Which is pretty much what anyone sane expected from a Tower, although Kaylin had had hopes. She exhaled. “All right, small and scrappy. Can you open this?”
The small dragon squawked and launched himself off her shoulders. The Barrani guards didn’t even blink as he hovered just above Kaylin’s head.
I am not certain that is a wise idea, Nightshade said, with vastly diminished amusement.
It can’t be any worse than whatever it is Annarion’s doing.
You are devoid of an active imagination, which is disappointing considering the experience you have now amassed.
The small dragon chirped. He landed on Kaylin’s shoulders in the alert position that involved more claw than usual, and extended his neck toward the door. Kaylin took the hint. She didn’t touch the door itself, but approached it as if it were a portal—with a certain amount of dread.
“Corporal?” Teela said.
Severn nodded. He shifted his grip on the business ends of the unbound chain, passing a loop of links around Kaylin’s waist. Teela grimaced but allowed him to do the same, while she murmured something about “foundlings” under her breath.
Only when Severn, attached to the chain by the blades, gave the sign did Kaylin suck in air and take a step forward.
* * *
“Charming,” Teela said, voice dry.
Kaylin had always assumed that the passage through the portal was a misery—for her—because of the sensitivity to magic that had come to her with the runic marks that covered so much of her skin. No one else seemed to be hit as hard by the transition between the outside world and the interior of the Castle.
She revised this opinion now, because crossing through the obsidian doors didn’t immediately slap her in the face with overwhelming nausea. To be fair to Nightshade, she’d never entered his castle with her small and squawky companion before. He was making quiet, snuffling noises. It sounded almost like he was snoring.
She glanced at him; he was alert and watchful, although his wings were folded. Whatever he saw, he expected her to see on her own. Severn was on Kaylin’s right, and Teela, on the other side of him. Teela was pale.
“Can you hear Annarion any better?” Kaylin asked.
“Yes.” The word was so sharp it forbid any further questions.
The portcullis had led, when used, to the grand, harshly lit foyer of Castle Nightshade.
The door did not.
It led, instead, to a room Kaylin had seen only once in the past: the statuary. She recognized it because some of the statues were still in the place she’d last seen them; the room was otherwise hollow. It felt strangely empty. The first time she had seen it, music had played, like the background discussion of a large crowd. The statues themselves had come to life, shaking off immobility with joy and excitement.
This room had been proof—if it were needed—that Nightshade was not mortal. He owned the statues, yes—but they hadn’t started out as base stone. They had started out the way Severn or Kaylin had: messy biology. He therefore wasn’t imbuing statues with life so much as allowing life to return to them.
There were humans here. A Leontine. They were beautiful in their frozen, stone encasement; they were far more beautiful when life returned to them. She could imagine that, had they continued to live in the world outside this Castle, they would have been loved or adored or followed.
She couldn’t tell when they’d left the outside world, although she was certain historians would have had some guesses, given the style of the clothing they wore. Or, in the case of the Leontine, didn’t.
But wherever they’d come from, they had ended up here, in a room that looked like a storybook throne room, with majestic pillars fronting the walls to either side. Between those pillars, a handful of statues remained. Kaylin didn’t have Barrani memory; she couldn’t recall whether or not they occupied the same positions they once had.
But she knew there were fewer of them, because she could see moving, half-dazed people wandering the interior of the room. It wasn’t clear to Kaylin whether or not any of these people could see each other; they weren’t talking if they could, but they weren’t fighting either.
“Nightshade said that the Castle allowed him to transform his visitors,” Kaylin told Teela. “...Was he lying?”
“Not necessarily,” was the cool reply. “There are a handful of Barrani that might attempt—and succeed at—a similar transformation. Corporal?”
Severn let Teela out of the chain’s loop. He didn’t, however, release Kaylin. She didn’t insist, either. She’d seen halls warp and elongate when she was standing on solid ground; she wasn’t willing to bet that they were guaranteed to remain together.
The small dragon squawked. He caught Teela’s attention, but the occupants of the room seemed unaware of his presence, or at least unconcerned by it. They seemed similarly unconcerned with Teela as she approached them. Her steps were sharp and heavy.
If it came to that, so was her sword; she’d unsheathed it. Barrani Hawks didn’t—as a rule—carry swords. But the fiefs weren’t home to the Hawks and the Halls of Law, and Teela hadn’t chosen to carry sticks into the fiefs, on account of possible Ferals.
The small dragon hissed, tightening his claws. He also opened his wings, but they were high enough Kaylin assumed he was expressing his august displeasure, rather than giving her a different view of the world as he sometimes did with his wings.
Kaylin remembered her first reaction to this room. She remembered the stiff, tense, hurt outrage that Annarion had directed squarely at his older brother in the West March before he had departed.
“Can you tell Annarion that the statues agreed to this? It was a—a form of immortality. They were probably in love with his brother.”
“Annarion is well aware of the effects Immortals have on the lesser races.”
