09 #2
“Do you know who attempted to assassinate Nightshade?”
The Avatar did not answer. “Terrano wishes to remain. He desires to avoid carriages for the rest of the day.”
Teela’s eyes narrowed.
“My apologies, An’Teela, but Terrano—as I am certain you are aware—is a bit peculiar for your kin. I believe that is what
he meant to express, but I am translating his spoken words into language more reflective of the environment. Perhaps I err.”
He didn’t. They all knew it. Kaylin would have walked home herself if she weren’t wearing this ridiculous dress. It was supposed
to make her feel powerful. It was supposed to help her fit in. It had the opposite effect. A dress like this didn’t belong
on a person like Kaylin, an officer of the Halls of Law.
The Avatar turned and began to walk away, moving slowly enough to imply he intended to be followed, not chased.
“Why is he wearing armor?” she whispered to Teela.
Teela didn’t answer.
Severn did. It’s meant to discourage possible conflict. Our visit has drawn attention.
He didn’t wear armor when he met us.
No. When we arrived, unannounced, no one had enough time to prepare. We spent some time speaking with the Consort, which would
allow possible enemies to plan a more traditional attack.
They’re Barrani.
The Consort is now entangled in the politics she is meant to be above. His words were neutral.
Who is An’Tellarus? You recognized the name.
He was silent for at least ten yards’ worth of steps. I did.
Is she dangerous?
Is Teela?
Kaylin frowned. Teela’s powerful, but she’s not dangerous.
She is incredibly dangerous, was his quiet, calm reply. She’s just not a danger to us.
And An’Tellarus is?
If you’d asked me this morning, I would have said no. But she’s a very old, very powerful lord; she’s held her seat for longer than Teela.
What aren’t you telling me?
Severn didn’t answer. But his silence wasn’t a wall; it was almost like the surface of the ocean; if she approached, she could
see what lay beneath it. She didn’t. Or she tried not to. Severn was Severn. Kaylin was Kaylin. Neither of them had grown
up the way the cohort had; to both, privacy was valuable and necessary.
“You might answer her questions,” the Avatar said, sounding ever so slightly apologetic.
Teela’s eyes were about as dark a blue as they could get. Severn’s hadn’t changed, because he was human. “As I am certain
you are aware, the information—and the request we received from the Lady—are of primary import. We cannot tarry here further.”
This made no sense to Kaylin.
He isn’t escorting us to the entrance, Severn said. Where Teela’s eyes were martial, Severn’s tone was strange—almost, but not quite, long-suffering.
Where is he taking us? And why?
“Be patient, Lord Kaylin. Answers to at least that question will be forthcoming. My apologies, An’Teela, if I have interrupted
your very necessary work. But it is possible that the interruption may add detail to the complexity of the investigation you
must undertake.”
“I will accept your decision,” Teela responded, as if she had any choice. They were standing and walking within the territory
of the Avatar. What he chose was unspoken law. “But I will ask a favor in return. You must be aware of the people who planned
the assassination. They cannot be of little note. I am aware that some of the most conservative families on the High Court
have never let the training and formation of war bands decline. Foolish, but if the Emperor is willing—for now—to tolerate
such military activities, that is his decision.”
“An’Teela, I cannot answer the question you wish to ask, as you must be aware.”
Teela’s eyes narrowed; she didn’t argue. “Politics such as this have been our way of life for as long as I’ve been conscious.
People of ambition desire power. People of ambition desire the respect they feel power accrues. Through our history, the rulership
of the High Court has changed familial lines very, very seldom.
“But there have been credible attempts in the past, if one is not to consider success the only metric of credibility. You
have seen much of our history play out. Are we in such a time?”
“An’Teela.”
Teela exhaled. “Apologies. I have been living with Terrano and our chosen kin, and I have clearly become far too comfortable
speaking my mind.”
“You have not spoken your mind once. You seek information I am not permitted to give you. My interference, such as it is,
is allowed because of the danger to the Lady. But I am alive, just as you are. I have concerns, just as you have. Inasmuch
as I am able, I will protect her, and where possible, allow that protection to skirt the edge of my permissions.”
“That is why you are not escorting us out?”
“I merely fulfill a simple request from a complex, powerful woman. It does not, on the surface, seem political, and it is
not you with whom she wished to speak.”
Teela’s frown deepened.
“It is Corporal Handred.”
