Michelle Sagara (20 page)

And she needed to know what had happened to the Consort.

The syllables snapped into place; she opened her mouth and as she spoke them and they sounded, to her ears, like thunder.

Iberrienne.

Chapter 15

He roared. She felt it as a physical sensation, like an earthquake. The ground beneath her feet broke, cracks appearing in flat stone as the creature turned. His eyes were glowing green—as they had the last time she’d encountered him.

“Kitling!”

Iberrienne turned the whole of his attention toward where Kaylin stood. To her surprise, she saw that the folds of her dress were glowing—and they were almost the same color as Iberrienne’s eyes. It was the most disturbing thing about him now.

What was the blood of the green?

Iberrienne.

His hind-legs hunched; he intended to leap.

“Kaylin,
move!
”

She held her ground; every instinct screamed against it—but no. It wasn’t her instinct; it was his. He fought her. She was surprised when her arm developed sudden gashes, because Iberrienne hadn’t
reached
her. She cried out and raised her arms because she was wearing the damn dress and bleeding on it was bad.

It was unspecified bad. Iberrienne wasn’t. He’d coiled to spring; he even attempted to do it. But she held him—barely—in place; he staggered. The stagger brought his impressive jaws closer to her face.

The small dragon reared; he didn’t breathe and he didn’t leap free of her shoulder.

“Kaylin!”

She heard Teela’s sword strike the Feral. She heard it bounce, heard Teela’s angry Leontine fury. If she survived this, Teela would shake her until her teeth rattled.

But she pushed, and she pushed hard, and it hurt. It burned. Her thoughts spiraled out of her grasp, returning in shreds—she let them go. She held one thing at the center of her thoughts: a name. His name.

She met and held his gaze. The green of his eyes lost illumination, shifting as they drained of light, into blue. Barrani blue. He staggered, dropped belly to floor; his growls became whines. Beyond the fire and fury and killing rage, there was—emptiness.

She thought then that had she tried this on the uncorrupted Lord Iberrienne of the High Court, she would have died. “Teela, don’t! We need him!”

The Barrani Hawk lowered her sword; it appeared to take effort, as if gravity was pulling in the wrong direction. She didn’t sheathe it. She didn’t move. She stood to one side of the shrinking, black creature that was slowly dwindling, the strength of its external shape giving way to the more familiar form and figure of a Barrani man.

He was, unfortunately, naked. Kaylin couldn’t remember Ynpharion being naked.

“What,” Teela said, in a voice that made ice seem warm, “did you do?”

“I took his name,” Kaylin replied evenly. There was blood in her mouth. It was, of course, her own. “Can you do something about my arms?”

Teela’s eyes widened before they narrowed.

“I didn’t cut
myself,
Teela. And so far no blood on the dress.”

The Leontine curse was a comfort. “I do not know how you lived to be twenty.”

“Twenty-one. And I’m not certain mortal blood will count—do you think it will?”

Teela glared her into silence. She didn’t have random bandages on her person; the dining hall had tablecloths. She cut a chunk off one of them, and then tore it into strips.

“Is it clean?” Kaylin asked, looking dubious.

“It’s clean
enough.
”

Kaylin considering reminding Teela that bandages that were too tight were a problem, and decided against it because Iberrienne was stirring. “Grab the other tablecloth,” she said, wincing.

“Why?”

“He’s
naked,
Teela.”

“Yes, I’d noticed. I prefer it to what he was wearing.”

Kaylin flushed.

“You’ve seen far worse in the morgue.”

“None of those were alive.”

“True—but you won’t have to look at his internal organs unless he attempts to do something foolish. I trust a disembowled, dead man who happens to be naked will be less upsetting?” She prodded Iberrienne with her very booted foot.

Kaylin retrieved her daggers. “Are we out of danger?”

“If this creature was responsible for the fires, yes.”

“Lord Iberrienne,” Kaylin said.

He lifted his head. His eyes were blue; they were not, however, the shade she associated with Ynpharion’s eyes whenever they happened to meet hers. He blinked and looked around the dining hall as if seeing it for the first time; had he been human, she would have said he was suffering from shock.

