“That’s not a glare—that’s the way his face always looks. And, umm, sorry about your hair.” Kaylin lifted an arm, retrieved her familiar, and turned to offer the Lord of the West March a very correct bow. This surprised him, so Diarmat’s infernal lessons were clearly useful for something. “We would like, if possible, to visit Alsanis now.”
He did not argue. He spoke a word to his attendant, and the attendant nodded, vanishing down one of the halls that led away from the fountain.
*
“Yes, we understand that,” Kaylin said, with barely contained exasperation. “What we want to know is what your other allies wanted from the alliance.”
“Well, the mortals probably wanted to live forever,” Terrano replied.
“The mortals weren’t your only allies. They weren’t even the most significant of your allies. And they weren’t the ones who were attempting to write the rest of us out of existence.”
“It wouldn’t have worked. I think.” Terrano didn’t seem all that upset about genocide as a concept, at least when it didn’t involve the race he was born to.
“Did you never talk to them?”
“Yes.”
“What did you offer them?”
He rolled his eyes. His response was High Barrani, but it was not a word Kaylin recognized. Or rather, not a series of words.
The Lord of the West March, however, did, and he grew pale, which was not a terribly good look on the Barrani. His eyes devolved instantly from blue into a midnight blue that suggested black.
I take it that’s bad?
No response. Kaylin understood that she could push for one, but didn’t; it would cause them both unnecessary pain. And one of them, a lot of guilt.
“This was your idea?”
“Not really. We could have offered them ripe oranges for all the difference it made to the rest of us. Or gold. Actually, we did offer gold, if I recall.”
“And where did the gold come from?”
“The mortal caste court—the human one. At least I think it did.”
Kaylin could not remember wanting to strangle Mandoran this intensely, but maybe her memory was being kind. Had Terrano not been so confused and so...whatever he was, she would have seriously considered letting her familiar eat him. Or whatever it was he’d attempted to do the first time.
But if she wanted to see him as an enemy, she was failing. She thought if foundlings were given the power Terrano had been given, the world might be in just the same trouble: he didn’t understand consequences. He didn’t understand the world in which Kaylin and almost all of her friends actually lived.
“You don’t happen to remember names?”
“You asked that one already. Humans don’t have names, anyway.”
“Well, neither do you, anymore.”
“I don’t need one.”
“Neither do we!”
Bellusdeo cleared her throat, which sounded a little like she’d swallowed an earthquake.
Kaylin shoved her hands into her pockets and strode ahead.
*
Alsanis was not, like Orbaranne or the other Hallionne, a way station in the wilderness. He was situated in the heart of the Lord of the West March’s territory. For centuries he had been an impassible prison, a symbol of the cost of ambition and hubris. Now, he was a Hallionne. But if what Lirienne said was true, old habits died hard; he had visitors, but they were few.
One of those visitors was, however, in the courtyard.
Kaylin recognized Lord Barian, the Warden of the West March. If she understood the position correctly, he was second only to Lirienne—but he was not a Lord of the High Court, which had caused some friction in his family. His eyes, when he turned to face her, were green; his smile seemed genuine.
“Lord Kaylin,” Lord Barian said, offering her a low and deeply respectful bow.
“Lord Barian.” She became instantly aware of the difference in their clothing, their deportment, and their appearance. Kaylin returned the bow, mindful of Diarmat’s words, which now seemed to be replaying with annoying frequency in the inside of her head.
She rose and glanced around the courtyard, aware that it was the very edge of Hallionne Alsanis. “You’ve been visiting the Hallionne?”
He nodded, his expression serious; he glanced, once, at the Lord of the West March. It was not an entirely friendly glance, but Kaylin didn’t have a deep understanding of the politics of the West March, except for those employed by Lord Barian’s mother, who detested Kaylin, and whom Kaylin would be overjoyed to avoid on this unexpected visit. Contempt and condescension were things Kaylin understood quite well.
His glance once again flickered to—and away from—the Lord of the West March. “The Lord of the West March has, perhaps, acquainted you with the details?”
“I know only that Sedarias and her friends had decided to visit us, and that they disappeared in transit. They chose to travel by the portal paths.” She cleared her throat and started with the easiest introduction first. “This is Terrano. I’m not sure if you’ve been formally introduced.”
His eyes widened. “You are one of the twelve.”
Terrano nodded.
“You are the one who did not choose to remain.”
He nodded again. He looked slightly nervous.
“Have you had word of your friends? Contact with them? The Hallionne Alsanis would be very interested.”
“No. I heard them, but I was too far away to come to their aid, and I do not know where they are.”
“Do you know if they are still alive?”
Terrano stiffened, but did not reply.
Lord Barian bowed immediately. “My apologies, Terrano. The Hallionne is concerned; it is much on his mind.”
Kaylin cleared her throat and considered avoiding the introduction of the Dragon. Her familiar squawked, and she relented. “This,” she said, when she had Lord Barian’s attention, “is Lord Bellusdeo of the Imperial Dragon Court.”
18
Accustomed as she was to Barrani blue, Kaylin still found the instant transformation daunting. Lord Barian was not a Lord of the High Court, but Barrani across the world hated the Dragons. Mortal memories were fragile and imperfect. Barrani memories, like Dragon memories, were not. It made Kaylin wonder what she would have been like if her memories of life in the fiefs never dimmed with time.
She didn’t really like the answer.
Kaylin almost blurted out a groveling apology, but held her tongue. She was not ashamed of Bellusdeo; the gold Dragon didn’t deserve that.
Lord Barian’s gaze went instantly to Lirienne’s, held it for a few seconds, and then returned to the Dragon. Bellusdeo stood quietly, arms by her side, chin slightly lifted; her eyes were orange, but at this point orange was the new gold.
“Lord Bellusdeo,” Kaylin continued, when no weapons had been drawn. “This is Lord Barian, the Warden of the West March. The responsibility of the Hallionne Alsanis has been his line’s.”
Bellusdeo offered Lord Barian an exquisite Barrani bow. It was lower and more exact than the bow she’d offered the Lord of the West March. Kaylin wondered if Lirienne noticed. Wait, what was she thinking? He was a Barrani man of power. Of course he’d noticed.
Yes. It is interesting. She is not what I expected of a Dragon.
I don’t think she meant to insult you.
No, kyuthe, she did not. The bow she offers Lord Barian is exact and correct; it is also graceful, something for which the Dragons were not noted. The bow she offered me is the bow she might offer to the respected head of a familial line.