Cast In Deception

“...So, the reason—the real reason—he was so angry at Nightshade...” Kaylin lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

“No. You are not Barrani. The reason he is angry with his brother has been stated truthfully, and often. His brother chose to reject duty and honor by abandoning his bloodline.”

“He was made outcaste, Teela. He didn’t choose it.”

Teela just shook her head and made that you’ll understand when you’re older face that Kaylin hated. “Annarion does like you, and I understand why.” She held up a hand. “I never had any qualms about leaving him in your hands. Or rather, I never worried about what you might do to, or with, him. All of my worry went in the other direction. Annarion is not a fool. Or rather, he understands why the Test exists. He understands that were the Shadow beneath the High Halls to escape, it would be a disaster that would make the previous attack on the High Halls pale to insignificance.”

“But?”

“But, yes. My cohort was sent to the green. It was sent to be transformed. The experiment was not successful in the eyes of the High Court of the time—but it is being argued now that it was a success.”

“By your cohort?”

“Yes. No one likes to feel that they are a failure,” Teela added, with a rueful smile. “Shadow does not hold the same terror for Annarion or Mandoran that it does for you or the rest of my kin.”

“They think they can destroy that Shadow.”

“They think they have a chance.”

“And if they don’t succeed? If, somehow, that Shadow can subvert them?” She turned to Annarion who was still studying his plate as if it fascinated him. “If the Shadow takes your name, you can do things—you can all do things—that no other Barrani can. The Shadow’s released at least one person we know of into the High Court.” She did not mention who, and no one asked. “But if it has you and your cohort as its agents...”

Teela nodded, grim now. “Exactly.”

* * *

Kaylin was technically a Lord of the High Court because she’d inadvertently taken the Test of Name—a test that she couldn’t really fail, except by dying, as she hadn’t had a name at the time. She’d seen what lay at the base of the Tower. It was a Shadow, and in its folds, it held the names of those who had failed. It held the substance of who they had been in life. Kaylin didn’t exactly believe in ghosts, but didn’t have a better word to describe it.

It had shaken her.

It had enraged her.

It had, as so many, many things did, brought her face-to-face with her own insignificance, and her helplessness. There was nothing she could do to disperse that particular Shadow, and nothing she could do to free the trapped.

The creature at the base of the High Halls was the reason the High Halls had been erected in the middle of what was otherwise a Dragon-ruled empire. But death wasn’t the worst of it, for the Barrani. He could also control those he chose to allow to leave the Tower, because he had their names. He knew them.

For years, for centuries, probably for millennia, the Barrani had been feeding their children—or themselves—to that Shadow. And Kaylin even understood why. What the Shadow could not take, what the Shadow could not mislead or distract, it could not alter. Those Barrani had a base immunity to the effects of Shadow.

That base immunity was necessary. She knew what would happen to the city, her city, if the creature was no longer imprisoned. The Dragons might be safe. No one else.

After a long pause, in which Kaylin’s drink practically congealed in her hands, she said, “So...they’re all coming here.”

“Yes. Sedarias now feels that some exploratory testing is required.” Teela’s eyes were marginally less blue; Bellusdeo’s presence had shifted some of the tension out of the lines of her face.

More silence.

“We are aware of the danger—to others—if one of the cohort is subverted or controlled. Annarion was calling out to the Shadows without ever being aware that he was doing so. If he could be made to do so deliberately, the Shadow beneath the High Halls wouldn’t need to be unleashed.

“If this happens, the rest of the cohort could exert influence and possibly counter the control with controls of our own.”

“But to do that some of the cohort would have to remain at a distance.”

Teela nodded. She lifted a long-fingered, pale hand to her brow and massaged her right temple. “At the moment, the argument has devolved into who those people will be, and how much distance is distant enough. For obvious reasons, my friends will stay here if you permit it.”

Now, the disadvantage of having a Dragon join the conversation was made clear. Kaylin fidgeted but chose to speak. “While Bellusdeo is living here, the Emperor keeps a close watch on Helen. There’s no way he’s not going to know if a cohort of Western Barrani descend on my house.”

“That is the other concern.”

“She could just move out for the duration,” Mandoran suggested. “I’m seriously considering it.” He winced. “I can safely live elsewhere. And if Tain’s going to be staying here, I could stay in his old place.”

