Cast in Sorrow

Chapter 11

“Don’t make that face. You asked Corporal Handred if he knew where I was staying. You didn’t ask him if I was there.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Teela. It’s dark.”

“And Barrani require how much sleep? You, on the other hand, look terrible.”

“And I know you mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Kitling, what happened to your ankle?”

“I landed badly.”

“From what height?”

“Six feet.”

“And you did that?”

“My hands were full at the time, Teela. I couldn’t drop what I was carrying.”

“From six feet? You could cut off my hands and I’d stick that landing.” Teela’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me the light in this rustic hall is so appalling the hole in that dress is actually a wrinkle.”

“Can I compromise and say I didn’t put it there?”

“That’s not much of a compromise.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Truth is not an excuse.”

Kaylin wanted to shriek. Her stomach made noise instead. Teela’s eyes slid from blue to their resting blue-green state. “Your rooms.”

Kaylin nodded.

“The servants will no doubt be waiting; it is quite late. They will provide food if food is requested.”

Kaylin nodded again; it was generally the safe bet when Teela took charge. She glanced at Severn. A look passed between the two Hawks, but Severn didn’t disappear. He didn’t take the lead, though; Teela had it and didn’t look like surrendering it could ever occur to her.

Only when she reached a familiar door—with a ward that made her cringe—did Teela stop.

“I swear,” Kaylin said between slightly clenched teeth, “if the door ward sounds the alarm again, I’m going to find an axe.”

“That might be more difficult than you imagine. I’d open the door for you, but I believe it’s keyed to you.”

At least she didn’t have to hit it with her forehead. She lifted her left hand and gritted her teeth as she placed her palm against the ward. This time, however, there was no blaring alarms, and no accompanying armored guards. The door swung open, into the hall, and Kaylin entered rooms that were hers while she wore this dress.

They didn’t feel like hers. Nothing Barrani really did.

To draw a line under this point, the servants were waiting. Kaylin remembered Teela’s pointed words. These servants had their sense of worth and duty tied up in doing their job well. If Kaylin was obviously uncomfortable—and damn it, she was—she was telling them they were doing it badly.

Inhaling, she drew herself to her full height—which was not impressive in comparison—and said, “I was called from Lord Barian’s residence to tend to the Consort by the dreams of Alsanis, and I’ve only just emerged. I twisted my ankle in a fall, I’ve spent what feels like hours in the nightmares of a Hallionne and I’m—” Her stomach growled. She flushed. “Hungry.” The last word was Elantran.

They waited, and she added, “Please bring refreshments for my guests and me.” She wasn’t used to sitting rooms that were basically small dining halls, and she had no problem eating while draped across her bed, because if Teela and Tain dropped into her apartment, someone had to sit there.

But she tried. She led the way to the not-so-small sitting room, and chose the largest chair she could find. The servants departed, and Kaylin glared at Teela. “If you think I’m going to usher you to a damn chair, bite me.”

Severn, however, sat in the chair closest to Kaylin’s. He rested his head against the back of the chair, and as it was low, he was pretty much facing the ceiling. With closed eyes. “You need to talk to Teela,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Kaylin didn’t answer immediately.

“The Barrani are naturally suspicious. I imagine they don’t start that way—but most of the ones who didn’t develop suspicion quickly are dead,” he continued, eyes still closed. “What Teela faces in the West March isn’t the usual, natural suspicion.”

Teela sat—on the table, which was situated in front of Kaylin and Severn. It was a low, flat table with edges that curved toward the light in the ceiling. She even crossed her legs.

“I don’t think the servants are going to be all that impressed with that,” Kaylin pointed out.

“They’re not my servants,” Teela replied, with a feline smile. “Continue, Corporal.”

Severn hadn’t even opened his eyes. “You’re family, to Kaylin. In a very real way, kyuthe. She trusts you.”

“I’ve always told her that was a bad idea.”

