The Hallionne listened; she listened as if fixed in place, as if she were of stone. But when Terrano was done, she lowered her chin, lowered her arms, and transformed her armor into a loose drape of flowing off-white robe. The cave around them melted more slowly than the armor had, and when shape was reasserted, the color was different. This would be because there was no longer a ceiling; as far as the eye could see, there was sky, a deep blue with a smidgen of cloud.
Where the portal arch had come into being, a round series of concentric circles remained, and there was a splash of brown red that spoke of dried blood.
Orbaranne turned to Kaylin, then. “Lirienne will be with us momentarily. I apologize for my anger and my suspicion.”
“You’re—”
“I was not, as you once suspected, Barrani before I made the choice to become the heart of the Hallionne. I was mortal, as you were. I was young, and new to this world, this place. Suspicion, among our kind, is not an absolute requirement of survival.”
Kaylin shrugged, a fief shrug. “It doesn’t hurt,” she offered.
Orbaranne smiled, then. “Doesn’t it?” And she turned, once again, to face Terrano.
The speech seemed to have drained something out of him; he looked much more solid, much more real, than he had moments—or hours?—ago.
He shrugged, miming Kaylin’s gesture. But when he spoke, he spoke Barrani. “She asked,” he said, glancing toward the grassy plane that had taken the place of stone. “I answered.”
“The Lord of the West March couldn’t answer the way you did. I don’t think most of the Barrani—even the ancient Arcanists—could.”
“No?”
“No.”
Terrano looked away. “You learn a bit when you leave home.”
“That’s more than a bit.”
“Are you sure you haven’t spoken with Sedarias recently?”
At that, Kaylin chuckled. “Can he stay?” she asked the Hallionne.
“Yes. We were negotiating the terms of his occupancy.” Before Kaylin could ask another question, Lirienne entered the circle, as if passing through a door to arrive by their sides.
Terrano once again offered the Lord of the West March a passable bow.
This time, the Lord of the West March returned it. His eyes were a shade of midnight blue that did not suit his expression, and he came to stand by the side of Orbaranne’s Avatar as if he had no intention of ever leaving it again.
“Let us return to the portal pathways after we have had a chance to discuss all that has happened,” Orbaranne said.
*
This time, when they repaired to the great hall, it took twenty minutes. Orbaranne apologized profusely for this, although no one complained. Especially not Kaylin. Terrano appeared to be interested in the Hallionne’s interior, and he asked her questions every few steps. This was in keeping with his apparent age, but sadly, Kaylin didn’t understand the questions—or the answers, if it came to that.
Neither the Hallionne nor Terrano were speaking True Words.
“It is not trivially done,” the Hallionne replied, although Kaylin had had better sense than to speak out loud. “True Words are words of power, of intent, of consequence. We do not use them to say ‘have a nice day.’”
“Are there ways to say that, in the language of the Ancients?”
Terrano and Orbaranne exchanged a glance. It was Terrano who answered. “Yes, but...it’s not considered polite. It’s—look, if the Ancients had said it, it would have been a very nice day. Instantly. Completely. They had no way of really asking questions; all words were statements of fact.”
The dining table had shrunk by the time the group reached it. Bellusdeo had not spoken a word; nor had Lirienne. Terrano and Orbaranne, however, made up for the lack. Kaylin was from Elantra; she was accustomed to hearing languages she didn’t know and therefore didn’t understand. In the office, in theory, everyone spoke Elantran. And that was true as far as it went—but everyone also spoke their own tongues: Aerian, Barrani and Leontine. There had been spillover, of course, and all of the Hawks could curse in languages they couldn’t otherwise speak.
She wondered if Lirienne understood Terrano. Decided against asking. Knew that Orbaranne had already heard.
She took a chair; Bellusdeo took the seat opposite her. The head of the table had been clearly reserved for the Lord of the West March; Terrano plopped himself gracelessly in the seat to Kaylin’s right.
“We’ll find them,” Kaylin said quietly.
He said nothing. Loudly. When he finally spoke, it was grudging. “The Hallionne thought that I might be responsible for the disappearance of my kin.”
“He is not,” Orbaranne added, in case that was in doubt.
“Not even accidentally?” It was Bellusdeo who asked. Given that Terrano’s eyes were no longer Barrani eyes, they didn’t shade to the expected dark blue.
“They’re more like me than you,” Terrano answered. “Yes, I’m certain.” He continued to stare.
“Blink,” Kaylin told him.
“What?”
“Blink. Try to look less like a living statue and more like a person.” She exhaled on a grimace as he obliged. Badly. “Never mind.” To the Hallionne, she said, “We need to speak with the water.”
“The elemental water has dispersed,” Orbaranne replied. The words were stilted, the expression that accompanied them, troubled. “Water was never used as a conduit, a method of travel.”
“It was,” Kaylin said, thinking of boats. “It still is.”
“No. Travel by boat is predicated on the existence of rivers or larger bodies of water—but there is no river between the Keeper’s garden and the Hallionne. At least, not that I’m aware of. I have been troubled by your appearance.”
“Because it should have been impossible?”
“In many, many ways, yes. The Keeper’s garden exists to restrain the will of the wild elements. The elements are necessary for life—even my own. But when free to interact—”
“They try to kill each other, fail, and kill everything around them instead.”
“Yes.” She seemed relieved not to have to explain this. “It is possible that the Keeper is finally failing in his duty.”
“I’m pretty damn sure the water wasn’t responsible for the loss of the cohort.” Kaylin folded her arms.
“You are sentimentally attached to the water, and that is inadvisable. Understand that the element itself, like any living creation, is not all of one thing or all of another. It is possible that the element could both destroy—or attempt to destroy—the cohort and simultaneously desire to preserve it. But...the voice of the water is silent, here. Your arrival required all of its substantial power.”
“Has this happened before?”
“Never here, and not in other Hallionne, to my knowledge. The fire has been used as a conduit before—but only by ancient Dragons.” She bowed her head. “You are not the only people to come to me with inquiries about the cohort.” She had adopted Kaylin’s name, but would: it was what they called themselves, now.
Terrano stiffened.
“Were the others Barrani?”