"Yes. I remember."
"He was willing to be healed, and I understand why most Barrani aren't, because I healed him. But-"
"You wonder if the cost to either of us will be the same."
Kaylin nodded. "I couldn't wake him unless-"
"He chose to withdraw into himself, to survive. What you saw was a reflection of that. What you see here is not entirely a reflection of me."
Kaylin frowned. She was certain her face was going to get stuck that way. "I don't see how it's a reflection of you at all."
The small dragon squawked.
She felt the Consort take her hand. "Keep your eyes closed, Private Neya." She had switched into spoken Elantran. The musicality of her voice made Kaylin's mother tongue seem rich and textured and nuanced. "What did you see?"
"Eleven ghosts," Kaylin replied. And she realized, as she did, that she could no longer hear raised Barrani voices. She couldn't hear the eagles, either.
"Ghosts."
"It's what I called them. They first appeared as glass statues, but they followed me. I came to find you," Kaylin added, "because you wouldn't wake up."
"I imagine the Lord of the West March has been concerned."
Barrani understatement.
"These ghosts-"
"I'm certain they're meant to be the lost children. I don't understand why they were made of glass-but I'm certain." She hesitated. "What did you see?"
"Nothing as clear as that. The Hallionne is...not dead."
"What-what did you see at the end? When I-when we-put the words into the fountain?"
She heard-of all unexpected things-laughter. "Fountain? You saw a fountain?"
Kaylin felt herself reddening. "It was like the fountain in Lord Lirienne's courtyard. Sort of. But it was-it was almost out of water. You were-it looked like you were singing to it." And as the words left her mouth, she froze. Because it did remind her of that fountain. And because she had touched the water in the real world and she knew that it wasn't ordinary, city water. "What did you see?"
"Water," the Consort replied. "But not as you saw it. Water, land, a vessel. I stood in one of our ancient boats. It was damaged and sinking."
"Are you there now?"
"No, Lord Kaylin. Neither of us is there now."
"And I don't need to know your name. I don't need to call you."
"No. I am not my brother. I feel that I can trust you-but I have learned not to trust my own instincts where the living are concerned. And it is not necessary now."
"Did you-did you see Teela?"
Silence. Kaylin felt cool-blessedly cool-palms against the sides of her face. "Do not speak of that, Kaylin. Do not speak of that to anyone but me."
"And the eleven ghosts?"
"I did not see them, either. It is...safer to speak of them; they are already lost. An'Teela is not."
"I should never have come to the West March. If I hadn't, Teela wouldn't be here."
"I understand why you feel that way," the Consort said softly. "But I see the dreams of Alsanis, and they see us. I won't pretend to understand what it means, but it has been so long. My mother could speak with Alsanis; the eagles once flew to the heart of the High Halls to converse with her. I was a child then, and I listened; it was not considered wise to interrupt my mother. Now they speak with me." Her voice dipped at the end.
"Would you have-would you have woken if I'd minded my own business?"
The Consort laughed again; it was a clear, high sound, and it had no edges. Kaylin leaned into it, and into the hands that still cupped her face. It was so easy to see Barrani women as young: they always looked youthful. But she realized that the Consort was far older than her mother had been when she died, and she took comfort from that; she wasn't sure why.
"No."
"What did the words do?"
"Do you not know? No, of course you don't. You chose two. Why?"
"Because I couldn't just choose one."
"Why those two?"
"Could you read them?"
"In a fashion, and only here."
"I can't-you know I can't-read the words on my skin. I don't even feel like they're mine. But I had to choose, this time."
"You chose well, I think. Were I to choose, I'm not sure I would have made the same choice-but I am not Chosen. One of the two words was heavy; it was hard for you to carry, hard for you to bring here. The other weighed nothing. It is my belief that the heavier word speaks to the heart of Alsanis. It tells him that you understand some essential part of his plight. You are not Alsanis; you will never be Alsanis. At best, you might, in happier times, have been a guest.
"He has no guests now."
"He has the lost children."
"They are not guests. They might have been, once-but they have far outstayed even the most generous definition of hospitality."
"The other word?"
