01 #2
“Ah, no. But they consider the human caste court almost irrelevant. There are a handful of lords with significant economic
power, but the rest are unremarkable. Adding to their number gives the lords of actual power people to rule, in a fashion
that does not imply treachery.
“Prior to the recent changes in the Halls of Law, the hallowed Barrani ceremony weeded out those of insignificant will or
power. It apparently does not do so now.”
“You want me to talk to people.” By people she meant either Teela or Sedarias. She preferred Teela.
“I leave that decision in your capable hands. But you are aware that much of the Barrani economic power resides in the streets
of Elantra. If divisions are brewing, if a Barrani war begins, it is from those streets that economic power will be withdrawn
or leveraged.”
Kaylin nodded. “You think it’s that big?”
“We are uncertain, but we are concerned. That is not, however, the entirety of the reason I chose this block of time. I have,
as you have noted, dispensed with the candle. Any attempt to force you to channel the power of your Marks through acceptable
traditional means has failed to take. While you have managed, once or twice, to light the candle, you have scorched the table,
melted the candle, and missed the wick.”
“So . . . what did you want me to do?”
“I want you to consider who, and what, you are. I want you to access the emotions that seem to be the largest driver of the power you use. Do not look at me like that; it is considered disrespectful—at best.”
“Like what?”
“As if I have taken leave of my senses.”
“You realize that almost all of my training has been about suppressing random emotion, right?”
“Acceptable. Do not punch people in momentary rage.”
“I mean it, Sanabalis.” Ugh. “Arkon. You have my Records. You know what happened before I became an official Hawk.”
“If you are referring to the slaver, yes, I am aware. He was skinned alive—and the shock did not allow him to pass out before
he had experienced all of it.” He spoke without horror. Teela spoke of the same incident with a complete lack of horror as
well.
Kaylin couldn’t quite manage it, and she’d been the person who’d killed the man.
Kaylin believed the slaver had deserved to die. But she could have killed him by breaking his neck. Or stabbing him in the
heart—if she could find it. The death itself had been horrific. Teela felt death was death, regardless of how it arrived.
She’d said that. She’d said that a hundred times while Kaylin had hyperventilated as she crashed.
“I believe that is the source of your problem. You did not control, did not even consider controlling, your emotions. Your
power flowed naturally into your rage, and you used it. We do not intend for you to run around Elantra in a rage, but you
are not the child you were on that day. You have used the power of the Marks in the years since then—but desperation seems
to be your driver. It is a better driver than rage, but it is, as you are well aware, unreliable.
“I can set fire to this city without any deep emotion. I can transform into my draconic self without rage. Rage does not help our kind. It is control that we measure and value.
“That control does not entirely work for you. You must find a way to access the emotions that drive your connection to your
own power if you wish to avoid situations in which desperation is your only option.
“Awareness of your emotional state does not depend on rage. If it did, we would not be having this discussion; the risk to
the rest of us would be too great. The only way you use your Marks in deliberate fashion is to heal. It is proof that something
other than rage can drive the conscious use of real power. The healing is impressive,” he added, voice softening. “But healing
is often something done after the fight, not before.”
“What kind of fight are you even expecting?” She didn’t bother to keep her tone neutral.
“At the moment, not a fight we cannot win.”
That wasn’t exactly comforting.
“We are content to leave this in the hands of Hawks. I have an appointment with Lord Grammayre after our lesson is concluded.
I will request flexibility in your schedule in the near future.”
The lesson ended up being much shorter than the usual candle torture. Sanabalis asked questions that were personal in nature.
Kaylin punted. If it was true that she needed to somehow invoke emotion on command, she sure as hells wasn’t going to do it
in front of the new Arkon.
For once, Ynpharion—whose presence lingered—agreed. Agreement meant silence; he couldn’t possibly be agreeable in actual words
that might sound like approval.
This is what the Lady wanted you to warn me about, isn’t it?
Perhaps. She does not allow me to spy on you; she feels it is beneath her.
But not you, clearly.
I serve her. Information that might become relevant is just that: information. How it is gathered is a minor concern.
And you’re going to tell her that the Imperial Court has spies in the High Halls.
This time, his obvious contempt was clear. Do you expect us all to be as naive and foolish as you? Of course they have spies in the High Halls. We have spies in the Imperial Palace.
The funny thing was: she was far more comfortable with this version of Ynpharion. When he was actually polite and respectful,
it made her suspicious.
Because you fail to understand the bond itself. Again. I must assume it’s deliberate.
