Cast in Deception by Michelle Sagara
“You understand our burden.”
“I understand it.”
“We have come to remind ourselves,” she continued. “We understand your fear; believe that we feel it. But Lirienne, I know what Annarion did during the attack on the High Halls. I know what he and his companions survived. They were meant to be our strength in our war against the Dragons—and perhaps that was folly or hubris on the part of the previous High Lord.”
No perhaps about it, in Kaylin’s opinion, which she kept to herself.
“But perhaps it was not that war they were meant to fight.”
The Lord of the West March bowed his head. Head bowed, he said, “We will lose four allies should you decide to pursue this. Two of those chosen were—would have been—the heads of their line.”
“Four, now,” the High Lord said. “Two could take their houses, and it would not harm us; indeed, it might benefit us to have those houses embroiled in such conflicts.”
“Do you think that they stand a chance in such a conflict? They have long been outside of the political sphere, and their ability to raise small armies beneath their own banners will be small, if it exists at all. They will, of course, be publicly accepted by their families—but I would be highly surprised if above half survive that acceptance. Highly.”
Kaylin’s expression was an open book; generally, people who were polite declined to read it. The situation, however, was grave enough that those manners were set aside.
“It is political,” the Consort said softly. “The lines are ruled, and have been ruled, by those who were in line when the eleven were shut into the Hallionne. Teela survived. Had her father and elder brother likewise survived, they would rule. But regardless, should the eleven choose to return to their families, they would be welcomed.”
“With poison?”
It was the High Lord who chuckled. “You are far, far too blunt, Lord Kaylin. What you say here may be said; the Consort considers you of great value to the High Court. But do not speak those words aloud in the presence of the assembled Court; such an accusation would be considered the gravest of insults.”
“Even if it’s true.”
“Indeed; very often it is the truths we hide that have the capacity to destroy us should they see light. Lord Kaylin, you have experience now with Annarion and Mandoran. Annarion wishes to take back his family lands, and to do so, he must face the Tower. He must face...this.”
“It’s why—it’s why the rest of his friends left the green. If he’s going to face that test, they want to do it together.”
“Lord of the West March.” The High Lord turned his attention to his brother. “You are correct. We have spoken little with Alsanis. But our sister has. We would, however, appreciate the return of Lord Kaylin. While it is unusual for so junior a Lord to extend such an informal invitation to our sister, it is the first opportunity we have had to observe two of the children in a less heated, political context.
“Unfortunately, that opportunity appears to have been lost. Even if she chose to risk the portal paths, I do not believe Lord Kaylin would return to the city in time.”
“Perhaps the elemental water could be compelled to deliver her.”
“No,” the Consort said, before Kaylin could speak. “We will wait. Take no unnecessary risks, Lord Kaylin. Although you are mortal and barely considered by the powerful to be part of the High Court, you have now engaged in the politics at its heart. Be wary.
“And now, we must part. The mirror that I am currently using is reaching the end of its life. I am grateful that you chose to call at this particular moment. Lirienne, be well.”
The image shattered. Silver reflection, however, did not return to the mirror’s surface. Instead, the mirror faded, slowly and completely, from sight.
The Hallionne and the Lord of the West March exchanged a long, silent glance.
Bellusdeo pulled Kaylin back, as if that glance was somehow dangerous. “Now the Emperor is going to be unhappy,” she said, her eyes almost gold.
“Because?”
“Barrani politics were ever deadly to the Barrani. But at war, they could be magnificent in their own right.”
“You didn’t fight in those wars.”
“No. In the end, I fought in a greater war. And lost.”
“You’re still alive.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Wait until they are finished conversing, and then let us go in search of the water.”
* * *
The conversation, such as it was, continued for long enough that Kaylin gave up on the waiting and started in on the eating.
“You are not afraid of poison?”
“It’s a Hallionne. The food is produced by Orbaranne. If Orbaranne wanted to kill us, we’d be dead already.”
“You’re just hungry.”
“Evanton didn’t even offer cookies.”
Bellusdeo snorted. With smoke. She took a chair at the table upon which food had appeared, but did so stiffly and almost regally. Kaylin felt a bit guilty. But mostly, she felt hungry. Around food, she said, “The Hallionne won’t hurt anyone she’s accepted as a guest.”
“You like the Hallionne.”
“I don’t know them well enough to like them,” Kaylin countered. “But...I feel mostly safe in them. When they’re not under siege. I don’t think the Hallionne can be ordered to kill their guests, even by the lords of the lands in which they stand.”
“You are certain?”
“I couldn’t order Helen to kill any of our guests.”
“Tiamaris could order Tara to do so.”
Kaylin shrugged, but thought about this. It was easier to think on a full stomach, anyway. “Yes. He could. But the Towers in the fiefs aren’t the same as the Hallionne. I think that Helen could have been ordered to kill her guests at one point—but I think she broke whatever it was that controlled that.”
