“And do you not feel that perhaps you are walking into the same trap, now?”
Did she? Kaylin started to say no, and stopped. Swallowed. “If I am, it will amount to the same difficulty,” she replied, choosing her words with care. “She will be angry with me because we fundamentally disagree about the choices we feel compelled to make. I can assure you that whether I call her Consort, Lady, or nothing at all will not be what gives offense.”
He exhaled smoke. “The Arkon will be present.”
Kaylin nodded; he had already said as much, and looked about as pleased with the Arkon as he was with Kaylin.
“I ask you—I do not command it—that you not take advantage of his sentimentality and overindulgence.”
She blinked. He was glaring at Bellusdeo. Still glaring, he began to answer Kaylin’s earlier question. Apparently there were High Barrani words the Hawks had not been taught, probably because the rank and file were never, ever going to meet the High Lord and the Lady. Or possibly because the teachers—mortals all—didn’t know.
He came up with a long word, or a series of words, that Kaylin had literally never heard, not even when she was at the High Court.
Oh, do try that, Ynpharion said, interrupting her concentration.
I’m kind of busy right now. With a Dragon. Do you think you could come back and be condescending later?
I could, he agreed. Ynpharion could always be condescending. But the Consort wishes me to relay information to you. Of course. There was no way that Ynpharion would ever voluntarily contact her just to chat. Lord Candallar has left his fief; he intends to meet with mortals.
How do you know this?
I merely repeat what I am told. If you wish to force the information from me, feel free to try, but should it be information that the Consort does not wish me to share, she will ensure that I remain silent.
Kaylin wondered what the effect on Ynpharion would be.
I would, of course, attempt to support the Consort. And yes, Lord Kaylin, should the attempt be made in earnest, it is likely to damage me greatly, if not destroy me. The choice, of course, is yours.
The annoying thing about Ynpharion was that he would respect her more if she didn’t care at all about his health or well-being. It was what he expected of the powerful. It was what she should have been as far as he was concerned, if she had his name. But she also knew that the Consort would be disappointed in her, that the Consort made her own moves knowing full well that in the event that Ynpharion was a loathsome toad—
Thank you.
—Kaylin wouldn’t think he deserved torture or death just because he failed to answer a question. She’d’ve been dead about a hundred times over if there was any justice in that.
Does she have any idea of when Candallar left?
He has just left.
Kaylin almost shrieked with frustration, and unfortunately, if Diarmat was stiff as a stone slab, he was very, very observant. His eyes were always orange when Kaylin was in his presence, but this didn’t offend her; she doubted they were any different in anyone else’s.
“Private Neya? You have something to add?”
“...There’s some chance that the terms you are using predate the wars. They would be considered archaic in the modern High Court.” This was not exactly what Ynpharion had said, but Kaylin could easily infer it from his sneering tone. “If I were to use the term, one of two things would happen. Either the Consort would know that I was being coached by outsiders—and quite probably Dragons, if we’re frank—or she would assume that I was being sarcastic; that I was using an elevated, archaic term as a criticism of her current stature.”
For the first time in her life that she could recall, Lord Diarmat looked baffled. Stiffly, although he spoke that way most of the time, he said, “It is a title that indicates great respect.”
“It possibly indicated great respect centuries ago,” she said, almost apologetically.
“And Barrani Lords now consider signifiers of grave respect to be...sarcastic? Insulting?”
“Barrani Lords can, if they desire it, consider anything insulting. Had the Consort desired it, she could consider my invitation to dinner to be insulting. Insults with the Barrani are a game, a sport.”
He stared at her, and then glanced at Bellusdeo, who shrugged.
“I do not have extensive experience with Barrani Lords. Teela, while a Lord of the High Court, is a category unto herself. I understand games, however.” The last implied heavily that Diarmat didn’t. She exhaled smoke.
“In future, any such invitations are to be made only after consultation with the Dragon Court.”
Bellusdeo’s eyes darkened.
Kaylin wanted to put a head-shaped dent into the nearest piece of wood, that being a very pristine tabletop. The familiar, however, had had enough. He squawked up a storm, and both Dragons fell silent.
“Very well. I, too, have things to which I must attend. I will expect you next week.”
“To report?”
He clearly wanted to say yes, but instead said, “The Arkon will tender a full report to the Eternal Emperor.”
*
Bellusdeo and Kaylin took a detour to the Royal library after the much shorter-than-expected lesson. Kaylin said nothing; she’d expected the detour. She was no longer thinking of Evanton and the elemental water; instead, she was thinking of the East Warrens, of Candallar and of the mortals he might be meeting on this side of the Ablayne. Mortals did venture into the fiefs to cause misery that was entirely illegal in the city proper. And that was perhaps unfair. But Nightshade’s visitors went to him, not the other way around.
This implied that whoever was meeting with Candallar did not wish to enter the fiefs. And possibly could not afford to be seen doing so. It also implied that the mortal was the person with the actual power.
The library door was open; clearly, the Arkon had also expected the social detour. He was even waiting by the desk that the librarians otherwise occupied when the public part of the library—less direly guarded, but no less jealously—was open.
His eyes were orange, his arms were folded, and the look he gave Bellusdeo was uncharacteristically harsh.
“I’m sorry, Lannagaros,” Bellusdeo said, although she seemed a bit surprised.
“I am perfectly willing to lie—”
“‘Lie’ is a harsh word.”
“It is the correct word in this particular case. I am willing, however, to intercede in a less than entirely honest fashion with any other member of the Dragon Court, the Emperor included. Do not expect that I will do so when speaking with Lord Diarmat.”
“You did.” She folded her arms, her lips lifting at the corners. Her eyes were now gold.
“I did, yes. I will never do so again.”
“Might I ask why the aversion with that particular Dragon?”