It wasn’t. I don’t spend my free time thinking about you.
Or any of those whose names you hold.
She might be more comfortable, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed speaking with Ynpharion. What exactly is the Lady afraid of?
Ynpharion did not reply. No, of course not.
Kaylin exhaled. Ask her if it would be acceptable if I visited.
The silence was quantitatively different, but it was there. She does not think it particularly wise at this time. If, however, you feel it urgent, she will grant that permission; she will not take the risk of extending an invitation.
She asks, however, that you visit in the company of a guard you trust. She does not consider An’Teela to be a suitable guard.
Does she think any of the cohort would be suitable?
Silence again. It lasted longer. No. They are too linked with Mellarionne. Understand that she is not particularly concerned for your cohort. It is your safety
that concerns her.
Can I come with Severn?
I fail to see how that would be any protection at all. No pauses there; he hadn’t bothered to ask.
Well, it’s Severn or Bellusdeo. I suppose I could ask Nightshade, but I was under the impression that outcastes would be far
worse.
She suggests perhaps Lord Andellen.
Kaylin frowned. Barrani names were so similar she sometimes had to sort through them before she could come up with a person
to attach them to.
Lord Andellen was Nightshade’s second-in-command. The most loyal of his Barrani lieges. Kaylin’s work in the High Halls had
allowed her to ask that Lord Andellen, exiled but not outcaste, be allowed to return to the Halls until she passed away. She
certainly hadn’t asked for that boon for her own sake—the High Halls gave her hives.
Everything about this felt wrong, off-kilter.
If you visit, she will instruct the guards to allow you to enter; they will take you directly to her. Give me some warning
should you think it necessary to meet with her. Pause. She feels Severn would also be acceptable because she suggests, if you visit, you visit as a Hawk.
Kaylin froze on the spot. It took her a moment to find her own feet. She wants me to come as a Hawk?
She feels it will emphasize your caste. You are human. Those who wish to harm their rivals on opposing factions will think
several times about adding human bodies to the brewing conflict, especially if they are Hawks.
Is she in danger? Kaylin began to walk, her steps slow. She wasn’t always the best at reading undercurrents and subtext, because she had so
little of either to offer. But Ynpharion wouldn’t have made the attempt to contact her if the circumstances didn’t involve
the Consort, at least peripherally. Ynpharion, tell me.
Silence.
Severn looked up as she approached. He nodded, falling into step beside her as they left the Halls for their Elani beat. They’d
be a bit early, but Kaylin was now too restless to pause or make small talk. She needed to be moving. She needed to do something.
Maybe that was why her Marks seemed almost jittery: she was. Something was happening, or about to happen.
Severn glanced at her; she felt his muted concern. Of course he was concerned. Even her thoughts were loud. She’d never quite
figured out how to mask or obscure them, how to slide into a superficial layer of thought while avoiding the thoughts that
were actually important.
“Try not to kick Margot’s sign over.”
“I didn’t do it last week.”
As beats went, Elani was harmless. Most of the regulars were so accustomed to Kaylin’s familiar they no longer made the attempt
to purchase him. People less familiar with the Hawks still asked. She almost hoped someone would try to swipe Hope. It would
give her something to respond to, some way to relieve some of her building steam.
No one did.
You look like thunder, Severn observed. If you want to start an incident—or have an incident start—try looking friendly.
Kaylin shook her head. She had paused in front of Evanton’s. She almost entered. But Evanton’s wasn’t where she was meant
to be. Had Evanton wanted to see her, Grethan would have opened the door as she approached the faded lettering of the store
window.
The only silver lining on the cloud she’d become—Severn being right, no doubt—was the fact that there were no incidents, and
reports would be minuscule enough even Kaylin could get them in on time.
But she’d been ill at ease for a couple of days now, and she expected bad news.
In the end, she didn’t worry about reports. She didn’t worry about Elani.
When news came, it arrived in a way no one else could hear. She felt it first, on her tattooed cheek; she lifted a hand to touch the mark Nightshade had left on her face. It felt like years ago. It had been maybe two—at most.
Severn stopped as Kaylin did, his steps so naturally in time with hers the pause was instinctive, automatic.
She lowered her hand.
“Your cheek is bleeding.”
A single streak of blood reddened the palm of her hand. She nodded, turning toward the streets that led to the bridge to Tiamaris.
It was the only way anyone with legitimate business entered the fiefs anymore. Nightshade?
There was no answer.
Kaylin began to run.