Lesser races. Kaylin rolled her eyes. She loved Teela like family, but there were whole days she had to work at it. “His words or your words?”
“He hasn’t lived in this city. He hasn’t experienced the changes that have come down with the passage of centuries. They’re his words. But they could have been mine, once. They probably were. He sees mortals as essentially helpless.”
“And you don’t?”
Teela shrugged. “I see them as essentially mortal. If one confounds me, I put off thinking about them because they’ll be dead soon, even if I do nothing.”
Whole very long days.
“Annarion set them free?”
“That’s the gist of it, I think. You could ask them. Some have rejected the transformation, but I don’t think their decision will stand. Annarion is angry.”
“Did he always have this kind of temper?”
“He was, of all of us, the most even-tempered.” Teela slowly sheathed her sword; the Leontine standing in the center of the room looked almost docile, which was both striking and very disturbing. “And the most idealistic. Never anger the idealistic. They feel right is on their side—and right excuses much.”
“I don’t object in principle to his objections,” Kaylin pointed out. “Just the condescension they’re wrapped in.”
“You can take that up with Annarion.”
“If we can find him.”
Teela nodded. “Can you find Nightshade?”
“I haven’t tried. I forget just how much I hate this place until I’m in it. Do you know if Annarion’s found the vampires?”
“...Vampires.”
Severn raised a brow, but said nothing.
“I don’t know what you’d call them,” Kaylin replied, trying—and failing—not to sound defensive. “They’re Barrani. They’re apparently ancient Barrani. They react to blood. I think they were already in the Castle when Nightshade took over. He said they chose the Barrani version of sleep here.”
; Condescension and arrogance drained from Teela’s expression. Normally, this would have been a good thing. Today it was anything but.
CHAPTER SIX
“Nightshade took the Castle,” Teela said, her knuckles white as she gripped the hilt of the sheathed sword, “and he left them here?”
“I don’t think he considered them dangerous.” Kaylin hesitated, and then added, “They guard the Long Hall’s doors. I’m not sure the doors open without their permission for anyone but Nightshade.”
“Prior to this, I could say many things of Calarnenne—but one of them was not that he was a fool.”
“They’ve never hurt him,” Kaylin pointed out.
“And how, exactly, do you know about them?”
Kaylin swallowed. This was not the direction she wanted the conversation to take. “I met them.”
“And he told you they were...vampires?”
“Not exactly.”
“I fear that exactly will have to wait. Although it occurs to me that any attempts to kill him have their best chance of success now.”
She had her best chance of success in the West March, after the ceremony.
“They were sleeping,” Kaylin said. “I mean, Barrani sleep. They weren’t moving, and they appeared to notice nothing.”
“Except you.”
Kaylin failed to answer the question.
“And you were bleeding.”
“Look—are they dangerous now?”
“I don’t know. Do you think they can sleep through the changes that are now occurring in the Castle?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.”
Teela muttered something about mortals under her breath. “Annarion has not—yet—encountered the ancestors. He is now aware that they are present. And Kaylin, they were a danger, even in our time.”
“By ours you mean yours and theirs.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to have engendered a higher degree of caution in Annarion. It has, on the other hand, increased his disgust.”
“What are the others doing?”
“They are speaking with Annarion. They are more effective, at the moment, than I can be.”
“That’s good.” Kaylin was looking at her arms. Without another word, she rolled up her sleeve and pressed the gems on her bracer; the gems were already flashing.
“You wore the bracer when you knew we were coming to the Castle?” Teela asked, the words imbued with disbelief verging on outrage.
“I’m living in the Palace. You were the one who told me to observe correct form while there—and by Imperial dictate, I wear the bracer. Diarmat would probably reduce me to ash if he noticed it was missing; he’d be grateful for the excuse.”
“Less talk about the Dragon Court while we’re here,” Teela replied, in a quieter voice. “Your arms are glowing.”
“I’d noticed.”
“Do they hurt?”
“No. Not yet. You know I was looking forward to a few weeks of boring report writing and whining about Margot, right? And finding a quiet place of my own again?”
“And that’s working out well for you?”
“Very funny. On the bright side, it’s not my fault this time.”
“If you even suggest that this is my fault....”
“Yes?”
“You’ll have a chance to personally compare my temper to Annarion’s.”
“I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”
“I thought you might. Roll up your sleeves,” she added. As Kaylin was more or less already doing that, she considered this unnecessary nagging. She tossed the bracer over her shoulder, but Severn bent to pick it up. She didn’t know why he bothered. The bracer was magical; no matter where she dropped it, it made its way back to Severn.
“You don’t need to cart it around. It’ll show up on your table, regardless,” she reminded him.
“While you’re living in the Palace, a certain amount of caution is probably wise. I’d be willing to bet a large sum of my personal money that it’ll return. I’m not willing to bet your life.”
The marks on her skin were a luminescent gold. They were warm, but not uncomfortably so. She wasn’t terribly surprised when they started to swim in her vision. This didn’t, on the other hand, mean there was anything wrong with her eyes.
