Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) (9 page)

There were buildings so decrepit in the fiefs that walls had come down. Tiamaris was fixing those, usually by destroying the rotting ruins and rebuilding from scratch, but Nightshade had never cared enough about the fief and its citizens to do the same—and having a shelter without walls was the same as having no shelter at all, when night fell.

She said nothing. She knew Moran’s life in the Aerie was not her own life in Nightshade. Hells, it wasn’t her life in Elantra. But it shadowed her; it was so much a part of where she’d come from.

Moran left Kaylin at the door and walked, wings lifting, toward the open sky that faced the rest of the room. The sky was city sky: it was dappled with clouds, but blue and bright, sun setting in the distance. Moran turned away from that sky to face Helen. Kaylin had never seen the expression her face now wore. It was almost uncomfortable to look at; Kaylin felt as if she was intruding on something incredibly private.

Moran opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked much, much younger than she did in the Halls. Without a word, she turned and left the entry room, walking to the right of where Kaylin stood looking out.

When she’d left, Kaylin said quietly, “She has to stay here. She
has
to stay here.”

“I am not a jail,” Helen said. Her voice was gentle. “I understand what you want to offer, and Kaylin, I am—as I have said before—happy to do so. Your Moran means you no harm; she is afraid that her presence here will cause it. I can’t convince her to shed that fear, because her presence will cause you no harm
here
. But it isn’t what happens here that she’s afraid of. It’s what happens outside of these walls.

“She trusts your safety to me while you are here. I’m not entirely certain what you told her, but I don’t need to be. I cannot promise your safety while you are not within my walls—and you will not always be here. I accept that, or I could not have become your home. If she can live with the guilt, she will, I think, remain.”

Moran came back. She looked frail, which again was discomfiting. She didn’t speak; instead, she walked directly through the arch opposite the one she’d just exited. She paused this time and said, “Kaylin, come with me.” She held out a hand. It wasn’t a command, but it also wasn’t the sarcastic barking that generally passed for requests in the Halls of Law from anyone who wasn’t Caitlin.

Kaylin, almost mute, followed, thinking at Helen before she realized that Helen might actually respond to the thoughts—which would just humiliate a Hawk and an Aerian who were both accustomed to more privacy. Helen was mercifully silent.

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.”

“This is Tain,” Kaylin immediately said. “He’s Teela’s partner in the Hawks.”

Tain’s eyes, which had lightened a bit while talking with Bellusdeo, darkened instantly. Helen ignored this.

“I’m Helen. Kaylin has agreed to make her home with me, and I have agreed to make that home safe and secure. Her friends are, by her choice, her family; you are welcome here. I apologize if ancient buildings are not comfortable for you. I cannot change my nature, but I will attempt to give you the privacy you crave.”

Tain nodded slowly.

“Will you join us for dinner? And Corporal Handred?”

Severn, fiefborn, nodded. Kaylin looked with longing at the food, but pushed her chair away from the table. “Did you leave small and squawky with Annarion?”

“Yes. He thought it best that he remain.”

“I’m sorry, Moran—I’ll be right back.”

“I hope so,” the sergeant said, in her usual clipped tones. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

* * *

Helen did not leave the guests when Kaylin did. But Helen’s disembodied voice joined her as she made her way to the stairs that led to the basement. “Is there anything you would like me to do?”

“I think you’ve done enough. Thanks for dealing with Annarion.”

“I don’t think Moran was expecting Severn or Tain.”

No, she probably hadn’t been—but to be fair, neither had Kaylin. Tain had been an intermittent fixture in her early life with the Hawks, which was probably Teela’s doing, since Tain wasn’t particularly nurturing on his own. Kaylin grimaced. Then again, neither was Teela.

Severn was Severn. Both of them were so much a part of her life that she didn’t blink an eye at their presence. But...Moran had never just walked into Kaylin’s old apartment. Moran had never dropped by to check on her. Clint had, in the early years. Marcus had, and so had his wives.

Then again, Marcus would probably rip out her throat if she tried to force living quarters on him—even if he had none. She’d have to stand behind Kayala, the first wife, in order to safely
make
the offer.

People were complicated. If someone had offered Kaylin shelter and a safe, clean space—with food!—she would have leaped through the door, gratefully. The only thing that would have held her back was the lack of trust that anyone living on the edge of survival developed. If she trusted the person offering her safety, then what reason would she have had to refuse?