Cast in Sorrow (Luna Books)(61)

The nightmares, Ynpharion replied, of Alsanis.

Are they flying in a pattern around him?

Yes.

Are they...attacking him?

"They are, Chosen," the eagles said in unison.

She watched as the dragon roared; his voice probably blanketed the entire West March. It wasn't as bad as the breath that followed. It clipped one small shadow. She watched as the shadow's gliding path faltered. The shadows looked exactly like that, to Kaylin-they implied eagle.

What had she done? She'd caught the shadows, intercepted their flight, and pulled the eagles out of their insubstantial darkness. The dragon's breath didn't have the same effect-and why would it? The shadows gained weight, plummeting from the sky. They did not-at this distance-change shape; no birds emerged, and nothing less threatening took to the sky in their place.

Kaylin drew the jacket more tightly around her shoulders.

"Can you command your familiar?" Evarrim said. Kaylin had come, grudgingly, to understand that among the Barrani, Evarrim was considered blunt and to the point. And he was. His machinations, his desires, and his power, were always on display; it was hard to assume that he was in any way friendly.

Kaylin was silent for a long moment. "I've never tried," she finally said.

Evarrim's brow furrowed. Kaylin decided, at this point, that ignorance was less useful than dignity.

"What do you think he is trying to do?"

She was watching the nightmares as they fell from the sky. The dragon's breath seemed almost silver at this distance, seen in moonlight and night sky. "I'm not certain. The building he's flying around-it is a building, isn't it?" It was, to Kaylin's eye, a shadowy apparition.

Silence. Barian finally said, "Yes."

"I don't remember seeing it before."

"No, Chosen. It is the Hallionne Alsanis. It has lain under protective wards for centuries. No visitors to the West March have seen it as you see it now."

"Have you?"

"No. I remember Alsanis. I remember the form Alsanis chose to take."

"Let me guess. It wasn't an edifice of crystal shadow."

"You are correct."

"Did the dragon-"

"The wards are down. Lord Avonelle has ordered an evacuation of the buildings closest to the Hallionne."

Kaylin watched for a few more minutes because the building was taking shape with the passage of time. It was not-yet-the height of the Warden's perch; it was, however, taller than the towers of the Lord's hall. Nor did it seem to be shrinking.

"Lord Barian, with your permission, I would like to approach the Hallionne."

She felt Lirienne's surprise; it was colored with strong disapproval. He did not, however, say no. He observed correct form.

"The recitation will take place in two days," Lord Barian replied. As replies went, it seemed to have missed the question. Kaylin waited.

"It will take place," the eagles said, "sooner."

There was a lot of silence then. Kaylin, who was aware that the Warden was in theory responsible for the recitation, looked at the eagles. "How much sooner?"

"Can you not hear it begin, Chosen? Can you not hear the words?"

"Most of the words I can hear come from me, and I'm having a hard time keeping them on the inside of my mouth." She said this in sharp Elantran.

"The Teller is leaving the domicile," the eagle to the right said.

"He has the Consort and Lord Iberrienne with him," the eagle to the left said.

"I'd like about two days more sleep before I do the job the dress chose me for."

The eagles craned forward so they could look at each other. They then turned their heads toward the Lord of the West March, who was now standing rigidly near the exit. "Lord of the West March. Warden. You cannot reach the greenheart now."

"It is not the appointed time," Barian said.

"There is now only one path to the greenheart," they replied. "And time does not pass predictably. If you can walk the path at all, you will need Teller and harmoniste."

Silence.

"And Lord of the West March, you must choose. The Lady will travel with you."

"I will not take that risk."

"She is the Consort, Lord of the West March. Her duties are not to you; they are not even to the High Lord."

Nightshade, what in the hells are you doing?

We approach the Hallionne, Kaylin. Can you not hear it?

No.

You asked me which of the lost was mine.

She wasn't particularly proud of the question.

You will have your answer. Come. I understand the shape of the story I am meant to tell, but it does not begin here, and if it ends here, it will end in one of two ways. I cannot do what you must do, although I would have taken the blood of the green over the Teller's crown.

