Lord Barian was waiting inside the Hallionne when Bellusdeo finally landed and once again assumed her human form. Lirienne was not. Kaylin wondered if this was significant. The Dragon looked worse for wear herself, but most of that wear was survivable. There were no obvious burns or rents in the Dragon’s armor; she was just incredibly rumpled. Especially her hair.
The familiar was once again slumped across Kaylin’s shoulders; she thought he might be snoring. She offered Lord Barian a bow, certain for once that it was the correct one.
He returned it, and his bow was not—according to the Diarmat school of etiquette—the correct response; it was far too deep. This did not make her feel more respected; it made her feel instantly more paranoid.
As well you should, Ynpharion said.
Barian looked paler, his color off. “I regret to be forced to ask you to remain within the Hallionne,” he said, before she could speak. She realized that he was actually injured; his color was off because he’d been bleeding. Etiquette did not cover what to do in circumstances such as this.
Wisdom should, Ynpharion snapped.
“What happened?” She was petty enough to ask the question just to hear Ynpharion’s version of a shriek.
“There was a misunderstanding. The war band remains on the threshold of Alsanis. Its leader has asked Alsanis for permission to enter; he has failed to grant it.”
“Why? If they try to harm Bellusdeo, he’ll stop them.”
Barian bowed his head for one long moment. When he lifted it, Kaylin could see that his eyes were blue—and narrow. He was, she realized, angry. Long years of experience as a Hawk stopped her from taking a step back, but he must have seen her stiffen; he held up one hand. “My apologies, Lord Kaylin. I am not angry with you; I am not angry with Lord Bellusdeo. Her...presence here has been explained to the satisfaction of both myself and the Lord of the West March. Neither you nor your companion have done anything to engender either anger or suspicion.”
In him. Kaylin did not say this aloud.
Given the difficulties you just faced while in the Hallionne, none of this should come as a surprise to you.
Kaylin blinked. “You can’t think that members of the war band are responsible for what happened in Alsanis?”
Because Ynpharion was not present in person, he felt free to continue to vent his frustration. Loudly, because no one else could hear it.
Barian’s answer was clear in his expression, although he shuttered it immediately. He was angry at what must feel like betrayal; he was Warden of the West March, and one of his duties was the Hallionne Alsanis. This meant, on the other hand, that he was not responsible for what had happened.
Ynpharion told her not to be so certain.
Alsanis, however, said, “No, he is not. Your namebound fails to explain the concept of Lord Barian’s duty—perhaps because he does not understand it himself. Regardless, no. Lord Barian was not responsible in any way for the intrusion.”
But he had some idea who was, Kaylin thought.
“Yes, he does.”
Barian looked distinctly less comfortable. “I am investigating,” he said. “But at the moment, investigations are...fraught. The war band is not under my immediate control; nor is it under the immediate control of the Lord of the West March, which is the greater danger.”
“Where is the Lord of the West March?”
“He is not within the Hallionne.”
“He’s not with the war band, either.”
“No, Lord Kaylin,” Alsanis said, when Lord Barian failed to answer. “He is, even now, almost in the heart of the green.”
Bellusdeo, silent until that moment, turned to the Hallionne’s Avatar. “Would we be expected to join him there?”
“Ah, no, Lord Bellusdeo. We believe that would be materially unsafe for you at this time.” The Avatar bowed. “Forgive the deplorable lack of hospitality. Terrano has informed me of the possible weaknesses in my connections to the portal gateways, and I am attempting to repair them. If you would join me? Terrano’s friends are waiting.”
Kaylin glanced at Terrano. She wondered why he’d followed a Dragon and a human instead of joining his friends, and couldn’t come up with an answer. But he did follow Bellusdeo and Alsanis as they traveled farther into the Hallionne.
* * *
Kaylin expected the dining hall to be noisy. It wasn’t. Although the cohort were all seated—in various postures, most informal—around a large dining table, they didn’t speak at all. Their faces implied speech—or rather, reactions to speech—but no words followed.
“I think,” Bellusdeo said quietly, “that I would find Mandoran much more pleasant if he were this silent.”
“He can’t be,” Allaron said, looking past his cohort to the new arrivals. “If he were, he couldn’t interact with the rest of you.”
“And here I was thinking,” the Dragon said in Elantran, “that the house would be much quieter with the lot of you as guests.”
“Mandoran does not approve of that,” Eddorian said, grinning broadly. “I will not, however, repeat what he just said.”