“Yes. But bad or no, she’s grown up under your wing. She trusts you, and I’m willing to do the same. But, Teela—I think the threat they feel is real. The fear behind the suspicion is too solid. You can’t normally get the Barrani to agree on anything; the agreement—in the West March—is almost oppressive.”

Kaylin turned to glare at the side of Severn’s face. The bruised side, damn it. He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and met Teela’s gaze. “Warn me, if it comes to that. No matter what’s required, Kaylin will never lift a hand against you—not in any serious way.”

“And you will?” Teela was amused.

Severn wasn’t.

Severn’s expression won; the amusement drained from Teela’s expression. “If it comes to that, Corporal, I will count on you. What warning I can give, I’ll give. But in return?”

Severn inclined his head, his gaze unwavering.

“Be as competent as you are rumored to be.”

It took Kaylin a moment to understand what Teela was asking. During that moment, Severn deserted his chair. “I will.” He turned to Kaylin, offered a lopsided grin that never reached his eyes, and headed out the door. She rose, as well, and her ankle almost collapsed.

Teela laughed.

“You could find all this less amusing, you know.”

“Yes. I could. But it wouldn’t change anything, and I prefer to be amused.”

To Kaylin’s surprise, the small dragon leaped off her shoulders and headed—at high speed—out the door. After Severn.

Teela raised a black brow. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

“I didn’t tell him to leave.”

“You didn’t tell him to stay.”

“He’s a cat, Teela. He goes where he wants.” She sank back into her chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“If I had to catalog all of the events in my life, kitling, you would be dead of old age before I’d finished.”

Kaylin inhaled. “You hear Alsanis.”

“Pardon?”

“You can hear Alsanis.”

“You’re guessing.”

“I’m asking.”

“You’re wrong.” Teela rose. “Move over.”

“There are sixteen chairs in this room, Teela.”

“There are seven. Move over.”

Kaylin shuttled to one side, and Teela flopped down beside her. Kaylin closed her eyes and leaned against Teela; she felt, for a moment, that she was in her own apartment, and Teela was lounging on her bed and stealing her pillow. “What did you see?”

“Not what the Consort saw.”

“You know this how?”

“She asked me what I saw, and I told her.”

“Not wise.”

“There’s a bunch of not wise in my life today. Being here. Waking the Consort. Talking to you. Severn’s worried.”

“Yes. I don’t, before you whine, find his worry as irritating as yours because he’s not worried about me.”

“He is—”

“His worry is less insulting; he thinks I’ll become far more dangerous than I currently am. You worry that something will break me. What happened to the dress?”

“I’m not sure. No, I know what happened—but I don’t understand why. I was here the entire time.”

“What happened?”

“Ice shattered. Splinters flew. One of them hit me.”

“There?”

Kaylin nodded. “It doesn’t seem to have pierced skin—there’s no blood on the dress.”

Teela shook her and Kaylin opened her eyes. “Do not bleed on that dress. I mean it.”

“I’m unlikely to make myself bleed, Teela. Tell everyone else that.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Has anyone else bled on this dress?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Something Barian said.”

“Lord Barian.”

“Yes, him. He said there were reasons for all of the laws in the West March.”

“There are. There are reasons why it is forbidden to fight—or kill—in the heart of the green.”

“It happened before. Before you—”

“Yes. You are not, of course, the first harmoniste; merely the first mortal one. One such man was a Lord of the East. It was before my birth,” she added. “But not before my mother’s. He was reputed to be cold and proud; a Lord of the High Court. He was not of the West March, and even in the wars, he remained in the East.”

“The East is where the High Halls are?”

“Close, yes. After the wars, he came West. He was a political man, and as such, considered the customs of the West March rustic and unnecessary. He was not chosen as either Teller or harmoniste—and at that recitation, there were both. He did not set out from the High Halls, but he joined the pilgrimage when it became clear that this recitation was to be significant.

“The Teller was a man of power and significance in his own right; he traveled with an armed contingent. To challenge him would be costly. The harmoniste, however, was a man newly come to the High Court, and newly come from the test of name. He had very little standing in the Court itself. The Lord therefore chose to challenge the harmoniste.” At Kaylin’s expression, Teela added, “A genuine challenge, yes. The man could not refuse.”

