04
“As I said before, magic evolves. It is like any other field of study. If you ask me to detail the magic I sense, I am uncertain
my conjectures would be of value. I have not had a mage as a tenant since I first broke free of the fetters of obedience.
I still retain the various research materials and notes of previous masters, but they are hidden.”
“I would like to study them,” Teela said.
Helen turned to Kaylin.
“Better her than me.”
“Kitling.”
Kaylin exhaled. “Is the magic keeping him unconscious?”
“I cannot say that definitively. Nor, as I might have mentioned, can I say with certainty that the magic itself is not protective
in nature.”
“Protective against what?”
“You cannot tell if he has been poisoned.”
“Not if I can’t touch him, no. If I had no idea who or what he was, my first guess would have been poison. But the fact that
I can’t reach him with the power of the Marks of the Chosen implies magic. Maybe magical poison?”
Teela’s brow furrowed as she considered Kaylin’s suggestion. “That is not what it would be called, but it is theoretically possible. If it acted the way poison generally does, it would cause damage. The fact that you can’t examine him with your power goes against that.”
“Would a normal doctor, a nonmagical expert, have any better luck? I’m not medically trained. I don’t have that expertise.”
Teela frowned. “It’s possible. But human doctors wouldn’t possess the required knowledge or experience, and there are very
few Barrani doctors who do not rely on magic as their examination tool. None,” she added, voice cooling, “that I would trust
enough to take the risk of examination. And we would be waiting for some weeks, even should we choose to take that risk—our
experts are in the West March.”
“There aren’t any in the High Halls?”
Teela snorted. “They would be considered far too provincial to be accorded respect in the High Halls. Regardless, I feel the
magic is complex enough that we cannot simply assume it is the magic alone that is the danger.”
“Will he survive?” Kaylin asked as quietly as she could.
“While he is here, I believe he is safe. Annarion will stand watch.”
Terrano lifted a hand. “Wait.”
Teela didn’t care for Terrano’s eyes, either. She turned immediately, regardless.
“Can you draw his sword?”
“His sword?”
“Meliannos.”
Teela’s brows rose, her eyes flecked, briefly, with gold. “You want me to draw Meliannos?”
“I don’t think anyone else is likely to survive the attempt,” was Terrano’s matter-of-fact reply.
“Please don’t kill him,” Kaylin said quickly. “Don’t try, because I think we’ll probably need him. Terrano, tell her why. Right now.”
Terrano turned to Kaylin, grinning. His eyes hadn’t returned to normal. “She won’t kill me. And she knows why. Seriously,
could we just give you one name? Like, just one? Words are hard.”
“You use so many of them, I’m surprised to hear you say that,” Teela snapped.
Terrano rolled his eyes. Kaylin had to look away. “You don’t see the magic at all, right? You can physically touch Nightshade;
you can’t do anything else?”
She nodded.
“There’s still a connection. You can’t reach him by calling his True Name, right?” He grimaced, clearly at one of the cohort’s
replies.
Teela lifted a hand. “Before you continue, I am leaving. I have an investigation to begin before we head to the High Halls
tomorrow.”
“There’s no we,” Kaylin began.
“Attempt to make sense of what Terrano sees when his eyes are in that state. I’ll tell you if I discover anything of import.”
“Where are you going?”
“The fiefs, of course.” Teela turned and left the room, walking quickly. She paused, and then said, “Lord Andellen. I would
appreciate your input.”
Andellen, standing on the other side of the arch that led to his lord, stiffened.
Helen turned to Nightshade’s sole liege. “It’s you or Kaylin,” she told him. “She would prefer your input because you were
actually involved in all stages of the attack as a defender. Kaylin arrived only after the fact.”
Kaylin, still looking away from Terrano’s face, turned to Andellen. She nodded. “Annarion and Nightshade might not have been
on the best of terms, but Annarion will let nothing harm his brother while Nightshade remains within Helen’s perimeters. If
Teela thinks she needs your input, she does.”
Andellen hesitated for one long beat before nodding. To Kaylin.
“I swear, Teela’s about to lose all her hair.”
“Hair isn’t the word we usually use.”
“Helen doesn’t like it when I curse.” As Terrano spoke, he turned back to Nightshade.
Kaylin glanced at Annarion and he flinched, looking away.
“What?”
Annarion said nothing.
Terrano did curse, then. “You know your mark is bleeding, right? Nightshade’s Erenne mark?”
“According to everyone I’ve spoken to today, yes.”
