14
“Were neither of you listening to what Ariste actually said?” Mandoran demanded, stomping across both floor and carpet with
human grace, which was a distinct downgrade from Barrani norms. “You almost died, you idiot!” This was meant for Terrano.
Terrano’s reply was a shrug. Almost meant nothing to him. “We’re within Helen’s borders. She’s aware of what happened, and where. I wouldn’t suggest it—and I’d like to point out that it wasn’t me who did—if we weren’t here. I’m not sure I’d try in the High Halls unless I was in the actual Tower.
“But if Kaylin thinks she might be able to reach—and heal—Nightshade standing on that path, what’s the harm in trying? Either
it’ll work, which gives us information, or it won’t, which still gives us information. And I’m not moving her myself, which
means she’ll be safer. You’ve already done it once.”
“To save your life, and I’m having serious second thoughts about that.”
Terrano grinned. “No, you’re not.”
Annarion turned away from his brother to face the oncoming Mandoran; Kaylin could only see Annarion’s back from her vantage in the chair.
But she could see Mandoran’s expression as outrage drained from his features; his eyes remained dark blue.
Mandoran and Annarion were close, even among the cohort, and there was no way Mandoran—who could clearly say no to Terrano—could deny Annarion’s silent request.
“Do you really think it’ll help?” Mandoran asked as he approached Kaylin and placed a hand on her shoulder—the one that didn’t
contain Hope’s head.
“I don’t know.” Kaylin saw no point in lying. But she saw no point in explaining that if what ailed Nightshade could be resolved,
it would save the Consort—and the Lake that was the Consort’s highest duty. Nightshade was the test case.
But Nightshade’s assassination attempt had taken place after the Consort had begun to lose her ability to interact with the words in the Lake. It hadn’t happened gradually.
. . . or had it?
Maybe Nightshade was a test case on two fronts: Kaylin’s, and whoever had orchestrated a very subtle attack on the Consort.
The question remained: why Nightshade? Why Nightshade at this time?
But he had no answers to offer, and no information. Andellen might have information about meetings that occurred between Nightshade
and Barrani Lords—but until Nightshade actually woke up, he probably wouldn’t share any of it. He was also absent.
“I believe he is investigating,” Helen said. “He understands there is conflict between Annarion and Nightshade, but he trusts
Annarion with his lord’s physical safety. His presence is not required here—but the information he will not share with you
is information he can act on, should it prove germane. If you are worried for Lord Andellen, I will not tell you that your
worries are misguided. But Teela is in communication with Andellen, and Teela is also investigating, not as a Hawk, but as
a powerful Lord of the High Court.
“Sedarias’s information network is a fledgling network; the information that comes through it must be assessed—and the assessment is necessary.
She must compare and contrast information and decide, when that information differs between two sources, whose is closest to truth.
People lie for reasons. If she encounters lies, she attempts to discover the possible reasons.
She is canny, and she is observant; she is also highly suspicious in nature, but among the Barrani, that would be considered both logical and rational.
“Teela’s sources have been vetted. Those that offer her lies often fail to offer further lies in the future—but the High Court
is well aware of Teela’s somewhat punitive nature. She killed her own father. This is not uncommon among the Barrani—but she
killed him and destroyed his historical, familial line. That was not to her advantage. It was seen as folly, in the best case. But it was
also seen as a dire warning: revenge was far more important to Teela than power. Her utter destruction of the old, historical
line is a warning to other Barrani. There is nothing she will attempt to preserve if you cross her.”
“So . . . there’s no political rationality that they can expect from her if they cross her.”
“Indeed. I believe it has been very effective. Even if it is known that Teela is attached to the cohort—Mellarionne in particular—attacking
Teela guarantees the end of the entire attacking family if they fail. She has not claimed Sedarias as her own—at Sedarias’s insistence—so
attacks on Sedarias do not guarantee the same outcome.” Kaylin didn’t believe that. “And I digress. Teela and Sedarias both
feel that it is necessary to seek information not because they trust it, but because they can see the patterns emerge from
conflicting information.
“Disinformation is information. But it is not information that can be as easily weeded out. Teela has had centuries. You have
had a decade. Do what you can do. Understand that you are not alone.”
Kaylin frowned. This had come out of nowhere; she almost had whiplash. “I haven’t been feeling alone or isolated.”
