Michelle Sagara - Cast in Sorrow

“Do not,” the Lord of the West March said, “attempt to heal the Lady.”

Kaylin hadn’t even considered it, given the way Barrani reacted to healing—although the Consort had given her explicit, public permission. “I wasn’t going to. I just... I don’t like her color. Can I remove the armor, or do you expect her to sleep in it?”

The Lord of the West March glanced at Teela. “If you do not consider it demeaning,” he finally said, “you may tend to the Lady; she will not wake.”

Teela’s eyes were markedly bluer, but she said nothing; she wasn’t exactly a stranger to armor and its care. “Honestly,” she said, as she began to undo buckles, “I cannot take you anywhere, kitling. You will note, for future reference, that I do not even remove my own clothing when I bathe in the High Halls.”

“That’s probably why you don’t live in them,” Kaylin shot back.

Teela’s eyes widened. She laughed, and they also changed color. “Maybe,” she said, in Elantran. “When the Lord of the West March forbids healing, he does so for a reason.”

“I healed him.”

“Indeed, which is why I mention healing at all.” She rose and tendered the Lord of the West March an enviably perfect bow. “It is unusual for the Consort to absorb three,” she told him gravely.

“How unusual?” Kaylin asked. She’d been truthful: she did not think the Lady’s color was healthy.

“It has never, to my knowledge, happened before.”

“What usually happens when the—the black bird things fly? Teela, what are they?”

“Before today? They were considered the nightmares of the Hallionne.”

“And now?”

“You saw the eagles.”

Kaylin nodded as if this made sense.

“The eagles were—long ago—considered the heralds of the Hallionne. They kept the Lord of the West March, and his Warden, apprised of any difficulties within their impressive range. There is a reason the West March has never fallen.”

“But...”

Teela sighed. “I will allow one.”

“The Hallionne is lost. Bertolle said as much, I think.”

“Indeed. He did. But the heralds are here, kitling. And they are here because you chose to interfere. No one of us understands how or why—but you’ve known the Barrani for much of your life. How many of us like to loudly proclaim our own ignorance?” Before Kaylin could reply, she added, “Exactly.” Folding her arms, she continued. “The substantiation of the nightmares began several hundred years ago.”

“The shadow birds.”

“Yes. They are not impervious to physical harm, but it was discovered that they seek a target when they appear. They are not easily detected before they do so; nor can they be entirely contained within the Hallionne. The Hallionne,” she added, “is off-limits.”

“I’m not an idiot, Teela.”

“Of course not. The Consort—and to a much lesser extent, the Lord of the West March—has an affinity for these nightmares.”

“She has an affinity for the Hallionne in general.”

“And your point is?”

Kaylin was hungry, tired, and worried. None of which mattered. “The Lady woke the Hallionne.”

“If I recall correctly, she woke the Hallionne to prevent the possible damage or destruction of your little pet.”

The small dragon hissed.

“Fine. It doesn’t matter why—she could wake the Hallionne.”

“It is the responsibility, in times of war, of the leader of the war band.”

“This isn’t a time of war. She woke the Hallionne. Nightshade helped.”

“An’Teela, is this true?” the Lord of the West March said, which showed that he was paying attention to every word.

Teela exhaled. “Yes. You will forgive Lord Kaylin; she is unfamiliar with the Hallionne.”

“I will, of course, forgive her her ignorance—where it is to be found. I am not entirely certain that she is ignorant in this case. Why do you feel the Lady has an affinity for the Hallionne?” His voice was cooler, and his gaze was all blue.

“I think it’s the other way around. I think the Hallionne have an affinity for the Lady,” Kaylin replied. “Bertolle and Kariastos appeared genuinely fond of her. Kariastos told me she was dearer than—”

“Enough.” The Lord of the West March held out one taut hand. “You will not speak of this again.”

Kaylin blinked. She understood that the Barrani considered any affection—or gods forbid—love they personally felt to be an almost unmentionable weakness, but she’d never encountered the inverse.

Teela chuckled, her eyes the safe green that touched none of the Lord of the West March’s. “Lirienne, you will frighten her. Think like a Hawk, kitling.”

She was. She had no doubt that the Lord of the West March believed her; it was because he believed her that he wanted her to shut up. Which meant the Hallionne did, as she pointed out, have an affinity for the Consort.

“If it makes any difference,” she said, “the Hallionne also seemed fond of—or concerned about—Teela.” It did make a difference—to Teela. Kaylin decided to shut up.

I fear it is late for that, Nightshade said.

“How do you explain the nightmares? If they come at random and every Barrani is more or less equal, what does it mean?”

“We do not explain,” he replied. “She is the Lady. You think of her as the mother of our race, and that is not entirely wrong—but it is not the way she is viewed by the Lords. We protect her with our lives because without her, there will be no future for our people. But we understand that she is, in subtle ways, in ways that cannot be measured by our kind, different. Exalted, Lord Kaylin. Much is expected of her because of the burden she is capable of bearing.”

“Have you ever seen the Lake?”

“No.”

“Oh. Was the Lake created by the same ancients that created the Hallionne?”

No one replied. Remembering Teela’s comment about Barrani and their possible ignorance, she didn’t push the point. Instead, she turned back to the Consort. “I don’t like her color,” she said again. “And if she doesn’t wake by morning, you’re going to have to post guards at the doors to keep me out.” She flashed a grim smile.

“If she does not wake by morning,” the Lord of the West March replied, “I will reconsider the matter.”

Kaylin had one question to ask, and she asked it of Teela as they traveled the hallway, although she knew it was probably unwise. “When the Consort talks of Nightshade, she uses the name Calarnenne.”

“That was his Court name,” Teela replied.

“Yes, but...”

“Did I not tell you I would only allow one but today? If you’re too lazy to even reframe your concern, don’t speak.”

“...I hear his name as if it were his True Name.”

Teela said, “Yes, and...?” as if Kaylin had just said “water is wet.”

“But True Names are dangerous and people don’t like it when they’re spoken, and I don’t want to ask why everyone is using it because I don’t want anyone to know that I know it.”

Teela’s dark brows rose as she stared at Kaylin in bemusement. The laughter that followed filled a hall that was otherwise notable for its utter silence, and made Kaylin feel a good six inches shorter.

“I’m glad you’re finding mortality so funny.”

“Oh, not all mortals, kitling. Just you.”

“That makes it so much better. Could you answer the question so I don’t feel humiliated for no reason?”

“You don’t speak a name. Even when you invoke it, it’s not a simple matter of speech. You call it speech. Others don’t. It’s very like detection of magic. You’re highly sensitive to magic; you can see when a spell’s been cast. You can read the mage’s signature in the shadows of the enchantment.