Cast in Oblivion Page 11

  The Consort grabbed Kaylin’s right arm. “Please—let’s join them.” She spoke Elantran. Her expression was almost exuberant; it made Kaylin feel old.

  * * *

  Green eyes encountered a field of emerald green as Kaylin led the Consort to the parlor; she couldn’t retrieve her arm and half suspected that the Consort knew she wanted to be anywhere else. And in any other clothing. But when the Consort had fully entered the room, she did disengage.

  Kaylin immediately began introductions, starting with the oldest person present, who had risen from his chair as if to remind Kaylin that introductions were necessary. “Arkon,” she said, “may I introduce you to the Consort?”

  He bowed, Barrani-style. The Consort returned that bow, but she held it longer, and when she rose, her eyes were bright. Kaylin was half-afraid she would run across the room and take the Arkon’s hands, which annoyed Ynpharion; his expression remained composed bland. She did not introduce Emmerian, but Emmerian had made clear that he, like Ynpharion, was here to work. He was a guard, and guards didn’t get named in front of the actual guests; they were like armor or weapons. Or like the armor or weapons Kaylin carried; Teela’s weapon had a name.

  Kaylin didn’t know what it was.

  Ynpharion was now so heavily on alert he didn’t supply the name, either. It was clear to the visitors that Emmerian was a Dragon, and there were no Dragons who were not Lords of the Dragon Court, with the possible exception of Bellusdeo.

  You’re a Lord of the High Court and you’re here as a guard. Why should Dragons be any different? They’re here for precisely the same reason you are.

  He didn’t answer, which was just as well. Kaylin had no difficulty introducing Bellusdeo, whose presence also seemed to delight the Consort.

  When it came to the cohort, however, they both stiffened. The choice of emerald green had seemed a little too political to Kaylin; it seemed a lot too political now. But she hadn’t argued against it—her ears were still ringing with Sedarias’s etiquette criticisms—and therefore accepted the awkward that followed. What she was really afraid of was Sedarias’s judgment. While Diarmat had the louder voice and the more imperious tone, he wasn’t actually at any of the occasions in which she tried to apply his lessons. Sedarias was.

  While her expression was elegant, genial, even welcoming, her eyes were the same shade of blue as Ynpharion’s. She was, however, perfect in her response; her bow was the correct depth, and it lasted the correct length of time; she did not wait to rise, but did not offer insult by shortening the gesture.

  The Consort remained standing while Kaylin cycled through each member of the cohort. She started with Sedarias, and ended with Annarion. Terrano was the most awkward, because he looked like what he really wanted to do was throw himself at her feet and spend the rest of the evening on the ground. He could no longer hear Sedarias—or any of the rest of his kin—and had to settle with a muted clearing of throat on the part of the woman who led the cohort in most things.

  He bowed instead, but even that was awkward; he held the bow for far too long, and did not rise until the Consort bid him do so.

  The only other awkward introduction was Tain’s, and it was awkward because Tain’s chosen form of address? “Corporal Korrin.”

  It was his rank in the Hawks. Sedarias felt it entirely inappropriate; being introduced as Tain of Korrin would have been acceptable. His response still rankled some of the cohort; he was proud of the rank of corporal. This implied many, many things, and Kaylin, too busy with panic, had failed to consider all of them.

  Until, again, now.

  This was going to have to stop. It was her house. She had some say in what occurred beneath her own roof. She had been afraid that she didn’t understand enough to be able to make smart decisions—but that was ignorance, and ignorance could be changed.

  “May I offer you a drink?” she asked.

  The Consort smiled. “I’m most curious about what the Arkon is drinking.”

  “It is meant for Dragons,” Helen said. “Mortals would consider it poison. I am less certain about the effect on Barrani, as none of my Barrani guests have expressed a desire to try.”

  “Then perhaps I will not—not while I am here. If it disagrees with me, it might cause difficulties that I do not intend.” She smiled at the Avatar, and Kaylin remembered that the Hallionne all adored the Consort. “There will, no doubt, be difficulties that arise out of my own hopes and fears, and they will be more than enough.”

