a panic, the movement slowed by water’s weight, but her eyes found Bellusdeo, made less substantial when viewed through the water’s odd light.

  Her eyes also found wooden floors, stone walls, arches that, carved, nonetheless resembled trees. She saw lights on the floor beneath her feet that seemed to emanate at regular intervals from the wood in which they shone. She thought she recognized tho
se lights, because she had seen variations of them before.

  In the Hallionne. On the way to the West March.

  “Where are we?” Bellusdeo asked, her voice attenuated but identifiable.

  “I’m not—I’m not sure. The Keeper’s Garden can be anything.”

  “I doubt the Keeper would decide that it had to be this—not unless he were entertaining Barrani lords of some note.”

  Kaylin felt the water thin, and reached for it instinctively.

  I am sorry, Kaylin, the water told her. This is as close to where you must be as I can bring you.

  Bellusdeo shouldn’t be here! She’s a Dragon! She can’t stay here—take her back, please, please, please—take her back!

  I cannot. I have permission only to do this much. But Kaylin—there is danger—

  Ybelline!

  Silence.

  The water released them suddenly, withdrawing so completely not even their clothing retained a trace of dampness.

  12

  “You’re panicking,” Bellusdeo observed, in a tone of voice more suited to mild criticism of bad posture. “I take it that means you have some idea of where we are?” She straightened her skirts, frowning. “If I had known that we were to travel, I would have dressed appropriately.”

  “I didn’t intend to travel.”

  “Also: ‘It’s not my fault’?”

  “Should I repeat it?”

  “You should never repeat it again. Honestly, how can you waste breath—when breath might be in strong demand—on something like that? Would you like your last words to be ‘it’s not my fault’?” Bellusdeo’s eyes were on the orange side. Given that they were not in the Keeper’s Garden, this could have been a sign of natural caution, but Kaylin doubted it.

  “...No.”

  “It also implies that you believe I’m likely to blame you for the actions of others—elementals, in this particular case—and I find that almost accusatory. I would go on in greater detail, but it’s only likely to annoy me. So. Where are we, exactly?”

  “I think we’re in one of the Hallionne?”

  Bellusdeo’s eyes went full orange, and Kaylin didn’t blame her.

  “It wasn’t—the Hallionne are like Helen, but stranger.”

  “Helen is a unique case.”

  “I think all of the Hallionne are unique. I mean, they’re all one of a kind. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Towers in the fiefs are, as well.” Kaylin exhaled. “But, ummm.”

  “They were fortresses during the wars.”

  “...Yes.”

  “Impenetrable, deadly fortresses.”

  “I tried to ask the water to take you back—”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re a—a...” She couldn’t make herself say the word out loud, which was stupid. It wasn’t like the Hallionne wouldn’t notice.

  “We’re not at war, now.”

  “No,” a new voice said. “Our people are not at war. And if you are willing to remain within my borders, you will come to no harm.”

  Kaylin turned to see the Avatar of the Hallionne. It was, as she had half expected, Orbaranne. But this Orbaranne was not the Avatar she had seen the last time she’d stepped foot in her domain. That Avatar had looked like a frightened young woman.

  This one looked like an ageless, terrifying monarch. Her words reminded Kaylin that the Barrani themselves often chose to remain outside of the Hallionne’s doors in all but cases of emergency. Even in an emergency, Kaylin suspected that many of the Barrani would be uncomfortable. They had no desire to have their minds read, even if the reader was an apolitical building.

  “Of course,” the Hallionne said. “They are a people who depend upon the secrets they keep from others—and no secret is safe from the Hallionne.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied Bellusdeo.

  “I live with Helen,” Bellusdeo pointed out.

  “Yes, I can see that.” Orbaranne’s Avatar frowned. “Helen is unusual, as you stated. She was not built as we were built, and not for the same purpose—but she has perhaps gone further than we would, or could, in pursuit of independence. Should you attempt to harm other guests, we will be forced to act—but not until then. I welcome you both.” She hesitated.

  “Blood?” Kaylin asked, remembering the demands of her own first entry into one of the Hallionne.

  “It is not essential.”

  “Then why do you make it a condition of entry?”

  “I do not. The Barrani demand it as a token of surety.” She had not looked away from the golden Dragon, although it wasn’t necessary. Nothing happened within the Hallionne that escaped the Hallionne’s notice.

  “I have nothing to offer as surety,” Bellusdeo said.

