Cast in Sorrow

She expected confusion; what she got instead was surprise. Surprise and hope. He kept them mostly to himself as he approached the basin into which clear water ran. Kaylin followed, dragging material. She could see nothing in the fountain itself but water.

Severn, however, didn’t have that problem. He reached into those waters, and when he pulled his hands clear again, he was carrying two familiar blades.

“The green,” Lord Barian said, “favors you, Lord Severn. I admit that I was ill-pleased when the blades chose their wielder the first time you made your way to the heart of the green.”

“And now?”

The Warden’s smile was soft; the blue faded from his eyes. He looked up at the bowers of ancient trees; he looked down at the waters of a fountain which was no longer dry. “The green works in mysterious ways. My blessing is not required, but if it brings a measure of peace, you have it; were it not for your willingness to surrender what you had once been given, we would not now be here.”

He turned, then, to Kaylin. “Let the train down, Lord Kaylin. Let it be. It is the green’s way of making clear that you have told the tale the green would tell if it could speak as we speak. The Vale will see. The Vale will know.”

But Kaylin shook her head. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of laughter—Barrani laughter. “I think the Vale would know anyway.”

Chapter 28

Kaylin woke to snoring. This wasn’t unusual, but usually, the snores were hers. Tonight, they belonged to a delicate, translucent dragon. He hadn’t spoken a word since she’d left the green. She’d spoken several—to him, in Leontine, and they’d had the usual effect.

The room itself was large, but it was cool and quiet; it had windows—and these windows, at least, reminded her of home. Of her old home. They weren’t glassed or barred; they opened to air and breeze. The fact that neither of these—air or breeze—appeared to come from the West March in which the building was situated no longer bothered her; she was in a Hallionne, after all, and the Hallionne had a very tenuous sense of place.

The Warden had repeated his offer of hospitality, of course, once they’d left the green. But even offering it, he gazed—with green-eyed longing—at the facade of the Hallionne Alsanis. The Hallionne itself no longer appeared to be made of shadow-mired crystal; nor did it look like a tree, a cliff, a river, or a patch of random, grass-covered dirt. It was, it seemed, made of stone and glass, and its spire—for it had one—ascended to neck- cramping heights.

Which didn’t stop Kaylin from looking.

The Guardian—Lord Avonelle—had been waiting for them. Her eyes were blue and her expression was as friendly as winter. The bitter, killing kind. But she’d offered the Teller and the harmoniste a perfect obeisance. Kaylin privately thought it almost killed her. She then offered them a phrase so archaic Kaylin only barely recognized it as High Barrani.

The Warden’s eyes remained a cautious blue; they didn’t verge into gold. But he was utterly still. Absence of movement often meant surprise, in the Barrani. Of course, it often meant “you’re about to die if you don’t move,” as well.

Lord Avonelle’s eyes were a shade darker when Teela joined the Teller and the harmoniste; they were a color that Kaylin couldn’t describe when the rest of the lost children, save only Terrano, followed. She only barely offered the Consort a correct gesture of respect; Kaylin thought the snub to the Lord of the West March wasn’t actually deliberate. He didn’t seem to care.

He looked—as Barian did—to the south, where a spire Kaylin had never seen stretched toward the clear sky.

“Alsanis.”

* * *

Kaylin couldn’t think of the lost children as children; it was patently ridiculous. They were older than she was, at least chronologically; they were taller, stronger, and more confident. They smiled, yes, and sometimes they laughed outright; they were slightly more demonstrative than most Barrani—but then again, everyone was.

Regardless, they left the green. They offered the Consort the obeisances that Lord Avonelle had given strictly for form’s sake, and they held them—as Kaylin had once done—until she bid them rise. She took her time.

She is cautious, Lirienne said.

Kaylin understood why. She knew she should be as cautious, but it was much harder for her. Teela trusted these people.

We trust, when we are young, Lirienne replied. And when trust is broken—and it is, Kaylin; that is the nature of our kind—we learn caution. We learn wisdom. The gaining is never pleasant. There is not the insignificant fact that they intended to destroy the Lake of Life.

She started to argue, and stopped. It was true. They wouldn’t do it now.

That is my suspicion. It is the Lady’s suspicion, as well. If she is to trust the truth of your supposition, it will take time. The young, he added, are infamously impatient—but these were considered our best and our brightest. They will wait.

Lord Avonelle didn’t bow to the cohort. Her expression made the Consort’s long pause seem friendly and thoughtful in comparison. She did, however, say, “Alsanis offers his hospitality to all who return from the green.”

Sedarias nodded stiffly, a regal, downward tilt of chin. “We have already been thus informed, Guardian, but we appreciate the courtesy you have shown us.” She broke away from the group and approached Nightshade. “Lord Calarnenne.”

“Sedarias.”

“Escort us to Alsanis. If there are to be guests and the halls are to be open, we hope to be better prepared than you have found us.” She held out one commanding arm.

Kaylin felt her jaw drop when he smiled ruefully and accepted what was only barely a request.

She does not do it for his sake, Lirienne said quietly, but for Annarion’s. There will be trouble there, I think, but not yet. Tonight, tomorrow, there will be only celebration, only joy. Joy comes seldom, kyuthe, and where it does, it must be savored.

Kaylin glanced at Avonelle’s shuttered face. She felt Lirienne’s very real laugh in response. The laughter stopped abruptly as Severn stepped into Lord Avonelle’s view. If your Corporal is wise, he will avail himself of Alsanis’s hospitality for the duration of his stay.

He’s been—

She is aware of what he now carries. She is aware that the green has granted him what her kin have been denied, time and again, when they abased themselves in the heart of the green. What she herself has been denied. It is only barely acceptable when she is passed over for a Lord of the Court.

Which, technically, he is.

Yes. Technically. He is not what you are.

No.

This is not the first time he has been granted such a gift; the first time, it was considered theft and trickery.

Because it’s so easy to lie to the green.

He was amused. He kept it entirely off his face, although he spoke as he offered his sister an arm. It is not difficult—at all—to lie to the green; it is difficult to make oneself understood at all.

Kaylin waited for Severn as the Barrani began to drift toward the Hallionne. He shook his head, and carefully removed yards and yards of fabric from the crook of her elbow.