08
Teela was a Hawk.
Swords were responsible for public safety, and one aspect of that included the laws that governed carriages on the public
roads. Helen, being in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in Elantra, had the advantage of very wide roads—but Teela’s driving
was, and had always been, a danger to public—and private—safety.
Teela had taken care to make sure Kaylin was impeccably dressed and properly prepared for the High Halls. Kaylin, however,
wasn’t Barrani. When Teela’s carriage finally rolled to an unsteady, erratic stop—which miraculously didn’t involve the carriage
tipping over and being dragged half the way to their destination—Kaylin’s hair was worse for wear. Had she been in normal,
affordable clothing, her skirts would have been a wrinkled mess. Barrani cloth didn’t seem to have that problem.
Even Severn had been forced to brace himself against one of the carriage walls.
They were, however, on time.
Kaylin’s knees felt like jelly as she exited the carriage, but the minute her feet were on solid ground, she was fine. “You
are not driving on the way back.”
“Says who?”
“I’ll walk. It’s not that far.”
Terrano muttered a strong agreement. He was still less than visible, but he hadn’t come as part of Kaylin’s party; he was
allowed—indeed invited—to enter the High Halls at will. Sedarias’s many enemies at court knew better than to attack Terrano;
he was considered a friend of the sentience at the heart of the High Halls.
Why that sentience didn’t just forbid violence the way the Hallionne did, Kaylin didn’t understand. Here, murder, involving
the Barrani, appeared to be just another fact of life. The lives of mortals within the High Halls were of value—or import—only
because their deaths would invoke Imperial wrath. Without that wrath, Kaylin had no doubt that the Halls would be populated
by mortal slaves. Or corpses. Or both.
Some people tried to do their best no matter their circumstances. Some did their worst—or would, if they didn’t fear the consequences.
She lumped most Barrani into the latter category. If it weren’t for the Emperor’s laws, they would be what they had always
been, and the mortals in their vicinity would be either slaves or dead.
She understood Dragons less well, but the Dragon she served—and would serve all her life, given the choice—was not Barrani.
His laws had been created taking into account both the Immortal and the mortal. Dragons, in the eyes of the Barrani, were
the only other race that must be treated with respect.
Kaylin exhaled. She was nervous, and when nervous, her thoughts were often dark. Then again, they were approaching the wide,
flat steps of the High Halls. She wondered if all of the vast, opulent grounds were part of the High Halls, the way Helen’s
lawns were part of Helen.
If they were, the Avatar of the Halls didn’t answer.
Teela conspicuously wore Kariannos, one of the three Dragonslayers. She was dressed much in the style that Kaylin herself was dressed, and in similar colors.
They are not similar. Ynpharion was annoyed. Life sometimes showed a little mercy.
They’re green.
He didn’t shriek, but it was pretty close. Her ignorance had always frustrated him. That and her unwillingness to learn. Frustrating
Ynpharion was one of the few pleasures she was going to be allowed today. When she was a child—
You are Chosen! Ynpharion shrieked.
“What do you find so amusing, Lord Kaylin?” Teela asked.
“Ynpharion.”
This caused a frown on Teela’s part, and utter silence on Ynpharion’s. Severn might not have heard either Teela’s question
or Kaylin’s reply. His gaze was at the height of the stairs, where Barrani lingered. His left hand fell to the hilt of his
weapon, but he made no move to draw it.
Right. They were in the heart of Barrani territory now, Kaylin in her dress, Severn—unfairly, in her opinion—in his Hawks’
kit. But she understood part of the reason Teela allowed it. No matter what his clothing, his weapon demanded Barrani respect.
The smile left her face as she counted: there were four people, in pairs, who had been conversing until the new arrivals caught
their attention.
Kaylin wasn’t certain what they found more offensive: Severn, dressed as an officer of the much-detested Imperial Laws, or
a mortal wearing clothing clearly created by Barrani for Barrani. Their eyes were blue; one woman’s were a notably dark color. No one moved or spoke, because Teela was walking, in
step, beside Kaylin, her presence both a claim of ownership and a warning.
Kaylin was slightly surprised when Terrano became visible at the height of the stairs, in the center of the largest of the arched doors.
As Terrano became visible—and not, given his expression, by his will alone—a second figure materialized beside the cohort
member. “What have I told you about invisibility?” that figure said. It was the Avatar of the High Halls.
“It makes people paranoid. But hey—we’re Barrani. How much worse could we get?” Terrano, who could show proper manners, didn’t bother.
