are responsible for their own choices and their own decisions.” He raised his voice as he turned to the Barrani gathered behind the Lord of the West March. “Will you enter the heart of the green?”
Kaylin said, “I will.”
Lord Avonelle said, in the least friendly tone she’d used yet, “You will leave your companion behind.”
The small dragon turned his head toward Lord Avonelle. He met her gaze and then—very deliberately, in Kaylin’s opinion—yawned. “My apologies, Lord Avonelle,” she said, forcing herself to sound as arrogant as Teela in a mood. “But he goes where I go.”
“Then you will not walk the green.”
Lord Barian said, “Lord Avonelle, you are Guardian; your duties are clear. But I am Warden. Lord Kaylin has touched the dreams of Alsanis; she has drawn them into the Vale, where they have not flown for centuries. On both occasions—”
“Both?” The word was sharp.
“On both occasions, her companion occupied the position he now occupies. I do not believe that anyone who can touch the dreams of Alsanis means harm to the green. Had she woken only nightmares, I would abide by your decision. She did not.” Lord Avonelle was silent.
Barian now resumed his formal conversation with Kaylin, his expression grave. “You do not understand what the heart of the green is, but I perceive your determination. Will you accept my guidance, Lord Kaylin?”
“I will.” She paused; a path appeared beneath the feet of the Warden. It led away from him. She started toward it, and was pulled up short by Lirienne’s silent command.
Great.
Teela stepped forward. “I will enter the heart of the green,” she said.
It was Barian’s turn to be silent.
Lord Avonelle moved. Before she could speak, Teela said, in a drawl that the Barrani Hawks would have recognized, “The green will judge.” It was a challenge.
“I am the Guardian of the green.”
“You are. You are not, however, the green.” To Barian, she added, “Warden, I am of the High Court. I have worn the blood of the green. Lord Kaylin is
“An’Teela,” the Lord of the West March said, “perhaps it would be best if you withdraw.”
She ignored him. She ignored everyone except Lord Barian.
For one long moment he met and held her gaze; their eyes were pretty much the same color. “The green,” he said softly, “will judge. Will you take that risk, cousin?”
Teela nodded.
The path just beyond Barian’s feet began to glow.
No one spoke a word. It occurred to Kaylin only then that they were afraid to enter the heart of the green if that heart contained Teela. Barrani never acknowledged fear; they acknowledged danger. She waited to see how it would fall out. The Lord of the West March was already committed.
She was surprised when Ynpharion stepped forward. She had avoided the touch of his thoughts as if they were plague; his anger and his contempt—for both her and himself—was almost crushing if she spent too much time listening. Because of this, she avoided asking him anything, and avoided any attempt to command him; she had only set her will above his in the heart of the Hallionne Orbaranne.
It was therefore his choice, inasmuch as he had a choice. “I will enter the heart of the green and abide by its judgment.”
He was not a senior Lord of the High Court. And what he did, she realized, the others must also be seen to be willing to do. The fact that he felt he had very little to lose was immaterial; the other Lords were not aware of it.
His statement had no effect on the Warden’s people, but oddly, it was not the Warden’s people that he resented.
“The green will judge.”
He joined Kaylin on the path. He did not, in any way, acknowledge her, but he glanced with genuine concern at her arms—her bare arms, the marks on them visible. It wasn’t the marks that concerned him. It was the dress. Kaylin guessed that the dress didn’t normally rearrange itself and lose its sleeves in the process.
To her surprise, he said,
“Close your mouth, kitling,” Teela said, in quiet Elantran. “Or an insect will fly into it and we’ll be subject to your whining for what remains of the evening.” Kaylin closed her mouth and opened it again. “I am
“I don’t understand why they’re worried about you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Can you explain it?”
“No. I understand it, but I am done with explanations for the evening.”
No one else would explain it, either.
Severn stepped forward. “I ask leave to enter the heart of the green.”
Barian’s jaw set for a moment. He had accepted Teela’s request with obvious hesitation, but little surprise; he accepted Severn’s the same way—but more.
Lord Avonelle lifted a hand. “You are mortal,” she said.
“So is the harmoniste. It will not be the first time that I have entered the heart of the green.”
And clearly Lord Avonelle remembered the last time without any fondness.
Barian closed his eyes for a long moment; when he opened them, he said a very cold, “The green will judge.” Kaylin could practically hear what Barian hoped the judgment would be.
“Your corporal has courage,” Teela murmured.
“He’s not lying.”
“No. I guessed that. He is wearing the blades.”
Kaylin nodded.
“They were forged—if such a word can be used—in the heart of the green.”
Kaylin’s eyes widened.
“When the wielder dies, kitling, the blades fall silent. They wake in the heart of the green, if they wake at all. Many have lifted their dull, lifeless chains and many have carried them into the heart of the green. Very, very few have emerged.”
“You mean, the blades remain sleeping?”
“No.”
“Wait—wait—you’re saying Severn took them—”
“Yes. He challenged the family who held the nascent blades in their keeping. He defeated—barely—the man who had not been willing to risk his own life to the judgment.”
“Does the green kill a lot of you?”
Teela actually chuckled. “No. But the green is not fond of weapons, or rather, not the iron we wield. One takes a risk when one carries those blades into the green’s heart. The judgment of the green cannot be bought; it can only barely be understood.”
“The blades—I think the blades were damaged.”
“Yes. In the outlands. He has not used them since.”
“He did.”
“Oh?”
“During the attack on the Lord’s hall, he did.”
“Did you happen to notice, since you weren’t actually there, whether or not they were as effective as they