“Can I?” Karian asked.
“No,” Sedarias told him, frowning. “It was inappropriate. My apologies, Lord Bellusdeo, but—”
“He lives with her—and they’re both still alive. How inappropriate can it be?”
Oh yes, much quieter, Kaylin thought. The presence of two people whose names did not exist in the mental space the cohort occupied had instantly added color and sound to the Barrani cohort. Kaylin glanced at Terrano, and found the answer to the question she hadn’t asked him.
He stared at the table—at the cohort—his expression incredibly bleak. It was something she hadn’t expected to see on his face, he was otherwise so much like Mandoran. But...he couldn’t hear them, now. He couldn’t be part of their conversation, except in the normal way: by speaking out loud. By putting his thoughts, such as they were, into words—and at that, words that were well chosen enough to make the thought understood to the rest.
He hadn’t had to do that before.
He had come from wherever it was he’d so happily ventured because he had heard them in the wilderness of the pathways. He had come because he thought they needed his help—and they had. But he was no longer part of them. This, Kaylin thought, was the flip side of the freedom coin. He had desired nothing but freedom, and he had leapt into the unknown with both arms thrown wide to embrace it, almost literally.
He had seen things that the cohort had not seen; had done things that the cohort had not done. But he had come home when he had heard their cries.
Alsanis, however, was not Terrano’s home. They understood each other; their long struggle—the one to keep Terrano caged, and the other to be free of all cages—had bred the kind of affection and respect that only long rivalry could. Terrano was comfortable in Alsanis’s confines because he understood the mechanisms of the cage; he understood it better than any other Barrani.
But his home, she thought, almost pensive now, was not Alsanis. It was not a place. It was there, at that table, surrounded by Barrani who had been brought to the green on the whim of the High Court in a desperate bid for power. Where they were, home was.
And he was discovering that he could not come home. Home no longer existed for Terrano.
As if they could hear the thought that Kaylin did not put into words, one of the cohort rose—Allaron, the giant—and crossed the room toward Terrano. Terrano stiffened, staring at that giant as if he were thinking at him, as if willpower alone could force the words he didn’t say out loud to stop him.
Allaron reached out and cuffed Terrano on the shoulder, but caught him when he staggered. He didn’t let go, either. Instead, he dragged Terrano to the table, pulled out an empty chair, and pretty much forced him to sit in it. He then sat beside Terrano, and dropped an arm around his shoulder which he didn’t look like he was going to lift anytime soon.
Terrano flushed red. But Kaylin thought, beneath the embarrassment, he was pleased. Maybe.
“Now I really want you all to visit,” Bellusdeo said, grinning. “I can only imagine what Mandoran would say if he were in Terrano’s position.”
“We don’t have to imagine it. Sadly.” Sedarias, Kaylin decided, was cut from the Annarion school of good manners.
Kaylin and Bellusdeo then joined the cohort at the table.
“We were just talking about what happened,” Sedarias said.
“Which part?” Bellusdeo asked.
“All of it.”
“Did you already cover the part about the two Barrani intruders?”
There was a full beat of silence, during which the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Kaylin was certain the cohort were shouting up a storm on the insides of their own heads.
“We were waiting for Terrano,” Sedarias finally said. “Alsanis believes he understands how they got in. It is not a method that they could use from the West March.” She exhaled, her brows folding momentarily. “Do you understand what that is?”
When no one answered, Sedarias lifted a hand and pointed. At Spike. Kaylin had almost forgotten Spike was there.
“Not really. From what I’ve seen so far, Spike is like portable Records, only better.”
“That is not all that he is.”
“Do you know?” Kaylin asked, folding her arms and shifting her hips slightly. Before she did, however, she dislodged Spike, so that he was once again floating freely by her side.
Eddorian broke out laughing.
“You’re talking to Mandoran again.”
“Mostly listening,” he said, in apologetic Elantran. “He thinks it unfair that we won’t repeat what he’s saying—but I told him that Sedarias is here, and he’s across the continent.”
Sedarias glared at him, but her eyes were almost green. Almost. “The intruders came by the outlands. They found the portal path. They could not have entered the Hallionne from above.” At Kaylin’s brief frown, she added, “In as much as direction makes sense in the confines of the portal lands, above is what we use to describe it. They couldn’t have come in through front doors; I don’t think they would have been allowed entry.”
“They would not,” Alsanis said. “Will Spike be remaining with you?”
