She couldn't run down these ones without knocking Lirienne out of the way, which seemed the very definition of career-limiting. He reached ground as she did, and he approached roots that looked very familiar.
"You must lead," he began. But he looked up, over the rounded surface of root.
Kaylin, however, looked down. "Can you see the river here?"
Lirienne frowned. "No, Lord Kaylin."
The Consort caught her arm. She could tell, from the expression on the Consort's face, that she could. It was not a comforting expression.
Kaylin turned to the Lord of the West March; he was climbing. He was climbing with confidence and grace, and he stopped only when he had reached the height of a root that was very close to trunk. Kaylin could see shards of wood and something darker in the air. "Don't touch those," she told him.
He maneuvered carefully around them, heading to the gap in the trunk that Kaylin had caused by touching a lone ward. Nightshade passed Kaylin.
"Lord Kaylin," the Consort said quietly.
Kaylin nodded and followed. She followed with vastly less grace, and had to accept help from both Severn and the Consort to find enough purchase to climb. Climbing was one of her strengths, but she didn't do it with grace-which, come to think, was an apt description of the way she lived the rest of her life, as well.
Lord Barian came up after Kaylin, and he stopped at the gap in the trunk, staring. In the light cast by Nightshade, she could see his expression; she could also see his pallor.
"It was like this when I found it," Kaylin said. She felt compelled to add, "but the damage was concealed by a ward."
"You invoked the ward."
She nodded. "I walked into the gap, and I heard the green."
"You are certain that it was the voice of the green speaking?"
"Yes."
Lord Barian turned to the Consort. "I spent so little time in your city," he told her. "Are all mortals this...surprising?"
"In my limited experience, no."
"That is some small relief. The mortals outnumber us; they always have."
"Kaylin?" the Consort said.
Kaylin nodded and once again entered the breach.
* * *
She stepped into sunshine, and lifted her hands to shade her eyes. The Consort followed; Kaylin could see debris in the folds of the Barrani woman's dress. Ynpharion entered behind them, Iberrienne in tow. The enmity he felt for Iberrienne was gone; it had been replaced by a wordless, nameless pity. Kaylin couldn't blame him; she felt it herself.
Severn pulled up the rear, but she found herself waiting for him, as if afraid he would be sent back, somehow. His eyes widened slightly as they adjusted to sunlight. There was sun here. And there were trees, grass, even the sound of running water. In the distance, trees formed horizon, or as much of it as could be seen.
"It wasn't like this," Kaylin said quietly. "Not the last time. This is what the heart of the green looked like, isn't it?"
He nodded.
But the Consort said softly, "There are shadows, Warden. Can you not hear them? Stay on the path."
The Warden's smile was soft. "It is a gift, Lady. I will gladly walk this path again."
"Even if you understand what occurs at its end?"
"Even then. I can hear the green. Lord Kaylin?"
"I can't hear them," she confessed. "And I'm happy with that."
* * *
The Lord of the West March continued-once he had ascertained that no one had been lost in the passage-to lead. The Consort released Kaylin's arm, and to Kaylin's surprise, scurried ahead to catch up with her brother. He bent his head to listen to whatever she had to say, and to Kaylin's greater surprise, laughed. His laughter was deep and almost musical, and it reminded her that he was capable of mirth.
He has long been a Barrani Lord of whom you might otherwise approve, Nightshade said.
Unlike you?
Very, very unlike me. He is Barrani, of course; he is a significant Lord of the High Court. He is impressive enough that he can display sentiment and its weakness without falling prey to the weakness itself. She felt Nightshade's quiet excitement. He, too, was caught by the familiarity of a green that hadn't been seen for centuries. Maybe it reminded him of youth.
Not of mine, he replied. But yes, Kaylin. You asked me a question I did not choose to answer.
Did you understand what had happened to Iberrienne?
No.
Would you have taken the risks you took if you had?
I fail to understand, he said, after a long pause, why you waste time and effort asking questions to which you know the answer.
I don't know, or I wouldn't ask.
