“Where,” she asked Tain, “did his two friends go?”
* * *
Bressarian’s gaze shifted from Teela as Kaylin spoke. His eyes narrowed.
Kaylin said, “This is my home. Why are you here?”
“I have been sent here by the Lady,” he replied. He spoke stiff High Barrani. Everything about him matched the language.
“To what end?” she replied, switching to Barrani.
“I am to deliver clothing, among other things.”
“The clothing is acceptable. Your two companions are not.”
“What companions?” There was no tremor in his voice.
“The ones who accompanied you in the carriage. They stepped out when you did.”
“I assure you—”
“Do not waste breath. You might need it.”
His brows rose, outrage at her insolence changing the shape of his face. “Do you think to threaten me?”
“No. If your friends are under your command, I suggest you call them back.” She turned to her familiar. “If, that is, you value them at all.” The familiar stretched his wings, straightening the lines of his already perfect posture. He then pushed his slight weight off Kaylin’s shoulder.
“The ground,” she told him. “Teela, don’t move.” This last, in Elantran.
Teela said nothing in response. Hope squawked. He didn’t slap Kaylin’s face with his wing or clip her cheek with his tail; he treated her as if she were his master, or rather, as if she were a master that commanded respect and obedience. She wondered how she’d pay for it later.
“Mandoran?” She did not want to use Terrano’s name in front of Bressarian.
I’ve isolated one of them, Terrano replied, understanding who she was really trying to speak with. His voice was a crackle of energy that suited his appearance. She had no idea if Bressarian could see him, but Bressarian wasn’t her main concern. Helen was. Kaylin had been watching the front gates for all but a few minutes, but she hadn’t seen the two quasi-invisible Barrani disappear. She had no idea where they had gone, or how, but she had a good idea of where they were trying to go.
Hope floated toward the ground, hovering about the circle of shadow in which Teela stood. Like liquid, it had begun to spread, seeping across—and probably into—the ground. This ground, however, was not like the ground beyond the gates; it was all part of Helen. Her skin.
Could you maybe hurry? Terrano added. It’s going to be hard to separate the invaders from Helen in a few minutes.
She couldn’t even see them, but felt no need to share that with Bressarian. Instead, she watched as the familiar inhaled, a tiny Dragon in miniature. The inside of his mouth and his eyes were solid red; the rest of his body remained transparent. Bressarian could see him, but his eyes were dark enough that they didn’t change color.
The familiar exhaled a stream of silver cloud that resembled—at a distance—steam. Kaylin was not at enough of a distance; she could see the flickering hints of opalescent color in the jet of expelled breath. The stream made contact with the edge of that messy, slowly spreading circle.
Something or someone screamed. The tenor implied pain. And rage.
Kaylin looked up at Bressarian; his eyes were midnight blue, his expression rigid. He said nothing, but the hands at his sides had become fists. Where breath met circle, the circle itself seemed to change; it became a silver that caught light at odd angles as it froze. Maybe solidified was a better description.
Spike whirred to life in Kaylin’s hand.
Terrano began to move. He was at Kaylin’s back. She didn’t have eyes in the back of her head, but she was aware of his shift in position, aware of the way the air currents seemed to warp to accommodate him. Mandoran cursed. In Leontine.
“Teela.”
Teela drove her sword into the ground, and the frozen circle shattered. This time, however, no shards remained. They were absorbed almost instantly by air and light. The familiar came back to Kaylin’s shoulder, but landed with his eyes facing backward, as if he were now watching Terrano.
Squawk.
Bressarian said nothing; he did not move at all. Even his hair seemed immune to the breeze.
The path around Teela’s feet was once again immaculate. She sheathed her sword as Bressarian stood frozen. “Lord Kaylin?”
Kaylin didn’t even flinch. “An’Teela,” she replied. “The grounds are now safe. I assume,” she added, “that the reason Lord Bressarian was denied entry has now been resolved. You will,” she added, turning to that lord, “now be safe. We would not impede any mission of import to the Lady.” She bowed. It was the best way to hide the grimace that even having to speak the High Barrani words had caused.
And then, because she was Kaylin, she added, “There’s an unfortunate stain on the side of your carriage just beneath the crest. If you’d like, we can have it removed while you wait.”
To her astonishment, Bressarian bowed. “Lord Kaylin,” he said. “I would consider myself in your debt should you be so gracious.”
It was so not the answer she’d expected.
* * *
“We have the intruder,” Helen said when Kaylin reentered her home.
“Both of them?”
“No. Only the one that survived. Mandoran and Terrano are more flexible in their modes of attack and containment than your familiar.”
Terrano was glimmering and his eyes were the color of green fire. He was otherwise once again the Terrano she knew.
“You look terrible,” she told him.
“Why, thank you. Do you really think it’s a good idea to let that bastard in?”
“Helen thought it would be safe now.”
“Which isn’t an answer. If I wanted to know what Helen thought, I’d ask her.”
“He does have the clothing the Consort offered the cohort. If she hadn’t offered, we’d have to have someone go in person. I trust you understand why the latter is a terrible idea.”
