LITMIR.BIZ

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I could be repatriated, or at least offered the opportunity to return to the High Court. It is what the Consort desires. But there are many who do not desire it, and a handful of those are of significant power.

      If they don’t want you, they don’t want Annarion.

      Indeed.

      And for the same reason? Because he’ll have a legitimate claim to the lands—or whatever—that you once held?

      Claim and legitimacy are polite fictions, in the end. If we have the power, we can embroider any claim and make it, as you say in Elantran, “stick.” The facts of the matter give Annarion an open field; the base arguments against legitimate claim cannot be made, and were he to start a war, it would be less difficult to do so without open censure.

      So...claim of blood gives him early room to maneuver?

      Yes. It is not, of course, legitimacy that is the real concern.

      It’s the regalia and the centuries jailed in the green.

      An’Teela suffered prejudice because she survived—but she was never captive in the Hallionne. She returned from the green—the only child to do so. She is, to our eye, Barrani. She was tested, Kaylin. She was pushed. She was powerful, but had she not had that potential, she would never have been sent to the green.

      Her father desired her to undergo the test of the Lake. She refused. Here a glimmer of amusement adorned his words. She was unwilling to give him anything he desired of her. She had gone to the green under his command.

      And he had killed her mother there. Kaylin exhaled. Your brother’s still angry.

      She almost felt the fieflord’s wince, and liked him better for it. But...in truth, his concern for, his devotion to, his only remaining brother was one of the few things about him she admired. She had never, ever expected to admire anything about the fieflord of Nightshade.

      Annarion’s anger is focused and traditional. He intends to take the Test of Name. I cannot stop him. Discussion will not move him. He is...almost unchanged with the passage of time. It is frustrating.

      If you were reinstated, I think he could be reasoned with. I think if the High Lord offered you your name, your position, if you could reclaim your family line—which he thinks you should never have surrendered—we could keep him here.

      And I have told him that this will, in all probability, happen, but not now. He understands that. But he understands, as well, the necessity of the Towers, of the fiefs. Do you honestly think that I could wage an intelligent war from Castle Nightshade, as you are wont to call it? Ah, I see that you do.

      She was revising that opinion as they spoke. Some of her anger—at Helen, at Teela—had subsided, as it always did.

      “That’s because you’ve eaten something, at least,” Helen said quietly. “I understand your concern. If you were not the type of person who feels such concerns, I am not certain I would be the right home for you. But Kaylin, there are always limits. Your concern, your worry, is yours,” Helen continued, bringing the conversation back to where Kaylin had started it. “Love is not a reasonable excuse to ask me to invade a guest’s privacy. I do not answer Teela’s questions.”

      “She asks you about me?”

      “On occasion, yes. Oh. I’ve surprised you.”

      “...And you don’t answer her questions, either.”

      “I will answer questions that you would answer, if you heard them or remembered them. But everyone who is not Tha’alani has boundaries and a need for privacy. Young children—of any race—will ask questions without regard for privacy; everything is new to them. They have not yet learned the weight of responsibility and the weight of poor decisions. But you are not, as you so often tell most of your friends, a child. Your concern is admirable. But you cannot use concern to justify things that are less so.”

      Kaylin’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.” She exhaled. You’re willing to wait because you know the Towers are necessary.

      Yes. And because I have no great desire to return to the High Court.

      Does your brother know this?

      Perhaps. We have exchanged very heated words in the past month. His loss of control is understandable; he is a child, still. The intervening time has not given him the experience required of the Barrani; it has given him experiences for which the Barrani were not created. Most of us cannot understand them. But I have made clear that finding a fieflord is not as simple as the Test of Name.

      The Test of Name was not simple.

      He does understand Ravellon’s threat. He is willing, grudgingly, to allow that I am not entirely without honor or a sense of duty.

      ...Which means he really can’t be talked out of it. I mean, from Annarion’s perspective, what other options does he have? Kaylin exhaled. Does this have anything to do with Candallar?

      It is likely. If you have met him at this time, it cannot be coincidence. Have you spoken to Teela about this?

      I doubt very much she’ll talk to me.

      She is not the only Lord of the High Court to whom you have access. She is not even the most significant.

      Candallar, Kaylin said, trying to pin the conversation down to the important point, even as it squirmed away.

      I am not Candallar; I am not much in contact with him. I can be, of course; the Towers can communicate with each other. In a grave, grave emergency, they can work as one. There has never been such an emergency, he added. My experience is therefore entirely theoretical. Be that as it may, I can bespeak Candallar without leaving my fief. But I cannot guess at his involvement until I understand more fully the movement within the High Court.

      Speak to the Consort, Kaylin. She will have questions for you. You will have questions for her.

      And Candallar?

      I will speak with Candallar—but I do not expect to glean the information you desire at the speed you desire it. You are much like my brother: everything is an emergency. Everything must be immediate. He is truly young: like a mortal he is afraid of lost time. But unlike a mortal, he has time.

      Would Candallar be in contact with the High Court? I mean, with some of its elements?

      Oh, undoubtedly. But he is not me. I could attend the ceremony in the green with impunity because the green chose me. I could attend because the Consort accepted me as a High Lord. And I could attend because I wield one of The Three.

      Those are meant to kill Dragons.

      Yes. But they can kill any other enemy just as well. I am not hunted as outcaste. This was not always the case. But we are Barrani, not Dragon; power is its own legitimacy.

      And Candallar doesn’t have it.

      She could feel the shrug she couldn’t see. He has survived, was the eventual, noncommittal answer.

      * * *

      Kaylin was awake far earlier than she wanted to be the next morning. She was tired, but not sleepy, the two words being slightly different, and thoughts of Candallar, Teela, the Hawks and the cohort immediately demanded attention. It was a day off, so she couldn’t retreat to the Halls of Law—and the demands of work—to distract herself. She gave up on sleep, got dressed, rearranged the familiar and decided that turnabout was fair play. She therefore headed out of her own room, with its comfortable, creaking floors, into the hallway, and eventually deposited herself outside of Mandoran’s room.

      There, she knocked. Helen didn’t stop her.

      “I’m sleeping.”

      “Liar. Barrani don’t need sleep.”

      “I’m sleeping anyway. It’s better than angst.” Mandoran’s voice was not muffled although a closed door stood between Kaylin’s ears and the Barrani.

      “You talk in your sleep? I guess that shouldn’t

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