“Dear,” Helen began.

“Don’t ‘dear’ me. My entire life in the past week and a half has been nothing but argument, screaming argument, icy silence, and general condescension.”

“I laughed at your bad joke yesterday,” Kaylin pointed out.

“Fair enough. I’d shelve that under general condescension myself, but I’m not mortal and don’t always understand how you think. I’m not that fond of the Dragon,” he continued. “But I’d just as soon not fight an angry Emperor for no reason whatsoever.” For Mandoran, this was progress. It implied that there were actual reasons not to fight Dragons. When he’d first arrived that would have been unthinkable.

Bellusdeo exhaled a stream of smoke. Her eyes were now orange, but Kaylin suspected that was due to the mention of the Emperor, and not Mandoran’s commentary. “I am not moving out.”

“I’ve had some time to get used to you,” Mandoran continued, dropping the third person ‘Dragon.’ “You’ve had some time to get used to me. Annarion—well, he’s Annarion. He practically considers you a friend. Not everyone is going to see you the same way.”

Kaylin now understood why Teela was massaging her temple. “You haven’t been defending Bellusdeo to your cohort, have you?”

“Don’t make me lose whatever appetite I have. Of course not.” Food appeared in front of Mandoran. He touched none of it. Kaylin, however, started eating, purely by instinct.

“He doesn’t consider it defending her,” Teela added. She gave the food in front of her the side-eye. There were many things Teela’s childhood had lacked, but food wasn’t one of them. She could ignore it. “The truth, however, is that we like Bellusdeo.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Fine. I like Bellusdeo and Mandoran tolerates her. I understand what the wars cost her. She in turn understands what the wars cost me. Neither of us chose the wars. Neither of us were consulted by those who did.” Teela shrugged. “You saw what Mandoran was like when he first arrived.”

“You think the others will be like him?”

“No. Most of them have better manners. But the substance will be similar. They understand what we see in her. They also understand that the feeling is personal, emotional. They are likely to form their own opinions, but the forming might be, ah, fractious.”

Helen did not appear to be concerned. Since it would be Helen who would keep the consequences of ‘fractious’ to a minimum, Kaylin didn’t share Teela’s anxiety. Well, she did, but not about that.

“None of your cohort went to the Tower in the High Halls.”

“No.”

“None,” Mandoran added, “except Teela. But she did it later. And before you think she’s being selfless or anything, she’s not. Not entirely. She had problems readjusting to life in the Court, and she spent a lot of what remained of her so-called childhood under observation. She was tested constantly; the High Court knew what had happened to the others, and they were waiting to see that power manifest in Teela.

“She wasn’t exactly a pariah, but she was only accepted because her father was a very powerful man. Only those who were certain to survive crossing him made demands of her. You’ve always said the Barrani are arrogant.”

“When they’re breathing, yes.”

“Well, there were a lot of people who felt certain they’d survive. Time moves slowly for Immortals. But it does move. Teela hasn’t been considered an abomination or a subhuman liability for centuries.”

“...And if the cohort arrives in force...”

“She’s too stubborn to abandon us, and we’re too stubborn to push her out.”

Since they knew each other’s True Names, Kaylin doubted that was even possible, but said nothing.

“You are not being fair,” Helen told him. She often spoke to Mandoran as if he were not quite out of childhood. “That is a natural part of her concern, of course, but you are not presenting it well.” To Kaylin, in the face of Teela’s silence, she said, “Teela is considering the political costs because she intends to preserve her cohort.”

“I think we’re capable of preserving ourselves.”

“Yes. So, too, is Lord Nightshade. Teela, however, does not desire that you all be made outcaste. As outcastes, you would naturally be denied the Tower—and the High Halls. As outcastes, no Barrani would be required to lift a finger should outsiders, such as the Dragon Court, be called upon to end your existence. If, over the next few centuries, you prove yourselves to be considerable powers, you will be, as Nightshade is, grudgingly accepted. But the cost of waging that war could be profound.

“And of course, if you are made outcaste, there’s a possibility that Teela will join you. It is not a guarantee. If she was willing to publicly disavow you, she would, given her history in the Court, be excluded from your fate.”

