“What did you do?” Kaylin shouted. She had to shout, to be heard; if Sedarias had not been not Barrani, she wouldn’t have heard, regardless.
Sedarias might have looked smug, if smug had utterly lacked any sense of enjoyment. Kaylin searched for a word and came up with vindicated as the closest match for the Barrani woman’s expression.
The portal that Winston had peered through changed shape as the thunderous cries continued. Kaylin remembered, then, that one of the Avatars of the Hallionne Kariastos was a dragon. A dragon made of water. She could hear his roar, absent the syllables necessary to make language of it.
“I tested the water.”
“Kariastos does not sound happy with your test.” Kaylin was disturbed; her skin had not informed her that magic was in use, and she had seen nothing but concentration—and suspicion—on Sedarias’s face.
“You can’t imagine, at this particular moment, that that has any relevance to us at all.” There was, about Sedarias, a force of personality, a hint of danger, that made choosing one’s fights essential. This was not the hill to die on—Sedarias had been suspicious, and Sedarias had been right to be so.
If Sedarias was right—had been right all along—that meant that the Consort was involved. The Consort had come here, not to save the cohort, but to more effectively entrap them before they reached Elantra. Before they passed beyond the Hallionne and their power entirely.
Bellusdeo’s presence in the West March was outside of all plans. The cohort weren’t responsible for the war band and its arrival at Alsanis’s doorstep. What she couldn’t be as certain of was Lirienne. Lord Barian had been injured. Lirienne was both alive and conscious, and he had not returned from his meeting with the war band.
Nor did he speak to her now.
She really hated this. She hated the suspicion, but why? She’d spent the first thirteen years of her life—or as much of it as she remembered—being suspicious. She’d called it caution, and it had been necessary. And when she had fallen into Barren, suspicion had become her only way of life. She assumed that everyone was out to kill her or sell her out, because that’s what she was doing.
She’d walked away from that. At the time, she’d believed that the only way out of it—the only way—was death. Her death. And it had been hard, to change. She remembered. She had asked herself, almost constantly, Why do I have to do this?
She could still hear the answer—given to her by herself, but also by Teela, by Marcus, by Tain; by Caitlin and by Clint. Because if you can’t make yourself do this, you’ll never believe that anyone can. You make the world you live in.
And now she was a Hawk. She inhaled and exhaled as she balanced her weight over slightly bent knees in order to retain her footing. Suspicion was a useful tool. It was necessary in the life she’d chosen—but she had to be in control of it, not the other way around. She had, in her career as a Hawk, mastered a rudimentary objectivity.
Something was wrong, here. Something did not add up. She hated being suspicious, yes. But she hated being stupid even more.
“Sedarias. Terrano.”
Something in her tone caught and held their attention. Sedarias’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“I think—for all of you—Kariastos is never going to be safe to enter.” To Winston she said, “That’s why we weren’t asked to travel to Bertolle, who’s closer. I don’t think Bertolle would do whatever it is Kariastos has done.”
Winston said nothing.
“We need to get out of here.”
“But the path—” Winston began.
She told him, in descriptive Leontine, what he could do with his path. He looked dubious, and she said, “That wasn’t literal. It was cursing. Terrano—”
Terrano had become a shade of almost green that meant he was distressed, or at least that’s how she interpreted it. “That Shadow that Spike drew off was not conjured by Kariastos.”
“No,” she agreed. “And it doesn’t matter. We’ll be grateful to run into a Shadow, at this rate. Move. Winston—”
“On it,” he said, mimicking Kaylin. He began to run, retracing the path they had taken. The cohort followed. So did Bellusdeo, but she held the rear, as if being a Dragon would be enough protection from the tendrils of a Hallionne. When they had run perhaps a mile in real world distance, Winston began to thin out, literally.
“I really hate this,” he said, as he did. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Yes, and you’re not going to like it. But you don’t have to form a path for us all the way there.”
Terrano, running alongside, said, “Please tell me you don’t intend to walk the outlands all the way to Elantra.”