“No—but you believe, because you can heal, that the weight of Lord Nightshade’s survival falls squarely on only your shoulders. It is a mistake. I hope to prevent
you from acting on it.”
Terrano stepped in, which surprised Kaylin. “She’s like me, Helen. She doesn’t know for certain what she can do. She stumbles into answers; she holds on to the ones that might be useful. It’s like it’s her job to keep stumbling—and no one does that as well as Kaylin. You know that.”
Severn was both amused and concerned; he didn’t speak, but she could feel his response to a conversation he was monitoring
at a safe distance.
“She wants to try this, and we’re going to let her. It might lead to nothing. It might lead to something. But I’m watching,
Mandoran is watching, and you’re watching. And even if we weren’t, she’s Kaylin—she’s still going to take the risk.”
Helen’s nod was grim. “If she fails here, it is not the end. I merely wished to remind her of that. It is not a failure she
must own; it is an expression of lack of information.”
“Mandoran?” Kaylin said. Helen and Terrano could continue their not-quite-argument without her. And without Mandoran. Kaylin
couldn’t make the attempt without the last. His eyes, blue, were narrowed in concentration.
Annarion dragged a second chair over to Nightshade’s bedside. He looked at Kaylin, his eyes the same shade as Mandoran’s.
“Will you be okay?” He spoke Elantran.
Kaylin nodded. “I don’t always like your brother, but he’s saved my life a handful of times. The only way I get him out of my house is if he’s healthy and strong
enough to walk out on two feet. So I’m not doing this for you.”
“You are so bad at lying,” Annarion said. “Terrano is right.”
“Terrano has other issues.”
“You mean Helen?”
“Helen is going to make him talk about why he attempted to harm the Consort when we were heading to the West March.”
Silence.
“It’s relevant. He didn’t do that of his own accord, and he was the one who was making deals with people of power. He was
doing it to free the rest of you—but some of those people clearly didn’t have the Consort’s best interests at heart. If they’re
still alive, we need to know who they are or were. He didn’t care about the Consort herself. They could have asked him to
murder the dogcatcher—”
“The what?” That was Terrano.
“Never mind. They could have asked him to murder a street sweeper or a Hawk, and he’d’ve done it.”
“I’d’ve tried to murder a couple of our collective parents more happily.”
“Terrano. We know what Terrano is trying not to say where you can hear it,” Annarion said, sliding back into High Barrani. “We are
aware of who those individuals are and were. He chose to work with them because of us. The lords involved, the Arcanists involved,
are aware of Terrano—but they are not entirely aware of how he came to meet them. Most of the negotiations were left in Sedarias’s
hands; Terrano was the medium, but he certainly wasn’t the mastermind. There is a reason Terrano is seldom visible in the
High Halls.” Annarion exhaled. “Helen is right: you have allies. We share a mutual interest.
“She wants us to tell you which of Terrano’s former allies are Lords of the High Halls or their immediate servants. Teela
has argued against it in the past but, given meeting with the Consort, has now granted permission.”
“Sedarias hasn’t.”
“No. I hadn’t, either. But I’m beginning to think Helen is right.”
“Does Terrano care?”
“I’m still here,” Terrano pointed out.
“Fine. Answer the question.”
He didn’t. Terrano did care. It’s probably why Helen was arguing with him. Kaylin might have joined the argument, but Mandoran said, “Got it,” his voice oddly blurred.
Kaylin had enough time to brace herself for the transition.
Terrano could leave parts of himself scattered across different planes while standing in the same spot in all of them. Kaylin
couldn’t. Mandoran probably could, so she understood that what he saw and what she saw weren’t necessarily the same thing.
Assuming, that is, that he saw something. She was in a dark place. She was still seated but couldn’t see the chair or the floor on which it was placed. She could,
however, see Hope. Hope had made the transition with her, as he always did, and he glowed; she could still see through his
translucent body if she squinted.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, possibly because of Hope. And possibly because of the Marks of the Chosen; they were gold
here, which was their most common color when they lit up. This time they rose, as they had done in Ariste’s presence.
She turned her head to the side; Mandoran was with her, and she could see him; his hand remained on her shoulder, his fingers
gripping her a little too tightly. As she winced, he said, “Teela will kill me if I lose you here.”
“Helen won’t let her.”