The water pulled them in.
Kaylin took a deep breath as the shock of liquid hit her. She didn’t speak—she didn’t want a mouthful of water or more—but she could hear the sound of water, and all that the water contained. She could, as she did when she was in the grasp of the elemental water, hear the voice of the Tha’alaan.
Kaylin? asked the Castelord of the Tha’alani, one of her favorite people in the world. What’s happened? What’s wrong?
Nothing?
Amusement and worry collided in Ybelline’s internal voice. You are with the water.
In the Keeper’s Garden yes—ugh.
...The water appears to be...agitated.
Yes, but she’s not mad at me. I think. There are no rocks here, and she’s not trying to drown us.
Us?
Bellusdeo’s here, too.
Kaylin, you need to open your eyes.
My eyes are—oh. Oh.
*
They were not in the Keeper’s Garden. Kaylin turned in a panic, the movement slowed by water’s weight, but her eyes found Bellusdeo, made less substantial when viewed through the water’s odd light.
Her eyes also found wooden floors, stone walls, arches that, carved, nonetheless resembled trees. She saw lights on the floor beneath her feet that seemed to emanate at regular intervals from the wood in which they shone. She thought she recognized those lights, because she had seen variations of them before.
In the Hallionne. On the way to the West March.
“Where are we?” Bellusdeo asked, her voice attenuated but identifiable.
“I’m not—I’m not sure. The Keeper’s Garden can be anything.”
“I doubt the Keeper would decide that it had to be this—not unless he were entertaining Barrani lords of some note.”
Kaylin felt the water thin, and reached for it instinctively.
I am sorry, Kaylin, the water told her. This is as close to where you must be as I can bring you.
Bellusdeo shouldn’t be here! She’s a Dragon! She can’t stay here—take her back, please, please, please—take her back!
I cannot. I have permission only to do this much. But Kaylin—there is danger—
Ybelline!
Silence.
The water released them suddenly, withdrawing so completely not even their clothing retained a trace of dampness.
12
“You’re panicking,” Bellusdeo observed, in a tone of voice more suited to mild criticism of bad posture. “I take it that means you have some idea of where we are?” She straightened her skirts, frowning. “If I had known that we were to travel, I would have dressed appropriately.”
“I didn’t intend to travel.”
“Also: ‘It’s not my fault’?”
“Should I repeat it?”
“You should never repeat it again. Honestly, how can you waste breath—when breath might be in strong demand—on something like that? Would you like your last words to be ‘it’s not my fault’?” Bellusdeo’s eyes were on the orange side. Given that they were not in the Keeper’s Garden, this could have been a sign of natural caution, but Kaylin doubted it.
“...No.”
“It also implies that you believe I’m likely to blame you for the actions of others—elementals, in this particular case—and I find that almost accusatory. I would go on in greater detail, but it’s only likely to annoy me. So. Where are we, exactly?”
“I think we’re in one of the Hallionne?”
Bellusdeo’s eyes went full orange, and Kaylin didn’t blame her.
“It wasn’t—the Hallionne are like Helen, but stranger.”
“Helen is a unique case.”
“I think all of the Hallionne are unique. I mean, they’re all one of a kind. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Towers in the fiefs are, as well.” Kaylin exhaled. “But, ummm.”
“They were fortresses during the wars.”
“...Yes.”
“Impenetrable, deadly fortresses.”
“I tried to ask the water to take you back—”
“Oh?”
“You’re a—a...” She couldn’t make herself say the word out loud, which was stupid. It wasn’t like the Hallionne wouldn’t notice.
“We’re not at war, now.”
“No,” a new voice said. “Our people are not at war. And if you are willing to remain within my borders, you will come to no harm.”
Kaylin turned to see the Avatar of the Hallionne. It was, as she had half expected, Orbaranne. But this Orbaranne was not the Avatar she had seen the last time she’d stepped foot in her domain. That Avatar had looked like a frightened young woman.
This one looked like an ageless, terrifying monarch. Her words reminded Kaylin that the Barrani themselves often chose to remain outside of the Hallionne’s doors in all but cases of emergency. Even in an emergency, Kaylin suspected that many of the Barrani would be uncomfortable. They had no desire to have their minds read, even if the reader was an apolitical building.
“Of course,” the Hallionne said. “They are a people who depend upon the secrets they keep from others—and no secret is safe from the Hallionne.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied Bellusdeo.
“I live with Helen,” Bellusdeo pointed out.
“Yes, I can see that.” Orbaranne’s Avatar frowned. “Helen is unusual, as you stated. She was not built as we were built, and not for the same purpose—but she has perhaps gone further than we would, or could, in pursuit of independence. Should you attempt to harm other guests, we will be forced to act—but not until then. I welcome you both.” She hesitated.
“Blood?” Kaylin asked, remembering the demands of her own first entry into one of the Hallionne.
“It is not essential.”
“Then why do you make it a condition of entry?”
“I do not. The Barrani demand it as a token of surety.” She had not looked away from the golden Dragon, although it wasn’t necessary. Nothing happened within the Hallionne that escaped the Hallionne’s notice.
“I have nothing to offer as surety,” Bellusdeo said.
“No. Nor would I demand it. I am gratified, however, to accept you as a guest. You are my first—my very first—Dragon.” Hesitation again. “Not all Hallionne will view this as a privilege, but all will accept you if you travel with Lord Kaylin.”
“Oh?”
“The Consort has asked it of us.”
Kaylin’s jaw would have hit the floor had it not been attached to her face. “She asked you to accept Dragon guests?”
“No, Lord Kaylin. She asked us to accept you and those who travel with you. I do not believe she intended your companion to be a Dragon. I believe she spoke of your familiar.”
Kaylin reached up to her shoulder. The familiar was not there.
“We can, as your Helen does, stretch rules. We cannot break them.”
“But—”
“And the Consort is precious to us, as you have perhaps noticed before.”
“When? When did she ask this?”
“Yesterday. Ah.” The Avatar’s expression shifted and softened, lending a hint of youthful vulnerability to her intimidating perfection. “He is here. Pardon me. If you follow the lights, you will reach the grand hall, and we will meet you there.” She vanished in the blink of a very slow eye.
“I hope,” Kaylin said, as she turned toward the floor with the brightest lighting, “that she remembers to warn her visitor that he has a Dragon in his domain.”