Cast In Courtlight (15 page)

“Good. Demonstrate what your understanding is worth.”

“I was invited to the High Court as a guest.”

“Indeed. An honor seldom granted the mortal. You accompanied the Hawk called Teela.”

She nodded.

“Teela has an interesting background. I would not have thought to find her among the Hawks.”

“She suits the Hawks. She seems out of place at the High Court.”

“Does she?”

Kaylin thought back. But not very far. She shrugged.

“The Lord of the West March was… sleeping. I woke him at Teela’s request.”

“Sleeping?”

She shrugged again. The old Dragon’s eyes did not shade into orange; they were gold. And gold was both power and comfort here. “I thought – I don’t know why, but I thought he’d been poisoned.”

“And you think otherwise now?”

“Poison leaves damage,” she said carefully. “I’ve seen it before. Red – ”

He lifted a hand. “That would be the chief Coroner for the Halls?”

She nodded.

“He is a competent man. Continue.”

“There was no damage. Look – I’ve never had to heal Barrani before. Do you have
any
idea how hard it is to injure a Barrani?”

“Some,” the old Dragon said, with the hint of a smile that was distinctly unpleasant. “I’ve never had to heal a Dragon before, either. Tiamaris wouldn’t let me near him.”

“He is wise,” Sanabalis said with a nod. “And he obviously values you.”

“Everyone I’ve healed has been mortal. I understand mortality. I understand death.”

Sanabalis’s lower lids rose. “And yet you thought the Barrani High Lord had been poisoned.”

“I must have been wrong,” she replied.

“Oh?”

She really hated Dragons. “He was sleeping,” she said firmly. “He woke up.”

“Yet none of his kin were capable of this waking.”

She shrugged. “Not apparently. Or maybe they didn’t want to try. The Barrani are very political that way.”

“I would definitely say his unnatural sleep was a product of their politics, yes. The Lord of the West March has many enemies.”

She snorted. “Who doesn’t?”

“A good question. No man with power is free from enemies. And you, Kaylin, have shown yourself to
be
a power.”

“Someone didn’t want him to wake, that’s for sure.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A door.”

His brow rose.

“It was magically trapped. It kind of exploded.”

“Who touched it?”

“No one.”

“Why?”

“I guess no one wanted to die.”

“Kaylin, I am famed for my patience. But even my patience has limits. Who made it clear that the door was enchanted?”

She shrugged; it was uncomfortable. The eyes she faced were slightly orange, and without the benefit of lower membranes, the orange was striking. She promised herself she would never hate candles again.

“I did.”

He nodded, and the color in his eyes dimmed. “How?”

“I don’t like magic,” she told him, loosening her arms, letting the chair thud back against the floor, and resting her elbows on the tabletop. “Every door that any official hides behind is magical. Even the West Room door is magical.”

“And this door?”

“Magical, as well. But – different magic.”

“Different how?”

“You read my transcripts, right?”

“Yes. You failed Magical Manifestation. Do you want to offer an explanation for that?”

“Too many damn ridiculous words, all of which were more than two syllables long, and all of which meant ‘bad.’”

“Very well. Allow me to accept the inevitable. Put your impressions into your own words, and let me try to make sense of them.”

She shrugged. “No one else could.”

“They were not Dragons.”

“You didn’t meet Mrs. Maise.”

His smile was both thin and genuine. “In fact, I tutored Mrs. Maise.”

“If you tell me you taught her everything she knows – ”

“I will leave that to your imagination. The door, Kaylin.”

“It just felt – wrong. Bad wrong. It had the hand symbol, and it was a normal door. A single door. It was framed by solid damn rock, and there were sconces to either side of the door. They were empty,” she added. Seeing as a Hawk saw. “But the hair on my neck stood on end when we approached it. Teela was dragging me. We didn’t have a lot of time.”

“You stopped her.”

“Severn heard me… Teela wasn’t paying attention. She often doesn’t.”

“She heeded the Corporal’s warning?”

