Читать книгу Cast In Honour - Michelle Sagara - Страница 14

Chapter 8

Kaylin looked across this new room to the pool at its center. Moran had removed her shoes, and her feet dangled in what did not look to be particularly warm water.

Kaylin had seen the natural baths the Barrani liked, and this resembled them; there was rock and water. But the water was also open to the sky and the elements; the shape of the basin implied that rain actually fell here. So not Kaylin’s idea of a real room.

“This,” Moran said quietly, “reminds me of my childhood.”

“The other room reminds me of mine,” Kaylin replied. “But not entirely in a good way. I think I like actual walls.”

“The Barrani influence everything,” Moran continued, without looking up. “My grandmother lived in quarters very much like these.”

“You were fond of her,” Helen said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. She represented sanity and safety to me in my early childhood. She was considered far too old-fashioned, too outdated; she lived like a—commoner? I think that’s the word.”

“So?” Kaylin said. “I live like a commoner.”

Moran nodded. “And yet you are Chosen and you number, among your friends, Barrani High Lords and Dragons. And a very cranky Leontine sergeant and his slightly more scary wife. My grandmother had none of these things. She had birth and bloodlines, but after the death of her husband, she leveraged neither. She moved out of the Reach and into the antiquated quarters she had known as a girl.

“When things became...difficult...for my own mother, I was sent to live with my grandmother. I lived with her for four years, until her death.”

Something about the way this was phrased made Kaylin tense. Moran didn’t appear to notice.

“Her wings were different; they weren’t like mine. When I was young, I thought that perhaps I had baby wings and that the spots would fade with time.”

“Like freckles?”

“Yes. Exactly like—but mine never faded.” She turned her face toward the water and sat, silent, for a long moment. “I know I shouldn’t stay here.”

Kaylin hoped that this meant she would.

“The old quarters are gone. When my grandmother died, they were...remodeled. The Aerians have their own mages; they are not like Imperial mages. They...shape things; rock and wood and water. Most of the interior Aeries look like places the Barrani might live, if given the chance.”

“They wouldn’t live here.”

“No. Not here. I shouldn’t stay,” she said again. “But the truth is: I am injured. I will heal. But it won’t be instant. I would rather live in the infirmary than live—without any freedom—in the home of my flight’s leaders, and that’s where I would otherwise stay. But—” She drew in a sharp breath.

“We’re going to give you a few minutes alone, dear,” Helen said. “We’ll be downstairs in the mess hall.”

“She means dining room,” Kaylin added, slightly confused; Helen had never made this association before.

“Moran understands the mess hall in the Halls; eating spaces in the Aerie are not quite the same, although practically speaking, they serve much the same function.”

Moran nodded. She didn’t rise as Helen drew Kaylin away from the bath toward the exit, but she said, without turning around, “Thank you, Helen. I now understand exactly why Kaylin was so insistent that I convalesce with you.”

* * *

“But will she stay?” Kaylin asked.

“I am not certain. I think she was unexpectedly moved by what she found when she opened that door, but she is not as young as you are.”

“Meaning?”

“She has experienced more, and that experience influences how she makes her decisions. Were she your age, but otherwise herself, there would be no question. She would remain. She would feel very indebted to you, however.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

“No?”

“She would feel indebted to you. But I think that’s going to be the case anyway. You’re my home,” Kaylin added, “but you’re not my slave. Most people don’t have sentient homes. You speak, think, interact like a person—because you are one. Moran won’t be able to see you as some part of me. I don’t, and can’t, own you. You’ve decided, for your own reasons, to let me live here; you’ve decided that you’ll accept my guests—even Imperial ones. You go out of your way—”

“It is part of my essential function—”

“—to make those guests feel safe and at home here.”

“Mandoran and Annarion were willing to die to protect me,” Helen countered. “I could not in good conscience offer less. I would even be willing to house your Teela, but she is...less comfortable with my presence. She does trust me where you’re concerned, but she is afraid that the fact that she is not you, and not like you, would tell against her where I’m concerned. She thinks that I am very like Caitlin.”

“And you’re not?”

“I do not think so. I have not yet met your Caitlin.”

“You’d like her.”

“I hope, for your sake, that she likes me,” Helen replied. She led the way into the dining room.

“Shouldn’t we use the parlor?”

“This is a much larger room, and the windows are both bigger and brighter.” She frowned.

“Problem?”

“Teela and Mandoran are speaking to Annarion; he is not responding. Or rather, not well, and not with words. I should go.” Helen’s voice could be in two locations at once; that ability did not extend to her full, physical Avatar. Tara could, and the Hallionne could. But there was a lot Kaylin didn’t know about Helen and her capabilities.

“I’ll wait.”

The small dragon squawked, loudly, in her ear, and Kaylin said, “But he’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.” More squawking and one spiteful snap at the stick that kept Kaylin’s hair in place later, the small dragon was gone, flapping around Helen’s departing head in a circle of irritability.

Kaylin took a chair and folded her arms on the tabletop; she dropped her head onto her forearms. She was exhausted. What she did know about Helen was simple enough: she trusted her. Everything else could wait.

* * *

The first person to enter the dining room was not Helen. Nor was it Moran, Teela or the other two Barrani. It was Bellusdeo. She was accompanied by Severn and Tain, who looked decidedly ill-at-ease.