“But—”

“The Lord of the West March did not travel with the pilgrims; nor did the Lord of the High Court. The Lord from the East was therefore one of two who might issue commands to the Hallionne, and the harmoniste was, as I mentioned, considered insignificant. He could not refuse.”

Something about the way she said this felt subtly wrong, but Kaylin couldn’t put her finger on what.

“He therefore did not refuse. He was not from an insignificant line,” she added softly, “so he could not be disposed of in a more convenient way—but the Lord in question felt a lost challenge would serve his purpose.” She was smiling again.

“You didn’t know this man.”

“No. As I said, it was just before my time. But I understood the condescension with which the West March was—and often is—viewed. During the fight itself, the harmoniste was injured. This was not unexpected.

“His robes, however, were cut, and the blood from the wound seeped into the fabric.”

Kaylin looked down at her lap with a growing sense of discomfort. “What happened?”

“Fully half of the party that had set out from the High Halls perished.”

“But—but from what?”

“The green,” Teela replied softly. “I told you—the Lord in question had set out from the East only when word of the significance of the recitation had reached his ears. There are always ambitious Lords; our party was larger when it arrived in Bertolle than it had been when it set out.”

It wasn’t, now; they had lost many in the attempt to reach Orbaranne through the portal paths.

“He arrived at the edge of the green; he did not make his challenge until he was within the lands ruled by the Lord of the West March. He was not in the heart of the green, but he was upon it.

“The green chooses. The green chose you.”

“Teela,” Kaylin said, with some frustration, “just what exactly is the green?”

The door opened. Teela stretched her legs, stretched her arms, and grinned as the servants entered the room. They carried slender silver trays, which they set upon the table to one side of Teela’s feet. Even Kaylin was appalled.

The servants, however, said nothing. They didn’t look surprised, shocked, or disgusted. They offered Kaylin sweet water and wine; Teela took the wine. Kaylin waited until the servants had left the room before she turned on Teela.

“I would pay everything I could earn in a year,” she said, “if you had to take etiquette lessons with Diarmat!”

Teela laughed. “Kitling, if you could only see your expression. Don’t eat that,” she added, as Kaylin picked up what she assumed was some kind of strange fruit. “I know you’re not picky, but you won’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“You will find it very spicy. It’s sweet,” she added, with a mild frown, “and you have a weakness for sweet food—but there’s a subtle spice that clings to the tongue, and you’ve never been fond of spicy food.”

Kaylin set it aside. There was enough food here she could afford to be picky. “What is the green?” She needed to know.

“I have never fully understood it myself. It is not the Hallionne, either separately or in concert, although it works through them; I believe it is part of them, and they are part of the green. They are whole in and of themselves.” She hesitated, as if searching for words—which was unusual for Teela. “You’re Elantran.”

Kaylin nodded.

“You live in the city. But you are not the city.”

Kaylin nodded again.

“The Emperor also lives in the city; he claims it, rules it, and hands down its laws. But if he perished, the city would not perish with him.”

Given what it would take to actually kill the Emperor, Kaylin wasn’t as sure this was true. “The green is—is like a city?”

“Like a sentient city,” Teela replied. “It is a place. It has geography. It has laws and rules and customs. We,” she added, refilling her glass, “are merely the least of its citizens. We do not make the laws; we merely live—as most of the people in Elantra do—by them. If there is an Emperor, or his equivalent, we—again, like most of Elantra’s citizens—will never meet him.

“But cross him, break his laws, and his anger is felt. The green is like the Hallionne, and unlike. I don’t believe it hears our thoughts when we are in its domain; nor does it interfere in our lives in immediate, visceral ways. But it can. On that day, it did. Not all of the men who died intended to strip the chosen harmoniste of his role; the anger of the green is not so directed. No one will try to kill you while you wear that dress.

“But, kitling, do not bleed on it.”

“I didn’t exactly stab myself,” Kaylin replied.

