“Cohort sounds almost military.”
Kaylin shrugged. “Whenever I use the word ‘family’ or ‘sibling,’ they react the way you just did.” Sensing Lirienne’s growing agitation, she exhaled. “The Hallionne Orbaranne has not spoken a word since you arrived. What did you do?” The sword to her right rose, and she extended an arm to block it—not exactly the smartest move, given that her arm was mortal flesh.
“I did not—” He frowned. “I did not hear your Hallionne. I did hear Sedarias. She was angry,” he added. “But then again—”
“Mandoran says she’s always angry.”
Terrano smiled.
“Annarion says she’s only angry at Mandoran.”
This widened, brightened, that smile. But his eyes remained the color of small pockets of shadow.
“Terrano—I don’t know how you entered the Hallionne—but you have to leave.”
“I’m looking for them.”
“Yes, I believe you. But the way that you’re looking is severely distressing the Lord of the West March.”
He said, as if the statement had no meaning, “Is that a Dragon beside you?”
She did not reply in Leontine, but it was close. “...Yes.”
“How can we possibly be in the Hallionne if a Dragon is here?”
“I promise I’ll explain it,” Kaylin said. “Please do not attempt to harm the Dragon, the Lord of the West March, or the Hallionne. If you didn’t notice the Hallionne, you must have noticed that it was difficult to reach this space.”
“It was,” he agreed. “But there are many areas that are nigh impassible if one isn’t clever.” Clearly, Terrano considered himself clever, and was pleased to be so. “And this area, at least, was safe.”
“It wasn’t safe for Sedarias.”
“She wasn’t here. There’s a...” Terrano struggled for words before finding them, as if he was struggling with a foreign language that he had studied years ago. “A storm? A storm outside. If we are standing inside the boundaries of a Hallionne, it appeared to be a...” He frowned again. “A cave? A shelter? I heard no Hallionne voice, and the cave itself was difficult to reach. But the storm made it highly desirable. I thought—if Sedarias were as smart as she thinks she is—she might have made her way here.”
“She’s not here. But Terrano—you need to go stand outside. I mean, outside of this space. I don’t think it’s good for the Hallionne—”
“No, no, wait. Just wait. I think I can figure out what went wrong. Wait.”
If Kaylin had ever wondered what Lirienne’s attachment to what was, essentially, a god-like building was, she had her answer now, and it was not an entirely comfortable answer. She could understand why Orbaranne might, in the end, be fond of, or attached to, him; Orbaranne did not have the freedom to leave, to seek company, to make her life less lonely and less isolated. She required visitors; she required people to come to her. And to stay.
The Lord of the West March didn’t suffer from the same restrictions. But if his visits to Orbaranne had once been an act of compassion, they were clearly more than that now.
The ground rumbled; the air flashed. Fire and ice passed through Kaylin like a series of very unpleasant blades.
Lirienne, she said, voice urgent. Tell her—ask her—not to attempt to harm Terrano. Please. Because she understood that Orbaranne was back, or that they were back within the confines of the Hallionne, and Terrano was still with them.
I cannot guarantee that. She has imperatives as Hallionne that she cannot ignore. If he is considered a threat—and I cannot see how he would not be—she will not have the choice.
If she tries to hurt him, he’ll respond defensively—please!
I will try, Chosen. But think: this is what you want in the High Halls. This is what we will have at the very heart of the most important, the most dangerous, of our duties.
The others are not—they’re not like him.
You hold my name, Kaylin; I do not hold yours. But even so, I advise you not to lie while speaking thus.
I’m not—
You do not even believe what you are telling me. Perhaps you are lying to yourself. I will return. While I bespeak the Hallionne, distract the intruder.
Before she could dredge up a reply, the Lord of the West March vanished.
15
Terrano did not vanish. That was the good news. The shape of his eyes changed as he regarded Bellusdeo, which was the bad news.
“She’s with me,” Kaylin said. “She’s with me with permission. The Hallionne accepts her as a guest.” She moved to stand in front of the Dragon, without any confidence that it would stop him if he decided to attack. Gestures, however, mattered.
Terrano looked openly skeptical.
“You can ask the Hallionne yourself, if you want. But right now, Orbaranne probably considers you the primary threat.”
She saw his expression ripple, which was an exact physical description. His eyes grew larger, changing the shape, the balance, of his facial features.
Please, please, please, she thought, at the absent Lord of the West March.
Distract him, that Lord replied.
There was only one way to do that. “Can you find Sedarias?” Kaylin asked. And then, because the constant small changes in his face reminded her of bad nightmares about dead people, added, “And can you please stop doing that thing with your face?”
Behind her, she heard a brief draconian snort.
“What thing with my face?”
“If I had a mirror you could actually see, I’d show you—but your face is constantly changing shape and size. Especially your eyes. And it is really, really disturbing.” To her surprise, he did as she’d requested, looking almost embarrassed.
“It doesn’t usually matter what I look like when I’m out there.” He raised an arm and pointed in a random direction. “I don’t talk to people like you much.”
“We don’t talk to people like you much, either. But it makes you look like a—a ghost. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“A Shadow.”
This time, his limbs wavered, becoming opaque and elongating. Limbs were still better than face.
“Is that what you are, now?” she asked.
He seemed to consider this, his face creasing in an entirely normal, Barrani way. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. It was so not the reply she wanted. “To be honest, I don’t really understand anymore what Shadow is.”
“It’s the thing that kills us or warps us when it comes in contact with us. You must understand it—didn’t you send the forest Ferals to attack us?”
He frowned again. “The dogs, you mean?”
“They weren’t what the rest of us call dogs.”
“They weren’t, no. They were Barrani, but they had the power necessary to transform themselves should they require it. I didn’t choose the shape,” he added.
“No, just the target.”
“The Consort meant to destroy us.”
“She did not.” Bellusdeo’s hand fell gently—for a Dragon, which meant bruises but not broken bones—on Kaylin’s shoulder. It was a warning. Kaylin couldn’t easily shrug it off, and didn’t try. “She hoped to save you. She knew you were trapped.”