Teela grimaced and sheathed her sword. Bending, she caught him by the upper left arm and yanked him more or less to his feet. He stumbled. “I do not
believe
this. If I have to carry you—”

The words penetrated the fog of his blank expression. “An’Teela?” There was an open expression of confusion on his face. She had never seen a similar one on a Barrani before.

Apparently, neither had Teela. “Kitling, what did you do to him?”

“I told you—I used his name.”

“How much resistance did he put up?”

She held up her cloth-covered arms, and then lowered them. “I don’t think it was resistance that caused this. I mean—I don’t think
I
did it.”

Iberrienne shook himself. Kaylin made her way to a table and pulled off a cloth, which she handed to him while Teela looked—for the first time this evening—faintly amused. Iberrienne took the cloth and draped it around his body. If he looked completely out of it, he was still Barrani; he looked better in a tablecloth than Kaylin looked in anything.

She tried not to resent it.

He wasn’t fighting her. Ynpharion, for the moment, was silent, as well. But he hadn’t been when she’d taken the name, pulling him back to himself. Iberrienne appeared to have no fight in him. Not yet.

“Iberrienne,” she said, her voice gentling for no reason she could put a finger on.

He nodded.

“Lord Iberrienne.”

“Lord...Kaylin.”

“We can’t find the Consort. Do you know where she is?”

He was silent. Kaylin wondered if she’d somehow bungled the naming. The small dragon bit her ear. She glared at him. He glared back.

“Kaylin.”

Kaylin began to lead Iberrienne in the direction Teela was walking. He offered no resistance—and no answers. She listened as she walked. Ynpharion put up a barrier of rage and humiliation every time her thoughts strayed close to his. She could crash through it—she knew that now—but she felt the pain she caused every time she did. He had never, on the other hand, caused physical wounds to appear anywhere on her body.

She wondered if he could.

“You’re Outcaste,” she told him quietly.

He nodded. She might as well have said, “Nice weather we’re having.”

“Teela?”

Teela glanced over her shoulder. “We have two halls. If the instructions you were given are valid, we should clear the halls and reach the courtyard in minutes.”

“I’m not sure the Lord of the West March is in the courtyard.”

Teela exhaled. In Elantran, she said, “As long as we’re not in a building that’s magically trapped and on fire, I’ll consider it a win.” She glanced at Iberrienne and then continued to lead.

“Teela?”

“
What,
kitling? I have had a very long week, and I’m not at my most patient.”

“Is he going to get better?”

Teela’s eyes rounded. “I swear, if you weren’t wearing that damn dress—”

The small dragon hissed.

“Do not even
imagine
that I’m afraid of you.”

* * *

The courtyard was empty; the fountain, however, continued to trickle water into its basin, as if nothing untoward had happened. Since Kaylin could see that doors on either side of the courtyard were off their hinges, she knew that the attackers had passed through the courtyard; they hadn’t chosen to linger.

Reaction had set in; Iberrienne wasn’t the only one who was in shock. Kaylin’s arms felt cold as the heat of the marks deserted them; she felt exhausted. She plunked herself down beside the fountain, her back pressed into the lip of the basin. To her surprise, Iberrienne followed, and sat as she sat.

This was so not what she had expected. “Lord Iberrienne.”

He nodded.

“When did you last see the Consort?” She exhaled, and trailed a hand in the water. It was cool, but it didn’t deepen the chill she felt. After a long pause, she tried again. “Do you know where you are?” She hated to feel anything but resentment and fury toward this man: he’d kidnapped and killed dozens of people. He’d destroyed her home.

She couldn’t find her anger. She couldn’t even find the terrible fear that had kept her moving since she’d heard that the Consort couldn’t be found.

“Kitling.”

“Have you seen anything like this before? It’s like—it’s like lethe.”

“I assure you Lord Iberrienne was unlikely to imbibe lethe.”

“But—it’s like that, isn’t it? Doesn’t it look like that to you?” Lethe was one of the few drugs prized by a small portion of the Barrani populace. It was—to Barrani—highly addictive, and it destroyed their perfect, immortal memory in bits and pieces.

“His eyes are wrong for it,” Teela finally said. “Tell me what you did. Tell me exactly what you did.”

Kaylin told her. “But—his name was malformed. It was—it was melty. Do you think I said it wrong?”