Kaylin had a few thoughts then. Some of them could even be said in public—as long as public involved the Hawks, which was where she had learned most of the ruder words. “Someone has already made the motion.”

Mandoran’s smile, as he lifted his head, was bitter. “How did you guess?”

“Relatives of Annarion’s?”

“And the already outcaste Nightshade, yes.”

“When?”

Mandoran shrugged. “Does it matter?” He made a face at Teela. “She was going to find out anyway.” Teela clearly made her reply in the silence of their name bond; Mandoran couldn’t be bothered. “She’s a Lord of the High Court, Teela. She has access to the Consort. She’s seen the Lake of Life. She’s considered the Consort’s emergency replacement. If she wanted to, she could find this out by taking a walk in the Consort’s garden!”

Teela relented. “Yes, if she wanted. How much of Kaylin’s desire strikes you as political? It wouldn’t occur to her to ask. She’s accepted at Court because she is so firmly outside of the power structure she does nothing to shake it. Start down this road, and she won’t even last the few measly decades allotted her.

“The rest of us have forever. We can wait. Kaylin has forty or fifty years.” Teela stood, her eyes a shade that wasn’t quite blue but was definitely as far from green as it could get. “I’m not asking for any of you to put your lives on hold indefinitely. I’m asking that you wait. A handful of decades isn’t going to change your lives.”

Mandoran glared at Teela. Clearly he’d heard it all before.

“You understand,” Kaylin began, but Teela lifted a hand.

“I understand everything in exhaustive detail. I have had enough notice to form a skeletal defense against the worst of the politics.”

“Sedarias thinks you’d be more successful getting information than Teela has been,” Mandoran told Kaylin. “Because of your position as emergency mother to the Barrani.”

There was a flash of blinding light that made the dining room vanish because Kaylin hadn’t had time to close her eyes.

“Corporal,” Helen said, in a more steely voice.

Teela immediately said, “My apologies, Helen. The spell was not materially harmful.”

“No, I understand that. I know Barrani don’t require sleep, but in my long experience, they require some moments of privacy and peace. Come. I have rooms waiting for you.”

Teela’s shoulder’s sagged. “Affection,” she told Kaylin’s house, “is a curse and a terrible, terrible weakness.”

“So thought the people who built me,” Helen replied serenely. “I do not believe they were correct.”

“No?”

“There are reasons I am less than fully functional. I chose to destroy some parts of myself to preserve the parts I value. It was painful, and there are lingering regrets on the bad days. On the good days, I am grateful that I was sentient enough to be able to make that choice. Come,” she said again.

Teela quietly followed the Avatar of Kaylin’s house.

“And eat, Kaylin,” Helen’s disembodied voice added.

2

Teela, who had come prepared for work, left immediately. Tain, also properly attired, went with her. Kaylin, who had stumbled from sleep into several arguments, wasn’t ready. She headed to her room to start a day that already felt too damn long.

Something political was happening in the High Court, and some of—if not all of—the cohort felt that Kaylin had actual political power there. Of course, one of them was Mandoran, a man not known for his wisdom or caution. She dressed quickly and competently, no longer being half-asleep, and headed out the door, Bellusdeo in tow.

“You’re thinking,” the gold Dragon, in her distinctly human form, said. “I approve.”

“Probably because you can’t actually hear most of it. Don’t eat that,” she added, to the familiar who was gnawing at the stick in her hair. She was lucky that most of the stick was invisible, because it looked distinctly like a puppy chew toy when examined.

The orange in the Dragon’s eyes faded to a more prominent gold. “It’s not Teela you need to worry about. Or,” she added, “me. Although I admit I don’t find it as offensive most of the time. I have some respect for Annarion. I daydream about breathing fire on Mandoran. And I actually like Teela. I’m not concerned about the cohort and its arrival. Helen will keep me safe. Helen,” she added, her lips twitching up at the corners, “will keep them safe if they happen to anger me.”

“I’d bet on you, if that happened.”

“With your own money?”

“You’re getting the hang of this.”

“And you’re not answering the question.” But Bellusdeo’s eyes were a warm gold. “You remind me of one of my sisters.”

“Given what the Arkon has said about them, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“We were children, then. And children are often both beloved and difficult. But it’s not me you should worry about.”