"It, too, speaks to Alsanis-both words did. He could barely hear my voice. But yours-through the words-was clear. It is hope, Kaylin." She had slid from Elantran into Barrani, and Kaylin had followed the seamless transition so easily she couldn't recall when the switch had happened. "I do not know if it is his hope or yours, but I believe he found hope in it.
"It is scant hope," she added softly. "And perhaps it will cause pain; hope oft does when it remains forever beyond our reach. But the hope, he drew into the depths, and the pain, he cast out. Come. I hear my brother, and he is not best pleased."
"Can we just leave?"
"While you are in the West March, you will never entirely leave this place. I am sorry. I did not intend to embroil you in the affairs of the heart of the green."
"But you-"
"Yes. But I am Consort, and I have seen the Lake of Life; it is my gift and my duty to touch the words that wait therein. And, Lord Kaylin, in ignorance, you have also done the same, and you survived.
"Many of my kin did not. Lord of the West March, have you chosen to convene a council meeting in my chambers?"
Kaylin's eyes flew open. She was curled in a crouch beside the Consort's bed, her hand-knuckles white-around the Consort's. She was aware of the glares aimed squarely at the back of her neck, and worked to separate their hands, although the Consort's tightened briefly before she let go.
Kaylin stood and met the Consort's blue eyes. She looked far healthier in real life than she had looked at the end of the not-quite-dream, but she still looked pale and exhausted. Her eyes, however, darkened as she looked at Kaylin.
Kaylin looked down.
There was a small jagged hole in the dress. In size and shape it matched a shard of ice. Kaylin froze, her eyes widening in panic.
"Yes," a voice said, and she looked up. There were now three eagles on the other side of the bed. The one in the middle was doing the talking. "Everything comes to an end, Chosen."
Could it come to an end when I'm not wearing it?
"Endings and beginnings are often intertwined."
As answers went, this one sucked. It had that street-corner dispensed-wisdom tone. Which would be fine, but she was the first mortal to wear this dress, and of course it would take damage while she was doing it. That it hadn't so far was some sort of miracle, and Kaylin did not want to come to the end of miracles while still wearing it. She was almost afraid to turn around.
"Lord Kaylin."
Kaylin blinked as the Consort held out an imperious arm. Kaylin realized that the Consort, at least, was still lying in bed. She immediately bent to offer an arm to help the Consort to her feet. It gave her something to do, other than panic, but it also made her feel almost ashamed of herself; she was hiding behind the Consort, who was physically far frailer at the moment than she was.
She was grateful anyway, because she turned, supporting the Consort's weight, to face the room at large.
The Lord of the West March was at the side of the Warden. Nightshade was standing to the Warden's left, Evarrim to Lirienne's right. Behind them, stood Barrani in the livery of the Lord of the West March; they had not drawn swords, but their eyes were the color of midnight as they met Kaylin's.
No one spoke. They looked at Kaylin, looked at her dress-and at the hole that wasn't actually all that big-and said nothing. They said it really loudly.
"Warden," the Consort said, nodding regally. "You have my gratitude."
He looked genuinely surprised; the blue of his eyes was ringed by a slender, but visible gold.
"You brought the Chosen to my side. I do not think I would have escaped the nightmares of Alsanis, otherwise. Brother," she continued, using the familiar term in a particularly emphatic way, "the nightmares have never been this strong or this cold; nor has he sent five, if indeed the nightmares are sent at all, before now. The Warden could not have known; the nightmares and the dreams of Alsanis have never been under his control."
The Lord of the West March didn't retreat into plausible denial. "I am heartened to know," he told his sister, "that you retain some of the optimism of youth. I have not accused the Warden of deliberate malfeasance. Intent, or its lack, control, or its lack, are irrelevant. You are awake."
"Yes. I will take a light meal in my outer chamber; this is not the room in which I would choose to greet guests." She turned to Kaylin and raised a brow. Kaylin took the hint and accompanied her to the doors, which opened before she reached them. Kaylin would have rushed to get out of her way, as well, given her expression. She didn't entirely understand the Consort, but she understood her expression: she was in charge, at the moment, and she was Not Pleased.