POLITICS ARE HELL
Kaylin wasn’t sent to the West March to start a war. Her mission to bring back nine Barrani might do just that, though. She traveled with a Dragon, and her presence is perceived as an act of aggression in the extremely hostile world of Barrani-Dragon politics. Internal Barrani politics are no less deadly, and Kaylin has managed—barely—to help the rescued Barrani evade both death and captivity at the hands of the Consort.
Before the unplanned “visit” to the West March, Kaylin invited the Consort to dinner. For obvious reasons, Kaylin wants to cancel dinner—forever. But the Consort is going to show up at the front door at the agreed-upon time. The fact that she tried to imprison Kaylin’s guests doesn’t matter at all...to her.
A private Barrani Hell, built of Shadow and malice, exists beneath the High Halls. It is the High Court’s duty to jail the creature at its heart—even if it means that Barrani victims are locked in the cage with it. The Consort is willing to do almost anything to free the trapped and end their eternal torment. And she needs the help of Kaylin’s houseguests—and Kaylin herself. Failure won’t be death—it will be Hell. And that’s where Kaylin is going.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
MICHELLE SAGARA
and The Chronicles of Elantra series
“No one provides an emotional payoff like Michelle Sagara. Combine that with a fast-paced police procedural, deadly magics, five very different races and a wickedly dry sense of humor—well, it doesn’t get any better than this.”
—Bestselling author Tanya Huff on The Chronicles of Elantra series
“Readers will embrace this compelling, strong-willed heroine with her often sarcastic voice.”
—Publishers Weekly on Cast in Courtlight
“The impressively detailed setting and the book’s spirited heroine are sure to charm romance readers, as well as fantasy fans who like some mystery with their magic.”
—Publishers Weekly on Cast in Secret
“Along with the exquisitely detailed world building, Sagara’s character development is mesmerizing. She expertly breathes life into a stubborn yet evolving heroine. A true master of her craft!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Fury
“Each visit to this amazing world, with its richness of place and character, is one to relish.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Silence
“Another satisfying addition to an already vivid and entertaining fantasy series.”
—Publishers Weekly on Cast in Chaos
“Sagara does an amazing job continuing to flesh out her large cast of characters, but keeps the unsinkable Kaylin at the center.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Peril
“Über-awesome Sagara picks up the intense action right where she left off...while Kaylin is the heart of this amazing series, the terrific characters keep the story moving. An autobuy for sure!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Sorrow
The Chronicles of Elantra
by
New York Times bestselling author
Michelle Sagara
CAST IN SHADOW
CAST IN COURTLIGHT
CAST IN SECRET
CAST IN FURY
CAST IN SILENCE
CAST IN CHAOS
CAST IN RUIN
CAST IN PERIL
CAST IN SORROW
CAST IN FLAME
CAST IN HONOR
CAST IN FLIGHT
CAST IN DECEPTION
And
“Cast in Moonlight”
found in
HARVEST MOON,
an anthology with Mercedes Lackey and Cameron Haley
Look for the next story in The Chronicles of Elantra, coming soon from MIRA Books.
MICHELLE
SAGARA
Cast in Oblivion
This is for Chris Szego.
Thank you for almost two decades of bookselling, management and, in the end, friendship—even if I only get to keep one of them, they’ve all been invaluable.
Acknowledgments
I am an author whose lifelong favorite Sesame Street character is Oscar the Grouch. And not only because I’m certain the interior of his trash can is as messy as my house. If writing a novel is a solitary activity, family isn’t, and mine have, as usual, had to deal with my frenetic attempts to shut the metaphorical lid and sink into my trash can, loudly.
Thanks to my mother and her deep love for her (adult!) grandchildren, no one starved. Thomas, and the rest of my home team (John, Kristen, Gary) accepted, as always, that there were days when I was fretting in a corner. Terry Pearson provided both writing retreat space and first-read everything.
Margot Mallinson is my Mira editor, and has to deal with me. Kathleen Oudit has been responsible for all of the covers to date, including this one. But all of the Mira team I’ve met, and some of the team I haven’t met, are also working hard to get the book from the inside of my head to you, the readers. Special shout-out to Lauren Nisbet!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Excerpt from The Black Witch by Laurie Forest
Chapter 1
The Consort was coming to dinner.
Hurried attempts to cancel that dinner—for obvious reasons—met with no resistance. Unfortunately, they met with no response whatsoever. Kaylin had, with Bellusdeo’s help, attempted to use the Imperial messenger service to relay news of the cancellation, but to no avail. The Consort was not within the High Halls. Kaylin had no idea where, exactly, the Consort was; she had last seen evidence of her presence in the Hallionne near the West March.
