“You may.” He glanced at Kaylin. “The amount of trouble you can accidentally wander into is astonishing—and I have centuries of observed hotheaded stupidity against which to compare it. I would appreciate it if you left Bellusdeo out.”
“I, however, would not. And Lannagaros? She lives with me.” Bellusdeo’s smile was feline, but with more exposed teeth.
“You live with her. And yes, I am old enough that I will not ask the impossible. Kaylin is transparent; if she attempted to be covert, I am certain the result would be failure.”
“But possibly entertaining?”
“Possibly.” His tone said never. “Lord Diarmat is, in some ways, like Kaylin.”
Both Kaylin and Bellusdeo sputtered. The familiar squawked, obviously highly amused.
“In what way are they alike?” the golden Dragon demanded.
“They have an appalling lack of finesse when it comes to complex matters. Neither of them are particularly skilled at prevarication. If Kaylin’s superiors deem it wise to leave her out of missions which require diplomacy, so, too, do Lord Diarmat’s. In Lord Diarmat’s case, however, his inefficiency is entirely his own desire. He considers prevarication, even with cause, to diminish the actual value of truth, as if there exists a single thing that could be called truth.
“He is highly honorable. He expects that we will be the same. And while we are not, of course, his equal in this regard, we respect him.”
“We?”
“The rest of the Dragon Court, excluding perhaps yourself.”
“He is a humorless, judgmental, condescending—”
“Yes, he is that, as well. But he is not without value to the Court or to the Emperor. I understand why the two of you do not get along. I accept that. But I will not and cannot treat him or think of him as you do, and I find it painful to be caught out in a lie when confronted by him.”
This seemed to almost shock Bellusdeo.
“I am older and wiser than I was when we both lived in the Aerie. I think, in my youth, I was much more like Diarmat.”
“You were not.”
“I was. But I was more indulgent than Diarmat. I was not less condescending. You were hatchlings—you and your sisters. What I expected from infants was not what I expected from adults. Lord Diarmat considers you a peer, not a child.
“And having said that, Lord Bellusdeo, I did as you indirectly asked. I will attend Kaylin’s dinner with the Consort. I assume you will likewise be in attendance.”
“I should say no, and leave you stranded in that room.”
The Arkon’s eyes had shifted, slowly, to their usual gold when in Bellusdeo’s presence. “But you won’t. And I would not find it a horror, regardless. I understand what the war cost both of our people, and I hope never to encounter that loss again. She was a child during the last war, but the Consorts have always been somewhat different than the rest of their kin.” He bowed to her. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”
Bellusdeo exhaled. “You have not disappointed me,” she said, her voice much quieter than usual.
“Diarmat would die in your defense.”
“Yes, but it wouldn’t be in my defense. It would be in defense of what I represent, and in the end, that has little to do with who I actually am.”
The Arkon acknowledged the truth of this with a nod. “But you have hardly given him a chance to know you at your best. I believe the private is the only person who has truly seen it. The private and your Ascendant.”
“No, Maggaron’s seen me at my absolute worst.”
“He has also seen you at your worst, yes. But that is entirely because you trust him. I believe your dinner was three days hence? I will be there.”
“Is the Emperor going to drop by as well?”
“No, most certainly not. Lord Diarmat is willing to countenance my presence; the Emperor’s presence in the face of one of the Barrani rulers would be considered a security problem.”
And they definitely did not want that. Kaylin could imagine it now. It took her mind, briefly, off the question of Candallar, of Teela, and of her cohort. Why did everything always have to be so complicated?
*
The palace mirror that Kaylin knew she could safely use happened to be in Lord Sanabalis’s public rooms, or at least the rooms in which he met visitors to the palace. Bellusdeo was less sanguine about Lord Sanabalis than the Arkon, but when Kaylin explained the need for the mirror, agreed to a second detour.
Lord Sanabalis had apparently gotten wind of this—somehow—and happened to be in the rooms. His eyes were mostly gold, but his expression was also mostly suspicious. “Private Neya. Lord Bellusdeo.” He bowed to the Dragon. “How may I help you?”
“You can let us use your mirror. I need to get ahold of someone thirty minutes ago.”
“The mirror will not allow that in its current state.”
“Very funny.”
Sanabalis went to the large cupboard that housed the mirror; it was not on display on the desk. “The mirror network within the palace is secure.”
“Is it safe?” she asked, remembering other occasions when the answer to that was a distinctive, definitive no.
“Yes. Or it has been. If it malfunctions only when you choose to make use of it, well...”
Bellusdeo chuckled. “I agree, we ask you to take a risk, Lord Sanabalis.”
“It is a risk that will be overlooked given the general fuss being made about other risks.” The emphasis on the last two words were aimed directly at Kaylin. She didn’t mind; she just needed the mirror.
*
“Helen?”
“Kaylin,” her house replied. As the image in the mirror coalesced, she was looking at a very bare, empty room. It was the room in which Helen allowed mirror connections; she still refused to trust them anywhere else. “Is something wrong?” The Avatar of the house remained out of the picture; it was like talking to air.
But Kaylin was used to this. Helen’s voice could be in any room of the house simultaneously; her Avatar could not. Or not easily. Kaylin was fuzzy on the actual magic involved, and considered it house personal business. Probably because she was lazy.
“I need to speak to Teela. If Teela’s not there, I need to speak to Tain. If neither of them is there, I need to speak to Mandoran.”
“Teela is, I believe, in transit. Let me just ask the boys.” Both of the boys, as she called them, could contact Teela the way Kaylin herself could contact Nightshade or Ynpharion. Teela didn’t have to answer, but she’d be aware.
“Mandoran wishes to know why you want her—he says,” Helen added, almost apologetically, “that she’s ‘in a mood.’”
Ugh. “Tell him I’m sorry, but the mood’s probably going to get uglier before it gets better. I’ve received word that Candallar is leaving—or has left—his fief, and he’s apparently heading toward a meeting with a mortal, or possibly mortals.”
“Mandoran wants to know what you expect Teela to do about it.”
“Did Teela ask that, or is he just being a coward?”
“I believe the latter, dear. Oh, never mind. Annarion just told her.”
“And?”
“Annarion says she says she will intercept. She has Tain. If—I’m terribly sorry, dear, but I am just repeating what I was told—she sees you there, she will break your left leg.”