“Could you order her not to kill?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good question. I think I could ask, and I think she would listen. She’s not a weapon.”
“No. More of a shield, I would think.”
They ate in silence until the Lord of the West March joined them at the table. Then they ate in an entirely different kind of silence.
“Lord Kaylin,” he finally said.
She looked up, chewed quickly, and swallowed. “Yes?”
“You have passed the tower’s Test. You are part of the High Court.”
Ugh. “Yes.”
“You have sheltered Annarion and Mandoran, as you call them.”
“What do you mean, as I call them?”
“Their names are longer, in our Court—or would be, if they emerge from that test themselves. You have seen them; according to my sister, you have fought by their side. Tell me, as the one who helped them emerge from their long captivity, do you feel they will succeed?”
She blinked. “Yes?”
His smile was crooked. “That is not, perhaps, the confident assertion I was seeking.”
“I don’t know what they’ll see. They sometimes see things I can’t. My house can see what they see,” she added quickly, “and my familiar can see it as well. But I don’t see what they do. Teela can only see what they see if—” She stopped.
He allowed this. “And you think this without risk?”
Did she? She fell silent, and began to push food around in patterns on her plate. She understood what he was asking, and she was suddenly aware that she’d already been far too honest; she’d thought about the question, not the person asking it, and not the political environment that surrounded that person. She inhaled and put her cutlery aside. “Did you have something to do with their disappearance?”
Bellusdeo coughed.
“Is that what my sister thinks?”
“I don’t know—ask your sister. I’m not her, and I c
How unusually perceptive of you.
Shut up, Ynpharion.
“Did you have something to do with their disappearance?”
“How could I?”
“That’s not a no.”
“Is it not? I might remind you that I am Lord of the West March, and you are currently situated almost in the heart of my domain. You are, of course, a servant of the Imperial Law, but Lord Kaylin, you are not in the Empire at the moment. Here, you are not a Hawk. Not a groundhawk. You are Lord Kaylin, but more shabbily clothed.” It was a warning. Even if she had been extremely dense, she could feel the subtle threat through the bond of his name. She had never felt it there before.
“I owe you—and indirectly, An’Teela—my life. But that debt does not cover the safety of, the existence of, my people.”
“The Lords who might be disenfranchised are not part of the safety of your people; at best, they’re support for your rule.”
“For the High Lord’s rule, yes.”
“But if I understand that mirroring, the High Lord is willing to take the risk.”
“Perhaps it is because he does not understand that risk. Tell me that you honestly believe there is no risk.”
She couldn’t. Instead, she said, “Tell me that you honestly had nothing to do with whatever did happen to the cohort. I mean, to Sedarias and the rest of her companions.”
“Sedarias, is it?”
“Lord of the West March,” Bellusdeo said quietly, “that is what she has been called by her two friends. Lord Kaylin is unaware of any other title. No insult was intended.”
“And none taken. But I am curious. Of all of the nine who left the Hallionne Alsanis, why was it Sedarias that she named?”
That one, Kaylin felt she could safely answer. “Because it was Sedarias I met in the portal.”
14
Given his expression, the word “safe” was obviously an overestimation. “You saw Sedarias?”
“I mostly heard her.” Before he could ask, she said, “I know what they look like. I know their voices—I brought them out of the green. It was Sedarias.”
Bellusdeo’s orange eyes were pointed in Kaylin’s direction. If they’d been a weapon, they’d be resting against her cheek. Or just below its surface. Kaylin wondered if Dragon names worked exactly the same way Barrani names did. Then again, Bellusdeo wasn’t subtle; having the name wouldn’t give her any more information than the orange-eyed glare was doing already.
“Lord of the West March—”
“No. I did not directly influence the destination of Sedarias and her friends.”
The Avatar of Orbaranne joined them, although she did not take a seat; at the moment, Kaylin privately thought if she bent, she was likely to break. Her eyes had become stone, although not the obsidian that Helen’s could default to if she wasn’t paying attention.
* * *
“You spoke with Sedarias and you detected no taint in her?”
He really had spoken with Alsanis. “No. I don’t think they’re in a good place, though.” Kaylin was done with dinner, and rose. “Thanks for feeding us. We’d like to examine the portal pathways now.”
“They did not approach by the path,” Orbaranne said. “I watched for them.”
“I don’t think we have any hope of finding them if we don’t at least start there, because they started on the path. Something either drove them off it, or the path changed unexpectedly.” Kaylin had experience with that, and it still gave her nightmares.
She began to walk, confident that the Avatar’s awareness—if not her physical form—would follow. Bellusdeo caught up immediately, falling in step easily given the differing lengths of their strides. The marks on Kaylin’s arm continued their dullish glow, but they weren’t painful, and she could mostly ignore them.
“I do not think that is wise,” Orbaranne observed. “I believe that the marks awaken for a reason.”
“When it’s an emergency, it’s impossible to ignore them—I feel like my skin is on fire.”
“Lord Kaylin.”
