She was certain that Iberrienne was involved with the lost children. The transformed. But how? The Hallionne Alsanis was forbidden. But Kaylin had seen with her own eyes that the lost children weren't trapped in the Hallionne. They weren't trapped in the outlands, either. Terrano had approached Teela on the forest path, on land that was technically outside of the green.
And of course, the end point of her worries, and the start of them, which kept her mind running on a narrow, visceral track: Why had the lost boy approached Teela? He had been-he had sounded-delighted to see her. Delighted, surprised. If the lost children had freedom of movement-or enough freedom to somehow contact Iberrienne, couldn't they have contacted Teela on their own?
What did they want from Teela?
Why had Teela been part of the nightmare?
Why had she shattered?
She rolled over, and the small dragon smacked her nose with his tail. He generally slept just above her head on a pillow, the back of her neck being unavailable. She might as well give up on sleep. It wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten almost none. She rose, dragged herself back into the dress that was the best armor-against Barrani-she'd ever wear, and headed out of the darkened room.
* * *
She found servants. One man and one woman. They hadn't, from the look of it, been conversing the way she was certain mortal servants would. But they were doing something. Her arms began to itch as she approached them. She was glad, then, that she'd chosen to wear the dress.
She was too tired to care much about tact or appropriate behavior. She wasn't too tired to worry that Teela would be pissed at her. She left the ruder words out, which meant High Barrani as her chosen language of communication. "What are you doing?"
Their eyes were blue. It was a darker shade of blue than the usual; there hadn't been a lot of green in these rooms. The man bowed. "We are securing the room. Mortals sleep."
She really was in a bad mood. Everything made her suspicious. Even the explanation, which on the surface made sense. "No one is going to try to kill me-"
"You do not wear the dress in your sleep, Lord."
She let her arms fall to her side, glancing at the layout of the hall. It was too narrow for sword work; daggers would be fine. But daggers against at least one mage? One Barrani mage? Toss-up.
Teela could-and occasionally did-use magic. She didn't use it often. Kaylin couldn't offhand think of another Barrani Hawk who could. She'd wondered about it at thirteen-and for several years after-because the mages who came to the Halls were pompous men who considered the ability to use magic a gift that set them above the rest of the people who had to work for a living.
Teela, however, was the only Lord to work as a Hawk. The rest of the Hawks-according to Teela-hadn't taken the test of name. Kaylin had assumed, when she'd discovered Teela's patrician background, that that was the difference. Maybe it hadn't been. Maybe it was the test of name that somehow conferred that ability.
The test of name seemed to be a bit of a political sore spot for the denizens of the West March. Kaylin couldn't believe that men and women who had survived it would work as servants.
The small dragon was sitting on her left shoulder, watching the servants. Watching Kaylin, as well. He didn't seem to be concerned. Kaylin forced her hands to relax. These were Lirienne's people. She recognized both of them; they hadn't switched between shifts.
But they weren't normally servants. She was now certain of it. She exhaled. "Were you both born in the West March?"
This caused them to exchange a glance, although they kept all expression off their faces. It was the woman who answered. "Yes."
"Have you ever traveled to the High Court?"
"We have both made that pilgrimage. If you mean to ascertain whether or not we are Lords, we are not."
"Actually, what I want to know is whether or not you're normally servants."
The woman's eyes lightened; the man's darkened. "We serve the Lord of the West March," she said. "Servant has connotations in the High Halls that it does not in the West March. We are in the service of Lord Lirienne. It is he who decides what form that service takes, and where our specific talents are most needed." She glanced at her companion. His eyes had not gotten any greener.
"You spent more time in Elantra than your friend."
"I spent a great deal of time in Elantra," she replied-in Elantran. "I will not ask you to return to your room, but I must warn you, there is some difficulty in the halls at the moment."
Kaylin glanced at the small dragon; he was staring at the door farthest from where the three stood.
"What difficulty?" she asked, reaching uneasily for the daggers she always carried with her, although they weren't in the usual place.