“An Erenne mark isn’t like the other Marks. Most of Annarion’s anger at his brother is because of the mark you bear. He doesn’t
care about the family that discarded him. He doesn’t care that most of that line is lost to history, even if he’s certain
Nightshade was responsible for that. It’s the damn Erenne mark. What it means to you—mostly nothing, anymore—and what it means
to our people are different.”
“It’s like a consort mark, right?”
Terrano winced. “Yes, sort of.”
“No,” Annarion snapped. “It’s like a slave mark. A precious slave. A valued slave.” His hands were fists. Of the cohort, Annarion
was usually mild and quiet; he had control of his emotions and his words. But not when it came to his brother.
“He’s never tried to use it against me.”
Terrano placed a gentle hand on Annarion’s shoulder. “I know. I know, but the fact that the mark is bleeding might be helpful.
Kaylin doesn’t want your brother to die—and the mark is on her face.”
“Two war bands,” Annarion said, voice low. “Any Barrani who sees that mark in the wake of those war bands is going to target
her.”
“Everyone’s seen it. Look—I’m not trying to defend your brother. I’m just interested in saving his life. Even if you never speak to him again, we need him in the fiefs.”
Annarion swallowed. “. . . sorry.” He’d dropped into Elantran as he looked at Kaylin. “Terrano thinks you might be able to
break through because you have that . . . tattoo. He says it’s bleeding because it’s connected—and no, he doesn’t understand
why. None of us do. It’s an ancient tradition—and it’s never used now. That’s part of the reason it was so shocking.”
“So . . . I’d want to talk to someone ancient enough to tell me what the mark actually does? I mean, Nightshade’s thugs treat
me with respect because I have it.”
“Because if you get angry with them, Nightshade might be furious. They will suffer consequences for disrespecting you.” Helen
sounded certain.
“But it doesn’t mean what they think it means. It doesn’t mean anything, now.”
Helen said nothing.
Kaylin was uncomfortable, and Helen knew it. But her house had a mind of her own; she was willing—even happy—to be Kaylin’s
home, but home had never meant a total bleaching of her character. Helen’s desire to be a home was based on Helen’s concept of home. “Fine. It’s a connection. It’s saved me before. I hate it,” Kaylin added, lowering
her voice. “Because I grew up in his fief. If his fief were like Tiamaris, I’d feel differently. But it’s not just hate. It’s
complicated.
“And it is a connection. Terrano suspects—actually I’m pretty sure it’s Serralyn who had the actual suspicion—that that connection might
be useful. The namebond isn’t, and in theory, that’s more powerful.”
“It was Serralyn,” Terrano confirmed.
“I don’t know a lot about the Erenne mark, but I’m not making myself bleed. There’s some connection. Teela couldn’t get through whatever the spell is. I couldn’t do it with the Marks of the Chosen.”
“You have not fully tried,” Helen said.
“Fine. I couldn’t do it with the knowledge I have. Better?”
Helen pursed her lips.
“Sanabalis has decided we’ve been approaching things the wrong way. He thinks it’s instinct, emotion, and probably desperation
that governs the use of the power—at least in me. But . . . my instincts, my emotions, and my desperation. I’m not sure if it’s true. I’m not sure how you teach someone more about their own instincts.
“And it’s true I didn’t try to push through whatever defenses have been erected—but . . . it’s healing. On a visceral level,
I don’t believe that my healing functions that way. Doctors? Yes. Sometimes they have to cut or break things in order to reset the body. I’ve seen
it in the Hawks, and in the infirmary. I’ve done similar things to what doctors do when healthy people were infested with
Shadow and I arrived in time. But that’s not . . .” She grimaced. “I don’t think that would work here.”
“I will have words with Lord Sanabalis at a later date,” Helen replied. She clearly didn’t agree with the new approach. “No,
I do not. Feelings, such as they are, are amorphous, and they are oft influenced by things that have very, very little to
do with the task at hand. Prioritization of such things must be done with precision and care.”
Kaylin exhaled. “He has to wake up, Helen. He has to wake up for Annarion’s sake, if not for his own.”
Helen was obviously hesitant. She spoke after a longer pause. “Do you believe the Erenne mark can somehow achieve what the
far greater power of the Chosen cannot?”
“No—but if Serralyn thinks it might help me get past whatever it is that’s sealing Nightshade in, we should at least try.”
Annarion said nothing, but Kaylin grimaced.
Sometimes, when she talked to Helen, she forgot that anyone else was in the room.
Except for Terrano; it was hard to forget him.
“I’m not upset about the mark,” she said quietly.
“I won’t tell you how to feel about it—but you and Nightshade are never going to resolve anything if he dies here. ”
Annarion exhaled. “It’s not just that. I told you: two war bands were sent to the fiefs. Teela is trying to determine who