Michelle Sagara - Cast in Flame

“Teela, can any of the others understand what Annarion’s trying to say to you?”

Teela failed to hear the question. Since she had far better hearing than Kaylin, Kaylin assumed it was deliberate. She let it go.

Severn, however, answered. “Yes. Teela attempted to have them translate. It did not go well. Mandoran offered to enter the fiefs to find Annarion. She said no.” He was walking in lockstep with Teela, but had taken the lead; it was work to keep it.

Kaylin had spent over half of her life in these streets—but almost never at night, if she’d had any choice at all. Night changed the texture of the map. Fear could change its shape. She glanced at Severn, took a deep breath, and reminded herself that she no longer lived here. The streets of the fief didn’t own her. The fieflord didn’t, either.

She was here with two Hawks. She was here because she’d chosen to cross the bridge; she could cross it again the moment she’d finished what she came to do. The fact that she didn’t fully understand what she had to do here didn’t matter. She was older, stronger, and she had backup.

If Nightshade’s roving thugs attempted to stop her, she’d kill them. If they were Barrani thugs—and he had a few of those—she’d let Teela kill them. She’d help.

The only thing she should be worrying about—besides Annarion and Teela—was the damned entrance to the Castle: it was a portal. The only time portals didn’t make her nauseated to the point of actually throwing up was when Nightshade literally carried her through the magical vortex.

Being sick all over his polished marble floor was probably the smarter choice.

“If you’re worried about the portal,” Teela said, as she finally slowed to a reasonable walk, “don’t be.”

“Easy for you to say. Portals don’t bother you.”

“That’s probably not what she meant,” Severn said, in exactly the wrong tone of voice.

Kaylin had been paying too much attention to the rest of the streets; she’d been listening for Ferals. The streets were not well lit, and in most cases, the light was moonlight. It was a clear night, but even if it hadn’t been, Teela could practically see in the dark.

What Teela was looking at now didn’t require Barrani vision to see; it was a black shape that rose into the sky. New buildings did not just appear in the fief of Nightshade. Even if the fieflord had a sudden change of heart, a building such as this one didn’t appear over the course of a couple of months; it was constructed over a decade.

“Yes,” Kaylin said, although Teela didn’t ask. “It’s new. And it appears to be standing on the only piece of prime real estate in the fief.”

It looked very much like the silhouette of a Tower.

* * *

Within five fief blocks, they confirmed what they’d strongly suspected: the Tower occupied roughly the same amount of space as the Castle that had once stood there. The courtyard—small and decorative, if one counted the empty hanging cages as decoration—near the entrance to Castle Nightshade was also absent. So were the gates. The Barrani who usually oversaw those black gates—the armored guards more suited to Court than to fiefs—hadn’t disappeared with them.

They no longer guarded gates, or a fake portcullis. They stood to either side of doors that seemed, even in moonlight, to be made of polished obsidian.

“This does not look promising,” Teela murmured. “Kitling, are you still in communication with the fieflord?”

Since the mark on her cheek was warm enough it was probably glowing, the answer was obvious. Given Teela’s mood, Kaylin answered anyway. “He’s able to communicate with me.”

“Ask him if this is what he expected the outside of his castle to look like.”

The Tower was tall. It was taller than the Tower in Tiamaris, and looked infinitely less welcoming. The doors were its most striking feature, but the rest of the Tower wasn’t exactly nondescript. It suggested cliff faces on stormy nights; it looked sharp, angular, an almost natural protrusion.

“He’s remarkably silent.”

Tell Lord Teela that I am not certain it is wise to enter the Castle at the present time.

No, thanks.

I make no attempt to mark territory, or to assume command. The Castle is dangerously unstable. Tell her.

Kaylin shook her head emphatically. She’s going in unless you forbid it. Given her mood, I’d be willing to bet she’d try anyway.

A beat of silence followed. Will you caution Lord Severn?

Same problem, except for the mood. If I go, he’s going, and if Teela’s going, I’m going.

You will have to inform my men that I grant permission. At the moment, communications have been unreliable. Nightshade was at least partly amused. They will accept your words as if they were, in this case, my own.

The mark.

Yes. My brother dislikes it intensely; he wishes it removed. I have explained that its existence has saved lives, but he considers the practicalities incidental in this case.

Is he wrong?

You know he is not. When I consider the centuries in which I attempted to find solutions for his absence, I am reminded strongly of the mortal phrase: be careful what you wish for.

Can he take the Castle from you?

That is not my fear.

What are you afraid of?

He did not intend to do what I believe has begun. He is waking the Tower.

You mean he’s talking to—to the equivalent of Tara?

Not deliberately. But something hears him, and I think it is struggling to respond.

Where is Andellen?

Within the Castle.

* * *

Getting permission to enter the doors was perfunctory. The guards took one look at Kaylin’s face, and stood back from them. They weren’t thrilled about Teela’s presence, but said nothing; they were Barrani. These weren’t negotiations. There was no partial obedience.

Severn unwound his weapon chain. The run through the streets hadn’t merited full-on armaments. The unknown might.

In all, things worked about as smoothly as they ever did until it came time to enter the Castle. The doors didn’t budge. Turning to the Barrani on the right, Kaylin said, “Are these doors a portal, like the portcullis used to be?”

“They do not function in the same fashion,” the man replied, his eyes dark in the dim light. “Some can enter; some cannot.”

“Has anyone who entered returned?”

“Their purpose is to reach the side of our Lord; they have no reason to return.”

“That’s a lot of syllables for No.”

“Is there another entrance?” Teela asked.

It was Kaylin who answered. “Yes. But given the disaster of tea in the Keeper’s Garden that’s an absolute last resort. Safe arrival is dependent on a concentrated amount of elemental water, and I’m not taking chances on enraged water unless the alternative is something worse than enraged Dragon.” She walked up to the closed doors and lifted a hand; her palm hovered an inch from its surface. Nothing made her skin ache.

“You were right,” Teela said—in Leontine.

“About what?”

“They are far, far more trouble than you were when you wormed your way into the Hawks.”

“It’s not supposed to be a competition, Teela.”

“At the moment it isn’t—you’re so far behind you couldn’t catch up if you tried.”

“Can Annarion open the door?”

“Annarion doesn’t know the Castle,” Teela replied, grinding her teeth. “He can’t mesh the geography of what I see—and show him—with what he currently sees.”

Which is pretty much what anyone sane expected from a Tower, although Kaylin had had hopes. She exhaled. “All right, small and scrappy. Can you open this?”

The small dragon squawked and launched himself off her shoulders. The Barrani guards didn’t even blink as he hovered just above Kaylin’s head.