“It’s the Emperor.”

“It is,” Bellusdeo agreed, “the Emperor. At the moment, he and his Court are heavily preoccupied. He trusts your intent, but also credits your uncanny ability to find disaster. I believe he used the equivalent draconic word for ‘epic.’ He will not, of course, demand that you turn over your guests—or that you turn them away. He is cognizant of his own laws, and will not create new ones simply for his own immediate convenience.” She hesitated.

Kaylin understood why. With no intent whatsoever, Annarion had caught the attention of Shadows in the fiefs—and they had crossed the Ablayne to find him. In and of itself that wouldn’t have been a problem; Shadows were the reason the Towers in the fiefs existed. But he had also been somehow loud enough to wake things ancient and slumbering, and they had not been subject to the Tower’s will.

When she finally spoke, her words surprised Kaylin. “I am concerned about the cohort’s arrival.”

“We’re all concerned—”

“As in, I am uncertain that they will survive their travel here.”

Kaylin’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Of all of the possible future disasters she had expected or considered, this wasn’t one.

“I believe it is one of the handful of things Teela fears. Mandoran and Annarion do not, but they are young. Stay out of it. I mean it. I might survive entanglement in Barrani politics—I have before—but you’re not a Dragon. I’m sure it’s the biggest reason that Teela doesn’t want the cohort here. You stick your nose into everything, and these matters are not remotely safe for any of us.”

“I live here.”

“It might have escaped your notice, but so do I, and I fully intend to avoid the cohort as much as possible. And if you keep arguing, you’re going to be late.”

* * *

Clint and Tanner were on the door, which wasn’t strange. Tanner looked alert and Clint looked worried, which was. Neither appeared to be interested in the how-late-will-Kaylin-be betting pool, which was not a good sign. Kaylin slowed as she approached the stairs. “There’s bad news,” she told Bellusdeo.

The Dragon didn’t argue. “Do you think it’s personal bad news, or is there some difficulty in the Halls?”

“Not sure. I don’t think it’s me. I haven’t been late in days, I’m not working on a sensitive case and I also haven’t pissed Margot off, so Marcus isn’t wading through the mountains of paperwork she constantly requires.”

“You could just climb the stairs and enter the Halls. It’s probably faster than speculating, and likely to give you more accurate information.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Kaylin drew breath, heading resolutely toward the doors Clint and Tanner were guarding.

“You look,” Bellusdeo said, out of the corner of her mouth, “as if you’re heading to an execution. Probably your own.”

“It’s Tanner.”

“What about Tanner?”

“He expects real trouble.”

“And Clint?”

“He...expects trouble from or for me.” Kaylin had done nothing wrong—that she knew of—and she was certain Teela hadn’t brought her personal troubles to the Halls of Law.

Was it Moran? Although she was technically still employed as a sergeant, she had been winding down the duties she performed for the Halls and had been training her replacement. Or rather, had been interviewing and browbeating the possible applicants. Her excuse for this—besides her obvious desire to remain in the infirmary—was that the infirmary needed someone who was fully capable of glaring down a Leontine when the Leontine was in an almost murderously foul mood.

To give her credit, Moran was perfectly capable of that.

But most people, Kaylin included, wouldn’t be. Bellusdeo had suggested that Kaylin be considered for the position, pointing out that Kaylin’s ability to heal would be well suited to the job. Moran’s eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. “Absolutely not. The Hawks would walk all over her.” Kaylin attempted to protest, but in truth, she was a private, and when Marcus went all fang-faced, she had to control the visceral urge to dive under the nearest desk.

Moran had faced him down. And to be fair to Moran and her interview process, Kaylin couldn’t think of many people who could, Hawk or no. Bellusdeo could, but she was not seconded to the service. Serving the Halls implied serving the Emperor. And she hadn’t so much warmed to him as cooled enough that his title did not send her into red-eyed Dragon resentment.

“You’re thinking with your mouth open,” Tanner observed, while Kaylin tried to choose smart words.

She shrugged and gave up. “What’s happening inside?”

The two guards exchanged a glance. “It doesn’t concern you directly,” Clint said. Of course it was Clint.

“It’s not Moran, is it?”