“The Arkon wants to see you,” Bellusdeo said without preamble.

Kaylin lifted her head. She wondered how long she’d slept, because she had that slightly fuzzy brain that meant sleep had just been broken. “I like the Arkon, but when he wants to see me, it’s usually because he has a thousand questions. None of which I can answer. When I can’t answer, he gets cranky. He’s pretty much never cranky at you.” Unlike Diarmat. It was possibly the first kind thought she’d had about Diarmat—and that was upsetting in an entirely different way. She looked up; Bellusdeo was smiling. Her eyes were gold.

Tain’s eyes, on the other hand, were blue.

“Teela’s here,” Kaylin told him, although he hadn’t asked. “She’s arguing with Annarion.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Mandoran’s on her side.”

“You think that’s going to change the outcome?” Tain snorted. “I honestly do not see the appeal of children.”

“They’re not exactly children.”

“I’ve lived with them. That’s exactly what they are. They might not appear to be young in the fashion of mortal children, but they have the fecklessness of Barrani youth, coupled with far too much power.”

Kaylin remembered what Mandoran had said about living with Tain; he’d likened it to a dungeon, but less dark. She coughed to cover her amusement, because laughter wasn’t going to make Tain feel any better.

“What are they arguing about?”

“Nightshade.”

Irritation drained from Tain’s expression. “What is Annarion going to do?”

“Best guess?”

Tain nodded.

“He’s going to head into the fiefs.” She smacked herself in the forehead. “That’s what I forgot!”

“You don’t intend to tell Annarion what Gilbert said, surely.”

Kaylin blinked.

“If you don’t want him charging into the heart of the fiefs, you’ll keep it strictly to yourself.”

“I think it’s too late.”

Tain pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the Barrani equivalent of smacking himself in the face.

“I didn’t tell him—I haven’t seen him since I got back. I visited Evanton and endured a faceful of raging Leontine sergeant, and I’m trying to convince Moran that she wants to stay here instead of living in the infirmary for three months. If Annarion knows, it’s because Teela told him.”

“If Teela told him, she has her reasons.”

But if Kaylin told him, she wouldn’t? Kaylin glared at Tain; Tain ignored it. “I can’t think of any other reason they’d be arguing. Helen had to go downstairs to help out; she thinks Annarion’s close to losing it.”

This did not change the color of Tain’s eyes any.

“What were you thinking, bringing them back from the West March?”

“I didn’t bring ‘them’; I brought Mandoran. He would have come on his own anyway, because Annarion was here. I didn’t expect—” She exhaled, thinking about Moran, and the Hawks that had not survived the ancestors’ attack. “I was thinking that they were Teela’s friends, that they were people she trusted and that she’d thought they were lost forever. I was thinking that it would be as if they were let out of jail after a really, really long sentence.

“I didn’t understand what they were—or weren’t. But neither did Teela.”

Bellusdeo said, “Leave her alone, Tain. What’s happened has happened. There was no malice or ill intent.”

“They weren’t your losses.”

“No?” Bellusdeo drew herself up to her full height, which was much more impressive than Kaylin’s.

To Kaylin’s surprise, Tain looked away first. “Apologies,” he said—and even sounded as if he meant it, although Barrani were very capable liars. “I am worried—”

“About Teela, yes. I imagine she appreciates it about as much as I would.”

This startled a genuine laugh from the Barrani Hawk. “At least as much” was his rueful reply. “Teela’s family lost a lot to the wars, but I can see why she likes you.”

“I lost everything,” Bellusdeo replied. “But yes, it’s hard to dislike Teela. It’s much easier to dislike Mandoran.”

“Agreed on both counts.” Tain then turned to Kaylin and opened his mouth to speak. Severn, however, gave them all a quiet heads-up as Moran descended the stairs.

* * *

The absolute ruler of the infirmary stopped for a moment in the doorway when she saw Severn and Tain. Then she walked past them to the table, and to the backless stool positioned in its center. She sat heavily.

Helen appeared with food—which was to say, food appeared on the table and Helen came into the room. “You’ll want to speak with Annarion, dear,” she told Kaylin.

That was not the first item on Kaylin’s list of desirable activities.

“I know. But he is upset. I’ve created a containment; he should be able to rage as much as he wants without ill effect on the rest of the house. I cannot, however, continue to confine him.”

“Meaning he can leave anytime he wants.”

“He is a guest, not a prisoner—but even were he to be a prisoner, I have become too diminished to maintain a cell for either him or Mandoran for long. Mandoran did ask,” she added. “He is also very, very worried about Annarion.”

“Is Teela less worried than she was?”

“No, dear. I would say she is vastly more worried than she was.”

Tain grimaced. Teela worried was about as much fun as Marcus enraged.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Moran asked, entering the conversation.

“No!” Kaylin said, before Helen could reply, although it was to Helen she’d directed the question.

“In my experience,” Helen replied, with a gentle smile, “there is never a good or a bad time. There is only time. Please, eat. You haven’t had dinner yet, and neither has Kaylin.” She turned to Tain. “I don’t believe we’ve met, and I am not always conversant with the social customs of my guests.”