  A chair moved—untouched—to the Consort’s back, and the Consort sat. It was not a throne, of course; it was a chair, and even if it was a very fine, very expensive-looking chair, all of Kaylin’s guests—the seated ones, at any rate—occupied chairs its equal.

  Ynpharion and the unnamed Barrani lord chosen to accompany him took up positions by the parlor door, which caused a minor—and nonvocal—negotiation with the Dragon who was also in that position. In the end, the Barrani guards chose to stand side by side to the right of the doors as one entered, and Emmerian stood to the left.

  Silence descended on the room, and Kaylin’s stomach clenched. If it continued for much longer, it was Kaylin’s responsibility to break it—pleasantly, in a way that implied delight and contained almost no information beyond that.

  The Consort came to her rescue before she could take up the most nerve-racking of her duties. “I cannot help but notice that you have chosen the colors that you wear without regard to your familial lines.”

  “We are none of us, save only Teela, the rulers of our lines.” It was Sedarias who replied. Of course it was. “We are not yet Lords of the High Court, and while it is true that our families have their colors, it might be considered presumptuous for those who are not of sufficient rank to wear those colors in the presence of the Consort.”

  “Oh?” The Consort smiled; her eyes tinted slightly toward the blue, but only slightly. “Considered presumptuous by who?”

  Be wary, Ynpharion told Kaylin, his interior voice sharp.

  Chapter 7

  Sedarias clearly did not need Ynpharion’s warning. She fell silent for a beat longer than necessary. But she didn’t look away from the Consort’s friendly gaze.

  It was Teela who spoke—but that made sense. Of the assembled Barrani guests, only Teela and the Consort had taken the Test of Name and passed it. “We are aware that the simple color of clothing is unlikely to cause you mortal offense. Mortal offense, however, has clearly been taken—or perhaps an attempt has been made to express it—by those intimately acquainted with our blood kin.

  “We have returned from the green; we wish to return to our families. As you have experienced yourself just scant days past—and I admit I am impressed by the speed with which you returned to Elantra—some of those families are less sanguine about our return.” Teela’s eyes were blue. Her voice was cool but pleasant; it was a wall, not a weapon. “Designating a person outcaste requires the involvement of the High Lord—and his explicit agreement. Disowning a person does not.

  “It would be politically difficult to disown only one of us. In one or two cases, I expect that the heads of lines are interested in the return of their long-forgotten kin.”

  “Those cases coinciding with a lack of competition for the seat?”

  Teela nodded, expression grave. “Or perhaps those whose families have declined in influence in power.”

  The Consort inclined her head. “They will have to meet your friends in person, because they will require a pretext; to disown them for fear of their essential nature would give rise to difficulties for those whose families wish to embrace their lost kin.” Ynpharion was surprised by her response. Surprised and instantly ill at ease.

  “But you and your friends—children trapped, until very recently, in the Hallionne Alsanis—are not my kin as kin is reckoned among our kind. I am not the High Lord; I am the Lady, the guardian of the Lake. My pu
rpose has not been political, to the benefit of our race. If you decline to wear the colors of your lines because it might be considered presumptuous, I must ask: by who? For it seems to me your action implies that I answer to—that I will answer to—any of the High Court. For a purely personal visit.”

  “And it seems to us,” Teela countered, “that you intend us to believe that your visit will be considered purely personal. We are willing to lend credence to your personal preferences in this regard; you wished to visit Lord Kaylin, and she wished to offer you her hospitality. But you must be aware that there are Barrani guards lining the perimeter of this property, and those guards—”

  “None have been given permission to accompany me into Lord Kaylin’s home. My guards are personally loyal to me; they have no other allegiance.”

  Which meant, Kaylin thought, that the second, unknown guard was almost certainly name-bound, as Ynpharion was.