“I do now.”
“And he’s not lying. He came to deliver the clothing the Consort deemed necessary and suitable. Given the amount of cloth and the style of dress, I’m assuming that every servant in the High Halls capable of sewing has been doing nothing else since her visit.”
“And the dirt on the carriage comment?”
“I was trying to be passive-aggressive. I didn’t expect him to agree to have the carriage cleaned—technically it’s not even his, given the crest. It’s Mellarionne’s.”
“Sedarias is not happy,” Helen said, interrupting the conversation. “She would like to speak with Bressarian in person. Do you consider this safe?”
It took Kaylin a moment to realize Helen was talking to her. Which was confusing since Helen made most of the safety decisions when it came to strange magic and unnatural forms of aggression. “Yes.” This wasn’t strictly true, but safe had many meanings, and Sedarias was already angry enough for an entire squadron. Or ten.
“Sedarias is coming,” Helen informed them. “Bellusdeo, however, has elected to remain in the training room for the time being. The rest of the cohort has chosen to stay with her.”
* * *
Lord Bressarian was escorted to the parlor, which had changed in shape, size and contents to better suit a Barrani Lord of the High Court. Kaylin wasn’t certain she approved. It wasn’t his home; it was hers. But she understood the need to impress; she just resented it.
Teela and Tain accompanied him; Annarion and Mandoran slipped away to join the rest of the cohort. Terrano was quiet and seemed, to Kaylin, almost exhausted. He headed toward the stairs that led to the room he was now sharing with Teela, but Mandoran grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the rest of the group.
Severn retreated, as well, but in a different direction. He didn’t call it a retreat, either. “There’s something I need to check.”
She knew that tone of voice. It was like a friendly wall. She wasn’t surprised when he headed out of the house, and she didn’t ask him where he was going, because there was no point. He wouldn’t answer.
“Your carriage,” Helen was saying as Kaylin entered the room, familiar on her shoulder and Spike in her hand, “has been cleaned.”
“You have my gratitude,” Bressarian replied, glancing at Kaylin. His gaze moved as Sedarias entered the room. Allaron was the only member of the cohort to accompany her, but his unusual size made his presence significant. His position—at a respectful distance behind Sedarias—implied that he was there to serve. And protect. Definitely protect.
Although Helen’s clothing wasn’t useful if one wanted to walk past the property’s boundaries and not end up butt naked, it was nonetheless convenient in other ways. Sedarias looked every inch a powerful Barrani lord. Her presence implied that the Test of Name would be an irrelevant formality. Kaylin understood why the current leader of Mellarionne considered her to be such a threat.
To Kaylin’s surprise, Bressarian stood and tendered Sedarias a graceful, perfect bow. He rose before she granted him permission to rise, which was the only thing that saved the gesture from being obsequious. Kaylin didn’t understand. She thought she would never understand the Barrani.
Interesting.
My lack of understanding or his bow?
Ynpharion didn’t answer.
“Lord Bressarian,” Sedarias said when he rose. She hadn’t bowed, and her posture made clear she wouldn’t. Her eyes were blue, but weren’t any darker than his.
“Sedarias. So. It is true. You are here.”
“I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. You serve my brother?”
“I serve my father,” he replied. “And my father serves the An’Mellarionne.”
Very interesting.
Care to explain?
No. Don’t distract me.
“Your father is Lord Lorimar, son of Lord Samariel. Lord Samariel was An’Veranelle when I was selected to go to the green; he did not survive the final war.”
He nodded.
“There are not many lines preserved through direct descent. Lord Lorimar is to be respected for holding his line. You are heir?”
“No. My sister is heir. I am the son of the second wife.” Which was why, Kaylin thought, he’d been sent on what amounted to a delivery errand.
Any errand undertaken at the request of the Lady, came Ynpharion’s acid observation, elevates those who undertake it.
“We are grateful for the largesse of the Consort,” Sedarias continued. “But we are perhaps less grateful—and far more concerned—for the arrival of your other passengers.”
His smile was slight, but present. “I do not imagine that gratitude was the intent.” His smile deepened. “But you have my gratitude, for what little that might be worth to you, given my current position.”
Sedarias’s eyes were blue. Kaylin would have expected their color to shift, but had given up on making bets with herself about Barrani reactions. “You brought them here.”
“Yes. I was chosen to deliver both the gift and a...warning.”
“The gift has been delivered. Deliver the warning.”
She has been spending far too much time with mortals, Ynpharion said.
Bressarian, however, merely inclined his head. “The warning,” he said, looking almost apologetic, although his eyes were also blue, “was not mine to deliver. If anything remains of the two who accompanied me, you will have to hear it from them.”
“We will. But I would have your assessment, as well. It is why you have remained, is it not?”
“No.” He lifted his glass by its delicate stem. “I remained because, here, I may speak frankly and without unwanted witnesses.” He glanced, once, at Kaylin.
