But the rules of exemption made Kaylin almost queasy. He couldn’t provide aid to anyone on the High Courtlegally. There was only one way to make politics legal: the Emperor’s command. The Emperor’s Wolves.
Kaylin didn’t trust the Wolves. To be fair, she didn’t really trust the Swords, either—but the Swords, she understood. The office politics around the different divisions could be petty; they wouldn’t even be noticed as politics by Barrani. But the Wolves were different. They didn’t swear to uphold the Imperial Laws; they swore to serve the Emperor.
Severn was a Hawk, now. But the Wolves had never truly let go of him. If, to be a Wolf, he’d sworn a direct vow to serve the Emperor, did a simple change in divisions render that vow irrelevant? Given draconic nature, she doubted it.
The Avatar passed through a long hall; it was sparsely but finely decorated. Not for An’Tellarus the obvious trappings of wealth or power.
“The truly powerful, as An’Teela, do not need to accouter themselves in any way that does not suit their own inclinations,” the Avatar said. “It is an indication that An’Tellarus is a power. She indulges her own sense of aesthetics; they are hard to disentangle from her interests. You will note—”
Kaylin had. She’d stopped in front of a statue of a clearly mortal man. He was taller than her, but she imagined he would have been taller in real life as well. There was something about his graven expression that implied life, although the face was sculpted stone.
Opposite this statue, a statue of a similar size—and craftsmanship—stood, but this one was only surprising given its placement: a Barrani woman, carrying a staff of possible office. Her hair, stone, seemed to move.
Kaylin thought about Nightshade’s statuary and felt queasy. “These aren’t real people, are they?” she asked the Avatar.
“If you mean, are they enchanted to stand as statues at An’Tellarus’s pleasure, no. The people they are modeled after are dead.”
“I am far less certain of that,” a new voice said, as the closed doors just beyond the statues shimmered into invisibility. “But they are no longer as they appear here.
“What is your opinion, young Severn?” To Kaylin’s surprise, An’Tellarus’s eyes dipped into a beautiful emerald color as they turned to, and met, Severn’s gaze. The color didn’t dim when he failed to answer. “Come, all of you. An’Teela, we seldom cross paths; if you wish to return to your own abode, I will take no offense.”
Kaylin had heard warnings like this one:when you have a minute, which meantdo it right damn now. She’d had difficultyunderstanding that the former was good manners, when the latter was what was actually meant. Or maybe An’Tellarus was being genuine. Maybe her mention of possible offense was to emphasize the more casual nature of the invitation.
Yeah, right. Casual. Asking the Avatar to serve as both guard and guide implied that it was far more important than her tone made it sound. Some days, people gave Kaylin a headache. Trying to figure out what their words actually meant made her long for the use of True Words.
Teela offered the lord an elegant, graceful nod. “I have seldom seen the interior of your rooms, and they are always of interest. It is gracious of you to include me in your invitation of hospitality.” As Kaylin had known Teela for all of her adult life, Teela was easier to interpret. She had zero intention of allowing Kaylin to enter the lion’s den without her.
“I’m delighted, truly,” An’Tellarus replied. She probably meant it; her eyes remained green. “Please, enter as my honored guests. Yvonne!”
Severn stiffened.
“Young Severn has come to visit—please do prepare tea. Oh, wait, perhaps something slightly stronger. Choose as the guests request. I myself require something stronger.” She then nodded to the Avatar; it was a dismissal.
The Avatar offered her a bow that implied deep respect; it wasn’t as low as the bow he had offered the Consort, and he didn’t hold it for as long, but it was there. Probably because he understood that An’Tellarus could demand it.
“Yes,” the Avatar whispered as he rose. “While it is possible not to offer what is expected, there are subtle costs; she is famously prickly.”
He must have learned that word from Terrano.
“That,” the Avatar replied, “and many others. The evolution of mortal language is fascinating. Do not keep An’Tellaruswaiting,” he added, his tone more somber. “Terrano asks that I ask you to try not to annoy her.”
An’Tellarus led the way to an almost modestly sized sitting room. It wasn’t opulent in an obvious way. Kaylin struggled to remember etiquette and mostly failed. She regretted the resentment of her much younger self.You can’t eat it. It won’t keep you warm in the winter. You can’t wield it.All the words echoed, because they were hers. They’d been true, then. In some ways, they were true now.
Are you trying to assess her intent?Severn asked.
I am. She’s old. She’s powerful. She’s... prickly.
Prickly?
You didn’t hear the Avatar?
No. Perhaps he did not intend to be heard.
He’s spendingwaytoo much time with Terrano. But... yes. It’s a small room. I haven’t been to the High Halls much, and the Consort meets us outside, where finery is hard to assess. Plus, she’s the Consort. An’Tellarus might somehow be involved with everything that’s happening, and she’s powerful enough the Avatar treats her with respect.
You’re worried that she’s behind the Consort’s condition?
Aren’t you?