“I’m sorry about the dragon.”
“You are not, that I’m aware of, in control of him. Or were you referring to the Hallionne?”
“Both. I didn’t mean to get dumped on you tonight.”
“I am aware that the choice was not yours.” The Consort exhaled. “Everything my brother has ever said about me is clearly far more accurate than I wished to credit.”
“Which part?”
“I am overly sentimental—a grave, grave failing—and naively optimistic.” She used Elantran for the last word, as if there was no equivalent in High Barrani. Thinking about it, there probably wasn’t. “He also feels I give far too much credence to views that are not my own, regardless of how deeply held and very correct my views are.”
“It’s not something I’ve ever been accused of,” Kaylin admitted.
“No, but you have so few years to form correct views it’s more easily forgiven.” The Consort frowned. “That, by the way, is an example of behavior my brother criticizes. I find it difficult to hold you in the contempt you so richly deserve.”
Kaylin hadn’t really noticed that the Lady was having any difficulty in that regard.
“It’s vastly easier when you’re not actually standing in front of me. Or kneeling. That was impressive, by the way. I think it made an impression on the rest of the Court.”
“Probably not a good one.”
“It affirmed that you were aware of your position, and in that sense, no, not good. But it also showed that once you’ve made a decision, you live with its consequences. The humiliation would have caused most of them to abandon the attempt.” She slid farther into the water, until its small currents crested the underside of her flawless chin.
“I knew that Lord Nightshade would come,” she continued, surprising Kaylin, “and I did not trust him.” She spoke in Elantran again. “I knew you would honor your promise, not because you are mortal, but because you are so much yourself.”
“But Teela—”
“And,” she said, voice softening, “I know An’Teela’s history.”
“You knew Nightshade when he was a Lord of the High Court.”
“I did. He was also a close friend of my father’s, inasmuch as Barrani can be said to have close friends.”
“But if he’s Outcaste—”
“Yes. It was entirely my father’s decision.”
“Why was he made Outcaste?”
“I do not know. That is the truth, Lord Kaylin. I was…fond of Lord Nightshade. I came in part because of him, in part because of you, and in part because of the Imperial Wolves.”
Kaylin froze, hot moving water notwithstanding.
“Lord Iberrienne is not yet Outcaste. He is, by Imperial standards, a wanted criminal, but the crime for which the Emperor was so understandably enraged is not—and cannot be—considered a crime against our race. The Emperor’s rage, however, was predictable. The assassination attempt should not have occurred without consultation with the High Lord.”
The fact that it did implied the High Lord’s concerns weren’t significant to the assassin and his supporters. “It’s insulting?” Kaylin asked.
“Yes. It is a grave insult. It is for that reason that my brother is…angry.”
“He’s trying to have Iberrienne declared Outcaste.”
The Consort nodded.
“You don’t think he’ll succeed.”
“Should he declare Iberrienne Outcaste, Iberrienne will be Outcaste. But there are costs.”
“Can I point out that Iberrienne tried to kill Bellusdeo while she was living with me in my apartment?”
The Consort nodded. “That fact caused far more friction in Court than the attempt itself.”
Kaylin blinked. “Why would anyone care?”
“You fail to understand your own significance in this Court. You have seen the Lake of Life. It was you—not my mother and not me—who retrieved the whole of the High Lord’s name from those waters. It is my belief that you could, should it become necessary, choose names and give life to our young, should I fall or fail.”
“Iberrienne couldn’t know that.”
“Perhaps not. Ignorance, however, is not an excuse. It is clear that you find favor in the High Lord’s eyes. More than that is not necessary. It is not because the High Lord values you, you understand.”
Kaylin had spent enough time around Teela—barely—to nod. “It’s because he’s said I’m important. Killing me is a slap in his face; it has nothing to do with me.”
“Yes. Iberrienne, however, was unrepentant; he considers you a threat and a—what was the word?—abomination.”
“Good to know where I stand. Not surprising, but still.”
At that, the Consort smiled. “It is further complicated by Evarrim. Iberrienne is his cousin.”
“That’s not supposed to mean anything, according to Teela.”
“Ah. In terms of either affection or survival, it does not; in terms of public face, it does. If Evarrim has not yet disposed of his cousin—”
“No one else is allowed.”
“Yes. And?”
“Evarrim wants the small dragon.”
“Indeed. He is not, however, the only one.” The Consort watched the small dragon for a few silent breaths. “He really doesn’t seem very impressive.”
“But he’s cute.”
“When he is not issuing challenges to the Hallionne, yes. The High Lord will not be happy when he hears of this turn of events.”
“He didn’t want you to come here, did he?”
“No. He did not forbid it, but he counseled—strongly—against it. I believe at least two of the Lords are here at his behest; he will know before morning of the day’s events.” She fell silent. “So much upheaval, Lord Kaylin. It is not just you; it is everything. The Devourer who sleeps—and dreams. The Hallionne. Calarnenne’s presence as the Teller. You. A female Dragon. It has not even been a mortal year.”
“I wasn’t responsible for the Exchequer, if that helps.” When the Consort failed to respond, Kaylin grew more thoughtful. “I think Iberrienne may well have been.”