The drawing of the daggers caused the man's eyes to go all the way to midnight-blue. The woman's were the more traditional "this is bad" color with which Kaylin was most familiar.
"You are not to fight in that dress," he said. "Lord Kaylin." The title was clearly afterthought.
"I'm not going to stand here and do nothing if-"
"When," the woman said, as the itchiness of Kaylin's arms became a burning that spread across her entire skin. "Lord Kaylin, please retreat."
But the back of Kaylin's neck was burning as she turned to look down the small hall. "I don't think that's going to help," she said in Elantran. She added a single Leontine phrase. The small dragon's claws did their usual attempt to burrow. He hissed.
Kaylin didn't even tell him not to breathe, because she could now hear the sounds of fighting in the hall beyond her rooms. She was surprised when he lifted his wings, because he didn't attempt to fly; instead, he spread one until it covered her face.
In theory, his body was translucent, not transparent. In theory.
But this wouldn't be the first time she'd looked at the world through the veil of his wings.
"Lord Kaylin?"
"There's magic here," was her flat reply. The woman spoke to the man. The man didn't speak at all for one held breath. When he did, Kaylin didn't catch the word; it was almost-but not quite-inaudible. She was certain it was a useful word-and this was only the second time in her life she'd heard someone Barrani use one.
"Lord Kaylin!" the man shouted.
Kaylin didn't need the warning. Black streaks appeared on the back wall, growing in number as she watched. They looked almost like the streaks fingers put on cold windows in the Halls, but there was something about their shape and the way they appeared that implied clumsy, hurried writing.
She couldn't tell if what she saw was visible to the Barrani; she didn't look back to see their reaction. She didn't have to. The man pushed past her, moving to stand directly in front. The woman stayed where she was.
Lirienne, what's happening?
No answer, but Kaylin could sense his presence. She was afraid to push for more than that because she knew he was fighting.
Nightshade-
We are under attack, he replied. He had no trouble fighting and talking, at least not this way.
Yes, I guessed that-by what? The Ferals?
The black on the wall-or what she could see of the wall through Barrani back-had darkened and spread. It no longer looked like writing; it reached ceiling and spread from the wall to the surface above; she was certain it was doing the same thing on the floor.
Kaylin, what is happening?
Look.
At the moment, it is not feasible.
There's a large, black patch on the wall I'm facing, and it's spreading. There's magic here, and it's growing; it is not a small spell.
You are wearing the blood of the green?
Yes. But...I didn't notice that stopping the forest Ferals. I don't think-
Evarrim is down.
She was silent for a full beat; even her thoughts failed. She found them again, quickly. Where is Teela? Can you see Teela?
She is with me, the Lord of the West March replied. We are fighting our way to you now.
Kaylin shook her head, although he couldn't see it. I don't think you're going to get here in time.
What Nightshade found inadvisable, Lirienne now did. He looked. It was an odd sensation; Nightshade's touch was so unobtrusive she was largely unaware of it. Lirienne's was not; she had to fight the instinctive urge to push him back.
He slid away again. Kaylin almost told his servants that he was on his way, but managed to shut her mouth before stupid words escaped them. They'd only wonder how she knew, and the answer was so not public information.
She reached out, caught the Barrani man by the shoulder, and pulled him back; he allowed it. "What do you see?"
He ignored the question. To the woman, he said, "We take the front door." He lifted his arms, held them, palms out, in front of him as he continued to back down the hall.
The small dragon squawked.
"Yes," Kaylin told him. "Buy us whatever time you can."
He flew. He flew past the Barrani man who'd inserted himself as a shield between Kaylin and whatever was forming in her apartments. She turned toward the Barrani woman and headed away from the growing darkness. She stopped when she reached the door, and grabbed the woman, in much the same way she'd grabbed her partner.
The woman froze instantly.
"Not a good idea," Kaylin said, her voice muted. It was true-she could hear the sounds of fighting. She could hear-and this was worse-the guttural roar of an angry beast, and in the depths of that rumble, syllables. But she could feel magic, and it was the wrong magic; it was too strong, too familiar.
Lirienne! Don't come down the hall-my door is trapped!