  “What I do not choose to divulge, they will not divulge.” The Consort’s eyes remained primarily green, but she adopted Teela’s tone. “I am observed, yes. I have been observed by less-than-friendly eyes from the moment I embarked upon the many tests that lead, in the end, to the Lake.

  “But Bellusdeo is likewise observed, and she is considered above suspicion.”

  Mandoran coughed.

  “You disagree?” the Consort asked, looking quizzical.

  “She’s a Dragon.”

  “She is. But so, too, the Emperor to whom we have all sworn allegiance. All,” she added, “who become Lords of the High Court.” Her gaze swiveled to Kaylin. “Is that not so?”

  “Mortals aren’t required to swear personal oaths of allegiance,” Kaylin replied. “Or at least not mortals like me or Severn. I haven’t been asked to swear an oath since passing the Tower’s test.”

  “You are a Hawk; perhaps he considers the oaths required upon joining the Hawks to be sufficient.”

  Kaylin shook her head. “The oath Hawks swear isn’t to the Emperor, personally. It is to the laws that the Emperor devised. We’re not soldiers. If, for instance, the Emperor personally commanded that we murder civilians, we’re honor-bound to refuse. He cannot order us to break the laws that we’ve sworn to uphold.”

  “Lord Severn?”

  “I have sworn an oath of personal fealty to the Emperor. The same oath has not been asked of Lord Kaylin or any of the Hawks.”

  The Consort inclined her head and turned her attention, once again, to Teela. “A meeting with those who have yet to undertake the Test of Name is, by its very nature, considered personal; momentous events cannot be decided by the powerless.”

  “We are hardly powerless,” Terrano snapped. His eyes were a disturbing shade of blue—disturbing because it was not the blue Barrani eyes normally adopted.

  “Indeed. But your power is an unknown quantity. Because it is unknown, a polite fiction has developed: you remain young, frozen in time, and you are not therefore to be more feared than any of our young.” She smiled, the curve of her lips almost Leontine in nature, which, given lack of fangs, was as disturbing as Terrano’s momentary loss of control. “Are any of you hungry?”

  It was the question Kaylin or Helen should have asked, but unless Kaylin was interrogating a criminal, she didn’t think to ask questions when she already knew the answer.

  “I find that I have not yet regained my full appetite. The journey from the West March was arduous.” The statement invited response, but no one offered, and the cohort’s eyes had become a uniform blue. To Kaylin’s relief, that included Terrano.

  The Consort gazed at them all. “You have come to us in a time of instability. My brother, the High Lord, is newly come to the High Seat, and as is common in our history, his rule is contested. Up to this point, that contest has been a matter for the Barrani High Court and its dependencies.

  “Bellusdeo’s presence in the West March was a target of opportunity. It was not an opportunity that the High Lord would take, but it fuels his opposition. They feel that Bellusdeo is significant enough that invoking her, accusing her, might drive the Emperor into a corner.”

  It was Kaylin who snorted this time. “Because the smart thing to do with a Dragon is corner him.”

  “I did not say they were wise,” the Consort replied. “But the young who have no experience of war know only two things: its reported glory and the desire to avenge historical deaths, historical wrongs. We lost much, in the war. But,” she added before anyone could speak, “so, too, the Dragons. Do you understand the mode of thought?”

  Silence.

  This time, it was Kaylin who answered. “Yes. Right now there are only six active Dragons. Some of the Dragons who fought in the wars sleep; most are dead. But for centuries now there’s been no chance that the Dragons will increase in number. And the Barrani can, and have. If Bellusdeo had died during the last assassination attempt, I think things would have been quiet again. She didn’t.

  “And that means those who want—or dream—of ruling this particular empire are looking at an increase in the Dragon population in the near future. So...it’s now or never.”

  “We would, of course, prefer never.” It was Teela who spoke. “Unlike some of the younger members of the Court, I did fight in those wars. I was respected far and wide for my courage, my bravery, my...glory.” Kaylin had heard her curse in a tone that was vastly more respectful.

  “You bear one of the three,” the Consort replied.

