Cast in Sorrow

Neither Teela’s expression, nor her posture, changed—but she wasn’t happy to be standing so close to the Warden. “I was a child,” she replied.

“Yes. Too young to be tested, and yet, An’Teela, you were.”

“And did I pass the test?” Her smile was bitter.

“You are here. Your enemies are not. You survived the test of the High Halls. You are a Lord of the High Court, and a Lord of the Vale; you are the head of your line. In any way that success is defined by most of our kin, you are successful.”

Funny. To Kaylin, it sounded like a no.

“Will you answer your kyuthe’s question?”

“I have no doubt,” the Barrani Hawk said, in a familiar drawl, “that she will plague me until she gets her answers, one way or another. I am honestly surprised that I have not yet strangled her.”

Barian surprised Kaylin. He laughed. Given the slight lift of Teela’s brows, she wasn’t the only one. “And I am not kyuthe, although we are cousins. I will not depend upon your obvious affection to preserve my life.”

“My apologies, cousin.” Teela’s voice was soft. “You are your mother’s son.”

“Ah, yes. A plague upon ambitious parents, then?”

Teela closed her eyes. “And a plague, of a different kind, upon their children.” She shook herself. “You will bespeak the wards, Warden?”

Barian nodded, withdrawing—as Teela had done—while standing in place. “Will you remain with us?” He spoke, of course, to the eagle.

“We must,” he replied. “For now.”

Kaylin frowned. “You said two of the wards would hear us.”

“Yes.”

“And there are two of you. Is that a coincidence?”

“No, Chosen.”

“Why are the wards inactive?”

“The green is wounded,” the eagles replied.

“The green has been wounded since—” She bit her lip and managed to stop the rest of the words from falling out. She couldn’t stop the pit of her stomach from dropping to somewhere around her knees.

“The wound is bleeding now,” the eagles said. They didn’t mention how or why, for which Kaylin was grateful. “But wounds must bleed if they are to heal; they must be acknowledged.”

“The green isn’t a body.”

“Is it not?” The eagles conferred briefly, and then said, “It loves, Chosen, and it grieves; it breathes and it knows the passage of seasons; it sleeps and it dreams; it bleeds. In its fashion, it knows time, and you have invited time to return.”

“I didn’t—” So much for grateful. Every eye—every eye—was now turned toward her.

The eagles tilted their heads. “Is it not true that there is no change without time?”

“I don’t—”

“And there is no healing without time?”

“Yes, but—”

“Time is therefore essential.”

“Can I finish a sentence?”

“It is time,” they said, ignoring the question. “Time, at last. An’Teela has returned, Chosen, and the blood of the green flows.”

Kaylin turned to the Warden; the Warden was pale, even for a Barrani. He stared—at her. “What have you done?” His voice was a whisper.

Teela, however, laughed. It was a wild, low sound. “This is not the first time I have come to the heart of the green. I have come as harmoniste; I have worn the blood of the green. I have survived—and my presence changed nothing.”

“No, An’Teela. It is neither the first nor the second time. It is, at last, the third. Warden, we will hold the wards. You must ask Lord Kaylin to bespeak the water.”

Kaylin’s eyes widened; she was certain her brows had disappeared permanently into her hairline. “There’s no water here.”

The eagle said, “No. That is why you must bespeak it, Chosen.”

Teela lifted a hand to the bridge of her nose.

Kaylin exhaled and—as quietly as she could—said, “At least you’re not bored.”

“You have almost singlehandedly convinced me that boredom is not the worst of all possible fates.”

“Why is the water necessary? It wasn’t before. If I understand what’s happened here, you’ve held the recitations for, oh, centuries without water.”

They waited for her to make her point. As she felt she’d pretty much made it, she surrendered. “I have no idea how to, as you put it, bespeak the water.”

“You have spoken to the water.”

“I’ve spoken to the water in the courtyard because it happened to be there.” She dropped her hand into the curved, smooth stone basin. “You’ll notice the big difference?”

“If you wish to locate the Lady, you will not hear the answer if it is given. You must wake the water, Chosen.”

The Lord of the West March met Lord Barian’s gaze. When he turned to Kaylin, she saw no rescue from either quarter; she saw hope, and it was painful. “If the dreams of Alsanis believe you are capable of this, there must be a reason for it.”

“I’m only barely able to light a candle. I— If I could summon water, I might—might— be able to do as they ask, but I won’t be able to do that for years. If ever.” She exhaled. “If Evarrim summons water, I might be able to speak with the elemental. It happened with the fire he summoned.”

“Lord Evarrim is gravely injured.” Lirienne had quietly joined them. “Before you ask, there was only one other who could do what you require.“

“Iberrienne.”

“Indeed.”

For obvious reasons, that wasn’t going to cut it. Kaylin turned to the dreams of Alsanis, who were watching her with unflagging intensity. She wondered if they ever blinked. “Activate the wards.” She frowned, and added, “You can activate the wards without the waters, right?”

“Yes, Chosen.”

“Then activate them, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

* * *

Teela’s arms were tightly folded across her chest, a posture she almost never adopted, at least at work. Her eyes were—no surprise—blue. She stood at Kaylin’s side, although she watched as the eagles finally left their Barrani perches. They headed toward the two trees that Kaylin privately thought of as firewood. They landed on the dry, leafless branches and looked down at the gathered Barrani.

And then, of course, they began to sing.

The small dragon perked up, sat up, and opened his mouth as if to join them; he was far too close to Kaylin’s ear. “If you want to sing, do it in the sky. I apparently need my hearing. It’s a job requirement.”

He bit her ear, but surprised her by pushing off her shoulder; he took to the air above the empty basin, and hovered there. The basin was between the two trees. It was, she thought, exactly in the center.

She watched, glancing between the two eagles and their respective perches. She couldn’t see wards or runes, but none of the Barrani appeared too concerned with their absence. As she continued to wait, she discovered why: the trees themselves began to glow. The light was a faint gray—at least to start—and it spread from the eagles to the branches they inhabited. But as it spread from the first branch to the trunk, it grew in brilliance and in color, until the whole of the tree was glowing.

It was a golden glow that was familiar to Kaylin; it was one of the colors her marks took on at unpredictable times.