24 #2
“Yvonne,” An’Tellarus said, making of the name a warning.
“They were both born to the West March, and they’ve both made their names and power known in the High Court, not the provincial
one. An’Teela has nothing An’Tellarus wants. An’Tellarus has nothing An’Teela wants. They are both capable of surviving any
social irregularities they choose to indulge in. And if I’m being fair, An’Tellarus has not done much research into An’Teela
and her political allies because they had, as many lords of their age—and there are few—their own interests and no desire
to engage in pointless conflict.”
Yvonne worked with her hands, and it seemed to soothe her, to calm her. She spoke far more easily than she had when she’d
been sitting across from Kaylin in a parlor.
“I didn’t take the Lake’s test in the normal way—if there even is a normal way. The Lake almost reminds me of the green. I heard the green for so long. So, so long.” Her voice softened as
she spoke, and her eyes were an odd shade: green, but not the normal Barrani green. Something about Yvonne was different.
An’Tellarus pushed past Severn—glaring at him as she did—to reach Yvonne. “Child,” she said, her voice soft but clear as thunder.
“We should never have taken you out of the green.”
Yvonne seemed almost unaware of An’Tellarus—a neat trick, given that An’Tellarus had grabbed her by the shoulder.
“Harmoniste,” Yvonne said, as if An’Tellarus no longer existed. Kaylin finally recognized the green of Yvonne’s eyes: they
were the same color as the green of this damn dress. But Yvonne wore no crown. No one in the kitchen did.
“The harmoniste isn’t the Teller,” Kaylin said, her words a thin thread of defiance. Severn, who is Yvonne? What is Yvonne?
She was badly injured in the West March and escaped to the green. The green protected her.
For how long?
For as long as it took for someone to find her there.
Her eyes . . .
Severn was silent. He was worried, but he didn’t consider Yvonne a threat. He was ambivalent about the green. Kaylin should
have known that the green would make itself felt. They weren’t in the West March, but they hadn’t been in the West March when
this dress had made its reappearance in her life.
Why, why, why had she chosen this dress? Because she wanted to impress An’Tellarus, an almost total stranger? Because she wanted to look
significant? She should bloody well know better by now. She should.
“I think your choice of dress would not have made a difference,” Helen said softly.
“Is there something different about Yvonne?”
Helen’s eyes were obsidian, but it was Terrano who answered. “Yes. But it’s subtle. You wouldn’t notice it if you didn’t have
my eyes.”
She didn’t even look at his eyes; she could guess how he’d configured them, and it always made her slightly queasy.
“Yvonne,” Kaylin said, drawing breath and trying to pull herself together. She’d’ve let An’Tellarus talk, but Yvonne was looking
at only one person in the room now that the food had been plated and Mrs. Erickson appeared to be finished.
Or maybe not. Mrs. Erickson opened a cupboard and pulled down a large, brightly colored bowl. She then moved toward a different
cupboard and from it pulled two covered round bins. “Helen, eggs?”
“Of course,” Helen said, eyes shifting into their normal appearance.
Yvonne moved, then, as if her body was falling into familiar, comforting habits; her eyes lost the odd green, and her attention
once again shifted to Mrs. Erickson’s kitchen.
Kaylin had never taken comfort from kitchens. Food had been just another way of not dying. The idea of preparing it, of loving
the preparation, would have required, among other things, an actual kitchen. Some hint of a memory teased her, but she wasn’t
Barrani: it was faint, a feeling, an echo of a sound that would never be heard again.
“I heard the Lake,” Yvonne said, as if getting mixers and cooking spatulas was steadying, as if it brought her back to herself.
“It was a few months ago. I could see light in the distance—soft light, not the harsh light of magic, of aggression.”
Kaylin wondered what Yvonne’s life had been like. Even in the High Halls, the servants were invisible to Kaylin’s eyes—and
they shouldn’t be. But Teela wasn’t a servant. The Consort wasn’t. Ynpharion wasn’t, not really. She wondered if Barrani servants,
Immortal by birth, were a lot more like humans than she’d realized.
“I followed the sound. I thought I was dreaming. Sometimes I do. I dream of the song of the green.”
Barrani didn’t need sleep.
“I don’t miss it,” she added. “I like being with Ollarin. I avoid being significant in the High Halls because I’m An’Tellarus’s servant, and no one messes with
me if they don’t want to start a war with Tellarus. But . . . I could hear a song, and the sound was off. It was wrong. It
was like the green, but there was discordance in it.