“I don’t know?” She turned to the floating, spiked ball. “Did you want to go back home?”
“Yes.” The single word was spoken with far more vehemence than any other word that had left his—well, not exactly mouth.
“Lord Kaylin does not think she has asked the question you are answering,” Alsanis then said. “I believe she means to ask if you wish to return to Ravellon.”
“No.”
“Ah. I believe her question implies a second question. If you do not wish to return to Ravellon, from whence she believes you came, where would you wish to go?”
Spike began to hum and spin.
Kaylin turned back to Sedarias. “You recognized at least one of the two intruders.”
“I recognized the intruders as a serious threat to both my friends and the Hallionne.”
“That, too.”
It was Terrano who spoke, probably because he had to, to be heard. “She’s going to find out who they were, anyway. We have one corpse. Lord Kaylin is kyuthe to the Lord of the West March, and the Lady is waiting in one of the Hallionne to speak with her. If you think you’re keeping anything to yourself given events here, you are hopelessly optimistic.”
“This is not a matter for outsiders; it is purely a matter for our people.”
Terrano raised a brow. He really did remind Kaylin of Mandoran. “There’s a war band on Alsanis’s doorstep, waiting to kill the Dragon. There’s a war band in the Imperial City because the Dragon in theory attacked the West March, and they consider this a racial act of war.”
“The Dragon,” Kaylin added, in case it was necessary, “did not attack the West March.”
“It’s already gone beyond the boundaries of the High Court, and if the West March is not beholden to the Emperor, the High Court is.”
“Annarion doesn’t want her involved in this.”
“Annarion’s in Elantra. Kaylin is here. She is definitively involved.”
Bellusdeo cleared her throat. Dragon-style. This broke the discussion into smaller pieces. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be picked up by the cohort immediately.
Kaylin then continued. “We need to know what, exactly, you taught to the Arcanists, or the Barrani of the High Court—the ones who were willing to ally themselves with you when you attempted to escape Alsanis last time. And if we don’t, Alsanis and the rest of the Hallionne absolutely do. What were the intruders seeking, today? When they attacked—and almost destroyed—Orbaranne the last time, they were seeking power. Their needs and your needs coincided at the time.
“They’re almost diametrically opposed, now.”
“Mandoran wants it to be known that Annarion was against this from the very beginning.”
“Which means he wasn’t?”
“He says, ‘What do you think?’”
“I think it’s irrelevant. Having talked with Terrano a bit more, I think most of the planning was done closer to Alsanis. Sedarias?”
She grimaced briefly before composing her expression. “We wanted power in order to retrieve Teela. We did not mean to abandon her.” Sedarias winced. Teela clearly had a word or two to say about that. “You know what we intended. You were there.”
“It wouldn’t have worked.”
“We wouldn’t have known unless we tried.”
Terrano lifted his hand. “Could you all speak in Barrani? I don’t understand more than half of what you’re saying.”
“Sorry—they learned it from Teela,” Kaylin said quietly. “And they know I am much more comfortable speaking Elantran.” She made the effort to speak in Barrani. “We need to know what you taught them.”
“We didn’t teach them how to walk into Ravellon and walk out again, carrying one of its occupants.” Sedarias exhaled. “Terrano was the best of us. Mandoran was next, but he was not Terrano’s equal. Terrano had a map of the interior layers of Alsanis, and even when those layers shifted, he could still see their edges in the new locations. He was capable of circumnavigating the Hallionne, by the end—he could leave. We could not.”
Kaylin nodded; this much she knew from personal experience.
“Understand that we had given up on our kin, just as they had—long since—given up on both us and Alsanis. We understood that the Dreams of Alsanis—the eagles—had become blighted nightmares. We did not desire Alsanis’s destruction.”
“You didn’t care about Orbaranne.”
“Not as much, no. We could not speak True Words. Ah, no. We could not speak them into being, the way the Ancients could. We could recognize them, and we could—with effort—manipulate their shapes, but never enough. But we understood the theory: they are Alsanis. They are the Hallionne.”
“They aren’t all of the Hallionne!” Kaylin replied. She then flushed and repeated the words in Barrani.
“No. There is some core, some essential sentience, at the heart of the Hallionne; it is why they all differ. And it is irrelevant. If that core drives the Hallionne, if they command the power that resides within, they are nonetheless dependent on the shape of the words themselves for the almost limitless power they access within their own walls. I do not believe that the intent of the intruders was to destroy Alsanis.”