The small dragon warbled and glanced at the marks. He flapped a bit, but not in an angry way. He was possibly the only non-mortal who wasn’t nursing anger this evening.
“Don’t eat them,” Kaylin told him.
He snorted. She was surprised when he snapped at her arm and came away with a single word between his translucent jaws.
“Hey! I mean it!”
The small dragon flew to the Leontine who seemed to be standing in a quiet daze. Kaylin sucked in air and ran after him. A docile Leontine, while a bit surprising, wasn’t going to be a difficulty. An awake, aware, and possibly angry Leontine was more than she could handle.
Teela joined Kaylin. Kaylin wanted free of Severn’s chain, because it was bloody awkward to move at any speed while it was attached to his weapons.
“Do you have any idea what your small creature is doing?”
“About as much as I ever have. At least this time he’s not insulting a water Dragon.” Kaylin had never seen the small creature take an injury. She didn’t want to start now, but he was well ahead of Teela, and as Teela approached the Leontine, she slowed. Barrani against Leontine wasn’t a sure thing.
Without a lot of preparation, human against Leontine was, and not in the favor of the human.
“Can you stop him?” Teela asked.
“Probably not. Why?”
“I’m uncertain that this is likely to have a calming effect on Annarion.”
“What would?”
“At this point? Very little. If Calarnenne was a more accomplished liar, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Liar?”
“Annarion is disappointed in his brother. Disappointment—even betrayal—is something we all encounter as we gain experience; we learn that our hopes and our beliefs are not always based in fact. Usually, we’re changing at the same time; we encounter ways in which our beliefs in ourselves are tested and found wanting. Annarion’s and Mandoran’s weren’t tested, in their youth.” She frowned. “Mandoran doesn’t approve of his place in this discussion.”
“Why?”
“He considers Annarion fecklessly idealistic; he feels a set down has been a long time coming, and is well deserved.”
“Could he keep that to himself until we’ve worked out where Annarion—or his brother for that matter—is?”
“You’ve met Mandoran. What do you think?”
Kaylin’s jaw ached, she was grinding her teeth so hard. “Why exactly did you miss these people?”
Teela laughed. “Probably because they’re like this,” she said, her eyes losing some of the saturation of blue. “I’m not ready to lose any of them again. Not yet.”
* * *
The small dragon reached the Leontine, and alighted on his left shoulder. He’d never done that to Marcus, and Kaylin was pretty certain he wouldn’t; Marcus had trigger reflexes, and things flying at his face—or his neck—were likely to set them off. Kaylin wasn’t certain if the glow that illuminated the Leontine’s face was the dragon’s or the rune’s, but his perfect fur reflected it; he was much richer in color than Marcus, and his ears didn’t have the small scars that Marcus’s did. The brunt of his entirely exposed fur was gold, but the light from the mark-lamp implied red highlights, like sunset or sunrise across a field of wheat.
His face was longer, his cheekbones more prominent; he apparently didn’t have the bulk that caused Marcus to tower over his subordinates, even when he was seated.
His eyes were Leontine eyes; at the moment, they were a peculiar shade of gray. Kaylin rifled through her very inadequate memory; she’d seen gray only a handful of times in her life, and never when things were going well.
She thought gray meant sorrow.
Speaking Leontine wasn’t easy; if she had to do it for any length of time, it wrecked her voice. Only in Marcus’s pridlea did she give up on rolling r’s and the growling tone that was half the conversation; she didn’t care if his children thought she was a pathetic, mewling kitten.
Teela came to a full stop as the color of the Leontine’s eyes became clear. Kaylin continued to walk, Severn attached by a slender chain at her waist. She held out both of her hands, palms up, fingers toward the ceiling to indicate sheathed claws. Not that she had claws.
He stared at her, his dull gray eyes at odds with the rich color of fur and the gleam of perfect, ivory fangs.
“I am Kaylin ni Kayala.”
He blinked; his eyes narrowed. Kaylin noted that small and squawky still held the word in his jaws; he hadn’t dropped it on the Leontine’s forehead, and it hadn’t disappeared. If he was using it just for the light it shed, she’d have words with him later.
“You cannot be kin,” he finally said. “You are human.”
Since human more or less meant hairless, mewling kitten, Kaylin nodded. “Kayala is our myrryn. Marcus is our leader. I have shared meat at their hearth-fire; I have protected the kittens. I have fought for my leader’s survival. I wasn’t born to the pridlea, but I am of it.” She inserted all the appropriate sounds.
“Why are you here?” he asked. As he looked around the dimly lit room, his eyes turned down at the corners. “Where is Calarnenne?”
“He is at the heart of his castle,” Kaylin replied, taking the same care to add all appropriate r’s and sibilants. “His pride-kin has returned after a long absence.”
The Leontine’s eyes widened, which Kaylin had not expected. “His brother?” he said, using the Barrani word.
She nodded, and added, “Annarion. He has not eaten at his pride-kin’s hearth for hundreds of years. He finds the hearth fires hot.”