Cast in Sorrow (Luna Books)(65)

"To the heart of Alsanis," Alsanis's brother replied.

Kaylin developed a healthy respect for the Tower of Tiamaris as she attempted to follow Alsanis's brother. Tara kept the halls wide, the ceilings tall, and the windows even and long. The floors were either stone or wood, and they didn't sag or change texture unexpectedly beneath passing feet. Chunks of roof did not suddenly liquefy and fall on the group like a wet, rotting corpse. Doors did not rear up like frothing, panicked horses and attempt to drop on her visitors, and the landscape wasn't filled with the sounds of screaming, weeping-or laughter that made screaming and weeping sound good in comparison.

There weren't any doors between the hole in the wall-a hole that pretty much vanished from sight when they'd walked what Kaylin estimated was ten yards-and their unseen destination.

But there were wards.

The first time they encountered one, the Consort froze. Kaylin could see her eyes darken to pure midnight. The Warden was likewise on alert-but Nightshade, Iberrienne, Lirienne, and Ynpharion didn't appear to be as upset.

"Lady," the Lord of the West March said. "What has happened?"

It was Kaylin who answered. "There's a ward here."

"I see no ward." Lirienne glanced at Barian, and Barian nodded grimly.

"Calarnenne?"

"I do not see it."

Severn?

I do.

Why?

He didn't answer. And she realized she couldn't force an answer from him because the ownership of the name went in the wrong direction. Not that she would ever have tried. She felt his amusement at both thoughts.

Kaylin really wanted a name to hang on Alsanis's brother. It was hard to say, "hey, you" more than once or twice; Kaylin wasn't always big on manners, but it seemed kind of rude even to her. Absent name, she turned to him. "Can you see the ward?"

He frowned. "This?" He asked her, pointing. "You call it a ward?"

"That's what it looks like, to me. What do you call it?"

"A place," he replied. "A belief. A statement of intent. It is meant to mark significance."

"And if I touch it?"

"Why would you touch it if you do not understand what it is meant to invoke?"

Since this was an intelligent question, Kaylin bit back the short string of Leontine trying to force its way out of her mouth. She turned to Barian, who had, if she understood his position as Warden, more experience with wards than anyone else in the building.

Barian said, "It is as you see it. It is a ward of the green."

"Do you know which one?"

He stared at the ward. "You do not understand," he finally said.

"No, clearly. This is the first time I've been to the West March. It's also hopefully-no offense intended-the last time I'll visit the West March."

"It is not a ward of Alsanis. It is, in structure, in form, and in content, a ward intended for the green. It should not be here."

Kaylin frowned. "The green and Alsanis are connected, though. When Teela and I activated the wards in the green, we were transported to Alsanis."

"Impossible."

"It can't be impossible. The wards are here."

"You were mistaken, Lord Kaylin. The green is not all of one thing or all of another. You misinterpreted what you saw."

She stopped herself from folding her arms across her chest. In Barian's position, she'd probably be dubious. Of course, if she were Barian, she wouldn't find his attitude irritating. "I don't know the green, and I don't know Alsanis. But the nightmares of Alsanis were there, and what I saw was an echo of what the Consort saw when she contained the nightmares themselves.

"We didn't get back to the green until I called for the judgment of the green. Which-and I may have misunderstood Serian-should have been impossible if I was already in the heart of the green.

"And," she continued, raising a third finger to accompany the two she'd lifted while enumerating the previous points, "the Consort was taken by the eagles of Alsanis to the green. We didn't find her in Alsanis. And given the shape of Alsanis at the moment, that's probably a blessing. We found her in the green. The eagles told us the wards were inactive-they couldn't be woken.

"I'm guessing," she finished, pointing at the ward that hovered in the air just beyond them, "that this is why. Somehow, they're here."                       
       
           



       Chapter 24


The Warden was silent for a long moment. He looked, not to Alsanis's brother, but to the Consort. She inclined her head in silence. She did not, however, let go of Kaylin's left arm.

"I don't know the greetings and the blessings-or whatever they're called," Kaylin continued. "But you do. I don't recognize specific wards."

