Cast In Courtlight (25 page)

High Lord.”

He nodded.

Frustrated, Kaylin slid into Elantran; it was like a second skin, and a damn sight more comfortable than the awkward one she’d been wearing. “Look, I’m not stupid. If you’re both dead, there’s no one to take the gift. Either the castelord does not pass on – or he passes his life to someone else. Deciding who that ‘someone else’ would be would cause a lot of bloodshed. I’m guessing that it would be whoever was left standing. Tell me when I’m wrong, okay?”

The Lord of the West March looked to Andellen. “Is she always this difficult?” he asked, in High Barrani.”

I have only recently been assigned to guard her, but I would say, given the brief experience, that she is usually
more
difficult.”

Kaylin, not a big fan of arrogance, found it hard not to bristle. She did try. She’d come that far. “What I’m trying to say is that Teela
knew
. About the Lord of the Green.”

“He understood the implication,” Andellen told her gently. “And the castelord knew.” The Lord of the West March handed her a glass. She half expected it to snap in her hands. It didn’t.

“Do you think that Anteela could have left the High Court without his knowledge? Do you think that you – with your outcaste Lord – could have passed between the statues without his knowledge?”

“Well, yes, if you must know.”

“Then you fail to understand the castelord. And you fail to understand your compatriot. She
serves
the castelord, Kaylin.”

“She serves the Hawklord.”

“Even that service is at the whim of the Lord of the High Court. I am not aware of all that passed while I was lost,” he added quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. “But I am aware that she must have approached him. I am aware that she must have told him far more of your history than you were willing to surrender at his command. You are not kin,” he added. “And any claim she might make on your behalf – and she made a very deep one, for our kind – was tenuous at best. But she went, and in haste. She returned, in haste. She will not speak to me of what occurred, and this is wise.

“She will not answer my questions, however, and this is not.” His frown was delicate. It was also lovely. “But Anteela could not have been aware of what transpired between the Lord of the Green and I when we last spoke.”

“Who found you?”

He said nothing.

“It must have been Teela. You were with her men.” She set the glass down, untouched. “Who would stand to gain by your deaths?”

“Many, if power is the object.”

“You’re
Barrani
,” she said.

His smile was slightly bitter. “I am aware of what I am,” he told her quietly.

“How many of the High Lords are old enough, and powerful enough, to hold a name like this?”

“None.”

“It can’t be none. It demonstrably can’t be.”

“As you say.” He too set his glass down. “We will take dinner in the Lord’s Circle this eve.”

“Dinner?”

“I believe that is the word. An evening meal.”

“Now?”

“No. In perhaps three hours.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Kaylin. I am surprised that the walls do not evince their comprehension.” He bowed. It was curt, but even so, graceful. “I will return for you at that time. Should you desire it, you have the freedom of the Halls – but you will take your guards with you if you choose to avail yourself of that freedom.”

She did not understand the Barrani. But she hurled the glass at the door he closed as he left.

Andellen waited for the space of a few minutes, staring at the golden liquid that seeped into the flat carpets. The carpets were a dark burgundy, but they were, as she watched the liquid, composed of strands of different material that made a textured surface. That hinted at writing.

“Kaylin Neya,” the Barrani guard said when the room was silent, “that was poorly done.”

She was mutinous. And apologies were superfluous anyway; the Lord of the West March had left her. “He can’t be serious. The Festival begins in two damn days!”

“He knows.”

“And his brother – ”

“He knows, Kaylin. But he is the Lord of the West March, he has his duties.”

“And one of them is
eating?
At a gathering of useless – ”

“Of the powerful,” Andellen said quietly. “Of the Lords of the High Court.” He looked to the doors. “You are his
kyuthe
. Upon you falls the burden of understanding his responsibilities. You are an outsider here. You cannot – ever – understand them fully.

“That is your strength, if it is also your weakness. All of your misadventures will accrue to the Lord of the West March, but because of your nature, they will be lesser crimes. You are merely mortal.”

