Cast in Sorrow

She knew, then. She knew what she carried. “He’s not dead yet.”

Silence.

She looked down, at the ground, at the darkness. It seeped into the sand, avoiding her boots. Avoiding her shadow, as if it were a danger. It made no protest, threatened no attack. She watched it go.

“Are there others?”

Yes.

“Where?”

It is time for you to join Gaedin and Serian.

“Wait!”

I am not constrained, as you are, by time. What do you require?

“The injury—the names—”

Yes. They are connected. They are the same. Taking the names, however, does not heal the wound. Do you understand?

No, of course she didn’t.

“Can you take me to—take me to Teela?”

No, but I will send you to Teela, Chosen.

* * *

The dragon folded his wing and squawked. Loudly. Kaylin, hands still cupped with care around a name, felt the hair on the back of her neck stand suddenly, sharply, on end.

Light cut the shadows, shattering them; it was bright enough to blind. And blind, given the way her marks were physically burning, was going to be bad. Vision returned with tears; her eyes were burning.

Smoke did that.

“Kitling!”

She could see the blackened, charred ruin of what she assumed had once been wall. Standing beside it was Teela. She was armed; she carried a Barrani war sword. In her hands it looked wrong—Kaylin was used to seeing the long club there. She preferred it.

“What are you doing, you idiot! Don’t just stand there!”

Kaylin blinked tears out of her eyes; she was afraid to move her hands. Teela cursed in rousing Leontine, her voice hitting a pitch of growl that only the Barrani Hawks could. She leaped over the two feet of burning wall and grabbed Kaylin’s left arm.

Kaylin cried out; Teela yanked her arm, dragging her off her feet. Her carefully cupped hands flew apart as she stumbled. Teela’s grip would leave bruises. Her eyes were so blue they looked black in the smoky hall.

Kaylin looked at her empty hands in a panic.

Against the palm of her left, flattened as all of the marks on her body were, was a word. A new mark. It wasn’t gold, the way the rest of her marks now were; it wasn’t the blue they sometimes became. It was red. But it was there. For now, that was all she needed to know.

She drew her daggers as she found her footing. The small dragon squawked. “Don’t you start,” she told him. “Be useful or be quiet. Teela—where in the hells is everyone else?”

“With luck, they’ve evacuated. The Lord’s hall was attacked at several points.”

“Why are you here alone?”

Teela glanced over her shoulder. “I wasn’t,” was her grim reply. Kaylin followed the direction of Teela’s brief glance.

Kaylin! Three voices spoke at once. Only one of them twisted at her; only one caused pain because only one of them knew her name. She shuddered at the force of it, at what it contained, at the visceral fear; it was so strong, so raw, it almost overwhelmed her. She reached up to cover her ears. She only had one free hand, but tried anyway.

Severn! Severn—stop—I’m fine—I’m alive. I’m with Teela. I’m alive, Severn. She inhaled, inhaled, inhaled; exhalation was too short, too shallow.

Teela was cursing up a storm. Kaylin found it calming. Given the color of her eyes, that said something.

Severn—I’m alive. Please—think of kittens or bunnies or something normal. Think of Mallory.

He laughed. It was a wild laugh; she felt it; she was shaking. “This name thing,” she told Teela. “I think I’m beginning to understand why the Barrani fear it so much.”

“I am not going to ask.”

“Let go of my arm. I’m not going to run off into the Ferals—or the fire. Let me check the guards—”

“They’re dead. We were three,” she added, “when the portal opened. We contained five of our enemies in the hall.”

Kaylin looked pointedly at the wall.

Teela nodded; she ran a hand across her eyes. “You are the last person I wanted to see. And—don’t take this the wrong way—but what did you do to the dress?”

Kaylin opened her mouth to answer and Teela caught her by the arm again. “Never mind—it’ll have to wait. The halls aren’t clear, and we cannot stand here talking.”

“Teela—the Consort—”

“I didn’t see her. I’m sorry.”

Nightshade—the Consort?

Tell An’Teela to go west. Cut through the dining hall, avoid its center.

The Consort?

We don’t know.

Lirienne? Where is the Lady?

She is not with us; her chambers were empty.

Did she go to the tunnels? Did she ask for the judgment of the green? Kaylin felt her internal voice rising; if thoughts could squeak, hers would be.

Her chambers were empty. If she is in the heart of the green, we will know, soon. He shut her out then. She began to widen her stride, to pace Teela. The small dragon dug claws into her shoulder and stared straight ahead.

* * *

The geography of the Lord’s hall had changed. It wasn’t the walls, although many of them sported new holes, or rather, it wasn’t the destruction of the walls. It was the patches of floor, wall, and ceiling that looked melted and deformed. “Tell me again why this isn’t shadow?”

“If you have enough breath to ask stupid questions, you have enough breath to run faster,” Teela snapped, and picked up the pace. She paused twice, threading her way back through halls that still had visibly normal—if scarred and scorched—floors. “Where are your servants?”

Kaylin considered bouncing Teela’s previous answer back at the Barrani Hawk, but decided against it—Teela could probably run faster; Kaylin wasn’t so certain she could. She was already short of breath, given the length of the run, and it wasn’t over yet.

But when they reached the dining hall, Kaylin froze in the ruins of the doorway. “Teela!”

Teela could stop on a pin. She did, and pivoted. “What do you see?”

Kaylin was staring at the center of the room that Nightshade had told them to avoid. “It’s a portal,” she said, voice flat.

“Then don’t step in it.”

“It’s anchored in the center, Teela—but it’s not contained there. Can you see the signature of its caster?”

Teela exhaled. Kaylin’s arms were too numb to feel what she assumed they otherwise would; Teela was casting. “I can see one,” Teela said.

“There are two. I recognize them both.”

* * *

Kaylin didn’t take her eyes off the sigil. The first time she had seen it, she had been suspended in the wreckage of her home. The second time, she’d been in the fiefs. This sigil mirrored the second sighting: it was strong, bold—and not small. But it was shadowed by a second signature.