Teela fell silent, and not in a good way. She rose, and began to pace. The Barrani Hawk could pace for hours. She could wear ruts in stone. She had, when she chose, a light, graceful step that belied her size. Clearly that wasn’t her choice today. “I swear, I will strangle Nightshade myself.”

“After he’s finished the telling.”

Teela laughed. “Of course. I know the anger of the green quite well.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. Nothing you need to know, kitling.”

Kaylin looked down at her hands. “Tell me about the others.”

“The others?”

“You’re stalling.”

Teela chuckled. “You are not my keeper. I am not stalling; I am considering what you usually do with information you shouldn’t have.”

“Meaning?”

“You run full tilt into the heart of things. You let your fears propel you. You have the caution of a mortal child—what is the word again?”

“Toddler,” Kaylin answered reflexively, and found annoyance after the two syllables had left her mouth.

“Toddler. Why do you think I hear Alsanis? Don’t frown like that—your face will get stuck that way. Immortal faces don’t.”

“I saw them, there.”

Teela didn’t ask who. “Where?”

“I think I was walking through either the dreams or the nightmares of Alsanis. I was trying to find the Consort at the time.”

“With full hands.”

Kaylin grimaced. “Yes. The full hands aren’t important here.” She fell silent. “Maybe they are. I was carrying words. I mean—runes. Like the marks on my skin.”

“Like?”

“Two of the marks on my skin. I needed to take them with me. I needed to take them to the Consort—don’t ask me why. I just did. But—I didn’t find the Consort immediately; I had to fly through—”

“Fly?”

“Well, the small dragon had to fly, but in the dreaming, his wings were larger. Anyway, there was a city there, eventually. On the walls of a gigantic pit. We landed in a tall building—that’s when I twisted my ankle. The Consort was there, but to get to her we had to walk down the side of a ridiculously long courtyard. I was still carrying the words.

“And I found statues along that wall. They were—they looked like they were—made of glass. They were Barrani, Teela. There were eleven in all: two women, nine men. It’s funny,” she added. “I had the hardest time telling Barrani apart when I first joined the Hawks. They all looked the same to me. I mean, women looked different from men, but—you were almost the same height, with the same eyes, the same hair, the same general facial characteristics.

“But...the statues, absent of color, didn’t. If I saw them again, I would know them.”

“You’re thinking again. I can hear it.”

“Very funny. I saw one of the lost children in the forest on the way to Bertolle.”

“And you recognized him, cast in glass.”

“No. That’s the strange thing. I didn’t recognize him.”

Teela shrugged. “It was dark.”

“In both places. The only light in the courtyard was the one I brought with me. The words,” she added, “they glowed.”

“Very well. Statues.” The Barrani Hawk’s eyes had lost their green.

“Technically, no.”

“If you take much longer to tell me the rest, I’ll strangle you myself.”

“Didn’t you just say—”

“I told you not to bleed on the dress. I don’t recall that strangulation causes bleeding.”

“The statues moved. They followed me. They tried—they tried to touch one of the words. I thought of them as ghosts,” she added. “They always reacted to the same word.”

“I am not going to ask you what the word was, because I really will strangle you when you can’t answer.” Teela folded her arms across her chest as if to stop her hands from acting of their own accord.

“They couldn’t touch it; their hands passed through it.”

“Yours clearly didn’t.”

“No. But—every time one of them tried, the word grew heavier. By the end, even you would have found it a strain.”

“And that end?”

“I walked into a room. It was behind a warded door. My hands were full; I had to hit it with my head.”

A grin tugged the corners of Teela’s lips up as she considered this. “It opened?”

“With a lot of noise, and if by ‘opened’ you mean turned to burning ash.”

“Alsanis was never rumored to be this dramatic. Continue.”

“The Consort was there. In the center of the room. Which wasn’t a room at all—it had no ceiling. The sky on the inside was daylight; the sun was high.”

“Did she cast a shadow?”

Had she? Kaylin frowned.

“Did you?”

“I was kind of busy, Teela. Is it important?”