The Consort stiffened, her expression chilling. The water, however, remained on the edge of too damn hot. “The Exchequer difficulty, such as it is, is venal; it involves mortal wealth. I find it difficult to believe he was involved.”
Kaylin ground her teeth. “Every crime I’ve investigated in which the Barrani were implicated involved money.” She managed not to shout.
“How many of those crimes involved a Lord of the Court?”
“At least one.”
The Consort’s brows rose. “That is a serious accusation, Lord Kaylin.”
And one it would help no one to make. Kaylin reined in her fraying temper, reminding herself that Immortals always saw mortals, and by extension mortal things, as inferior. Railing against it changed nothing. Hating it just gave Kaylin ulcers; the Immortals didn’t care. “It’s also in the past. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
The Consort inclined her head. “The current difficulty?”
“People have been disappearing from the fiefs; dozens, maybe more. I’m certain a Barrani Lord is involved in those disappearances, because I saw him.”
“You did not make this accusation at Court.”
Teela had said it would be unwise. Kaylin bit her lip. “No. I knew I wouldn’t be in the City, and I thought the criminal would be. But he’s here, and that changes things.”
“He is already under Imperial death sentence.”
“It’s not his death that worries me.” Even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren’t true. If he died, he would die because Severn was successful. He probably deserved death. Severn didn’t deserve to be his assassin. “He didn’t just grab people off the streets; they didn’t leave their fiefs by bridge or road. They left through a portal.”
The Consort’s eyes narrowed.
“The Avatar of the Tower of Tiamaris said the portal leads to the outlands.”
* * *
The silence was significant; it chilled the water. “If such a thing existed within the fiefs, given the circumstances, do you not think it likely that Lord Iberrienne would have availed himself of its use?”
The Consort, like Teela, seemed to know what “outlands” meant. “Only if it was safe.”
“How many of the mortals were taken?”
“I don’t have an exact count.”
“Tens? Hundreds?”
“At least a dozen from Tiamaris; my guess, given access, is higher from Nightshade. If such portals exist only in Tiamaris and Nightshade, than we’ve lost maybe fifty. If they exist at the edge of the borders in all of the fiefs, hundreds.”
The Consort rose. Water rolled off her as her hair drifted down her body in a wave. Her eyes were blue, but her expression remote; Kaylin didn’t feel that this shift was directed at her. “When did this occur?” she asked. Unlike Teela, she apparently had a sense of modesty; she grabbed the bathrobe that was loosely draped on wall hooks as thick as her wrist.
“Within the past couple of weeks, at most. The documented cases—”
“There is Imperial documentation?” When Kaylin failed to answer, she added, “At this time, Lord Kaylin, the Emperor is already…difficult. The High Court does not wish to push him past sensible rage.”
“There is one case, and one only, that exists in Imperial Archives. The most recent one,” she added. “The rest of the archives that exist—in whatever form—exist within Tiamaris.”
“And not,” was the dangerously perceptive reply, “within the fief of Nightshade?”
“You’ll have to ask Nightshade yourself.”
“That is a very Barrani answer. I’m surprised. I will speak with Calarnenne.” She waited.
Kaylin pulled herself out of the water. She felt uneasy, and it was getting worse, not better. “Tell me what happened to the children exposed to the regalia,” Kaylin said. “I think—I’m afraid—the disappearances are somehow connected.”
The Consort’s expression froze in place. “They could not be. The Lord of the West March would never countenance it.”
“I’m not accusing your brother of a crime. It never occurred to me that he could even be involved. I don’t understand what’s happening here, but I’m beginning to think I should be grateful for the destruction of my home. If no attempt had been made on Bellusdeo’s life—” She drew breath, clamping her jaws shut on the rest of the words. “Let me try that again.”
The Consort said nothing.
“Lord Iberrienne is involved in the disappearance of some of my people. He chose people whose absence wouldn’t be noted by either the Emperor or the High Lord. I believe he sent them someplace else, and if he’s traveling with us, it’s possible that he sent them ahead.” She watched the Consort’s expression; rock was less giving. But her eyes were darker, and they seemed for a minute to reflect nothing.
“I am weary,” she said, rising.
“Lady, is it possible that Iberrienne might somehow attempt on nameless mortals what was attempted, previously, on the Barrani children?”
“Can you see any advantage—at all—to Lord Iberrienne in such an action?”
“No.” Kaylin turned away. In a low voice, she added, “I was hoping you could.”
“Given the results, and given that he is aware of it as a Lord of the High Court, I cannot.
“Lord Kaylin.”
Kaylin turned.
“I am concerned. What you have said is disturbing, especially given my distance from the High Lord and his lieges. But it is not disturbing to me in the same way, or for the same reasons, it disturbs you. You are worried for your missing mortals.”
Kaylin nodded.
“They are mortals you have, in all likelihood, never seen.”
“I know.”
“This is like your Norannir all over again.”
“No. It doesn’t involve the possible end of the world.” The silence that followed the words was too bitter, too still. The Consort’s eyes were a very dark shade of blue, but they glittered now, as if they had hardened. Or frozen. But her voice, when she spoke, was soft.