Kaylin knew Severn had had a life before she met him, but when she was five and her mother still alive, that life hadn’t mattered.
It hadn’t been real. She knew he had a different kind of life in the gaps between the last day of her childhood and meeting
him again. There had to be. Severn had been a Wolf. Kaylin had become a Hawk, lingering around the edges of the Halls of Law as a literal mascot because she’d been too young to legally take the oaths required to serve the Emperor’s laws.
Severn never discussed his work with the Wolves.
She knew it wasn’t over; he could disappear for days at a time at the behest of the Halls of Law—which, in Severn’s case,
meant the Wolflord.
He had the weapon chain. It had come from the West March. But the only time Kaylin had visited the March, Severn already had the weapon. A Barrani weapon. He’d always spoken perfect—and complex—High Barrani. He seemed to understand the political
undercurrents in the High Court far better than his job as a Hawk demanded.
But she’d never really put the two things together properly. His weapon. His social skills. His knowledge of the High Court.
I mean, he had to get that weapon from somewhere, right?
“The green,” the Avatar said.
And he didn’t go to the green as an orphaned mortal. He must have had backers. Was one of them An’Tellarus? Was that backer
calling in a favor? What if the favor was detrimental to the Consort? Severn was a Hawk.
But the rules of exemption made Kaylin almost queasy. He couldn’t provide aid to anyone on the High Court legally. There was only one way to make politics legal: the Emperor’s command. The Emperor’s Wolves.
Kaylin didn’t trust the Wolves. To be fair, she didn’t really trust the Swords, either—but the Swords, she understood. The
office politics around the different divisions could be petty; they wouldn’t even be noticed as politics by Barrani. But the
Wolves were different. They didn’t swear to uphold the Imperial Laws; they swore to serve the Emperor.
Severn was a Hawk, now. But the Wolves had never truly let go of him. If, to be a Wolf, he’d sworn a direct vow to serve the
Emperor, did a simple change in divisions render that vow irrelevant? Given draconic nature, she doubted it.
The Avatar passed through a long hall; it was sparsely but finely decorated. Not for An’Tellarus the obvious trappings of wealth or power.
“The truly powerful, as An’Teela, do not need to accouter themselves in any way that does not suit their own inclinations,”
the Avatar said. “It is an indication that An’Tellarus is a power. She indulges her own sense of aesthetics; they are hard
to disentangle from her interests. You will note—”
Kaylin had. She’d stopped in front of a statue of a clearly mortal man. He was taller than her, but she imagined he would
have been taller in real life as well. There was something about his graven expression that implied life, although the face
was sculpted stone.
Opposite this statue, a statue of a similar size—and craftsmanship—stood, but this one was only surprising given its placement:
a Barrani woman, carrying a staff of possible office. Her hair, stone, seemed to move.
Kaylin thought about Nightshade’s statuary and felt queasy. “These aren’t real people, are they?” she asked the Avatar.
“If you mean, are they enchanted to stand as statues at An’Tellarus’s pleasure, no. The people they are modeled after are
dead.”
“I am far less certain of that,” a new voice said, as the closed doors just beyond the statues shimmered into invisibility.
“But they are no longer as they appear here.
“What is your opinion, young Severn?” To Kaylin’s surprise, An’Tellarus’s eyes dipped into a beautiful emerald color as they
turned to, and met, Severn’s gaze. The color didn’t dim when he failed to answer. “Come, all of you. An’Teela, we seldom cross
paths; if you wish to return to your own abode, I will take no offense.”
Kaylin had heard warnings like this one: when you have a minute, which meant do it right damn now.
She’d had difficulty understanding that the former was good manners, when the latter was what was actually meant.
Or maybe An’Tellarus was being genuine. Maybe her mention of possible offense was to emphasize the more casual nature of the invitation.
Yeah, right. Casual. Asking the Avatar to serve as both guard and guide implied that it was far more important than her tone
made it sound. Some days, people gave Kaylin a headache. Trying to figure out what their words actually meant made her long
for the use of True Words.
Teela offered the lord an elegant, graceful nod. “I have seldom seen the interior of your rooms, and they are always of interest.
It is gracious of you to include me in your invitation of hospitality.” As Kaylin had known Teela for all of her adult life,
Teela was easier to interpret. She had zero intention of allowing Kaylin to enter the lion’s den without her.
“I’m delighted, truly,” An’Tellarus replied. She probably meant it; her eyes remained green. “Please, enter as my honored