*
The Consort was not dressed for Court, but her hair—a long, white drape that had parted to expose her face—was unique enough she could not be mistaken for any other Barrani. Her eyes, in the surface of the Hallionne’s version of a mirror, which happened to be a pool of water nestled in an intricate, standing basin, were blue. The blue lightened the moment the Consort could see Kaylin.
“Why are you even here?” The Barrani Hawk demanded. “It’s not safe, at the moment.”
The blue darkened again.
Ynpharion was immediately present; his silence was almost scorching. It was also the silence of drawn breath; he meant to speak but could not find adequate words.
Don’t shout at me, Kaylin told him, irritated. Do something useful instead.
I shudder to contemplate what you might consider useful.
Teach me how to think things that you won’t be able to hear.
While I admit that actual privacy from the shoddy interior of your thoughts holds some appeal to me—
Thanks.
—I fail to see why I would teach you to lock the figurative door in my face.
It’s not your face I’m worried about.
Silence. You are worried about a different nameheld.
I don’t understand Barrani families, no. Most of the time Nightshade and Lirienne don’t bother me; I can forget that Lirienne even exists. But...the Consort seems to have some suspicions about her brother.
Concerns, Lord Kaylin. Suspicion among my kin is different. But you are concerned about the Lord of the West March and Nightshade, and you are not concerned with me? This seemed to offend Ynpharion. Kaylin didn’t care.
And that was the crux of the matter. She didn’t care. There was no possible way to fall any lower on the ladder of Ynpharion’s respect or regard; there was only up. He already despised her, barely tolerated her, and frequently shrieked—or the mental equivalent—at some perceived stupidity or other. But his anger or contempt was in no way equal to her anger or contempt for herself on the very bad days. With Ynpharion she had nothing to lose.
You might, he said, have something to gain. He was, predictably, annoyed.
I’m not sure anything I could do that would better your opinion of me would better my opinion of myself. And that’s beside the point. I need to learn how to shield my thoughts and my life from the others.
I for one would appreciate less of your life in mine.
“Lord Kaylin.”
Kaylin blinked. The other thing she needed to learn was the ability to have a full conversation on the inside of her head without bringing her external interactions to a dead halt.
“Sorry. My head is pretty noisy at the moment.”
This got the glimmer of a smile from the Consort, which was probably as much as anyone could get, given current events.
It is, Ynpharion grudgingly said. She is highly concerned. She is, I should warn you, not best pleased with the cohort at the moment.
Oh?
Had they waited a handful of decades—perhaps a century at the outside—the entire High Court would be better politically equipped to deal with their presence. This is far, far too early.
Maybe the cohort didn’t understand that, was Kaylin’s uneasy response.
It is likely, given what you’ve witnessed, that most of them did not understand it; I do not believe Annarion considers it relevant. Sedarias, however, understood. She did not wish to take the risk that the preparations would somehow be either welcoming or positive.
And you know that how?
I do not. It is, however, what the Consort believes.
“If you would ask the committee in your head, as you put it, to allow me a few minutes of your uninterrupted time, I would be most appreciative. And while my brothers would agree that I was perhaps hasty in my attempt to reach you, I am far less likely to be lost—either in the Hallionne or on the portal paths—than you. And my presence, for better or worse, will not start a war.”
“Bellusdeo had no intention of coming here.”
“Oh?”
“The water dumped us inside of Orbaranne.” If Kaylin expected this to make the Consort any more resigned, it failed spectacularly.
“You asked the water to bring you to Orbaranne?” Her tone was wrong; all edge. All steel.
“No. And the water didn’t ask us for permission, either.”
“Was the water operating under the command of another?”
Kaylin shook her head. “I’m almost certain that the water dropped us here of its own accord. And you knew something,” she added, eyes narrowed.
“Ah, no. The Oracles have been troubled recently. You must know it is difficult to interpret their visions or creations. But the existence of the cohort has been much in my thoughts; one possible interpretation of the oracular message involved that cohort. And you. I thought there was a chance that you would be driven to the Hallionne. I interceded to ask that the Hallionne accept you and your traveling companion—” here she paused to eye the familiar, who snorted “—as guests. I did not expect that you would arrive with Lord Bellusdeo.” She hesitated, and after a long pause, added, “I thought there was a possibility that you would have either Mandoran or Annarion with you.”
“I don’t suppose,” Kaylin said in Elantran, “there’s any way we can convince you to just go home?”
One perfect brow rose.
“Alsanis thinks we need to go to where you are. By the portal paths. Which hasn’t really worked out well for us so far.”
“Ah. Yes. I have been in discussions with the Hallionne about this problem. But the Hallionne are not extensible. They cannot simply extend their reach; they are limited by the words which harbor the entirety of their power. And you must understand the reasons for this.”
Kaylin didn’t, but it didn’t take all that long to think it through. The Hallionne were sentient. They had desires of their own—desires that often caused conflict with the very reason for their existence. If they could simply expand their sphere of influence, they would become like gods; there was very little they couldn’t do within their own space. She met the Consort’s steady gaze and nodded.
“Sedarias thinks that the attack on Alsanis was motivated entirely by Barrani politics.”
The Consort nodded again, her expression grave.
“You don’t think so.”
“Ah, no. I believe that Sedarias is materially correct. But I also believe there are consequences to the actions that have not been fully considered. It is the way of my kin to believe fully in their own power—and that belief does not often falter. Power is necessary for survival. We seek power in subtle ways, but where subtlety has failed us, we seek power in unpredictable places.”
“I suppose Ynpharion told you—” The Consort cleared her throat. Kaylin took the hint and started the sentence again. “I suppose you already know that one of the Barrani walked into Ravellon and came out carrying one of the Shadows with him. Literally with him.”
“Yes.”
“Into Ravellon,” Kaylin repeated.