Michelle Sagara - Cast in Ruin

Sanabalis paused when Kaylin did, and resumed walking when Kaylin did; he didn’t make any comment or otherwise attempt to interact with people. He did, however, pause in front of the small gardens that seemed to front most of the buildings along the streets.

“It’s Tara’s experiment,” Kaylin told him. These gardens, unlike the usual streetside fare, were entirely practical, and given to the growing of food. “I think some of the more damaged areas now have no buildings; they have larger gardens—small farms, really.”

“And the former occupants?”

“They lost a lot of people before Tiamaris took the Tower. And even if they hadn’t, no one would be stupid enough to complain to the fieflord about something as inconsequential as having a place to live.” She didn’t even attempt to keep the bitterness out of her voice, although she knew that particular fear was no longer warranted in this fief.

“You are wrong,” Sanabalis said. It surprised her.

“People complain to Tiamaris about having no roof over their head?”

“Ah, no. They do, however, speak to the Lady.”

“They have to get through Tiamaris first.”

“No. Apparently, they don’t. She hears them regardless.”

Kaylin smiled. “She’s nowhere near as terrifying as Tiamaris.”

“No, and that is strange to me; Lord Tiamaris has the hearing that all our race are born with. He cannot hear the words the people speak if they are judicious about their location; the Avatar can. She can also see what she chooses to see, if she bends her will toward it, no matter where within the fief’s boundaries it occurs. But she invokes a very strange awe in her people, and very little dread.”

“Have you met Tara?”

“I have.”

“And you don’t understand why she doesn’t terrify them?”

“No, I do not.”

“Was she wearing her gardening clothing?”

“I fail to see what her clothing has to do with the subject at hand.” Dragons.

It was fairly easy to find Tiamaris, when all was said and done. From about two blocks away—where blocks in this case were mostly defined by the charred remnants of what had previously been some of the sturdier buildings in the fief—Kaylin could see the strangers. They didn’t walk the way the rest of the mortals in the fief did; they walked as if they owned, or intended to own, the streets. They bristled with weapons, and although their armor wasn’t in the best of repair, it was a damn sight better than what the rest of the citizens were wearing.

Not that there were any “rest of” anywhere in sight.

If, however, the strangers had suddenly decided to become meek and terrified, it would still have been easy to find Tiamaris at this distance because he was, at the moment, a very large Dragon. She glanced at Sanabalis, who didn’t appear to have noticed.

“Is he always like this?”

“Frequently. The Dragon form is more robust.”

They made their way down the street, which attracted attention. It was easy to see why; they were the only more or less human-looking people who were actually approaching. “Please don’t tell me that they’re serving as his personal guard.”

“It is…an informal guard.”

“Great.” The very large sword that was being lowered in their general direction sure as hells didn’t look informal. It did, however, make Kaylin and Severn stop much farther away than guards or thugs usually did; whatever Barren had managed to scrape off the streets had seldom been an actual threat. She lifted both hands, and turned them, palms out, toward the two men who had lowered their weapons; Severn did the same, although his hands were closer to his weapons. The two eight-foot-tall giants exchanged a few words and started to head toward the taller outline of Tiamaris.

Sanabalis, however, had decided that waiting wasn’t in the cards. He roared. The two men stiffened, which gave Kaylin a moment of petty satisfaction. Tiamaris turned.

“You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” Kaylin muttered.

“If it were even possible, I would still refuse,” Sanabalis replied. “Lord Diarmat would find it…impertinent.”

Tiamaris parted the crowd of armed strangers by turning. They didn’t rush to get out of his way; they moved. For all their apparent bulk, they moved quickly. As they cleared enough street for a Dragon with folded wings, Kaylin saw Tara. Tara was, in fact, wearing her gardening clothes, and Morse was walking by her side, looking about as happy at this new set of guards as Kaylin felt.

Morse had been a lieutenant of the previous fieflord, but she’d made the transition to Tiamaris without much trouble. Beside Tara, she looked like a thug in the true sense of the word; her hair was still a very short, shorn crop, and her face still bore scars from earlier fights. When she smiled at all, it was a grim, black smile, and it usually meant someone was about to die. Or it had meant that. She did smile at Tara, but usually only when she thought no one else was watching.

Tara broke into a wide grin as Kaylin met her eyes. Kaylin knew that Tara could be aware of her presence the instant she set foot on the right side of the Ablayne, but she often seemed so surprised and delighted, the thought held no weight. She broke into a run, which ended with her arms around Kaylin, and Kaylin’s arms around her.

“Lord Sanabalis said you would come,” Tara said when she at last stepped back. “Hello, Corporal Handred.”

Severn also smiled, and it was an unguarded smile. “Lady,” he said, bowing to the fief’s title, and not the name Kaylin had given her.

“Did he explain the difficulty?” Tara asked.

“No. Now that the fief is Tiamaris’s, he feels any information has to come from Tiamaris.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not a Dragon.” She did add when she heard Sanabalis’s snort, “I think it’s something to do with the etiquette of hoard law. Dragons are, by simple human standards, insanely unreasonable about their hoards.”

“Ah. It’s possible that he is entirely correct then.” She turned and smiled at Sanabalis, who appeared unimpressed with Kaylin’s description. “Thank you.”

He bowed to her. He bowed damn low.

Kaylin raised a brow at Morse, and Morse responded with a pure fief shrug. “What’s happening?” Kaylin asked Morse, stepping to the side to add a little distance between them and anyone who might be listening.

“We have three thousand eight-foot-tall people who can’t speak Elantran and have no place to live. They also have no sense of humor.”

“Neither do you.”

“Exactly. Consider the source of the comment.”

Kaylin chuckled—but she also winced. “Sanabalis implied there were other difficulties.”

“That’s how he worded it? ‘Other difficulties’?” Morse spit to one side.

Kaylin frowned. “How bad is it?”

“There are two problems. One, we’re trying to track down, but even the Lady is having some trouble; we’re not sure why.”

“That would be the subtle Shadow that Sanabalis also mentioned?”

“That’s not what we call it, but yeah. You’re here to help with that?”

Kaylin frowned, and then nodded. “That’s my guess. What’s the other problem?”

“The border boundary,” Morse said, voice flat. There were four possible borders that defined the fief of Tiamaris—but only one was a threat to the fief’s existence: the one that faced into the unclaimed shadow that lay in the center of the fiefs.

Kaylin almost froze. “The border’s supposed to be stable.”

“Oh, it’s holding. If it weren’t, we’d all—all—be dead by now. But the freaking Shadow across the fucking border is puking out whatever it can. Nothing small and easily killed, either; apparently the bigger one-offs can survive the ‘transition’ with some of their power intact.”