“It’s a dream. Or a nightmare. Everything—and nothing—is important.”

“The Consort had been singing. She was almost at the end of her song when I arrived; I panicked.”

Teela shot Kaylin her best “water is wet” look.

“The weird thing is, she was standing in front of a fountain. The fountain was at the heart of the room. The room was like an eleven-pointed star, in shape; the floors were stone. The ghosts—they all followed me in a line—walked to the eleven corners, and climbed invisible pedestals; they were all facing inward. They were looking at the Consort or the fountain.”

“Or you.”

That hadn’t occurred to Kaylin. “Or me. I had to let go of the words to catch her before she fell. But the words waited.”

Teela didn’t even tell her that the words weren’t sentient. “And then?”

“The Consort touched the words; they were solid, for her. We kind of—kind of pushed them into the fountain.”

Teela stared at her.

“There was nowhere else for them to go, Teela, and they had to go somewhere. I’d’ve given them to the ghosts, but there were eleven ghosts and two words.”

“I cannot believe Lord Sanabalis considers it wise to teach you magic.”

“Whisper that in his ear if it’ll get me out of his lessons.” She hesitated. She had come to the end of safe story—if mentioning the eleven was safe at all.

Teela, of course, noticed.

“One of the words sank into the water. The weightless one. The other hit water—and rose.” She sucked in air, and rose herself. Standing was in all ways less impressive. “The water froze as the rune changed shape, Teela. In the center of the fountain, made of ice, I saw you.”

“You have not spoken of this to anyone else?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“It wasn’t technically speaking.” Kaylin didn’t like the color of Teela’s eyes; she didn’t like the Hawk’s sudden stiffness, either. “The eleven came off their pedestals then. They walked to the center of the room, to the lip of the fountain. They lifted their arms—to your image—and, Teela, they screamed.”

She wasn’t certain what Teela would do. She ate, in silence, although she’d lost all appetite. She was a betting person, but this could go either way; there was a good chance Teela would pivot on heel and leave the room. She had that tight-lipped “keep away” look that would have sent most of the office on whatever errands they could find that took them farther away from her desk.

Kaylin, with eight years of experience in the same office and no reasonable—or farfetched—errands to run, should have said nothing. It was safest. “Teela, what happened to the children? What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me,” was her bitter, bitter reply. Kaylin almost didn’t recognize her voice.

“What happened when you served as harmoniste?”

“Nothing.” Teela looked over her shoulder to the closed door. “If I had known that you would be involved like this, I would never have allowed you to—”

“We needed that information.”

“No, kitling, we didn’t.”

“People were dying—”

“Yes. But we didn’t know that at the time, and the truth of the matter is, I don’t care about those people.” Her eyes narrowed as Kaylin’s jaw dropped in outrage that was entirely genuine. “I don’t care about them as much as I care about you. Is that better? You don’t value yourself. Fine; not all of us labor under your evaluation of yourself.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Teela stared.

Kaylin knew this wasn’t smart. She knew it. But she was underslept and overworried and her mouth kind of opened and all the wrong words kept falling out. “You hate it when people worry about you. You hate it when they care. You never ask for help, even when you—”

“Need it?” Teela’s eyes were now dark blue slits. “What help, exactly, do you think you can offer? You have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve no idea what you’re facing. You wander around touching things that should never be disturbed, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

“You can barely save yourself. Do not insult me by implying that your concern can somehow save—” She stopped. Turning, she walked out of the room.

The small dragon returned a short time later, squawking.

“No,” she told him, from her glum perch in the chair she now occupied solo. “It didn’t go well.”

Squawk.

She poked at food. The small dragon landed on the table, skidded across its smooth, flat surface, and smacked into a silver tray. “Don’t eat that,” Kaylin said. “You won’t like it.”

He hissed.

“Fine, suit yourself.” She pushed herself out of the chair and started to pace. The room was large, but it was still a room, and at the moment, it felt like a cell. She glanced at the small hole in her dress, and then, frowning, at her arms. Ice shards had struck skin—but they’d caused no pain. Instead, they’d stilled the burning of the marks on both arms.

