People had passed through the sigil; it had not appeared to harm them. Kaylin pointed this out, but dubiously. Teela accepted it in the spirit with which it was offered. “The familiar?”
The small, translucent creature in question lifted a wing and folded it more or less across both of Kaylin’s eyes. This time, it was Kaylin who gave in to Leontine, but hers was louder and more disgusted.
“What are you looking at?”
“I’m not completely certain but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s a portal.”
“A portal.”
“The sigil seems to sit in the center of what might otherwise be a window—it’s transparent, but it seems to sort of reflect light. Not well,” she added. “But beyond that window, I can’t see the hall at all. I can see something dark, and a flicker of light a few yards in that implies torches. I think there’s stone or dirt floors; I can’t see ceiling. Just darkness.”
“When you say not certain, would you be willing to bet on it?”
“Definitely.”
“With your own money?”
“Yes.”
Teela was silent for another beat. “Let him eat it, if he can.”
The familiar then withdrew his wing and launched himself off Kaylin’s shoulder, leaving tiny claw marks in his wake. What Teela could see as a spell by casting a spell herself, he could see without apparent effort. He didn’t look worried. Wings spread, he hovered directly in front of the sigil that Kaylin had first seen.
His roar at this size had never been terribly impressive, but he roared anyway, and followed it up with Dragon breath in miniature. A stream of sparkling silver smoke left his open mouth. Unlike actual Dragons, it wasn’t smoke created by fire, and the cloud that formed in its wake didn’t burn what it touched. It did, however, melt it.
“You know,” Kaylin said, as she watched the familiar at work, “this would be a great way to erase magical evidence.”
“I imagine that’s just one reason why the Arcanum in concert would love to have familiars of their own,” was Teela’s dry response.
The sigil began to collapse, the solidity of its carved form running like the wax of a poorly made candle. It did not hit floor; it didn’t hit anything. The air seemed to absorb it as they watched. Only when the familiar was done and had returned to Kaylin’s shoulder did Teela signal to her guards.
“We’re going to be late,” she told them. They walked decisively down the hall, to no obvious ill effect. Teela followed.
*
The rest of the walk to the courtyard was uneventful. It was longer than it should have been because people who were apparently delighted to see Teela at Court stopped to exclaim, and there was no polite way to shut them up. They were all blue-eyed, on the other hand, and even Kaylin’s inexpert knowledge of manners couldn’t disguise the fact that their delight was dripping condescension—or worse.
Teela, however, answered graciously, as if their condescension was so trivial she could fail to notice it at all. Kaylin had never been confronted with so many exquisitely perfect and delighted people who nonetheless felt like they were going to war, and by the time they reached the interior forest that led, at last, to the Consort’s chair she was exhausted. Teela was not.
Her guards were also accustomed to this type of interaction, but they were as blue-eyed as Teela, and to Kaylin’s eye, much more obviously alert.
“Were any of those people your friends?” Kaylin asked, when there was a decent chance that no one, except the guards, could hear her.
“Don’t be naive.”
Kaylin accepted this without apparent annoyance—which took a lot of effort.
“If my actual friends were here, we would be in so very much more trouble.” Her brief grin was edged; no doubt she’d said that in a way that Mandoran and Annarion could hear. She took a few more steps, and then slowed to a much more stately walk. “You consider the Hawks in the office to be friends?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where we differ. These men and women are my associates. We are, in one case, distantly related kin. But the distances we keep define us, not the similarities. Would they fight for me? Yes, if my interests and theirs coincided. You dislike Lord Evarrim, but he has intervened in ways that have been extremely beneficial to you in the past. We do not have to like each other in order to work together, when the goals are large enough to encompass our diverse interests.
“Where they are not...” She shrugged. “They suffer from the same thing Joey at the office does: curiosity. They are of course aware of the undercurrents that imply a possible shift of power in the near future, and would consider my presence at this time to be confirmation of rumors. And bold.” She smiled again. “Mortals are more frequently bold when they are confident; my people are more cautious. They wish to ascertain whether my presence is indicative of bravado or certainty.”
“And I’m chopped liver.”
“Sadly, no.”
“Why is that sad?”
“If it were not for your presence, we would not be speaking with the Consort. Since you are here with me—and since many of my people cannot conceive of a friendship or alliance with a mortal of your social insignificance—”
“Thanks, Teela.”
“—the assumption is that I am manipulating you. They believe that it is my desire to speak with the Consort that has brought you here.”
“But it’s not.”
“I did not argue that they were wise; merely curious.”
“Why did you come, then?”
“I would rather they believe that you are mine, of course.”
“But—”
“I am not known for my sweet temper or my pliancy. I am a woman who executed her own father. In the centuries between his crime and his punishment, I did not waver once. You are mortal. Your life span is insignificant. But my memory, and the lengths to which I will go, are not. My presence here reminds them of this, with every step I take. If you are harmed by any of the Lords here, I will destroy them. You are kyuthe, to me.”
Kaylin glanced at Severn; his expression said, clearly, you asked.
“Now I ask that you be more circumspect. The Consort is not alone.”
Kaylin couldn’t see the Consort for the trees that girded either side of the decorative path, but the trees ended abruptly, and the circular meeting place came into view.
The Consort will see you. Approach slowly, if you wish to be politic; approach at your current speed if you wish to make a very public statement. It was Ynpharion. She finds your immediate confusion amusing, he added, in a tone that made it clear that he did not.
Having a head full of Barrani was not terribly comfortable, but before she could say as much—not that it was necessary, given the existence of his True Name—someone familiar stepped onto the path.
Andellen. Or rather, Lord Andellen while he was here. He swept a bow that was just one side of obsequious, but it was meant for Teela, and Teela accepted it with the same easy elegance she had accepted the far less humble approaches.
“Lord Andellen. I trust we find you well?”