“And I’ve heard that, too. When I slept there, when I slept in the green, I could hear its voice. No, there were no words
in it—really, song is the best way I can describe it. But I could sometimes hear discordance there as well. It’s just . . . the discordance was me. It was partly my hearing. It wasn’t the green. I tried hard to listen to the parts that didn’t sound wrong; I tried to imagine
that the discordance wasn’t there at all.
“I don’t hear the green, now. I thought, somehow, I could hear it again. I followed the sound. For me there was safety in
it. Safety isn’t always comfortable,” she added. “But what I found, instead, was . . . the Lake. It’s what I see when I see
the Marks of the Chosen.”
“Did you try to touch the Lake?”
Yvonne shook her head. “But the words rose. They rose, as if in greeting—or distress. When I opened my eyes, I was there.
I knew where it was. But the Lake didn’t say anything else; it didn’t demand anything else.” She hesitated. “A path opened
that took me from the Lake to the Halls, and I returned as quickly as I could to my own rooms.”
The first test of the Lake.
“I know that there are others who had begun the process by which the Lake tests them. An’Tellarus said it’s not uncommon.
But no one expects to pass that test; they have hope, but their ambition is often political. And that’s not what the Lake
wants.
“But even I understand that if I’ve passed the Lake’s first test, I become political. I’m almost certain the Consort knows.”
“She’s the Lady of the Lake,” Kaylin said. “She knows. The Lake doesn’t exactly speak, but it makes its will known.”
“Be careful,” Teela said.
Kaylin exhaled. There were too many people in this kitchen; caution was necessary. But caution wasn’t going to help them.
It wasn’t going to change anything. It wasn’t going to answer the questions that arose, because if she couldn’t ask any of them, no answers would be forthcoming.
“Yes,” she said, forcing herself to choose her words with care, “she does know. She knows that someone took—and passed—the
first test of the Lake.”
“And she knows it’s me.”
“And she thinks that you are the most likely candidate, yes.”
“Is that why The Lady summoned you?”
“Indirectly, yes. Understand that Barrani of power consider the position of Lady to be political—possibly to be the highest
political position among your people. The Lady is protected by the High Halls; lords on any side of any of the many disputes
revere her; they will not touch her or attack her. Mostly.” Kaylin met, and held, Yvonne’s gaze as she asked the important
question. “Who did you tell?”
“An’Tellarus,” Yvonne replied promptly. “And Ollarin.”
“No one else?”
“I don’t have many friends in the High Halls and An’Tellarus doesn’t have many servants.”
“It is not worth the difficulty of terminating their employ should they become suspect,” An’Tellarus said. Her eyes were a
shade less dark, but her expression was even less friendly, which should have been impossible.
Kaylin turned to An’Tellarus. “I suppose you should know that I’ve passed the test of the Lake.”
Silence.
“I can touch the names. I can carry them.”
“Oh good. Like everything’s not on fire enough?” Terrano snapped.
“She’s worried for Yvonne. I get it. I want them both to know that I understand some of the difficulty.”
“You . . . can touch the names.”
“Yes. Did you think the Consort likes me because I’m human? Because I’m Chosen? She values me because I’m her emergency measure.
In the worst possible case, I can continue to wake the children. No one is going to seek to bring me on board, politically;
I’m useless because I’m human. But to the Lady, I’m essential.”
I wouldn’t have mentioned that, Severn said.
I know. But she is worried about Yvonne. And now she knows both Yvonne and I are in the same boat. We’re taking the same risks.
“For how long has that been true?” An’Tellarus demanded.
“That is irrelevant,” Teela replied before Kaylin could. “You did not wish Yvonne to discuss certain things for her own safety.
Understand that we feel no less concern for Lord Kaylin.”
“Children are always trying,” An’Tellarus agreed.
Kaylin moved toward Yvonne.
“That was brave,” Yvonne whispered. Every Barrani in the room could no doubt hear it, although Kaylin had to bend a bit to
catch the words. “Was it true?”
“It’s true.”
“But the Lake hasn’t called you.”
“I don’t live in the High Halls. I probably wouldn’t survive it. I live with Helen, and I highly doubt she’d allow that kind
of communication.”
“I cannot prevent all such communications,” Helen said. “Can you not sense it? The air is different in this kitchen. A breeze
moves through it. May I suggest, in the future, that you do not wear that dress for anything but actual ceremony?”
“Sure, if I have the choice. I didn’t find the dress in a closet the last time I wore it—and I lost actual clothing that cost