“I don’t see that we’ve got much choice. We could—maybe—head back to Alsanis. Or we could head to Bertolle, if Winston’s brother manages to make it there in one piece to plead our case. But even if we reach Alsanis or Bertolle, we’re not going to be able to leave again.”
Sedarias said, “You’re certain?”
“You’re not?”
Sedarias did not answer the question, which Kaylin supposed was answer enough. “Why are you certain?”
“I have a couple of important True Names. I hold them. Start walking.”
“...On Winston?”
“Does it look like we’re going to be able to build ourselves another path?”
“Teela doesn’t like it.”
“Ask her for alternatives. Have her tell me—and you—that this is not actually some type of trap meant for you guys, and I will happily believe it.”
“She says the Consort would never harm you. You’d be safe—”
Kaylin shrieked in outrage. “And Bellusdeo?”
“She does not believe the High Lord responsible for the war band.”
“I would like to believe that. In fact, I do believe it. But I’m not willing to send the rest of you out into the outlands alone.”
“Teela says—”
“You know how you said I should have these arguments in person, rather than through you?”
“Yes.”
“It was a great idea.”
It was Eddorian who picked up the thread of Teela’s conversation. “Teela asks what in the hells do you think you’re doing?”
“Tell her we’re running to the outskirts of Ravellon.”
Cacophony, then. If normal hearing had been the key to their detection, they would all be swarmed, by now. She started to tell them all to shut up, but Kariastos did that more effectively. He roared.
The cohort froze and turned to look over their shoulders, as did Kaylin. She could see what had once been a portal; it was no longer even a tiny bit welcoming. It was Kariastos, all right, but in a form that was much more like a Dragon—an enormous Dragon—than a building. Although Hallionne were not actual Dragons, Kaylin understood from his tone that he was not particularly happy. And as long as they could escape him, she didn’t much care.
* * *
Kaylin.
Go away, she told Ynpharion.
Kaylin!
I mean it, damn you. Go the hells away right bloody now.
The Consort is waiting.
Kaylin struggled, hard, not to tell him where the Consort could go. She was upset. Angry. Possibly a bit confused. Mostly upset, though. I am not about to turn around and betray them. They live with me. And you can tell her to forget dinner. Ever.
Kaylin, you are not thinking. The cohort are dangerous—and you know why. You’ve seen why.
She said they might be able to help defeat the thing beneath the High Halls!
They will not help if they are not contained. She does not intend to destroy them; what she said to you was materially true. But she wants some guarantee that they will not become more of a danger to the High Halls than the Test in the tower.
I don’t care.
Kaylin—do not do what you’re considering. The Consort is against it.
If she hadn’t been running, she would have shrieked for a good five minutes in fury and frustration.
She does not wish to lose you. Send the cohort on their way, if you must; she will guarantee—absolutely and unconditionally—your safety and the safety of your Dragon companion.
No dice.
Pardon?
No. Damn. Dice. And there’s no point in guaranteeing their safety, either—I won’t believe it. And I will never, ever speak to you again if you attempt to make me believe it. Now leave us alone.
She was practically leaking fury, and part of that was aimed at herself. She’d been stupid. She hated being stupid.
Kaylin. A different voice. She almost snapped at this one as well, but Severn had done nothing to deserve it. What are you now doing? Teela has just turned a shade of ash and her eyes are practically black.
You’re with Teela?
We’re all at Helen’s, yes. Tain is worried about Teela. Mandoran and Annarion are indigo-eyed as well, but Mandoran’s lost control of his eyes, so it’s not as obvious. What’s happened?
She told him. She told him everything, while running along a very flat Winston. She slowed only when she could see the distant city.
Structures rose in the distance, tall, pale, and slightly curved; they towered over the mass of what might be smaller buildings. The air was thick, hazy; the towers in the distance seemed to waver as Kaylin, Bellusdeo and the cohort approached.
Terrano had said that it was a city of cages, of traps, and Kaylin could see what he meant: the structures she thought of as towers seemed to curve inward, toward what existed beneath them; an odd light seemed to illuminate them from within.
In Elantran buildings, this would imply windows, lamps.