"Lady, with your permission?" Kaylin didn't understand why he'd asked the Consort; the Lord of the West March was in theory the highest ranking person here.

If he'd committed a subtle breach of etiquette, the Consort failed to correct him-and given the affection in which she held her brother, Kaylin assumed that he hadn't. "You are guide, Warden. You recognize the wards."

"Yes. These are meant to mark-and hold-the path to the greenheart. It is possible that they will lead us there, regardless of where we start; the green does not remain in a fixed, geographical state without the wards as anchors." The implication was clear: neither, at the moment, did Alsanis. "It is just as possible that they will lead us to the heart of Alsanis."

"Which is where his brother is leading us now," Kaylin said.

The brother nodded. "You cannot walk the roads I walk. There is nothing within Alsanis that can harm me."

"Not even Alsanis?"

"Not even Alsanis, although that is a matter of desire, not ability. I believe it is understood that you cannot walk as we walk." He hesitated, and then added, "You, Chosen, could. Until your familiar is too large, and the bindings break, he could carry you there."

Lord Barian bowed to the Consort; she stepped to one side of the ward, gently dragging Kaylin with her. The Warden then lifted his palm to the ward's center. He touched it. It had been blue, lines etched in midair with no wall or visible means of support, not that magic actually required any. When it came into contact with his hand, the light shifted, losing color until it was white, but gaining in brightness.

Kaylin narrowed her eyes against that light; it wasn't enough. She looked away, and saw, as she did, that the ground beneath her feet was, in fact, becoming solid and uniform. It didn't coalesce, though; the shifting images, the patches of nearby sky, the puddle of something that resembled green mud, began to fade. They lost color as the ward gained light; they lost substance, almost as if they were sinking through whatever it was that lay beneath them.

And that, to Kaylin's relief, was a path made of oddly shaped, interlocking stones. Clearly it didn't come as a relief to the Warden, but at this point, it didn't come as shock, either. "This is the path into the heart of the green?"

He nodded.

Kaylin had never understood the way the green was connected to the Hallionne; she now knew that the Barrani didn't, either. But it didn't matter; there really was only one way out, and it lay at the heart of Alsanis.

* * *

They followed the path until it began to fade. Every time it did, they encountered a ward, and Lord Barian both touched and invoked it, strengthening the fading path as he did. It wasn't fast, but it didn't induce overwhelming nausea. It did induce stress; she could feel time falling, as if it were sand in an hourglass that couldn't be turned over again.

But she counted the wards, because other than walking, there wasn't much else she could do. Oh, she could look at the no longer small dragon, but he was like that sand. She felt his presence like storm clouds. She was the small fishing vessel too far from port to be guaranteed any safety.

In some storms, there was no guarantee.

When they reached the eleventh ward, the Warden said, "This is the last one."

"You're certain."

"In the green-in the green that I know-it wouldn't be. But this character means the end of the journey. The end of the path." He turned to the Lord of the West March and bowed. "I have served as guide, but the arrival is in your hands, Lord Lirienne. Lord Calarnenne, Teller, Lord Kaylin, harmoniste, be prepared; the rest of us are now simply audience."

The Lord of the West March bowed in turn. He took a step forward on this last leg of the path and paused there. To the left and the right, in the distance, there was horizon; the land-such as it was-was not flat; it was broken in places by things that reminded Kaylin very much of the art that escaped the Oracular Halls. Had it been simple paint or clay, it would have been interesting; it wasn't.

She was certain she would have found it less disturbing if she had seen any signs of life in that landscape. She hadn't. The only living things that appeared to inhabit the Hallionne were the people who walked a path that belonged in the green.

The path continued forward. Nightshade fell in to the left of the Lord of the West March, matching his stride. Kaylin understood that she was meant to occupy the position to his right, and found she didn't want it. The Consort, however, said, "It is not simple ceremony; it is not a matter of etiquette. Nothing in the green is. Come, Lord Kaylin." And she pretty much dragged Kaylin along with her; she walked to Kaylin's left.