Ignoring this, Kaylin turned to Terrano. His expression made clear that he thought anyone who gave orders to Sedarias—and expected to be obeyed—was so far beyond stupid they might as well be dead, which was what was going to happen when Sedarias was finished with them.
The ground beneath her feet—beneath all of their feet—began to rumble in a peculiar way. It did not feel like a tremor, exactly; Kaylin thought that standing on Bellusdeo’s throat while she was attempting to roar would feel similar.
“Sedarias—” Terrano’s voice was sharper and far less calm, but when she lifted a hand, he swallowed. “We’re too close to the Hallionne, and I really don’t think this is a good idea—”
“What is she doing?” Kaylin asked him. Her arms had not started to ache; her skin felt normal. But Terrano’s queasy expression made clear that Sedarias, who seemed to be standing utterly still—as if she were a sword that had not yet been wielded—was doing something. Anything that could make Terrano nervous was bad.
“Sedarias—the Hallionne does not—”
Whatever she’d been about to say was lost to the sound of thunder, the flash of lightning and the buckling of the ground beneath their collective feet. Even Terrano’s.
27
“What did you do?” Kaylin shouted. She had to shout, to be heard; if Sedarias had not been not Barrani, she wouldn’t have heard, regardless.
Sedarias might have looked smug, if smug had utterly lacked any sense of enjoyment. Kaylin searched for a word and came up with vindicated as the closest match for the Barrani woman’s expression.
The portal that Winston had peered through changed shape as the thunderous cries continued. Kaylin remembered, then, that one of the Avatars of the Hallionne Kariastos was a dragon. A dragon made of water. She could hear his roar, absent the syllables necessary to make language of it.
“I tested the water.”
“Kariastos does not sound happy with your test.” Kaylin was disturbed; her skin had not informed her that magic was in use, and she had seen nothing but concentration—and suspicion—on Sedarias’s face.
“You can’t imagine, at this particular moment, that that has any relevance to us at all.” There was, about Sedarias, a force of personality, a hint of danger, that made choosing one’s fights essential. This was not the hill to die on—Sedarias had been suspicious, and Sedarias had been right to be so.
If Sedarias was right—had been right all along—that meant that the Consort was involved. The Consort had come here, not to save the cohort, but to more effectively entrap them before they reached Elantra. Before they passed beyond the Hallionne and their power entirely.
Bellusdeo’s presence in the West March was outside of all plans. The cohort weren’t responsible for the war band and its arrival at Alsanis’s doorstep. What she couldn’t be as certain of was Lirienne. Lord Barian had been injured. Lirienne was both alive and conscious, and he had not returned from his meeting with the war band.
Nor did he speak to her now.
She really hated this. She hated the suspicion, but why? She’d spent the first thirteen years of her life—or as much of it as she remembered—being suspicious. She’d called it caution, and it had been necessary. And when she had fallen into Barren, suspicion had become her only way of life. She assumed that everyone was out to kill her or sell her out, because that’s what she was doing.
She’d walked away from that. At the time, she’d believed that the only way out of it—the only way—was death. Her death. And it had been hard, to change. She remembered. She had asked herself, almost constantly, Why do I have to do this?
She could still hear the answer—given to her by herself, but also by Teela, by Marcus, by Tain; by Caitlin and by Clint. Because if you can’t make yourself do this, you’ll never believe that anyone can. You make the world you live in.
And now she was a Hawk. She inhaled and exhaled as she balanced her weight over slightly bent knees in order to retain her footing. Suspicion was a useful tool. It was necessary in the life she’d chosen—but she had to be in control of it, not the other way around. She had, in her career as a Hawk, mastered a rudimentary objectivity.
Something was wrong, here. Something did not add up. She hated being suspicious, yes. But she hated being stupid even more.
“Sedarias. Terrano.”
Something in her tone caught and held their attention. Sedarias’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“I think—for all of you—Kariastos is never going to be safe to enter.” To Winston she said, “That’s why we weren’t asked to travel to Bertolle, who’s closer. I don’t think Bertolle would do whatever it is Kariastos has done.”
Winston said nothing.
“We need to get out of here.”
“But the path—” Winston began.
She told him, in descriptive Leontine, what he could do with his path. He looked dubious, and she said, “That wasn’t literal. It was cursing. Terrano—”
Terrano had become a shade of almost green that meant he was distressed, or at least that’s how she interpreted it. “That Shadow that Spike drew off was not conjured by Kariastos.”
“No,” she agreed. “And it doesn’t matter. We’ll be grateful to run into a Shadow, at this rate. Move. Winston—”
“On it,” he said, mimicking Kaylin. He began to run, retracing the path they had taken. The cohort followed. So did Bellusdeo, but she held the rear, as if being a Dragon would be enough protection from the tendrils of a Hallionne. When they had run perhaps a mile in real world distance, Winston began to thin out, literally.
“I really hate this,” he said, as he did. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Yes, and you’re not going to like it. But you don’t have to form a path for us all the way there.”
Terrano, running alongside, said, “Please tell me you don’t intend to walk the outlands all the way to Elantra.”
“I don’t see that we’ve got much choice. We could—maybe—head back to Alsanis. Or we could head to Bertolle, if Winston’s brother manages to make it there in one piece to plead our case. But even if we reach Alsanis or Bertolle, we’re not going to be able to leave again.”
Sedarias said, “You’re certain?”
“You’re not?”
Sedarias did not answer the question, which Kaylin supposed was answer enough. “Why are you certain?”
“I have a couple of important True Names. I hold them. Start walking.”
“...On Winston?”
“Does it look like we’re going to be able to build ourselves another path?”
“Teela doesn’t like it.”
“Ask her for alternatives. Have her tell me—and you—that this is not actually some type of trap meant for you guys, and I will happily believe it.”
“She says the Consort would never harm you. You’d be safe—”
Kaylin shrieked in outrage. “And Bellusdeo?”
“She does not believe the High Lord responsible for the war band.”
“I would like to believe that. In fact, I do believe it. But I’m not willing to send the rest of you out into the outlands alone.”
“Teela says—”
“You know how you said I should have these arguments in person, rather than through you?”
“Yes.”
“It was a great idea.”