Teela gave her the same scornful look the small dragon had. “You can’t mispronounce a syllable; if you got it wrong, he wouldn’t be Barrani—at least in form. Honestly, kitling, it’s like giving torches to infants. I can’t snap him out of this—I’m tempted to try, but given your current mood, it’ll only upset you.

“If he’s in there, there’s only one person who can find him.”

“No,” a new voice said. “There are two.”

* * *

It was the water’s voice. Teela leaped backward, landing—like a cat—on her feet. Her sword was free of its scabbard.

Kaylin, however, rotated on the bench, tilting her chin toward the column of rippling water that had risen out of the basin when she wasn’t looking. It had the form of a person, but not the features that it sometimes took.

One water arm rose slightly, as if to touch Kaylin’s face.
You are far from home. You are far from kin.

Kaylin nodded. “You are, too.”

I am not confined. I am not contained. And, Kaylin, I am not all one thing or all the other. Things move within me, currents carry experience from one part of me to the other. I change, and I do not change. I grieve, and I do not grieve.

You should not be here, Chosen. But you are here.

The small dragon rose on Kaylin’s shoulder. He squawked, spreading his wings as he leaped into the air. He circled the pillar of water, making as much noise as he’d made all evening.

Kaylin felt the water turn away from her, although nothing had moved. The water suddenly ran cold, numbing her skin after the first shock of contact. She couldn’t hear what the water said, but there were breaks in the small dragon’s noise that might—just might—mean she was replying.

“Are you—are you part of the green?”

I am. I have always been part of the green. When it was a seed, Kaylin, I was the water that contained it.

Most people grew things in the earth. Kaylin kept this to herself.

I protect the green. To reach its heart, you must pass me. Did you not see the divide?

She’d seen a small stream become a torrential river.

Teela’s eyes widened. “Are you responsible for this, kitling?”

“No. She’s the water, Teela.”

“
The
water?”

“The elemental water.”

“An’Teela.”

Teela’s eyes shed a bit of their paleness. “Eldest.”

“The story is not yet told, daughter. And because it is not, the green suffers.”

Teela was silent.

“And you suffer, as well. It is time.” To Kaylin she said, “Find the Lady.”

“Where is she?”

“Find the Lady,” the water repeated, “if you wish to wake Lord Iberrienne.”

“I brought him because I thought
he’d
know where the Lady is.”

“He does,” the water replied. “If you wish to know what he knows, you might find the information—but you might break him in the process.”

“He’s already broken,” Teela reasonably pointed out.

“As are you,” the water replied; Teela’s eyes looked black in the dim light. “And because you have been, he is part of your story now.”

“She’s not broken,” Kaylin said, because Teela said nothing.

“The Lady is not yet dead.” The water warmed in her hand, and for a moment, Kaylin could see a young girl with bruised eyes in the lines the water took as it coalesced and solidified. She lifted Kaylin’s hand, the movement like the strong pull of undercurrent. Her lips folded in a sad smile. “I see you have already begun.” She was looking at Kaylin’s palm.

“Lady—what is the heart of the green?”

“What,” she replied, “is the heart of a Hallionne? You’ve been invited to two such places.”

Kaylin was silent.

“You understand, even if you cannot communicate it. The green is like the water, and unlike the water; it is like the Hallionne and unlike the Hallionne. It is a dream, Kaylin. And a nightmare. I am part of it, and separate from it. The Tha’alaan sleeps; I will not wake it unless you ask.”

Kaylin swallowed and retrieved her hand. She looked at the bloodred mark on her palm. “I don’t understand,” she finally said.

“No. Find the Consort.”

“She was with the dreams of Alsanis.”

The water began to fall, returning to the basin that contained it.

“Teela?”

Teela was rigid with anger. “Do not get involved in this.”

“If I don’t, the Consort will die.”

“The Consort who censured you and publicly humiliated you.” She frowned. “What are you looking at?”

Kaylin almost shoved her hand behind her back, but that would have been as effective as breaking her own arm. In fact, given Teela’s mood, it might be exactly that. She held out her hand, palm up.

Teela glanced at the palm of Kaylin’s hand for a long, long moment. When she spoke her voice was soft. It was the wrong kind of soft. “Where did you get that mark?”

“In the tunnels.”