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       6

      “Kaylin,” Helen repeated, in her most patient tone, “I cannot answer that question.”

      “You can.”

      “I cannot ethically answer that question.”

      “Yes, you can.”

      “Teela is a guest. Teela is not present. If she wishes to share that information with you, she will.”

      “She won’t!”

      “Then perhaps there is a reason for that.”

      “Yes—she thinks I can’t do anything. She still thinks I’m helpless—”

      “She does not think of you as helpless. She has told you so. It is hard for her to make that adjustment, but given your age when she first met you, you must be able to understand that.”

      “She treats me as if—”

      “You are mortal. You are not Barrani. You are not a Dragon. You do not, objectively, have her power. Even were she not trained to the arcane, even were she entirely without magic or magical weapons, you would stand very little chance against her. Her enemies, at the moment, are not mortal.” Helen frowned. “Or perhaps some of them are; I find the politics of your cities confusing at times.”

      “Welcome to my life.” Kaylin looked down at her hands. They were fists. “Bellusdeo thinks Teela might resign.” Kaylin spoke the last word as if it were suicide. Or worse, somehow.

      “And Bellusdeo is speaking as a former ruler and an observer of Barrani, admittedly in a more martial context. She is not speaking with any certainty.”

      “No, she can’t. But you could.”

      “No, Kaylin, I can’t. Were I an entirely different building,” she added, “you could force that information from me, and I would have no choice but to give it to you.”

      “...That’s unfair.”

      “Yes, dear. But it is also fact. Teela is your friend.”

      “And you’re my home!”

      “Yes. But I do not think friendship is best served by using that home as a spy.”

      Kaylin flushed.

      “You are tired and hungry. I think this is possibly one of the only times I’ve seen you refuse food.” It was true. Kaylin could eat anything, at any time, because some of her instincts were still those of a starving, underfed street kid. You didn’t turn your nose up at food when there was never any guarantee of another meal. “In the morning, or perhaps even after you’ve eaten, I think you will see things more clearly.”

      She is correct.

      Kaylin bit back the urge to tell Lord Nightshade to do something anatomically impossible. And then glared at the Avatar of her house. Helen had fairly granular control of incoming communication; if Nightshade was speaking to her, it was because Helen let him. Yes, he was speaking to her because she knew his True Name—but Helen had proven that she could limit or curtail the connection.

      Her house smiled gently.

      You’ve heard.

      I have been speaking with Annarion, yes. I am apprised of all of the complications.

      She ate, because talking to Nightshade did not require her to open her mouth when it was full. She also drank spiced milk. Helen clearly thought Kaylin was in a mood because the milk was warm and apparently contained honey.

      Tell me what you know about Candallar, Kaylin finally said.

      Candallar is a fieflord.

      Okay, let me amend that. Tell me what you know that I don’t.

      This elicited two responses; the first, a sharp annoyance; the second, amusement. You frequently know things I would expect no mortal to know, while being ignorant of things that appear to be common knowledge. If you wish information, you will have to bear with me. Candallar is a fieflord. He is, as I am, outcaste. He had less choice in the designation, and less support within the High Court. He is younger than I, and his fall more recent. You will have noticed, no doubt, that the Consort does not treat me as outcaste.

      Kaylin nodded.

      She is the only Lord of the High Court to have that option. Ah, no. Her brother could, if he desired—

      If you’re talking about the High Lord—as opposed to the Lord of the West March—if her brother wanted to, he could repatriate you. You could be part of the High Court again.

      To do so would imply—strongly—that the customs of the High Court have no weight; that the decisions of the High Court have no consequences. Do not be angry; I am not.

      But...he’s the High Lord.

      She could feel Nightshade’s frustration, and was surprised to feel his exhaustion, as well. The only other time she had felt such exhaustion he’d been injured.

      I am not injured. I am frustrated. He is High Lord, yes. But if An’Teela has not made this clear, his rule is contested, even now. There will be a series of tests, skirmishes if you will, for the remainder of your mortal life—no matter how long you live. His tone implied that he expected that to be a handful of years, if she were lucky. Even to you, this must imply that his power is not absolute. He is not the Eternal Emperor, Kaylin.

      Frustration drove his pause; Kaylin was almost surprised when he continued. When power is not absolute, when it is not guaranteed, alliances are made. They are alliances, often, of convenience, as a majority of alliances are. He is close to his Consort; she does not intrigue against him.

      She’s the Consort!

      Another full silence.

      Nightshade?

      I am...attempting to remember how appallingly little is taught to your Hawks. You will speak with An’Teela about this. Or Annarion. Or Mandoran. They will attempt to correct your appalling ignorance.

      She is the Consort.

      Yes. It grants her immunity until and unless another is found who can fulfill the role she has undertaken. To our knowledge, there is only one who might—but she is entirely unsuitable in every other way. Before you ask, it is you. You are aware that many families push their children into the Test of Name.

      Kaylin nodded.

      Are you further aware that many push their children into the more complicated and far more deadly tests required to become Consort?

      Was she? She thought about it; the Consort had certainly spoken of the tests, the difficulty, the failures.

      They do not do this primarily for the benefit to the race; they do it for political reasons. The Consort is the only position in the High Court that is nonnegotiable. But do not imagine that it is not, in the end, political; everything about the Barrani is. Only those who absent themselves from the Court are outside of the political sphere.

      Like you.

      She felt his bitter smile.

      Like me, yes.

      You think this

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