And no one in the High Halls apparently felt up to receiving a message intended for the Consort herself. They were conspicuous in their absence; according to the messenger service, the High Halls were practically empty.
Kaylin had other avenues of approach and, when the messenger service failed, chose to use them. She, unlike most of the mortals or Barrani in the Empire, held the True Names of a number of significant Barrani lords. She started at the bottom.
Ynpharion.
“Kaylin, dear, don’t play with your food.” Helen’s Avatar was not physically in the dining room, but she kept watch over the occupants of the house. The house was her body, after all.
“I’m not playing with it. I’m eating it slowly.”
“I’ve watched you eat slowly,” Mandoran said, “and that’s not eating. Food is meant to enter your mouth. Which is closed.” Before Kaylin could snap at him, he added, “Most of us don’t mind if your mouth is closed. You’ve done nothing but swear all morning. And afternoon. And it’s not even your day off.”
This was not true. Technicall
y it wasn’t supposed to be a day off, but she had been given leave to take a few, where “leave” in this case meant Marcus’s very rumbly suggestion. Apparently the upper echelons—the Lord of Hawks at the very least—knew about the upcoming dinner, and everyone considered preparation for said dinner to be of vastly more import than catching petty criminals.
Kaylin didn’t agree.
She did, however, find it vastly more stressful.
She had been given permission to cancel the dinner. She had not, however, managed to reach the dinner’s most important attendee: the Consort. If the Consort showed up at her door on the appointed evening, she was going to be welcomed, and she was going to be fed.
Bellusdeo seemed entirely sanguine about the visit, which Kaylin tried not to resent. Her eyes were slightly orange tinted, but that could also be explained by the presence of close to an extra dozen Barrani beneath Helen’s roof. She had expected the visitors—Teela’s friends from a very distant childhood—to be vastly more difficult about Dragons in their living space, but the cohort seemed to view Bellusdeo largely through the lens of Mandoran. And when that had become reassuring Kaylin didn’t quite know.
They were therefore not worried about Bellusdeo. They didn’t feel she was the biggest danger they currently faced. Since this was more or less true, Kaylin didn’t ask; it also seemed rude to ask when Bellusdeo was sitting in the same room. Bellusdeo, however, didn’t seem inclined to give the cohort any privacy; if they wanted privacy, they could stay in their own rooms.
Mandoran no longer considered alleviating boredom by heading out into the city streets. He wasn’t bored, at the moment. Although the cohort could fall silent without warning, Kaylin was certain that the inside of their heads was one long, continuous argument, the subject of which—or one of the subjects—was the Consort.
Who was coming to dinner.
Sedarias was in favor of the dinner. Annarion and Mandoran were not. It wasn’t clear to Kaylin how the rest of the votes were falling, but it didn’t matter. Even if they voted universally against the visit, none of them could tell the Consort what to do. Any attempt to do so would probably start the war they had only narrowly averted.
Kaylin, however, was actually angry with the Consort. She wanted an apology from that august personage before she was allowed in the house.
Helen was politic; she had no opinion on the matter one way or another. In those exact words. Multiple times.
The Barrani—with the exception of Teela, also on brief leave of absence and also living in rooms Helen had provided—didn’t really consider Kaylin’s anger sensible or relevant. Any anger they now felt was pointed at each other and their current disagreements, whatever they were.
Teela was angry with the Consort. She was angry with Kaylin. She was angry with Annarion. Since she didn’t expect to get any relief from venting that annoyance, she was currently most angry with Tain. Kaylin had suggested—very quietly—that Tain at least head into the Halls of Law for a normal day at work; Tain failed to hear her. Given the superiority of Barrani hearing, Kaylin took the hint.
So: Tain was at the dining room table—a place he frequently avoided—across from Teela, and frankly, given the color of his eyes, he wasn’t any happier than his partner.
Bellusdeo was angry with the Emperor, who had strongly suggested that she return to the Imperial Palace for the duration of the cohort’s stay, and all but commanded that she at least skip dinner with the Consort. The “all but” was the only reason the Dragon could be mellow, relatively speaking, at meals. Mealtime in the dining room resembled mealtime in the mess hall.
In all, it was easier to deal with criminals than it was to deal with friends. At least for the next few days.
Severn did not appear to be angry with anyone. Which was why he wasn’t at Kaylin’s place, of course.
Kaylin’s familiar, perched on her left shoulder, seemed to have recovered from his emergency—and disastrous—trip to the West March; Hope was positively perky and cheerful. This didn’t improve Kaylin’s mood any.
Ynpharion, I know you’re there.
I am currently occupied.
You can talk to the Consort.
Oh?
You can pass on the message.
He radiated frustration through the bond that connected them—a bond he despised and would happily remove. Sadly, the only sure way to remove it was to kill Kaylin. Or himself. And Ynpharion certainly didn’t consider his own life to be of so little value.
