“I have some research to do,” he replied. “The Halls of Law will almost certainly demand information about what occurred.”
“The Halls don’t interfere in the fiefs.”
“TheHawksdon’t interfere in the fiefs. The fiefs don’t fall under legal jurisdiction—but the fiefs are an Imperial concern. News of Nightshade’s possible assassination would be of great interest.”
“You want to talk to the Wolflord.”
“No. But I want access to information about the High Court. It might be a waste of time.” His tone implied the opposite.
Kaylin nodded. “Let me know if you find anything relevant.”
Severn turned and walked—quickly—away.
Helen had created rooms for Nightshade’s use. She’d probably had them ready to go before Annarion had crossed the threshold, carrying the brother he both loved and hated. She didn’t insist that Andellen eat the moment he entered the house; he was, given blood and damaged clothing, not yet fit for the dinner table.
She did ask him questions as they walked toward the new guest quarters, which were down the hall from the regular guest rooms. Andellen answered her.
Kaylin, however, frowned. Or frowned differently; not much had happened today that didn’t deserve a frown. “You said you notify Helen before you visit.”
Andellen nodded.
“Which means Nightshade wasn’t coming here.”
Andellen fell silent.
“Who were you meant to meet? Clearly whoever that person is—or was—information about that meeting was leaked to someone who didn’t have your best interests at heart. You were the only person to attend Nightshade.”
Andellen nodded again, but the nod was stiffer.
One guard. One meeting, not held in the fiefs. Whoever Nightshade intended to meet couldn’t enter the fiefs openly. But the intended meeting must have involved Barrani; there was no other way the Barrani war bands would be so ready for action. Only one guard. Someone Nightshade had trusted, inasmuch as he ever trusted Barrani.
He didn’t usually bring Andellen on his visits to Helen.
Ynpharion showed surprising approval. Kaylin could feel it; it annoyed her, it was so condescending.
Anything I say is annoying, Chosen. Praise is condescending. Criticism is condescending.
“Helen?”
“Yes, dear. Are you certain you don’t wish to keep that channel open while you’re here? He is your only immediate conduit to the Consort.”
Kaylin exhaled. “You’re right. Fine.”
Andellen had been silent throughout; Kaylin wasn’t certain he’d heard the conversation.
“He did. I believe his possible opinions to be of value. I understand that you expect my own expertise to be more critical, but I am uncertain.”
“You don’t think it’s magical?”
“Idothink it’s magical. But you must understand, Kaylin. When I reached the stage where I could choose my own tenants, how many do you believe were sorcerers, mages, or Arcanists?”
“Zero.”
Helen nodded. “Magic is not like the study of history. It evolves. Arcanists constantly create new spells by combining old spells, by adding something to historical spells to shift and change the base nature of the magic they attempt to cast. The knowledge I have might prove valuable if you wish to untangle what was cast. But it is ancient, now. It may well be impossible without modern input, modern understanding.”
“Do you think we have thetimeto study and develop something new?”
“No,” Helen replied. “I do not.”