No one in this house, no one in her cohort, would ever try. But she believed that most of them were what Mellarionne would have considered weak. Therefore they required protection. Kaylin was almost certain Sedarias had half her drive to rule Mellarionne because it was a certain source of power—if she could hold it.
From a position of power, she could offer far more solid protection to the cohort.
But Kaylin wasn’t certain the cohort—or many of them—wanted that. They wanted for Sedarias whatshewanted for herself, but they didn’t necessarily want her protection. Serralyn was happy in the Academia, doing research that would both aid Sedarias and possibly create brighter paths toward the future; she would never, given the opportunity, abandon the Academia for the High Halls.
The discussion—held the normal way as a courtesy to Kaylin—grew louder in volume. But Sedarias was half right. And if Yvonne was going to visit Helen, An’Tellarus was going to come with her. Kaylin would have bet any money she earned on it.
“I’ve told one of An’Tellarus’s servants that I’d like her to visit,” Kaylin said, speaking in a volume that would have done her sergeant proud. “I want her to meet Helen.”
Everyone stopped at her words, even Teela.
“She’s Barrani, but she’s very young, and Ilikedher. I think you’ll all like her if you give her five minutes. Maybe less, given some of you. But the problem I see with the invitation—which I’m certain she’ll accept—is that An’Tellarus is likely to come with her as a chaperone or guardian.”
“No,” Teela snapped.
“Dear,” Helen said, intervening before harsher words could be spoken. “It is Kaylin’s home. It is Kaylin’s invitation to extend. If Kaylin asks it, I can prevent An’Tellarus from entering—that is easily within my capabilities.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Kaylin said, although Helen already knew it.
Mandoran frowned. “Annarion is against. Nightshade is here.”
“Helen won’t let anyone anywhere near him without Annarion’s permission.” Kaylin hesitated. She didn’t want to exposeYvonne’s possible abilities, because exposing Yvonne would put the Consort at serious risk.
But instinct sometimes drove her, and her instincts had been screaming for her attention since she’d met with the Consort. It was just that everything else that hadalsobeen screaming for her attention had been a lot louder.
“I’m not certain, dear,” Helen said. “At another time, perhaps—but the Barrani Lords are clearly quite active, now. Is it a risk you feel is worth taking?”
“I think it will lead us to Nightshade,” she finally said. “Or at least to having him regain consciousness.”
Kaylin wasn’t surprised when Annarion appeared at the height of the stairs. Barrani didn’t generally require sleep. Annarion, wild-eyed and pale, looked like he needed a week of it. And food.
“How?” he demanded; he’d clearly been listening. “How will it help?”
“I don’t know—I told you, it’s instinct. But... I met the being at the heart of the Tower today, and apparently she—”
“He,” Terrano snapped.
“She was a she tome. And it doesn’t matter, does it? They—there seemed to be a lot of her or him in the background—taught Terrano a bit about places he could sidestep. One of them was difficult, or more difficult to learn. That was where Terrano was when he was almost killed. I couldn’t reach him on my own—Mandoran?”
Mandoran winced. “It was more difficult than usual—as if there was some resistance. But I wasn’t paying much attention when Terrano was eavesdropping in the High Halls.” At Teela’s expression, he added, “What? I don’t think either the High Halls or its guest intended to teach chaos personified anything—they just didn’t think it necessary to get rid of him. They probably don’t really understand how tenacious he can be.”
“Or they don’t consider him a significant danger to anyonebut himself,” Helen added. “We are not as you are, who were created by the Ancients for their own whims and purposes.” Her eyes, as she met and held Mandoran’s gaze, had become polished obsidian, with flecks of moving color beneath the surface. “I have spent far more time with Terrano than they; I understand just how much trouble he can cause.
“Were it intentional, I would eject him or prepare rooms in the containment area for his use. He is either supremely lucky or supremely unlucky.”
“I’m not dead yet,” Terrano said, grinning widely. “So I’ll go with lucky.”
“Oh, I think Abel understands Terrano pretty well by now,” Kaylin muttered.
Helen’s frown was slight, but genuine. “I believe that while Terrano has been given permission to call the Avatar a name of Terrano’s choosing, it is wisestnotto adopt it for your own use.”
“Why?”
“It denotes a familiarity a Lord of the High Court should not have when dealing with the most powerful entity within its confines.”
“But we call you Helen.”
“Helen is a name I chose for myself, and my mandate—which is also my choice—is not the mandate of the High Halls.” At Kaylin’s expression, Helen sighed, her eyes losing their reflective obsidian appearance. “If things get out of hand in a truly dangerous way, my guests may die. It is, and has always been, a risk. But should all of you—including my tenant—perish here, it will not signal the end of an entire race. The weight of our choices and our responsibilities is entirely different.