  “No. Nor would I demand it. I am gratified, however, to accept you as a guest. You are my first—my very first—Dragon.” Hesitation again. “Not all Hallionne will view this as a privilege, but all will accept you if you travel with Lord Kaylin.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Consort has asked it of us.”

  Kaylin’s jaw would have hit the floor had it not been attached to her face. “She asked you to accept Dragon guests?”

  “No, Lord Kaylin. She asked us to accept you and those who travel with you. I do not believe she intended your companion to be a Dragon. I believe she spoke of your familiar.”

  Kaylin reached up to her shoulder. The familiar was not there.

  “We can, as your Helen does, stretch rules. We cannot break them.”

  “But—”

  “And the Consort is precious to us, as you have perhaps noticed before.”

  “When? When did she ask this?”

  “Yesterday. Ah.” The Avatar’s expression shifted and softened, lending a hint of youthful vulnerability to her intimidating perfection. “He is here. Pardon me. If you follow the lights, you will reach the grand hall, and we will meet you there.” She vanished in the blink of a very slow eye.

  “I hope,” Kaylin said, as she turned toward the floor with the brightest lighting, “that she remembers to warn her visitor that he has a Dragon in his domain.”

  “Who are you expecting?”

  “From her expression, I’d guess it’s the Lord of the West March.” Kaylin reddened. She was not, as it happened, wearing the ring that he had given her—the most obvious public symbol of his claim of chosen kinship. It was safe at home. Of course it was.

  It is not required. I believe I would recognize you without it. But why do you leave it at home? It is not so plain or so poorly made that it would be an embarrassment to be seen wearing it, surely? Even among your mortal kin, who would not recognize its significance.

  She had forgotten—she always forgot—what his voice was like. It was not Nightshade’s, and it was certainly not Ynpharion’s; it was warmer, somehow more open than either.

  It is meant for those of my kin who might otherwise fail to understand your significance. It leaves them without the pathetic excuse of ignorance, should they decide to harm you. You have heard that there has been an...incident.

  I’d heard something, yes. She exhaled. Out loud, she said, “The Consort told me the cohort were traveling along the portal paths.”

  Cohort?

  “You are speaking to someone who is not me, I assume,” Bellusdeo said.

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “The Hallionne?”

  “No. The Lord of the West March.”

  Bellusdeo smiled. “I really did resent being left behind, you know.”

  “When I was sent out here the first time?”

  The Dragon nodded. “I feel almost grateful to the Keeper for the opportunity.”

  “The Emperor is going to kill me.”

  “I imagine he won’t be pleased, no,” Bellusdeo said. Her eyes were almost gold. “But he is a Dragon, not
a mortal. I would be more concerned about your sergeant, in this case.”

  “Sergeant?”

  “The Dragon Court understands both the function and necessity of the Keeper. The Emperor is therefore unlikely to blame you for anything that occurred. Your sergeant, however, might see it differently when you take a sudden leave of absence without permission.” At Kaylin’s expression, she snickered. “I have to admit, I’ve grown almost fond of him. I did not care for him when we first met.”

  “He doesn’t care for the Dragon Court.”

  “Yet he devotes his life to defending and upholding the Emperor’s Law.”

  “The laws are mostly good. And we owe allegiance to the laws, not the Emperor directly.”

  “They are not different.”

  “They are.”

  “In the worst case, the Emperor could merely change the law, and you would be honor bound to defend it.”

  “It’s still different,” Kaylin insisted.

  “It is indeed different,” Orbaranne said. Kaylin looked around for the source of the voice, but stopped herself; she should be used to it by now. After all, Helen’s voice was frequently completely disembodied. “But these lands are not Imperial lands, and the laws are different here. The Emperor does not rule them. The Lord of the West March does.”

  “But...”

  “Yes?”

  “The High Court is in the heart of the Empire.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the High Lord is therefore expected to respect Imperial Law. He’s part of the Empire.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the High Lord is the man the Lord of the West March serves.”

  “Indeed. But Lord Kaylin, the fiefs are also in the heart of the Empire. And the fieflords are not considered citizens.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know it because you know it, and you once took shelter here. No,” Orbaranne said, her voice softening. “You did far more than take shelter. Were it not for you, I would not be here now. The Hallionne Orbaranne would be gone. Come. The Lord of the West March is impatient.”

  Given Kaylin’s prior experience of the Lord of the West March, she doubted that the impatience was his.

  Indeed, kyuthe, it is not. I have not visited Orbaranne much since you left, and this is not a social call. She is lonely, he added, his internal voice soft as well. Although you did much to alleviate that in your time.