Kaylin nodded. “She threw a halberd at the door. A really fancy, really expensive halberd. The walls down the length of that hall were adorned with weapons – crossed swords, crossed spears, crossed polearms. They had a lot of gem-stones encrusted in stupid places,” she added.

“It was one of the old halls, then.”

“It wasn’t as pretty as the outer ones, no.”

“What happened to the halberd?”

“It shattered. The blade did. The door shattered when it made contact. The frame was – ” She hesitated. “It looked like a standing crater.”

“Not a small amount of power was expended there.”

Kaylin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“And had Teela opened the door?”

“Barrani would have spent weeks picking us off the floor and walls.”

“But Teela didn’t sense it.”

“She’s not a mage.”

“No. She’s not. But neither are you.” He closed his eyes slowly. “You have a strong sensitivity to magic. This is not uncommon. Some people are born with a strong sensitivity to smell. But your sensitivity is different. You knew the spell was inimical.”

“I knew it would kill us.”

“That is what I said.”

Kaylin, however, was frowning. “Teela came straight here,” she said. The frown was joined by narrowed eyes; she straightened slowly. “Her men knew that she was leaving, I think. They were left to guard the Lord of the West March.”

“Just how damn long would it take to cast a spell like that?”

“Without risk? Hours.”

“They didn’t have hours.”

“No,” he replied, his eyes going opaque. “There are two ways in which this could be done, two ways in which I would do it. The first, and probably the less costly, would be to simply trap the door. But if the door was used at all, the victim intended would not be guaranteed to be the one to set it off.

“The second, and more efficient? Set it up hours before. Possibly before the Lord of the West March went to… sleep. Key it to Teela. Or to a human. In the second case, time would be less critical.”

She nodded. “I’d go for the second.”

“As would I. Continue.”

“Could an Imperial mage have done it?”

“Not legally.”

“And the Arcanum?”

“Not legally.”

“Evarrim was
here
,” she said mostly to herself.

“Indeed. He was, I think, surprised to see me.”

“I can’t think why.”

Irony was lost on the mage. Probably at his choice. “No one in the Halls of Law will file a report,” he said quietly, “because there will be no complaint.”

“I could.”

“Yes. You could. Think carefully before you make that decision.”

She nodded. “Sanabalis?”

“Yes?”

“Who exactly
is
the Lord of the West March?”

“If you mean the person, I fear you now know the answer far better than I. But I assume you mean the position.”

“Is it?”

The look he gave her was just shy of incredulity. “It appears,” he said after a long pause, “that I will be responsible for far more of your education than I first expected.”

“Did we even cover that?”

“Apparently not.” His voice was so dry the words should have caught fire by sheer proximity to one another. “He is the younger son of the castelord. The West March covers the stretch of almost uninhabited land that goes toward the mountains beyond the Empire itself. It is one of the ancient Barrani demesnes, and it is seldom open to outsiders.”

She nodded. “The position is usually granted to one of the cousins, but the castelord and his consort have been blessed. The consort bore three children – two sons and one daughter.” He paused, and then added, “Given the span of Barrani years, this will no doubt not impress you… it does not impress me. What does? The fact that all three of their children still live. Usually, by this time, there is only one.”

“By this time?”

His eyes shaded slightly orange; wrong question. Kaylin tried a different one. “This isn’t a bad thing, then.”

“It depends. The surviving son of the castelord has, historically, become the castelord.”

“And he has two.”

“Very good, Kaylin. At least you think like a Hawk.”

“How much difference does that make if the castelord is going to live forever anyway?”

The Dragon’s upper lids closed completely. “Remind me that you failed history.”

“Completely failed it.”

“Then you no doubt slept through the official history of the pre-empire Kingdoms.”

She shrugged. It was a yes shrug.

“Then let me continue to torment myself with your ignorance. The Barrani can in theory live forever. There is, however, a difference between immortal and invulnerable. In the history of the Barrani High Court, I cannot think of a single castelord who has died of old age. I
can
think of three for whom that claim was made.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“If the definition of death by old age involved a severed head, I would be more inclined that way, yes.” He paused for a moment. “In two cases, it is less clear. And perhaps we will see a third.”