She blinked. The Lord of the West March lengthened his stride to catch up to them, although he kept Kaylin between himself and Bellusdeo.
“They did, as you surmise, set out from Alsanis on the portal path. Given prior difficulties, the pathways are somewhat delicate, but they have served us since your return to your city. There was some, ah, discussion about the wisdom of allowing them to use those paths en masse.”
“Discussion?”
“The Hallionne Alsanis was against it.”
Kaylin swore. In Leontine. Given the expression on the Lord of the West March’s face, he understood every word. This, she thought, was why she was never going to be a diplomat. That and the ulcer she’d get trying to be polite and proper according to every single cultural norm. It was hard to be polite when certainty of failure was so high.
“When you say against it, do you mean he tried to stop them?”
“Ah, no. He attempted to reason with them; he pointed out the possible dangers that they might face—dangers that I, for example, would not. Some of them agreed with Alsanis. Others did not. I believe they held a...vote?” He used the Elantran word with marked hesitance.
“Meaning they all gave their opinion and the majority opinion won?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a vote. And clearly, the majority wanted to take the paths.” She considered everything Mandoran and Annarion had said about Sedarias and privately decided it might be a majority of one.
“Vote.” He spoke the word with less hesitance. “It is not, you must understand, our custom.”
She didn’t slow, but the Lord of the West March was taller and could easily match her stride. “How would you normally decide?”
“My lord would decide. In the absence of a lord, I would decide.”
“But if your friends—”
“I am the Lord of the West March. My friends,” and here he also adopted the Elantran word, “would wait upon my decision, were I asked to make one. They would accept any decision I made.”
“But—the children brought here were friends. They weren’t liege and lord. Or lieges and lord.”
“It is not uncommon to have groups of the young clustered together.”
“Well, how would you expect them to decide? They can’t just appoint a ‘lord’ and obey them.”
“Why not?”
Bellusdeo snickered. “Don’t look at me,” she said, over Kaylin’s head. “I personally believe that nature abhors a vacuum, especially when it comes to command.”
“Meaning?” Kaylin said.
“I generally find it more efficient to take command if there is no commander. I would have imagined the Barrani to be the same.” She then said, “Don’t give me that look. You’re a Hawk. Your sergeant doesn’t exactly gather you all together in one room and ask you to take a vote on his latest orders.”
Much as she hated to admit it, this was true. “But that’s only at work. And there’s a reason we don’t work every waking minute of every day—we’d probably kill each other or go insane.”
“Given mortals and your criminal investigations, I’m not entirely sure how that would be different.”
* * *
“I find the Hallionne impressive,” Bellusdeo said, after a pause in which Kaylin heroically managed to say nothing. “Structures such as these were not home to many of our kin.”
“Tiamaris.”
“Yes, but he is young and his situation is unusal.” She glanced, once again, at the Lord of the West March. “These were built for your kin by the Ancients.”
He nodded. “The first of the Hallionne predate me, but not our kind.”
Since Helen and the Hallionne were entirely unlike the buildings that most mortals called home, Kaylin said no
Which would put her out of a job. Having a job was the silver lining, but privately she wondered if not needing the Halls of Law would be a far better alternative. If she were an Ancient, if she were a genuine god, wouldn’t a city of that nature be desirable? A place where anyone, ever, could feel at home and safe?
“That is not, in the end, what the Ancients wanted,” Orbaranne surprised her by saying. “And buildings such as I, or Helen, require the occupants to submit to the governing will of the Ancient’s intentions and architecture. You think that we can create paradise.”
“You can,” Kaylin replied.
“No, Kaylin. We cannot. The Ancients themselves could not become the buildings they created, even had they desired to do so. Do you understand why?”
“No?”
Orbaranne chuckled. Her Avatar had remained in the dining hall, but Kaylin was used to conversing with essentially invisible Avatars. “Think carefully. What you desire in this moment is to open your figurative doors and encompass the homeless—people who are what you once were. And this desire is at the heart of the Hallionne. But it is the desire of a moment. When you arrived, you were confused and hungry. The hunger was the desire of that moment. When you are dressed down by your sergeant, you are frustrated and angry with yourself. You return to your home, but you do not shed that frustration or anger.
“All of these things are part of who you are. The anger. The hunger. The desire to help and protect. But they are very individual. There is some part of you that understands that there must be limits to their expression. Do you imagine that you could live for eternity with those limits? That your desires, your angers, your fears, would never exceed the boundaries that you choose to live within?” She waited for Kaylin’s reply, but Kaylin found she had nothing to say.
“Imagine, then, that those desires, those angers, those hungers, those hopes, move worlds. Imagine that they create worlds—and destroy them. Imagine that the boundaries which you set—boundaries which are mortal and confined to a handful of decades if you are lucky—are so small that they are all but invisible. An Ancient could not become a building such as the Hallionne, because there are no boundaries for the Ancients. No boundaries that cannot be crossed, no boundaries that can be enforced.