This was not Elantra.
“Kaylin?” Bellusdeo touched her shoulder, a gesture that implied this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get Kaylin’s attention.
Terrano was watching her as well. All of the cohort were.
She said nothing; they had slowed and she made no attempt to pick up the pace. Instead, she spoke a single word. “Ravellon.”
It wasn’t a city. It could be mistaken for one, as Terrano had said. But Kaylin had spent time in the morgue at the Halls of Law. She’d spent time watching Red at work. She had words for most of the parts of a body, although they didn’t get much use.
Those structures weren’t towers. They weren’t buildings. That Shadows had somehow made a home of them didn’t change the facts.
Kaylin.
If a giant had died in a desert, this is what they might leave behind. The towers were the great, fleshless rib cage of something far larger than Kaylin had ever seen in life.
Severn watched silently, as he often did. She felt his presence in the back of her thoughts and found it easier to catch her breath. Well?
He failed to answer the question she had asked. Can you see the borders of Ravellon?
She nodded; she could. But the borders seemed somehow mundane, slight; they were not the casket in which a body such as this should have been interred. We need to reach the Towers in the fiefs. We need to find Tiamaris.
You know the risk.
Yes, I know the risk. We’re way too close. But we can’t go back to Kariastos. The Consort promised that we’d be safe—Bellusdeo and I—but promised nothing about the cohort.
If you can, try not to be hurt.
I’m not hurt. I’m angry.
The worst anger always comes from hurt. You trusted her. You feel betrayed.
Wouldn’t you?
I honestly believe that she intends you no harm. I believe she would safeguard Bellusdeo against the war band, either in the West March or in Elantra. I do not believe she had anything to do with that.
But the cohort—
Teela is spitting fire, by the way.
So am I.
Yes, but not for the same reasons. I believe she is angry at Sedarias.
What? Why?
She won’t answer. Neither will Mandoran or Annarion. If I were you—if I were exactly you—I would take the risk you’re now taking.
And if you were you, but in my position?
I’m not you. I’m worried, but—do what you need to do. I’ll meet you there.
No, wait!
Silence.
Severn—don’t—
Silence.
She cursed in very loud and heartfelt Leontine, and turned toward the city.
Toward Ravellon.
* * *
Winston pulled himself up from the ground. “This is as far as I can safely go,” he told Kaylin, his expression grave. “I do not think I need tell you that Bertolle will be concerned.”
“No, you don’t. Tell him thank you.”
“For what?”
“For sending you and your brother to help us. I’m not sure why he did it.”
“He was worried about you.” Winston smiled. “We would like it if you came to visit.”
“I’m just wondering if there’s any way you guys could come visit me. I live in a building that was once a little bit like a Hallionne.”
“There are Hallionne in your city?”
“No, she’s not a Hallionne. She’s a sentient building, with the usual range of control over anything that happens within her borders.”
“She was built close to Ravellon?”
“Yes, but she’s not a Tower, either. Her name’s Helen,” she added. “And I think she’d be happy to meet you. You could—”
“Kaylin,” Bellusdeo said, her voice a suspicious rumble. Kaylin glanced to confirm that she had gone full Dragon. “I understand that you wish to express gratitude, but now is not the time. Can you see the city?”
Kaylin nodded.
“It is Ravellon.” Bellusdeo was the definition of grim, now. “And Ravellon exists everywhere.”
“Can you see the rest of the city?”
“No. But Elantra is not Ravellon.”
“Can you see the fiefs?”
“I can see the Towers,” Bellusdeo said quietly. “And we’re going to have a small problem, if I judge your intent correctly.”
“What problem?”
“Look at the Towers.”
Kaylin felt herself wilt as she obeyed. She could see the Towers. Terrano had been right: they were visible. But none of them looked like the Towers with which she was familiar. They were built around Ravellon, but seemed, to her eye, to stand at the very edge of that fief’s boundaries. And they were absolutely identical.
“Does it matter which Tower?” Terrano asked.
“Yes. There’s only one that isn’t likely to immediately destroy us all, or make the attempt to do so.”