  “And I do not intend to surrender it while this conflict brews.”

  “And after?” When Teela failed to reply, the Consort smiled. “Even so. Calarnenne gained prestige during the wars; he, too, carries one of the three, and he, too, will not be parted from it save by his death. His death would be vastly more difficult to achieve than even yours. And no, Annarion, your brother is not at risk. He is lord of one of the Towers, and his role is essential. You wish to take the Solanace seat that you feel he abandoned.

  “He did not abandon it. He was driven from it by my grandfather. But, Annarion, you must know: you are the last of your name. Although your ancestral lands exist, although they are claimed and protected, they are not now known as of Solanace. If you wish peace with your kin, you might adopt the name Coravalle.”

  “I am Solanace.”

  “Yes. You are. If you are made outcaste, Solanace will die. It was thought dead before Lord Kaylin found you all in the green. But Solanace was more than a name, and everything about the family you knew is now in the hands of Coravalle. Coravalle is not ancient; it does not have the history of Solanace. Your uncle must have feared your brother beyond all reasonable measure.”

  Annarion did not reply.

  Helen did. “If you are not hungry, dinner can be modified into lighter fare; it can be served later; it can be missed entirely. I do not believe anyone in this room has much of an appetite at the moment. Except possibly Kaylin.”

  * * *

  In the end, the Consort requested light refreshments, a light meal; she also asked that Helen offer that slighter meal in less a confined, restricted space. Helen glanced at Kaylin—which, as it wasn’t necessary, was probably done to make a point—and Kaylin immediately gave permission; she was curious to see what Helen would now consider appropriate.

  Sedarias made a decision, and asked that she be excused; that her mode of attire was not appropriate for a casual, informal space. She did not ask on behalf of the cohort, and the cohort was scattershot in their attempt to do the same; some asked, and some fled the parlor.

  Terrano would have stayed, but Allaron, at some unheard command, almost literally dragged him out of the room, leaving only the Dragons, the mortals and the Consort.

  “You like these people,” the Consort said, turning to Kaylin.

  “I consider three of them friends, and I consider the rest family to those three friends. Bellusdeo is also a friend; she came first, and she ha
s every right to be here. Mandoran and Annarion like her, and I expect, with time, the others will like her, as well. So far none of the guests have tried to kill her, and she has not tried to reduce any of them to ash.”

  “Do you trust them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you trust them were Helen not your home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lord Kaylin—”

  Kaylin held up a hand, palm out. “Look—can we just stop with that? If Helen is making a casual room for us and everyone else understands that means they can ditch the fancy, uncomfortable clothing, can we ditch the fancy, uncomfortable titles?”

  To her side, Kaylin heard a slight cough, and froze.

  The Arkon was, of course, in the room. She was so so so grateful that Diarmat was not. Bellusdeo’s face was turned slightly to the side, probably to hide her eye color or her expression.

  “I am willing to ‘ditch,’ as you put it, the fancy, uncomfortable title. I will apologize to you for your...discomfort...in the outlands, and I swear to you that I did not intend to harm any of An’Teela’s friends. But I understand as much of their nature as the Hallionne Alsanis was willing to explain, and some containment is required. Helen is a reasonable containment only so long as the cohort wishes to be contained.”

  Helen didn’t argue.

  Ynpharion was profoundly shocked and outraged. He was also worried. Very worried.

  “Yes, dear,” Helen said quietly. Her house’s eyes were not quite their usual brown. “He is worried because the Consort does not tender apology to mortals or Dragons. Ever. If she is willing to do so—if she is willing to publicly debase herself—it means she intends none of you to survive.

  “He is wrong. The Consort does not intend to destroy you; she has, in the past, greatly desired to strangle you—but so have Teela and Tain. Nor does she intend to destroy the cohort—at least not in the foreseeable future.

  “She does wish to spend some time in discussion with the Arkon, but the reasons are not political. Ah. Before you answer me, I have taken some caution to say this only to you—which is perhaps why the color of my eyes is flickering.”