“You’re saying I can – ”

“You can go where he cannot.” Andellen closed his eyes. “You will be watched because you are Lord Nightshade’s. But after the display in the Lord’s Circle, none will vouchsafe Nightshade’s as the greater claim. He was not, while a Lord of this Court, equal in rank to the Lord of the West March.”

Kaylin barely heard him. She was thinking.

She didn’t understand magic. She accepted the ignorance as the flaw that it was – hers, entirely. She had thought its study impractical and stultifying; she had thought the tomes and treatises presented in bored – and boring – Barrani, beneath her. Separate from her chosen duties. if she was ignorant, she wasn’t without resources. “Where’s Severn?”

Severn was captivated by the damn windows. She wanted to throw something at his head, but with her luck, it would miss, and shattered glass in
these
rooms wasn’t something she could afford. She had to hoard offenses, in case of need. A bit of a temper wasn’t, even by Kaylin’s loose definition, “need.”

Andellen was part of the wall. Severn noticed him, but ignored him, inasmuch as you could ever ignore the armed Barrani at your back. She waited while Severn moved across the display of cut-and-colored glass, touching its surface in something like wonder. The color that filtered light offered changed the features of his face, the color of his uniform, the visual nature of gold; it did not touch his silence.

She counted to ten. And then did it again. After the third time, it had lost what little staying power it had. “Enough of the glass,” she snapped.

He turned instantly.

And she regretted the words. His face was pale, and his mouth was tight with suppressed pain. She walked quickly to him, annoyance evaporating. “Are you hurt?”

He lifted a hand, mirror to her movement, and caught her wrist. The bruised wrist. “I’m not injured,” he told her. “Let it be.”

“What did the castelord do?”

“Nothing, Kaylin.”

“But – ”

“Nothing. You wanted to talk. Talk.”

“Actually, I wanted you to talk.”

He raised a brow.

She swallowed. “About Barrani magic.”

“You might have asked your guard.”

“Or the wall… it would have been more helpful.”

The glimmer of a familiar smile touched his eyes, driving some of the tightness from his face. But the hollows were still there, like geography, a landmark that she could almost recognize but could not touch. “The Barrani are particular about proper form. If you want to get around the forms, you have to learn them. Gods know,” he added, “they make a life of it. They’d be considered honest, otherwise.” He paused. “They are never entirely truthful. Try to remember that.”

“There’s too much I don’t understand,” she told Severn, as if he hadn’t spoken.

He nodded. He knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t speaking about the Barrani, even if the statement was also applicable.

“And there’s too much I can’t explain. As in, not and live.”

“That would be the Barrani code.”

“Code?”

“They like secrets. In general, they preserve them by killing those who know them. I would guess that you’re considered of value.” His voice was light.

Nothing about that tone reached his face. “What can you tell me?”

“There’s something about the Arcanum.”

Severn shrugged. “Where magic of a particular type is involved, there usually is.”

“Why hasn’t the Emperor just destroyed it?”

“The Wolflord has often wondered that.”

“You’ve – you’ve hunted Arcanists?”

He shrugged. “I’ve hunted many things.”

“How did you survive?”

“Luck.”

“Does it rub off?”

He shook his head, the smile creeping up the corners of his mouth. She’d always been able to force a smile out of him. Her arms were aching. She lowered them, wondering what she’d lifted. His frown was more felt than seen. His question was utterly silent. She shook her head.

“Do you suspect the Arcanum, in whatever investigation you aren’t involved in?”

She snorted. “I’d suspect Lord Evarrim of anything illegal that I could remember offhand – and anything I had to lookup, too.”

“He is not the Arcanum.”

“No. He’s a damn Barrani High Lord, and he’s here. And,” she added softly, “he doesn’t want me here.”

“There are many Barrani who find your presence offensive.”

“He’s vocal.”

“He was… brave.”

“Which usually means certain of his power.”

Severn nodded. But something about his expression didn’t mesh with hers.

“You don’t think the Arcanum is involved.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. But I think Lord Evarrim more canny and less obvious. He is interested in
you
, but his interest is more mundane.”

“Mundane?”