You don't wish to know, Kaylin. You assume the Barrani are all alike-why, given the variance in human behavior, I do not know. We are not mortal. It is immortality that defines us when we leave our youth. Mortality defines you. You never leave your youth.
We do.
No, Kaylin, you do not. You have decades in which to live with the decisions you have made; decades in which to work to keep love and loyalty alive. You change because you age; you choose different lives. You are not bound, in all ways, by the past; you come from it, it informs you, but it does not imprison you.
You do not understand the ways in which we are always caged. It is not just the matter of a name-although you have seen the extents to which some of my people will attempt to escape even that weakness.
She had.
This was not an example of that, not directly. The twelve had barely discovered the joy of the bonds one can make with true names.
Those aren't generally considered joyful, Kaylin replied.
Not by the wise, no. But the wise do not consider love or sentiment a joy, either. They are weary, Kaylin. They have seen the failure of too much.
She frowned. If you're unchanging-if we're defined by change, and you're not...
Yes?
...isn't your love unchanging? Doesn't it last longer?
He offered her an arm, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted it. It is a weakness, he said. You have heard that; it is true. What we love, we love forever; what we love we fear to lose. We are held hostage by affection. No; affection is too slight a word, although it is the one most commonly offered, where love exists. The joy, we remember, but the pain of loss lasts as long, and, as with mortals, as with all who feel emotion, we come to doubt that the joy was worth the pain.
We do not always love our kin. It is not wise. We are often placed in situations in which we must disavow-or kill-them. You despise this.
She often did.
But it is irrelevant. You define us by the politics. If we had that strength, we would define ourselves the same way.
You do.
No, Kaylin, we do not. It is the politics we are willing to share. Come; we are almost there.
Where?
The heart of the green. The true heart. I do not know what you will see. I do not know what is waiting. I have hope, he added softly.
And is that hope worth it?
I do not know. Ask me in a century. Or two.
She glared at the side of his face, and he surprised her. He laughed out loud, the sound just as rich, just as deep, as Lirienne's.
Judging from the expression on Ynpharion's face, it had surprised him, too-but Iberrienne's smile was just as wide as Nightshade's, and just as excited. He wasn't skipping-that would have been enough to assure Kaylin she was dreaming-but he was practically beaming. She'd worked alongside the Barrani for almost eight years, and she'd never seen anything like it.
It broke her heart.
Don't see them as children, Severn warned her.
I don't.
But...she almost did. She could see the youth in them; it seemed so fragile, it made her want to hold her breath. Hope was pain. She knew that. But for moments at a time, before it broke, it was joy.
And it was with joy that they walked this path, in something that seemed almost like a city garden, and came, at last, to the heart of the green.
* * *
Kaylin recognized the two trees that stood there, although they had almost nothing in common with the two husks she'd seen; they were taller, fuller; they were in blossom, and in this case, blossom meant flowers. The flowers were a delicate shade of pink at the edge; the hearts implied something darker and brighter. Petals were strewn, almost artistically, across the grass in the shade beneath their bowers.
But she was certain they were the trees she and Teela had touched when they'd arrived in a barren, desert version of this place.
It was the fountain that caught her attention; there was-no surprise-water in its basin. The water, however, was not clear. She almost stumbled, but Severn slid an arm around her shoulders, because-of course-he'd seen what she'd seen, and seen it first.
The basin was full of not water, but blood.
Chapter 25
The blood set a different tone. The Lord of the West March lifted a hand in warning, and they stopped; only the Warden ignored his subvocal command. Only the Warden had that right. He walked to the fountain's basin and stopped there; he didn't touch the water. Kaylin thought he was making certain that nothing from the fountain reached the ground itself, and given the various warnings she'd been given, that made sense.
But she approached the fountain, as well, once Lirienne had lowered his hand. So did the Consort. "Be cautious," the Consort said quietly.
Kaylin nodded. She didn't attempt to touch the liquid in the basin, but she examined it more closely. At length, she turned to the Barrani. "It's not blood," she told them. "I mean, there's blood in it, but the water is here."