“So...this was your plan?”
“I was kind of short on time.”
The cohort were speaking among themselves. Sedarias turned toward Kaylin. “The Shadows are moving.”
“I can see that.” Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo; the Dragon’s eyes were blood red.
“You mean to approach Tiamaris.”
“Tara, yes. I think there’s a good chance she’ll let us in through the back door. If we can find it.”
“Castle Nightshade?” Bellusdeo asked.
“Will devour us whole. All of us. Without blinking. Nightshade can control the Tower, but I wouldn’t put it beyond his damn castle to kill us in an eye blink, which would be about the time it would take Nightshade to assert control. His Tower really doesn’t like Annarion, and I’m guessing by extension all the rest of the cohort as well.”
You underestimate me, Nightshade said, clearly unamused.
“We’d rather avoid it, if we can,” Sedarias told Kaylin. “We...know what Annarion encountered.”
* * *
Kaylin cursed her lack of affinity with geography. Loudly. Often. There was very little in Records about Ravellon, and both the streets and buildings that made up Ravellon were known to physically change when people entered the fief.
There were seven Towers.
The most obvious landmark, the Ablayne river, was nowhere in sight. In fact, none of the streets beyond Ravellon were visible; nothing marked the location of the city she called home. Which made sense. In no way could they have reached Elantra from the West March by foot in so short a time. They couldn’t have done it on horseback, either; Kaylin was less certain about riding Dragon-back, because Dragons could move. Regardless, Bellusdeo couldn’t transport the entire cohort simultaneously.
Bellusdeo scanned the horizon, in part because there was something to scan, and in part because of what that something was. She had lived in Ravellon, albeit as a sword in the hand of an enslaved Maggaron.
“You are thinking too loudly,” the gold Dragon said.
“Do you recognize anything?”
“Yes. And no. Ravellon changes from moment to moment. There’s no certain sense of geography.”
“Do you remember much about it?” This question, Kaylin asked in a much more hesitant tone. She didn’t like to pry into the past—and the past pain—of others, because she hated it when people pried into hers. She wanted the past to be irrelevant. She wanted the present and the future to be the only things that mattered. And of course, that was impossible. Even now, the past defined so much of her life. But...if that past had brought her to this point—well, to the point of serving the Halls of Law, to be precise—it was the right past. It had led here.
Lord Kaylin.
Go away.
Ynpharion was frustrated. He was also afraid.
She’s not going to blame you for this. This is not on you.
There is a danger.
Kaylin almost laughed out loud, but it would have been bitter, cynical laughter, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to the cohort. No kidding.
You have not attracted attention, yet. The Lady asks—the Lady begs—that you come away while you have the chance. She is willing, and he clearly begrudged the word, to guarantee the safety—and freedom—of your...friends.
The astonishment must have shown on Kaylin’s face, because Sedarias asked, instantly, what had happened.
“I’m indirectly in contact with the Consort.”
Since Barrani eyes in this gathering were already all the bad blue color, Sedarias’s didn’t get any darker. “And?”
“She—she wants us to go back.”
“And we’d like to be wealthy and powerful beyond all compare. What of it?”
“No, I mean—she says she’ll guarantee your safety and freedom.”
“Ours?” Sedarias glanced at Bellusdeo. This surprised Kaylin.
“She already promised that she wouldn’t harm either me or the Dragon.”
“Oh?”
“When we left Kariastos, and the portal path. She made it clear she had never had any intention of harming or caging us.” At Sedarias’s expression, she continued. “She didn’t want us to come to Ravellon. She was afraid of what would happen.”
“To you.”
Kaylin shrugged.
“Are you a complete fool?” One of the cohort laughed. It certainly wasn’t Sedarias, who had asked the outraged question. “We have historically already clashed at least once with the Consort and her forces. You must remember it—you were there. She has every right to be suspicious of us; she has every right to take sensible precautions!”
“And you wanted to be trapped in those sensible precautions? You wanted me to accept them without even knowing what they were? Without being informed, or asked for an opinion or anything?”