“You think they were here to destroy you.”
“Yes.”
“You specifically.”
Serralyn said, “That is not relevant.” Which Kaylin took as a yes. Sedarias glared at Serralyn, who fell silent but obviously begrudged it. “The intruder was my older sister.”
“The intruder you killed?”
“We have perfect memory, Lord Kaylin; you do not labor under that burden. But yes.”
“Did Teela tell you that someone tried to assassinate her?”
Silence.
“...I’ll take it that’s a no.”
“She’s not happy with you,” Eddorian said. “And yes, we knew something had angered her, and we had a few guesses. Teela doesn’t like to share when she can avoid it.”
“She can’t avoid this.” It was Bellusdeo who spoke.
“No. I believe she understands that. Mandoran says she has moved in with you, but adds, ‘unfortunately, she brought Tain as well.’”
“More like she couldn’t ditch him.”
“Mandoran thinks Tain is devoted to Teela.”
Kaylin said, “No comment.”
“You don’t agree?”
“I don’t think it’s safe for me—or anyone else, even you—to talk about Teela’s personal life.”
“We were talking about Tain,” Eddorian pointed out.
“You were talking about Tain in relation to Teela. And she won’t be happy about that. And regardless, what you can get away with, I can’t. Tain is a Hawk. He’s Teela’s partner. When things get ugly, he has her back. That’s what I know about the two of them, and that’s really all I need to know.”
“Have you no curiosity?” Serralyn asked.
Kaylin shrugged. “They were Hawks when I joined. They joined the force together. I once asked if there was something between them, and once was enough. They’re partners and they’re Hawks, and that’s what really matters.” She shook her head. “And you’re distracting me. You killed your older sister.”
Sedarias’s shrug was cool. “This is not the first attempt she’s made on my life.”
“You spent most of your life here!”
“Yes.”
“And you were all considered children when you were brought here.”
“Indeed.”
“So you’re saying she tried to kill you when you were children?”
“No. I was considered a child; she was not. And before you ask, she was not the head of the line. Nor is she now.”
“She’s dead now.”
“Fine. She was not the head of the line when she died, either.” Sedarias rose. “Spike, will you accompany me?”
Spike failed to answer. The familiar glanced at Kaylin, and when Kaylin failed to do something—the nature of that something having not been communicated—squawked loudly in her ear.
Terrano stood and held out his left hand. “Spike,” he said, in an almost aggrieved tone. “Will you accompany me?”
Spike whirred and clicked and floated through the air to land in Terrano’s outstretched palm.
Sedarias glared—whether at Terrano or Spike was unclear—and pushed herself out of her chair. “I would like Spike to take a close look at the war band for later study.”
“You said you have perfect memory,” Kaylin pointed out.
“We do, yes. But we are not all magically inclined, and we are not Records in any sense of the word. I think we’ll want to be able to reproduce what we see in a more tangible way.”
Kaylin shot Spike a dubious glance. “I’m not sure Spike would be considered entirely objective or acceptable as a legal source of information.”
“We use what we have at hand,” Sedarias replied, with an almost martial shrug. She started to leave the room, stopped, and turned back to Terrano. “Are you coming?”
* * *
Kaylin ate dinner when it appeared on the table. She became mildly self-conscious when the only people offered food were she and Bellusdeo. The Dragon, however, didn’t seem self-conscious at all. She watched the cohort as they fell silent, and occasionally asked them questions. Having Mandoran as one of Bellusdeo’s housemates seemed to have blunted the edge of their racial Dragon hostility. And given how often one of the cohort started a comment with Mandoran says, it was almost like they were at home.
Kaylin understood that Barrani families were not like mortal families, or at least not like the families of the mortals she personally knew, but still found Sedarias’s attitude toward her dead sister disturbing. To be fair, she believed, as Sedarias did, that that dead sister had been trying to kill Sedarias—the rest of the cohort likely being collateral damage—so she didn’t particularly judge Sedarias. If Sedarias had been obviously angry or obviously upset, it would have been easier. Sedarias, however, seemed to consider it the effective equivalent of bad weather—a simple fact of the life she had led before she had been brought to the green.
Kaylin had often daydreamed about having sisters and brothers of her own. The whole attempted murder element of family did not play any part in those daydreams. It was hard not to envy beautiful, healthy Immortals—but envy was not what she felt at the moment. She was therefore quiet while she ate.