It didn't do Teela any good, was Kaylin's surprisingly bitter reply.

No. And in the end, it is unlikely that I would have succeeded where she failed.

Kaylin closed her eyes. She opened them, squaring her shoulders, and turned to face the Lord of the West March. "Will you order your people to remain behind?"

"It is not our way to strip ourselves of strength when we walk into the unknown."

"Lord Barian?"

"The Court of the Vale has far less to prove than the Lords of the High Court-but no, Lord Kaylin. I will order none to remain behind who wish to accompany us."

"And you'll go?"

His smile was very odd. "It has been centuries since I have entered Alsanis. My childhood and all of the duties of my line lie there. I am not Teller, I am Warden, but if the doors open, I will enter them. We had intended to let you sleep; you are mortal. But the green has its own seasons, and the Hallionne, their own rules.

"If I understand the eagles, you are summoned, Lord Kaylin."

* * *

The Lord of the West March took his leave almost before they'd finished speaking; Evarrim lingered. It was to Evarrim that Kaylin went. She offered him a stiff, formal bow. He lifted a black brow in response.

"I will not venture into Alsanis," Evarrim said.

She thought it a small wonder that he had remained on his feet, but kept this to herself. "What do familiars want?" she asked, voice soft. Since she was among Barrani, soft words would carry almost as far as louder ones.

"There are very few extant records of such creatures. They are legend. It is hard to abstract history from legend, and it is my suspicion that it would be irrelevant."

"Why?"

"Because no two of our legendary sorcerers were alike, Lord Kaylin. They amassed power in different ways, and used it to different purposes. We make assumptions based on our own observations of those who have power, but they are not sound assumptions. Power affects the powerful in different ways."

"But the familiars-"

"They are not creatures of this world. Even you must understand that. In legend, they were able to shape the world. The creature as he appeared for most of the journey was not significant, but he was not insignificant; his abilities belied his size. You think of him as a mortal pet."

She didn't deny it.

"He is not. But even you must realize this now."

Kaylin nodded. "He's like an elemental. A summoned elemental. Except I didn't summon him."

"No. That may tell in your favor; I cannot say. In the three stories of which I am personally aware, the familiars were sought. They were not stumbled over as a byproduct of a world-threatening event; the world-threatening event was created to draw them into the world. In that way, they are unlike elementals. We know the name of the fire," he said, his gaze intent, his eyes narrowed. "And perhaps, if we knew the name of the wilderness from which the familiars are drawn and of which they are part, we would be able to summon them in the way we call fire, water, earth, and air. Such studies have been made; none have been successful.

"The fire spoke to you in the outlands. I summoned it; it was my power that kept it leashed and present. But it spoke to you, Lord Kaylin, and without considerable expenditure of power on my part, it was you to whom it answered. I do not know what power summoned the familiar; nor do I know what its intent is. But, Lord Kaylin, absent your presence or my control, I know what fire wants."

So did Kaylin. "The will of the fire," she said quietly, "isn't all one thing or the other. It's complicated."

"So, too, the familiar. But there are currents in the fire's will. Were I at the peak of my power, I might contest your claim; I admit that it has been much in my mind. But I would not do it at this recitation, and I believe if you cannot control what you have been all but guardian to, there will be no recitation. The Teller, the Lord of the West March, and you yourself, will be lost. If we are very lucky, we will not face a similar fate."

"How lucky do you think you'll be?"

"The Barrani seldom believe in luck that we do not make with our own hands." He turned to the Warden. "She must join the Teller."

"Understood."

* * *

The Lord of the West March spoke with the gathered members of the High Court; the conversation-if there was one-was short. They had come to hear the recitation, setting out-in some cases-after news of the presence of a harmoniste reached the High Halls. But they understood what had occurred when Teela was a child, and they saw, as they filed out of the Warden's Perch, what remained in the wake of that disaster.

Lirienne did not demand that they accompany him; he made clear that the Consort intended to enter Alsanis, but he also made clear that the gathered might of High Court and Vale had done nothing to retrieve her on either of the two occasions she had almost been lost. Lord Kaylin, he reminded them, had been solely responsible for her survival on both occasions.