“Of course not! But there is no reason whatsoever why you—and the Dragon—should not have accepted the Hallionne’s safety and hospitality!”
Terrano’s attention was bouncing between Kaylin and Sedarias. “I think,” he said, when it was Kaylin’s turn to speak, “we should stop shouting. I’m not certain how much the Shadows in Ravellon are aware of, but we probably don’t want to attract attention. Any attention. At all.” He was glaring at the cohort, not Kaylin.
Sedarias was fuming. She was capable of the stony neutrality of her kind, but it had apparently failed to become her natural, normal expression.
It was Bellusdeo who came to the rescue, metaphorically speaking. She said, “I know where Tiamaris is.”
The cohort looked at Kaylin as Kaylin turned to Bellusdeo. “How?”
“We lost our lands, and our world, to Shadow. But we fought it for a long time. Do you see the reddish glow there, in the distance?”
Kaylin’s eyes were neither draconian nor Barrani. Terrano said, “To the left?”
Bellusdeo nodded. “Those are specific signal lights; we used them to mark decaying borders and areas of great concern. They are magical in nature, and they can be seen if Shadows envelope the land. The Norannir are there, and they keep those fires burning. They don’t,” she added, half-apologetically, “trust your Towers.”
“Can you lead us there?”
The Dragon nodded. “I am ill-prepared for combat, but—yes. Can we assume that the Tower closest to the fires is the one we want?”
“I hope so.”
* * *
Bellusdeo followed a circuitous route to reach the fires, which became visible to Kaylin only after they’d been walking for ten minutes. There was a direct path to Kaylin’s eyes, and apparently to Terrano’s as well, given the looks he was aiming at the side of the Dragon’s face, but both were willing to trust Bellusdeo’s greater experience.
Sedarias also said nothing. And that, Kaylin thought, was the benefit of living with Mandoran. His constant sniping—and to be fair, Bellusdeo’s—had rendered the gold Dragon harmless. For a value of harmless that suited a very large, golden Dragon with blood-red eyes.
They didn’t question her; even Terrano didn’t put his growing unease into words. And to be fair, Kaylin felt no doubt at all. She glanced at her familiar; he was slumped across her shoulders, but lifted his head when she looked at him. His sigh was audible to everyone present, even Bellusdeo, whose much, much larger head turned toward him.
He remained silent, and Bellusdeo returned to the task at hand.
* * *
As they approached the fires, Terrano grew more agitated. Kaylin was worried about him. Not about what he’d do, precisely, but about Terrano himself. Without thinking, she slid an arm around his shoulders. He stiffened, and she withdrew it, but Sedarias had seen.
Sedarias surprised Kaylin; she substituted her own arm for the one Kaylin had withdrawn. Terrano also surprised Kaylin. He didn’t look any more comfortable. “This is hard,” he said quietly.
“What’s hard?”
“This trying to be what used to be normal. It’s hard.”
Kaylin froze; Bellusdeo picked up the pace, forcing the Hawk to scurry to catch up. “You don’t know what happened when Annarion and Mandoran came to Elantra.”
“No, but I can guess.”
Sedarias said something in a voice too low for Kaylin to catch.
“When I first headed out into the outlands, I attracted attention. Most of it wasn’t harmful. Some of it could easily have killed me. When you’re searching for something—and I wasn’t searching for any specific thing—you almost vibrate in time with the world. It’s hard to explain. You need to keep that to a bare minimum if you don’t want to be eaten. But—it’s hard. It’s hard to do it here. If I were near Alsanis, I could just fall back into the places you live.
“But even if it was easy, it would be dangerous to do it here.” He hesitated. “There’s some part of me—of us—that is a little bit like Ravellon.” As Bellusdeo turned again, her draconic ears missing nothing, Terrano rushed to continue. “It isn’t about Shadow. That isn’t what I meant. But Ravellon exists here. You can all see it. I can see it. Ravellon exists in your homelands. Ravellon existed in the world the Dragon ruled. Ravellon exists everywhere.
“We don’t exist everywhere, but we exist in more than one place. We’re here, but we’re also there, where you two live. We spread. We changed. We grew. We had no choice.”
