Cast in Sorrow

“Serian?” Gaedin said, voice low.

“Here.” The perfect neutrality of the servant’s expression had fallen by the wayside. It made Kaylin feel vastly more comfortable. Given the Arcane rune and the creeping shadow, this was stupid, but sometimes she was stupid. “Does this happen frequently where you’re involved?” Serian asked Kaylin, in slightly brittle Elantran.

“Define frequently.”

Gaedin looked at Kaylin with slightly widened eyes. “I now understand why we were given the roles we were given.” He headed down the hall, pausing to cast a spell that meant Kaylin wasn’t tripping over her own feet in the dark, since it was dark here.

It was also uneven, because the ground seemed to be badly carved rock. Kaylin looked up, and saw no hatch, no trapdoor, and no break in the height of what was clearly tunnel. But she hadn’t felt the dislocation—and nausea—that usually accompanied portal transitions.

“You’re sensitive to magical energies,” Gaedin said. He surprised her; he spoke in reasonable, if accented, Elantran.

“Yes.”

“Is there magic here?”

Kaylin frowned. “Yours. Where exactly are we?”

Neither answered.

Squawk. The small dragon alighted on her shoulder. He remained upright and alert, staring ahead into the tunnel. Gaedin’s expression made clear that he hadn’t expected to see the small dragon again anytime soon.

“He’s like a cat,” Kaylin explained. “He pretty much goes where he wants; I don’t think there’s anywhere he can’t reach, and no, it doesn’t seem to matter if there’s magic preventing anyone else from entering. I think he wants us to move.”

“He’s not the only one,” Serian said. “We’ll pick up weapons as we go.”

* * *

If she wondered what weapons could be picked up in a rocky tunnel, the answer was swords. Swords, bracers, and rudimentary armor. They’d been placed in a standing crate in an alcove carved into the rock.

Kaylin.

We’re safe. We’re not in my rooms anymore, but we’re safe. Have you found the Lord of the West March?

We know where he is. It is not possible to join him at the moment.

Who is we?

Corporal Handred is with us.

Frustrated, she looked; she caught a glimpse of Andellen. He was carrying a familiar Barrani Arcanist. There are Ferals near the Lord of the West March. And, Nightshade? I think someone was trying to open a portal to the outlands. In my rooms.

Silence. It was the word outlands that had caused it. He didn’t ask if she was certain; he knew she wasn’t. But he also knew that she was. Something about the magic that was spreading across the hall had reminded her—for reasons she couldn’t pin down—of the door near the no-man’s-land between the fiefs of Nightshade and Tiamaris.

How would that even be possible? she asked.

No answer.

She added it to her list of things that made no sense as she followed the Barrani.

* * *

“Why are you hobbling?” Serian finally asked. Her eyes were Barrani blue. Gaedin’s hadn’t shaded much away from midnight.

“I fell and twisted my ankle. It’ll support my weight.”

“If you’re standing still,” Serian replied. She hadn’t drifted out of Elantran, but Kaylin thought she understood why. It was always easier to say forbidden things in a language that wasn’t your mother tongue.

“How much farther are we going?”

They glanced at each other.

“Are we going to come up somewhere in Lord Lirienne’s hall?”

“You might as well tell her,” Serian said. “It won’t mean much to her anyway.”

“We’re going to the heart,” Gaedin said, in a much grimmer voice than he’d yet used, “of the green.”

Chapter 13

“How are we going to get to the heart of the green by walking in long caves?”

They both stared at her for that little bit too long.

“Does the Lord of the West March know where we’re going?”

“Given the events of this evening, he will.” Gaedin started to walk.

Serian, however, knelt in front of Kaylin. “Get on my back. I will disgrace my family for the next century—in the best case—if you don’t.”

Kaylin climbed on. “How?”

“I’ll knock you out and carry you.”

“Are you allowed to knock the harmoniste out?”

“I believe intent counts.”

“We do not, however, wish to test that theory.” Gaedin’s voice was clipped. The tunnel branched ten yards ahead; he chose the path to the right, moving at a fast jog. Serian, encumbered by Kaylin, paced him.

“I thought the green would be—I don’t know. Grass. Trees.”

“You were not wrong. But the routes to the heart of the green are many; some are ancient.”

“Tunnels?”

“They weren’t carved by my kin,” Serian replied. “They were carved by underground rivers. These tunnels are ancient. They existed before we arrived in the West March. They will exist long after we are gone.”

“Do they exist beneath all the buildings in the West March?”

“They are seldom carefully explored.” The tone of her voice made clear this was all the answer Kaylin’s question was going to get; to underline that, she’d switched to High Barrani. “But it is difficult to reach the tunnels, which is why—in emergencies—they are used. There are reputed to be many entrances; there is only one exit.”

“And if we’re trapped here by the Ferals?”

She shook her head. “The Ferals—as you call them—will find no way to enter these tunnels. There is, however, a danger that we will not be able to leave.”

“And that?”

“The judgment of the green.”

“The judgment of the green?”

“There is a reason the tunnels are generally considered safe. A risk is always taken when one chooses to enter them.”

“Could I find them, if you weren’t here?”

“It is our belief that you could not—but you wear the blood of the green. It is possible that the heart of the green would allow it.”

“And the small dragon?”

Serian said nothing. The dragon squawked.

* * *

Kaylin didn’t like dark enclosed spaces. She particularly disliked the way those spaces narrowed without warning—and with no guarantee they would widen again. During these stretches, Serian would set her down; Gaedin couldn’t move through them quickly, so Kaylin’s hobbling had no consequences.

She was afraid to speak to Nightshade, Lirienne or Severn. Even Ynpharion’s sullen and unending rage had banked; there was no time for hating on Kaylin when he was fighting for his life. Humiliation at her existence