She stopped pacing and looked down at him. His eyes were wide and dark; they were the only thing about him that wasn’t translucent, unless you counted his teeth.

“I’m going for a walk.” She headed toward the same door that Teela had exited, and he jumped and attached himself to her shoulders. “You don’t have to come with me. You can find Severn and keep him out of trouble.”

The small dragon bit her ear.

“Listen, buddy, if I wanted pierced ears, I’d’ve had it done years ago.”

Walking through Barrani-owned halls was not as relaxing as a stroll through the city streets. Then again, walking through the city streets often ended up being less relaxing than intended; it was most of the reason Kaylin didn’t bother when she wasn’t on the job. But she felt caged by expected behavior standards when in the rooms that were theoretically hers.

She felt caged in the halls, period.

The Consort, Teela, and every other person willing to condescend to speak with the merely mortal had made clear that the residence of the Lord of the West March wasn’t a safe space, but Teela’s little story about blood on the dress made Kaylin bold. That, and it was harder to find a target that was constantly on the move.

She wandered through the halls and found herself in the courtyard. This took less time than she’d feared; this building—at least so far—appeared to be geographically fixed. She could memorize it, as if it were the Imperial Palace, and make an internal map she could follow. At the moment, she wanted air.

Oh, who the hells was she kidding? What she wanted was water. She wanted the fountain. Men in armor passed her in ones and twos as she walked. They weren’t Imperial Palace Guards; they didn’t stand at attention all over the bloody place. They did notice her; they didn’t stop her or ask her business. She couldn’t bring herself to ask them for directions; she might have asked her servants if she’d cleared her head before she’d left them behind.

But she did find the exit eventually. The doors weren’t guarded—but they weren’t closed, either.

She hesitated, and then walked toward them, through them, and beneath the night sky. The moons were high, but not full; the light they cast was subdued. Kaylin’s eyes adjusted as she listened to the fall of water into water. Fountain.

From this distance, at this hour, it was exactly as it seemed. There was obviously some enchantment laid on it, because water didn’t normally fall from thin air, but the enchantment didn’t make the marks on her skin itch, so she didn’t class it as magic.

And she didn’t classify the water as magic, either, although anyone in their right mind would. She took a seat at the edge of the fountain; she wanted to touch the Tha’alaan, just for a minute. She wanted the feeling of welcome, inclusion, and acceptance—because she wasn’t going to get much of that here.

“Lord Kaylin.”

She exhaled in frustration, lowering the hand she’d lifted before it made contact with anything wet. She wasn’t alone. “Lord Nightshade. How long have you been here?”

“I have only just arrived. The Consort kept us for some time.” He emerged into the shadowed light, walking around the curved basin of the fountain. “She did not choose to answer many questions; nor did she choose to ask them. She held court,” he added. He was smiling; Kaylin couldn’t see the color of his eyes. “She held court almost as if she were her mother. I think she intended to spare you interrogation, where at all possible.

“Lords Barian and Evarrim are not pleased.” He glanced at the falling water as if it were of passing interest to him. It wasn’t at the moment, and he knew she knew it.

She wanted to touch the water. “Did you attend the recitation where Teela served as harmoniste, or was it after you left the Court?”

He watched her without answering. Kaylin hardly ever found silence comfortable, but she waited this one out. “What did you see in the nightmares of Alsanis?”

She didn’t answer. After a pause that was just as long, she said, “I couldn’t speak to you when I was there.”

“You made the attempt?”

She nodded. “You couldn’t see what I saw while I was there, either.”

“No. You were unsettled upon your return, if return is the word for it. Were it only you, I would be less concerned—but Kaylin, the Consort is disturbed, as well. What did you see? What did you do?”

This was why he had come. She felt the sharp edge of something that was far more than idle curiosity.

She rose. Pacing beneath moonlight felt far more natural than pacing in an enclosed room. “Who did you lose?” Her voice was quiet.