“Lord Kaylin is master of this dwelling,” Sedarias said, choosing not to ignore that glance. “Nothing spoken within her home will be hidden from her unless she so chooses.” Her tone made clear that Kaylin did not so choose. Kaylin was certain that if she did, Sedarias would have words with her later, and not the cheerful kind.
“There are rumors about Lord Kaylin that are even now circulating within the High Court. Is it true that she brought you from the West March?”
Sedarias didn’t answer.
“Very well. Coravante An’Mellarionne was tasked with the delivery of the Consort’s gift. He passed that task to my father, who passed it to me, speaking as he did of the singular honor invested in us by your brother and the Consort. Your brother is much in my father’s company, and my father, much in his councils. The carriage,” he continued, “was a gift from your brother.”
Sedarias’s eyes were a midnight color. Allaron took a step toward her, and then a much less graceful step back, as if he’d been slapped.
“My sister, Fianora, should have been tasked with this first contact,” Bressarian continued, and here, a note of ice had crept into the smoothness of his tone. “But she has been missing these three days. She left—at my father’s command—to speak with Coravante. She has not returned. The two who traveled with me were two of the four who formed her small cadre of guards; my father considers your brother a trusted ally.”
“And you do not?”
“I believe that trust and ally are two concepts that cannot and should not be wed. Your brother has power, Sedarias. Power and will. And my father has grown in power in the past few years; one could consider his rise meteoric.”
“You do not.”
“Ah, forgive me, I do. But my father is not a young man; nor am I. I once understood both his strengths and his limitations. The former have inarguably increased.”
“And the latter?”
“I no longer feel he has limitations.”
“I see. And you?”
“I have not been asked to keep company with An’Mellarionne. Nor have I volunteered to do so; I have been traveling of late, and I am oft absent from Court. My duties to our properties outside of the city have required time and finesse.”
Kaylin wondered if that finesse was martial.
Of course it is.
“Would some of those properties be located near the West March?” Kaylin asked. Sedarias did not make the attempt.
“Yes, Lord Kaylin. I was not, however, present in the West March when Sedarias and her companions took their leave of it.”
“Her sister was.”
“An interesting coincidence, I am sure. But her sister has also become adept, and her sister’s position within the Arcanum has been much noted, of late.” He was silent for another long beat, and then he set his glass down, the liquid in it undiminished. “Much has been said of you, and much speculated.” He spoke, now, to Sedarias as if she were the only other person in the room. “But much is unknown. It is assumed that your power is equal to, or greater than, the power your brother has achieved.
“Your sister has failed to make a report.”
“She is incapable of making a report,” Sedarias replied with a shrug. “But waiting teaches patience, or so I was taught as a child.” Her smile was hard, harsh. “Were you sent to test my capabilities?”
“I was sent to deliver the Consort’s gift. I have neither the desire nor the ability to test you; nor do I have the arrogance required. Word will have reached Coravante.”
“The carriage?” Kaylin asked.
“Indeed. But that word is limited, and if your domicile has truly cleansed it of enchantment, he will know only that he is once again blind. He will not hear any conversation we have, and what he hears of it he cannot sift for truth—or lies.”
“You do not wish to implicate your father.”
“I do not wish to lose him, no. But I have been unable to reach my sister, and she has been groomed to be An’Veranelle in future. My father is deeply involved in Mell
arionne’s concerns.”
“You feel too deeply.”
“It has never been wise, or safe, to put the interests of one’s line into a single alliance. My father is not the only Lord of the High Court to choose to ally themselves with Mellarionne, but such an alliance has been—until very recently—a subtle thing. Subtlety, however, has been forsaken. I do not know the full measure of the threat you pose, but Coravante has survived two wars and all attempts to unseat him; he is one of the oldest surviving members of the High Court. He does not consider the High Lord or the Lady to be a significant threat or danger.
“It is you he fears.”
“What is it you hope for, Lord Bressarian?”
“I wish to know what has happened to Lord Fianora.”
“Only that?”
“I will safeguard and steward my line. But we were never meant to flirt with the edges of the Shadows; I believe there is a reason that the Towers stand where they stand.”
“You think your father is working with the Shadows?” Kaylin demanded.
“I did not say that,” was his smooth—and slightly irritated—reply. “That would be an act of treason, and we are not a treasonous line.”
Sedarias turned the force of her glare on Kaylin. She didn’t tell Kaylin to shut up, but the words were suddenly superfluous. Kaylin shut up.
“Lord Coravante has not answered your queries.”
“He has. Fianora is indisposed, and he has offered her the solace and care of his personal quarters while she recuperates.”
“She has not accepted visitors.”
“Not kin, no. I wish her returned, if she is what she was.”
“And if she is not?”
He did not answer, not directly. “It is in the fief of Candallar that Coravante’s messengers and lieges meet if they wish distance from the eyes of the Court.”
Sedarias nodded, as if unsurprised. Which she was.
“I do not know what you are,” he said. “I do not know what you learned or did not learn; I do not know what the regalia fashioned of you. I know the history, but that history is barely better than story or legend. I would give it no credence were it not for the unusually visceral reaction of your brother.
Cast in Oblivion Page 24