You fail to understand, and I must assume that failure is deliberate. You may pester me—and do—at your leisure. You hold my name.
She hadn’t noticed that Ynpharion failed to pester her in return.
You could prevent that if you had an ounce more will and determination. You do not. The Consort, however, is not as weak as you are, and she does not lack will. She will speak to me when she decides she must; she will allow me to pass on messages that are considered dire emergencies. But even then, she commands me. The discretion is not my own.
But I can’t get a message to her any other way!
Ah. And you feel this is somehow some oversight?
She didn’t. Not really. But she held on to faint hope.
Ynpharion wasn’t big on any hope that wasn’t his own or the Consort’s. She will not receive the message no matter how often you send it. No one will accept that message, either. Her orders are quite clear on that subject, and even were they not, the High Lord has made his will known. Anyone fool enough to accept the Imperial message is not long for the Court.
You invited her to dinner. Live with the consequences. Ynpharion’s tone made clear that he wanted Kaylin to go away.
I invited her to dinner, Kaylin said, grinding her teeth because she didn’t need to open her mouth to speak to him, before she attempted to imprison my friends. My home is their home in the immediate future. It would be beyond awkward to have her here now, and I can’t even guarantee that it would be safe.
You can.
No, actually, I can’t. If you’d like to haul your butt here and speak to my house in person, you’d understand that. There’s some risk, if things aren’t handled very, very carefully. The cohort isn’t like the rest of the Court. Maybe Hallionne Alsanis could host, but given what almost happened to him, I doubt it.
Then perhaps you could convince your friends to forgo the Test of Name. Should they choose to do so, I am certain the Consort would be willing to alter her plans. If you cannot convince your friends to forgo that test, how can you possibly expect that I, or anyone else, could convince the Consort to forgo her one opportunity to meet the cohort and assess the threat they pose in person?
“If you don’t stop making that face, we’re going to assume Helen’s food has been poisoned,” Bellusdeo said. “If you honestly feel it will pose that much of a danger, just fail to open the door when she arrives.”
The silence around the table was an entirely different silence.
“I have oft wondered,” Sedarias said, breaking it, “what form Dragon hospitality might take.”
“This is where I live, but it is not my home. I am therefore not free to refuse a guest entry. Were I, I believe I would.”
“Liar,” Mandoran said quite cheerfully.
“You clearly don’t spend enough time with Kaylin when she’s in this mood. Satisfying base curiosity is possibly—just possibly—not worth it. As for Dragon hospitality in general, it is, as you suspect, somewhat different. If someone shows up at the heart of my Aerie with no invitation, we do not consider that a visit. We consider it an attack.” Her smile had teeth in it. “I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Sedarias replied, although she was grinning.
“Dear,” Helen’s voice said, “I’m not certain the table—or the room—will survive draconic transformation.”
“Then le
t’s hope it’s not necessary.” Bellusdeo was almost golden-eyed as she pushed herself up from the table. “If it makes you feel any better,” she said to Kaylin, which was almost a guarantee that whatever followed wouldn’t, “the Arkon is also coming to dinner.”
* * *
To Kaylin’s surprise, the Imperial messenger service delivered a parcel to her door. In it were two things. The first, a very, very thick pile of papers. The second, a letter written in a bold but tidy hand that made clear that if she lost this version of important information, dire consequences would be forthcoming. Given that the letter came from Lord Diarmat, Kaylin was left to imagine what those consequences were.
But she had lost the previous packet about the Barrani High Court, somewhere between Evanton’s storefront on Elani street and the West March; she’d barely had time to panic about the loss, the threat of the Consort’s visit loomed so large.
Mandoran had made his way to the door just as Kaylin was intercepting the package, and stared at it with bright-eyed curiosity. Had it not, in fact, been in Helen’s hands, it would likely have been in his. The cohort didn’t understand the concept of privacy. No, that was unfair. Teela understood it pretty well.
“What is it?” Mandoran asked, looming over Kaylin’s left shoulder.
None of his business. But she could barely think that with a straight face; saying it was out of the question. “The Consort,” she said, “is coming to dinner. This is a Dragon’s concept of what I need to learn in order not to offend her.”
Mandoran eyed the stack dubiously. “Dragons are weird. Sedarias wants to know what’s actually in it.”
“Exactly what I said.” Kaylin exhaled. “Diarmat seems to feel that if I don’t understand the political structure of the High Court, I’ll cause offense no matter what I do. And this? It’s the Dragon Court’s understanding of the current hierarchy. A sort of who’s who. Or maybe who’s trying to kill who.”
“You’re not going to be surprised when I say she wants to see it, are you?”
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