“I would like to remain angry with you for the next two centuries. If I were my mother, I would, in fact, be able to sustain this rage for the rest of your existence.”
“Two centuries should more than cover it.”
“Two centuries? I am struggling with a year. I feel it is my right—and my duty—to censure you. But it takes effort. It is hard to watch and listen to you and remember just how dangerous you were.”
“Barrani have perfect memory.”
“Yes. And demonstrably imperfect emotional reactions; I consider it a failing, but I am only mother, not designer. I cannot extract a vow for future good behavior, in part because you cannot make a binding vow.” She lifted a hand as Kaylin opened her mouth to ask the obvious question. “A binding vow is exactly what you would expect; it is a long, complicated procedure that involves the True Name of those who swear the oath. I am not certain what its effects would be on you—and in any case, it would be a waste of effort; if I wanted to kill you, there are far less complicated and taxing ways.
“I want to see you learn the error of your ways. I want you to suffer the consequences of your decisions. But you muddle in things that are so large, even the wise cannot fully comprehend them. There seems to be only one way in which such lessons could be learned, and for reasons that are not clear—to me—I am not willing to allow you to commit suicide.
“It would be markedly easier if you would at least make these appalling decisions for the usual reasons.”
“Those are?”
“Personal gain. Monetary profit.” The Consort’s eyes were now a shade of blue that would have fit in at the Halls of Law on a day that didn’t include assassination attempts or the Exchequer.
“You’d be less conflicted?”
The Consort frowned. “I would be as angry; it would be less difficult to maintain the anger. But that is not what I meant. When people are motivated by a desire for personal gain, they are much, much easier to predict—unless they’re incredibly foolish. It is hard to predict what the monumentally foolish or willfully ignorant will consider profitable.”
“If it will make it easier, I am doing what I do for personal gain.” Kaylin headed slowly toward the bedroom. The bed was round. It was also in the center of the room, like a squat, soft table. To her surprise, the Consort followed. “I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror.”
“The sad thing about this discussion,” the Consort said, “is that you believe what you’re saying.” The Consort, who wasn’t Teela, pulled up a rather fine chair.
Kaylin shrugged as she climbed in. “Sometimes. I know that the choices I make—they’re luxuries. I have something now. It’s not what you want—”
“Oh? And you are now an expert in the desires of the Consort of the High Court?”
Kaylin reddened. “No.”
“Good. You are telling me that you are just as self-interested as Evarrim.”
“It’s not the way I would have put it, but…yes.” Kaylin rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, which sank. “At least we’re not boring.”
The Consort’s brow rose, but a smile tugged at the right side of her compressed lips. She rose from the chair in which she’d been sitting and made her way to the bed; Kaylin moved over toward one edge. The Consort, unlike Teela—and the rest of the Barrani Hawks, for that matter—didn’t lounge. She didn’t strew herself across the mattress, taking up most of the room and all the pillows. She lay down instead, folding her arms beneath her head as she stared, wide-eyed, at the ceiling.
“I am sentimental,” she told Kaylin. “As a child—and I had a long and simple childhood by all accounts—I was indulged at Court; I was the daughter of the High Lord. I played,” she added with just a trace of self-consciousness. “But as I grew, I came to understand the politics that governed th
e Court. I can remember my shock and distaste. I can remember,” she added with a rueful smile, “the disbelief. I think, sometimes, when I look at you, I see what I can no longer have. I don’t want to destroy it, but I envy you.”
Kaylin wondered if anyone was ever happy being themselves. The Consort was undeniably beautiful, and she would remain beautiful all her life. Beautiful, healthy, youthful. She could speak at least three languages—probably more; there wasn’t a door that would remain closed to her if she chose to truly enter Elantran society. She had money, she had servants, she had…everything. And what did she envy?
“When I learned that my brother would be High Lord, it was difficult.”
“But you knew—”
“I knew, but I didn’t understand at the time what it meant. The Lords of the Court lined up behind each of my two brothers in an attempt to offer them support—physical, magical, and even monetary—for their attempt to secure the throne.”
“But—”
“Yes. It is the way of things for so many of my kin. My mother took me aside and explained in no uncertain terms that such a contest was expected of the Barrani who would be High Lord. It was a way of ascertaining that the ruling Lord was strong.” The Consort lifted a pale brow.
“Weren’t they both her sons?”
“Yes.”
“And she accepted this?” Kaylin’s brows, on the other hand, could no longer be seen, they were so high up in her hairline.
“Of course. She was the Consort; my father, the High Lord. She was not…happy. But she accepted it. I did not. I could not. I went to my brothers in anger and fear, and I threatened them.” She smiled; it was a painful expression. “I threatened them.”
“With what?”
“I told them that if either of them did not survive the death of my father—either one—I would abandon the Lake of Life.”
Kaylin rolled onto her side. Her brows were still invisible.
“You may now point out that my anger at you is an act of hypocrisy, if you like.”
“I need permission?”
“Yes, as a Lord of the Court over which I preside.”
Kaylin laughed, the situation was so ridiculous. As she laughed, the bed shook, and the Consort began to laugh as well—albeit in a startlingly beautiful, musical voice.