“Isn’t that murder?”

“Not among the Barrani.”

“But we have
laws
now, don’t we?”

“We have laws if the Barrani castelord chooses to invoke their use. This would imply two things. The first, that the castelord survived the attempt… the second, that his successor would somehow draw attention to the crime that promoted him.

“And Kaylin, before you show the depth of your alarming ignorance again, let me add that
any
castelord who was fool enough to do that would not be castelord by the time the Law actually
arrived
. I understand that you are attached to the Laws – they seem to be one of the few things you
did
learn – but you must also understand, given your experience, that there are always two sets of laws, beyond those which govern the castes.

“And the caste-law is a separate entity. Were it not for that codicil to the laws which govern Elantra, there would be no Elantra.”

“A third Dragon-Barrani war?”

“A continuation of the second one.”

She nodded.

“But there is something in the codicil,” she added thoughtfully.

“That being?”

“That any being of any race who wishes to be excommunicate can avail themselves of the Laws of the Dragon Emperor.”

“How often has that happened, Kaylin? No, wait, I forget to whom I speak. Let me answer briefly.”

“Never?”

He smiled.

“So… if the second son died, why would it mean war?”

At this, Sanabalis frowned. Everything about his posture changed; it was as if he had suddenly snapped into place and become fully real. “It would not mean war.”

She hated hated hated her big mouth. “Teela told me that if we didn’t – wake him, it would mean war.”

“That is the first bit of interesting information you’ve divulged.” His frown was a bit too wide; it was definitely too deep. “I will leave you now, Kaylin. We will resume our lessons on the morrow.” But his eyes were narrow now, and his expression thoughtful.

On him, it wasn’t an improvement.

When she arrived, the office was emptying; it was the end of the day. Marcus, however, was besieged by paper, and sat at his desk, his familiar growl more of a sensation than a sound. She walked up to his impromptu fortress.

“You’re finished?” he asked, glaring at the dead mirror.

“For today. Apparently.”

“Good. Go home.”

“Marcus – ”

“Home is not here.”

“I just want to ask – ”

“I could swear my mouth moved.”

“This year, this Festival – those diplomatic seals – what do they mean?”

“And when my mouth moved, I believe it gave an order.”

“Do the words West
March
feature prominently on any of those papers?

“His growl was very loud. “You are not to involve yourself in the affairs of the Court. That’s an order, Private.”

“Bit late for that, sir.”

“Kaylin, unless you want to sleep in the brig, go away.”

“Yes, sir.”

She expected to see Severn when she left the Halls of Law.

She saw Barrani guards instead, and they were a vastly less welcome sight. But their armor was armor she recognized, and if some child-part of her mind was telling her to turn around and run back to Marcus, the Hawk-part was easing her hand off her daggers and her whistle.

“Andellen?” she asked as one of the six men broke away from the group and approached her on the steps.

He nodded curtly. “We are your escort for the evening,” he told her. “We are to return with you to Castle Nightshade.” He paused and then added, “We are not to linger here.”

She hesitated. “Has there been difficulty?”

“This close to the Halls of Law, no. But there may well be difficulty before we reach the bridge.”

“How much difficulty?”

“It is not your concern.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said to no one in particular. “I’ll go.”

But the route Andellen chose did not lead to the bridge. It led to the Ablayne’s banks. Kaylin started to ask a question, and let it go; there was a boat moored on those banks. She marveled at the fact that it hadn’t been stolen, until two more Barrani guards appeared. The nature of the incline had provided them cover from prying eyes.

“The bridge is watched,” Andellen told her quietly.

His voice was the stilted voice of the High Courts, but there was music in it, and she loved the sound. She certainly liked it better than the inside of a boat weighed down by eight armored Barrani.

“Who’s watching?”

Andellen did not reply. When he failed, Kaylin realized what had been so strange about the walk: He had answered most of her other questions. He’d
talked
to her.