“You mean Helen?”
“Helen is going to make him talk aboutwhyhe attempted to harm the Consort when we were heading to the West March.”
Silence.
“It’s relevant. He didn’t do that of his own accord, and he was the one who was making deals with people of power. He was doing it to free the rest of you—but some of those people clearly didn’t have the Consort’s best interests at heart. If they’re still alive, we need to know who they are or were. He didn’t care about the Consort herself. They could have asked him to murder the dogcatcher—”
“The what?” That was Terrano.
“Never mind. They could have asked him to murder a street sweeper or a Hawk, and he’d’ve done it.”
“I’d’ve tried to murder a couple of our collective parents more happily.”
“Terrano.We know what Terrano is trying not to say where you can hear it,” Annarion said, sliding back into High Barrani. “We are aware of who those individuals are and were. He chose to work with them because of us. The lords involved, the Arcanists involved, are aware of Terrano—but they are not entirely aware of how he came to meet them. Most of the negotiations were left in Sedarias’s hands; Terrano was the medium, but he certainly wasn’t the mastermind. There is a reason Terrano is seldom visible in the High Halls.” Annarion exhaled. “Helen is right: you have allies. We share a mutual interest.
“She wants us to tell you which of Terrano’s former allies are Lords of the High Halls or their immediate servants. Teela has argued against it in the past but, given meeting with the Consort, has now granted permission.”
“Sedarias hasn’t.”
“No. I hadn’t, either. But I’m beginning to think Helen is right.”
“Does Terrano care?”
“I’m still here,” Terrano pointed out.
“Fine. Answer the question.”
He didn’t. Terrano did care. It’s probably why Helen wasarguing with him. Kaylin might have joined the argument, but Mandoran said, “Got it,” his voice oddly blurred.
Kaylin had enough time to brace herself for the transition.
Terrano could leave parts of himself scattered across different planes while standing in the same spot in all of them. Kaylin couldn’t. Mandoran probably could, so she understood that what he saw and what she saw weren’t necessarily the same thing.
Assuming, that is, that he sawsomething. She was in a dark place. She was still seated but couldn’t see the chair or the floor on which it was placed. She could, however, see Hope. Hope had made the transition with her, as he always did, and he glowed; she could still see through his translucent body if she squinted.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, possibly because of Hope. And possibly because of the Marks of the Chosen; they were gold here, which was their most common color when they lit up. This time they rose, as they had done in Ariste’s presence.
She turned her head to the side; Mandoran was with her, and she could see him; his hand remained on her shoulder, his fingers gripping her a little too tightly. As she winced, he said, “Teela will kill me if I lose you here.”
“Helen won’t let her.”
“I’d rather not put that to the test. I’m sorry—we’re all sorry—that you’re caught up in this.”
“That’s because you think this is all about Sedarias.”
“You don’t.”
“I know it’s not. If it makes you feel better, I’d’ve been in this position if you guys had been safely ensconced in the Hallionne Alsanis, but it would probably be worse. I mean, I’d have Teela as de facto guardian in the Halls, but I don’t think there’s any way I could have saved Nightshade on my own.”
“Would you have tried?” The question was almost neutral.
“Yes. I wasn’t lying. He’s saved my life before.”
“He would almost have to, though—you have that mark, and it means something.”
“I thought it was like a consort mark.”
“It’s like a slave mark—but a valuable slave. It’s a public declaration that you are an object of import to the lord who marked you, and possible opponents should calculate risks accordingly. It’s no longer legal—not that Barrani care much about legalities—in the High Halls. If it weren’t for that mark, Annarion wouldn’t have been so angry at his brother.”