“An interesting definition of choice,” Bellusdeo rumbled.
“You would have done the same.”
A small puff of exhaled smoke, and then the Dragon said, “I would have done more, probably.”
This came as a relief to Terrano. The rest of the cohort expected it.
Dragon smiles—when the Dragon was in the scaled form—were not a comforting display of humor, but the Dragon smiled anyway, exposing very large teeth. “It’s necessary for you to stay as quiet as possible. When we reach the city—”
“I’m not going into the city,” Terrano said.
The cohort rustled; there was no other word for the wave of small movements that seemed to pass through them all. Terrano didn’t seem to notice.
It was Sedarias who spoke. “Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
The Dragon rolled her eyes and snorted smoke.
“I have no reason to go to the city.”
“Are you here?”
“Here is not the city. Here is not the High Halls. Here is not the hive of buzzing politicians and the families that tossed us—that tossed me—away. I hated it, you know? I hated it. All of the life I remember before the green, before all of you, was nothing but anger and bitterness, nothing but criticism. I was too frivolous. I was too stupid. I was too unreliable. I was too childish.
“My past is littered with my constant failures. I was a failure—that’s why I was sent to the green. And nothing’s changed. Nothing. What I want is not what they wanted, if any of them still survive.”
“They do.”
“They have nothing to offer me. They have nothing I want. They have nothing I ever wanted. I thought all of life would be just that, and only that—an eternity of living a life I didn’t want, until someone got lucky, or angry enough, and I died. I am not going.”
Betting? Severn asked. Kaylin was surprised by his voice. He was reaching out to her when it wasn’t a matter of someone’s life or death. The subject was not an emergency or an investigation.
Depends. Are you betting that Sedarias wins?
Yes.
Not touching it.
Coward.
* * *
Breath held, they finally reached what Bellusdeo called signal fires. In the distance, it seemed a reasonable thing to call them; up close it was in no way accurate. They were a far more livid red, in a landscape that was otherwise so muted in color it could be safely called gray. Even Ravellon itself was faded and pale. The fires were not.
Nor were they hot; they weren’t even warm.
“I would not touch those if I were you,” the Dragon told Kaylin. “And I would definitely avoid them if I were any of the cohort.”
Sedarias said, “Why?”
“You are not what we are.”
“We’re Barrani.”
“I am willing to entertain that polite fiction. But at the heart of this debacle is the truth. You may, of course, choose to risk it.”
“What do you fear it will do to us?”
“In the worst case? Destroy you. In the best case, injure you gravely. The fires were created as weapons against taint, against Shadow. And at the time, we did not know that there were Shadows trapped against their will in Ravellon, just as I was once trapped. You are not,” she added, “Shadow, or of those Shadows. But there is, to you, a taint that would immediately render you outcaste among my own kin.” She paused, and then added, “Taint is not perhaps the correct word.
“In our long history, we did not attempt to divest ourselves of the names that gave us life and form. But in Barrani history, there have been many such attempts. I would consider—pragmatically—that yours, as a whole, has been the most successful.”
“We have our names.”
“Yes. But whatever it was that the names gave you, you learned to exist without. Terrano does not have his name. He did not teach the others to do what he did.”
“No. Just to change their form. I don’t think the rest of our people could do what we did for centuries, unless they devoted almost all of their time to it. But even then, I am doubtful. What the regalia did, in the heart of the green, changed us.” Sedarias glanced at Terrano and exhaled. “We did not exist entirely without our names. Our names were within the Hallionne. He considered them to be abandoned, but they were present; they had not returned to the Lake of Life, as names do when the lives they sustain are extinguished. I do not know if knowledge of those names that were only barely ours would have allowed others to control us.”
“Your circumstances were admittedly unusual.”
“They were. And they will not occur again; it is now against Barrani law to expose children to the regalia, as we were once exposed.” Sedarias looked at the raw, red splash of livid color, arms folded. It did not look like fire to Kaylin, and clearly Sedarias had her doubts as well. She held out her left arm just as Terrano began to move forward, and caught him. “I will strangle you myself,” she told him, lips compressed.