“You have power. He knows it. He just doesn’t know how much, or how it can be used.”

She took a breath and began to speak slowly. For Kaylin. “There was an accident at the Arcanum. I think it happened around the time that the Lord of the West March woke up.”

“Backlash?”

“Maybe.” He really had paid attention in his classes. As it was now useful, she tried not to resent the fact.

“What time did the incident occur, exactly?”

“I don’t know.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Kaylin – ”

“I assumed they were connected. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the timing
at
the time. And after – well, there wasn’t a lot of after.”

“I can probably access records,” he said at last. “But not from here. Oh, I
can
, but anything I access will be read.”She nodded. “There’s something here I don’t see clearly.”

“Probably most of it.”

She shrugged. “Most of it’s not important. I can afford not to see those bits.”

Severn nodded. “Have you explored the High Halls?”

“Not… very much.”

“You should. They’re old.”

The last syllable stayed there, playing itself out by vowel and consonant. “All right,” she said quietly. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Andellen peeled himself off the far wall. “The High Halls are not like the Halls of Law. They are not like the Imperial Palace.”

She frowned.

“He means it’s easy to get lost. And very hard to get found.”

“Try living in Castle Nightshade,” she replied.

Andellen’s eyes were ringed with a pale brown. Brown. She grimaced. The Barrani guard held her gaze, and after a moment, he said, “You do not understand the mark you bear.”

“I think we’ve covered that.” She stopped herself from snapping the words.

“Learn, Kaylin. Learn to understand it. Lord Nightshade cannot – will not – stand in the High Court circle again, but he has invested some part of his power in you. It is why you are considered both offense and danger. Were you Barrani, and bore that mark willingly, you would have been dead before you passed the pillars.”

“But because I’m human, and of little consequence – ”

“It is because you are human that you are considered of little consequence. Even if Lord Nightshade worked through you, even if he used the mark against you, you have little power – in the eyes of the High Court – that could threaten the High Halls.”

She looked at her arms.

“Yes,” Andellen said quietly. “They little understand the power you do have. I little understood it, until the night you helped to birth the child.” He paused, and added, “And I was there when you faced the black one.”

“Healing isn’t a threat.”

“Power is a threat. How it is used is almost inconsequential. There is some power that – in theory – can be used for anything. It is considered a weaker power – the will of the person who wields it is of greater consequence than the magic itself. The stronger powers are said to have a will of their own. If you can use them at all, if you can channel them, you use them as primal force. You must know this. You wear the medallion of Lord Sanabalis.

“It is very seldom that anyone is given the ability to channel more than one type of the latter.”

“Which,” Severn said quietly, “she would know, if she could actually pay attention in a classroom.”

“What you did in the fief against the outcaste Dragon, I believe we might have been able to accomplish, working in concert. Lord Nightshade is not without power, and he was not unarmed.”

She remembered his sword. Remember Tiamaris’s reaction to it.

“But what you did in the birthing of the babe was as strong in its fashion. In at least the latter case, you were not even aware of the cost.” He paused, and then turned to Severn. “The backlash at the Arcanum occurred perhaps five minutes after the second noon hour.”

“When did the Lord of the West March awake?”

“Four hours after the backlash.”

Kaylin could feel the ground shift beneath her feet. “But that makes no sense.”

“Not yet. But both of these are true. They are the ‘facts’ of which the Hawks are so fond. It is to make sense of the facts that you’ve come. Is it not what the Hawks do?”

She nodded grimly. “Severn?”

“I’m here to investigate the presence of Lethe,” he replied with a shrug.

It occurred to Kaylin at that precise moment to wonder if there was any. “Good. Let’s go, um, find some.”

If the skirts were less voluminous, she could have ignored them. If her shoes were boots, she would have. She almost tripped twice, tilting on her ankles as they rolled over the unfamiliar, small heels. Severn caught her both times. “I didn’t design them,” he told her when she glared, he was wearing his dress uniform. If she looked at him, rather than at the ground or her feet, she could almost pretend she was strolling through a really, really rich neighborhood, on a useless patrol that would cause no work. And no paperwork.