Before Sedarias returned, Alsanis did. “The Consort wishes to speak with you now, if you are available.” Although the phrase was politely worded, it wasn’t really a request. Kaylin rose. She glanced at Bellusdeo, who shook her head. “I’ll stay with the cohort.”
* * *
The Consort was not dressed for Court, but her hair—a long, white drape that had parted to expose her face—was unique enough she could not be mistaken for any other Barrani. Her eyes, in the surface of the Hallionne’s version of a mirror, which happened to be a pool of water nestled in an intricate, standing basin, were blue. The blue lightened the moment the Consort could see Kaylin.
“Why are you even here?” The Barrani Hawk demanded. “It’s not safe, at the moment.”
The blue darkened again.
Ynpharion was immediately present; his silence was almost scorching. It was also the silence of drawn breath; he meant to speak but could not find adequate words.
Don’t shout at me, Kaylin told him, irritated. Do something useful instead.
I shudder to contemplate what you might consider useful.
Teach me how to think things that you won’t be able to hear.
While I admit that actual privacy from the shoddy interior of your thoughts holds some appeal to me—
Thanks.
—I fail to see why I would teach you to lock the figurative door in my face.
It’s not your face I’m worried about.
Silence. You are worried about a different nameheld.
I don’t understand Barrani families, no. Most of the time Nightshade and Lirienne don’t bother me; I can forget that Lirienne even exists. But...the Consort seems to have some suspicions about her brother.
Concerns, Lord Kaylin. Suspicion among my kin is different. But you are concerned about the Lord of the West March and Nightshade, and you are not concerned with me? This seemed to offend Ynpharion. Kaylin didn’t care.
And that was the crux of the matter. She didn’t care. There was no possible way to fall any lower on the ladder of Ynpharion’s respect or regard; there was only up. He already despised her, barely tolerated her, and frequently shrieked—or the mental equivalent—at some perceived stupidity or other. But his anger or contempt was in no way equal to her anger or contempt for herself on the very bad days. With Ynpharion she had nothing to lose.
You might, he said, have something to gain. He was, predictably, annoyed.
I’m not sure anything I could do that would better your opinion of me would better my opinion of myself. And that’s beside the point. I need to learn how to shield my thoughts and my life from the others.
I for one would appreciate less of your life in mine.
“Lord Kaylin.”
Kaylin blinked. The other thing she needed to learn was the ability to have a full conversation on the inside of her head without bringing her external interactions to a dead halt.
“Sorry. My head is pretty noisy at the moment.”
This got the glimmer of a smile from the Consort, which was probably as much as anyone could get, given current events.
It is, Ynpharion grudgingly said. She is highly concerned. She is, I should warn you, not best pleased with the cohort at the moment.
Oh?
Had they waited a handful of decades—perhaps a century at the outside—the entire High Court would be better politically equipped to deal with their presence. This is far, far too early.
Maybe the cohort didn’t understand that, was Kaylin’s uneasy response.
It is likely, given what you’ve witnessed, that most of them did not understand it; I do not believe Annarion considers it relevant. Sedarias, however, understood. She did not wish to take the risk that the preparations would somehow be either welcoming or positive.
And you know that how?
I do not. It is, however, what the Consort believes.
“If you would ask the committee in your head, as you put it, to allow me a few minutes of your uninterrupted time, I would be most appreciative. And while my brothers would agree that I was perhaps hasty in my attempt to reach you, I am far less likely to be lost—either in the Hallionne or on the portal paths—than you. And my presence, for better or worse, will not start a war.”
“Bellusdeo had no intention of coming here.”
“Oh?”
“The water dumped us inside of Orbaranne.” If Kaylin expected this to make the Consort any more resigned, it failed spectacularly.
“You asked the water to bring you to Orbaranne?” Her tone was wrong; all edge. All steel.
“No. And the water didn’t ask us for permission, either.”
“Was the water operating under the command of another?”
Kaylin shook her head. “I’m almost certain that the water dropped us here of its own accord. And you knew something,” she added, eyes narrowed.
“Ah, no. The Oracles have been troubled recently. You must know it is difficult to interpret their visions or creations. But the existence of the cohort has been much in my thoughts; one possible interpretation of the oracular message involved that cohort. And you. I thought there was a chance that you would be driven to the Hallionne. I interceded to ask that the Hallionne accept you and your traveling companion—” here she paused to eye the familiar, who snorted “—as guests. I did not expect that you would arrive with Lord Bellusdeo.” She hesitated, and after a long pause, added, “I thought there was a possibility that you would have either Mandoran or Annarion with you.”