“What? I’m trying to stand closer to the fire because there won’t be Shadows near it!”
Judging by the expressions on half of the cohorts’s faces, Sedarias wasn’t the only one who didn’t believe him.
* * *
“Kaewenn, I bid you welcome,” a familiar voice said.
Kaylin turned. In the ether that existed in the boundary beyond Ravellon stood a familiar figure. “Tara!”
The Avatar of the Tower of Tiamaris stood in full armor, a sword in one hand, her helm in the other. Her eyes were a pale silver from which sparks seemed to fly when she blinked. At a distance, Kaylin thought she might not have recognized her.
Tara, however, was not addressing Kaylin, and when she bowed, she bowed to Bellusdeo. “My lord asked me to greet you, and to offer you and your companions the hospitality of Tiamaris.” The words were stilted and formal.
The Dragon said, “A moment, Tara.” Her voice lost some of its rumble as she finally slid back into her human form, losing the wings, the neck, the tail and the very impressive teeth. The scales reformed around her in the natural armor of her kin. Draconic faces didn’t show a lot of expression that was easily recognizable to Kaylin. Human faces, like the one Bellusdeo now wore, did. “Who taught you that word?”
“The Norannir did. It is how they sometimes refer to you, even now.”
“They should not use it.”
“No? My lord did not think its use harmful; he said it was a sign of respect, or even reverence—and he believes that you are due that.”
“Does he?” Bellusdeo’s smile was weary; it held pain. “In the end, I failed them.”
“If we judge all of life only by one moment, perhaps. But we do not, and they do not consider you a failure. You are here. They are here. And they light these fires in your name. Come. It is difficult for me to greet you thus, and I would speak with you at greater length from the confines of a safer environment.” The red fire that was not hot and did not burn was reflected in the silver of her eyes, as if her eyes were mirrors.
Terrano was staring, openmouthed, at Tara. But to be fair, the rest of the cohort were staring only a little bit more discreetly.
“I am not Hallionne,” Tara, said, her voice serene. “That was not my function. It is true that the full range of my power is only available within the Tower proper, but the fief is my domain—it is my duty to watch it, and to watch the borders. I see Ravellon no matter where I am; I see it no matter what form I take. I hear its Shadows, but they cannot reach you yet.” She bowed, once again, to Bellusdeo. “I can contain the voices of your compatriots, but they are unstable here. It is not good for them to be here.”
Bellusdeo nodded.
“And it’s good for us?”
“You, Chosen, are what you are. The place in which you stand does not change that. Bellusdeo is a known duality; she, too, is uninfluenced by her surroundings. But your companions are...” Tara frowned, and that expression was completely familiar. “They are fuzzy around the edges.” The last sentence was spoken in Elantran. “I understand what your Helen has done for her tenants, and I can do the same. I understand the reaction of Castle Nightshade to Annarion, but I think it unnecessary.”
“Why did Nightshade’s Tower react that way?”
“Because he could hear Annarion’s voice, and he believed—as I might once have—that it was a deliberate call, a deliberate beacon. My Lord is waiting, and he is perhaps not waiting patiently. He wished to come here himself.”
“And he didn’t?”
Tara smiled. “I judged it too great a risk.”
“He really does trust you.”
Tara looked surprised. “Of course.” She smiled and added, “Severn is also waiting. He came to the Tower. It is how I knew that you would come here.” She frowned. “Do not do that,” she said, to Terrano.
“It’s fine,” Sedarias replied, before Terrano could. Allaron was standing closest to Terrano, and he slid an arm firmly around Terrano’s shoulders.
“I don’t need hospitality—”
“It is not a necessity,” Tara told him gently. “But I do not think your friends are willing to part with you yet. There will be absence enough in the future.”
When they turned to look at her—Allaron still firmly attached to Terrano—Tara smiled. “I am not a Hallionne, but I told you: the fief is my domain. I do not hear all thoughts or all voices unless I listen carefully, but I am capable of something as simple as this. And here, your voices are much, much clearer.”
She turned and led them to the Tower.