“No—but even I’ve come to pity the possible candidates for replacement.”

“I don’t think she wants to leave.”

“Betting?”

Kaylin considered it. “No.”

“And now I know I’m actually dreaming.”

“She’ll go. The thing that made her a good sergeant won’t let her stay in the Halls. I just hope she beats the Aerian Caste Court into decent shape. It might be the first time in Aerian history that we have someone in high places on our side. But if it’s not Moran, what’s happened?”

“There’s been...a bit of a problem.”

“Tanner.”

“Fine. There’s been a lot of a problem.”

Kaylin wanted to shriek.

“We’re not allowed to discuss it,” Clint added. “But you’ll want to step carefully the moment you pass Caitlin’s desk.” He hesitated, his eyes a shade of blue that meant worry, fear. “It’s the Barrani. Ours.”

* * *

Kaylin was silent as she sped through the Halls. Bellusdeo kept easy pace with her, but her eyes had shaded to Dragon orange. Her facial expression hadn’t changed at all. She didn’t consider the Barrani a threat.

But she was worried.

The Barrani Hawks were a small force in and of themselves. Their partners were other Barrani, except on very rare occasion, and usually when a Barrani and a human were partnered, it was Kaylin and Teela. The Barrani could be sent in to break up a drug ring and be expected to both succeed and survive. Humans had a much higher mortality rate.

They had lost one member of the Barrani force during the difficulties with the Aerian Caste Court; one of the Barrani guards had carried an offer from a member of the High Court to one of the human prisoners. That he hadn’t murdered the prisoner was in his favor, and Kaylin, in the end, felt that booting him off the force was too harsh. But Teela considered it necessary. There’d been an argument or two about it, and it hadn’t been perfectly civil, either.

Even the West Room, with its magical silence, couldn’t entirely absorb Leontine cursing. As far as Kaylin was concerned, the Hawk hadn’t broken any laws, and hadn’t disgraced his oaths. He had, however, introduced new problems for the High Halls.

In the end, Teela called Kaylin softhearted, and Marcus called her softheaded. So, they were down another Barrani. They had already lost Barrani Hawks on the night the Barrani ancestors, for want of a better word, had attacked the High Halls. Kaylin had mourned—everyone had—at a distance. The Barrani considered public grief a besetting weakness, to use Caitlin’s words, and no one wanted to offend them. Not when they were so very blue-eyed and grim.

“You’re worried about Teela,” Kaylin said to the gold Dragon, as they jogged down the hall.

“You aren’t?”

“I am, but Teela will rip my throat out if she sees it.”

“Teela is not Leontine.”

“Fine. She’ll snap my neck. Better?”

“Marginally. There are days when I do not understand why the Emperor attempts to force all of his racially diverse population into one office. People are different.” She stopped, shook her head, and added, “And I’m being unfair.”

“You don’t usually worry about that.”

“No, but if you’re correct, it’s better than worrying about Teela.”

* * *

Teela was not at her desk, which wasn’t unusual. Given the absence of Teela, Tain wasn’t at his, either.

But Caitlin was sallow. Not white, because that wasn’t a color she often adopted, but a kind of pale yellow that implied nausea. Since she was human, her eyes were their usual brown, but they seem to have adopted new creases. She did smile when she caught sight of Private Neya and her Dragon friend—the only civilian, for want of a better word, allowed to accompany Kaylin on actual police work.

“Bellusdeo,” Caitlin said. She didn’t rise, and she didn’t address her by stuffy title. “I should warn you—”

“Red-eyed, long-fanged Leontine?”

This added welcome color to Caitlin’s cheeks. “That isn’t the way I would have worded it. But at the moment, I’d suggest Kaylin note the duty roster.”

“Was it changed?”

“No, dear.”

“Then I know where I’m supposed to be.”

“I think she’s implying—heavily—that you would like to be there instead of here. Or possibly that the office would appreciate if I were there, instead of here.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, sounding genuinely apologetic, “but there have been...communication difficulties this morning.” Kaylin stiffened, and seeing this, Caitlin added, “On Moran’s strict orders, the infirmary is, at the moment, off limits. She will allow you through the door if you are bleeding or suffering from a broken limb, and made clear that toes and fingers don’t count.”