“The Lady is waiting, Lord Kaylin,” the Avatar said, ignoring Terrano’s words. He then put Kaylin under a terrible spotlight:
he bowed. To her. In front of witnesses. “She has asked me to escort you. And to separate you from Terrano.”
Kaylin coughed.
Ynpharion did as well, but for different reasons.
“Lord Severn, if you would join Lord Kaylin, the Lady would be grateful.”
The High Halls were never crowded. The Halls of Law were often a press of rushing bodies. The difference in ceiling height—with
the exception of the Halls of Laws’ aerie—was stark. One was meant to feel small and insignificant while one walked here. Severn was tense. Teela, elegant and graceful, was indigo-eyed. They
expected trouble.
They are prepared for trouble, Ynpharion corrected her. I am uncertain that it was wise to have the Avatar escort you; it is a statement of your import in a place where mortals do
not reside.
You probably know why.
I know that you are considered an essential possible replacement in the worst case, yes. But it is almost as if that is being
announced to those who would not likewise know.
The Consort didn’t ask for this?
No. She does not consider it wise, and she is uneasy, now.
She’s uneasy regardless. If she weren’t, she would never have summoned me.
Ynpharion did not reply.
There were no crossbow bolts, no arrows, no sudden daggers.
Severn didn’t speak a word, but she noted that both of his hands were on his weapons. Teela walked as if she hadn’t a care
in the world, but Kaylin had seen her draw her sword; she didn’t need much time. Kaylin was the only person present who didn’t
reach for her knives. They weren’t the equal of Severn’s weapon, or Teela’s—they hadn’t been crafted by very old Barrani,
or the ancient, unknowable green.
She had, however, one important protection that the Barrani found intimidating: Hope, who lay across her shoulders like a
lizard-shaped shawl. They knew Kaylin was Chosen; they knew Hope was a familiar. They probably connected the dots. The dots
that didn’t actually exist.
It is better that they fear you, Ynpharion told her.
Sure. Because Barrani never kill people they fear just to make sure they can’t cause them any harm. Kaylin snorted, earning a glare from Teela.
Ynpharion agreed. She realized then that he was also uneasy with everything. He didn’t fear her the way the distant Barrani
did; he was namebound. He knew what she was thinking when he could be bothered to put in the effort. Helen kept him out of
the house.
You do not mean the Lady I serve harm. If it were in your power, you would do what you could to increase her happiness. She
knows this, as well. But she considers you important to our people because the Lake of Life accepts you. If she is injured,
if she is killed, our young can still be wakened.
It was possible, but Kaylin thought no Barrani would condescend to accept that aid from a mere mortal, as if mortality would
taint their Immortal offspring somehow.
Ynpharion was silent, but not dismissive or frustrated.
Hope rose and lifted a wing; he placed it—gently—across Kaylin’s right eye. She hadn’t asked, trusting the Avatar of the High
Halls. Hope didn’t seem incensed or concerned; when he was, he slapped her face. The Halls through both eyes seemed the same;
there were no invisible people here.
But she wondered if the High Halls sensed anything out of place in her.
“I do not, Lord Kaylin. I would consider your Helen to be more accurate in her assessment, as she is more familiar with you.”
At Kaylin’s expression, he added, “Familiarity is a type of knowledge. Your Helen—”
“She’s not mine.”
“Helen, then, is quite familiar with you, and she has had experience with mortals that I lack. Terrano has attempted to alleviate
my ignorance, but as I am sure you are aware, his observations are unique.”
“Is familiarity important?”
“It is. It is the gaining of knowledge that cannot be derived from simply hearing your thoughts. What I hear is what you are
thinking in the moment. What I would build, with greater familiarity, is a tapestry, for which each thought is a thread of
a different hue. To my eyes, you are as you have been since I first awakened. I am aware that you absorbed something, but
that has not altered you in a way that is perceptible to me.
“I would not risk your presence otherwise.”
“Is that why you came to meet me?”
The Avatar smiled. “No. I can see everything that occurs within my boundaries, just as Helen does. But I wished to converse.”
“Why?”
“The Lady will speak with you. Matters political, except where they threaten the Lady and the Lake, are not mine. I may not interfere in the natural unfolding of Barrani politics, except when they present a threat to the Lady. You will note, however, that the Halls seem empty.”
“They’re always empty.”
“They are emptier than they were before I awakened. The Barrani understand that secrecy is one of the tools upon which survival