“I don’t suppose,” Kaylin said in Elantran, “there’s any way we can convince you to just go home?”
One perfect brow rose.
“Alsanis thinks we need to go to where you are. By the portal paths. Which hasn’t really worked out well for us so far.”
“Ah. Yes. I have been in discussions with the Hallionne about this problem. But the Hallionne are not extensible. They cannot simply extend their reach; they are limited by the words which harbor the entirety of their power. And you must understand the reasons for this.”
Kaylin didn’t, but it didn’t take all that long to think it through. The Hallionne were sentient. They had desires of their own—desires that often caused conflict with the very reason for their existence. If they could simply expand their sphere of influence, they would become like gods; there was very little they couldn’t do within their own space. She met the Consort’s steady gaze and nodded.
“Sedarias thinks that the attack on Alsanis was motivated entirely by Barrani politics.”
The Consort nodded again, her expression grave.
“You don’t think so.”
“Ah, no. I believe that Sedarias is materially correct. But I also believe there are consequences to the actions that have not been fully considered. It is the way of my kin to believe fully in their own power—and that belief does not often falter. Power is necessary for survival. We seek power in subtle ways, but where subtlety has failed us, we seek power in unpredictable places.”
“I suppose Ynpharion told you—” The Consort cleared her throat. Kaylin took the hint and started the sentence again. “I suppose you already know that one of the Barrani walked into Ravellon and came out carrying one of the Shadows with him. Literally with him.”
“Yes.”
“Into Ravellon,” Kaylin repeated.
“Yes, Lord Kaylin. We are now aware.”
“I think there’s a chance that—” Kaylin faltered. She could not mention the High Lord in this context. She might have problems keeping her mouth shut when things got heated, but even she knew that there were some things that were never to be said out loud.
The Consort waited, as if testing that resolve, but when Kaylin failed to finish the sentence she’d impulsively started, she said, “We are aware of that, now. The situation is complicated. Will the cohort, as you call them, travel to Elantra?”
“I think there is no chance whatsoever that Sedarias will now remain here.” Kaylin hesitated and then added, “I’m sorry about skipping out on dinner.”
The Consort laughed.
Kaylin did not. “I know that everything with the Barrani is politics and misdirection. But—Mandoran and Annarion are part of my home, and the whole damn cohort comes with them.”
“They are not kin.”
“No—they’re closer than kin. You don’t get to choose your kin. But you do get to choose your kyuthe. And frankly, Sedarias killed her sister—who’s tried to kill her before—and Teela killed her father. I’m not sure the Barrani really understand family the way the rest of us do.”
“When you say ‘us,’ ask Bellusdeo about Dragon family, sometime. My brother will not be in favor of the cohort arriving in Elantra.”
“You mean Lirienne?”
“I did, but actually, neither brother considers it wise.”
“You don’t think—”
The Consort lifted a hand. “I have spoken with the Hallionne. I am currently resident in Kariastos. Bertolle has sent his brothers to watch the byways, now that we are aware of some of the possible difficulties. But Kaylin, the portal paths are fraught. It would be safer if you traveled overland.”
“That’ll take weeks!”
“Yes.”
“...And we’ve got Bellusdeo. We’re not going to be safer overland right now—there’s a war band camped outside of Alsanis. They’re not going to just let us commandeer four carriages and leave with the Dragon.”
“Do you have so little faith in the Lord of the West March?”
“Lord Barian went to speak with the war band. When he returned, he was bleeding.”
Silence.
“He’s not the Lord of the West March,” Kaylin continued, uneasy with the texture of that silence. “He’s the Warden. But...he is the Warden. And I think it might be his mother who’s leading the war band.”
The Consort looked once over her shoulder; whatever she was looking at was outside of the mirror’s field of vision. The Consort then returned to the mirror, and to Kaylin. She was not wearing armor; she did not carry a sword or shield. But everything about her now seemed like the very essence of a warrior queen, not the mother of an entire race.
As if she could hear the thought, the Consort said, “When children are endangered, is there much difference between the two? Very well. The portal paths.”
“I believe,” Alsanis said, his voice a rumble, “that you should leave very soon. Sedarias and Terrano are returning, in haste; I believe Sedarias is injured.”