“Where are we going?”
“Definitely not faster,” Teela said, her Elantran jarringly at odds with her appearance. “We go,” she added, sliding into High Barrani, “to the Court of the castelord.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. But we don’t have time.” “What—you don’t need me as a Hawk.” “Smart girl. Slow, but smart.” “Teela—what’s happened?”
“There has been a minor difficulty at Court,” Teela replied, reaching out for Kaylin’s arm. Kaylin was too stunned to move out of the way. “If we do not repair to the Court in time, it will become a major difficulty.”
“How major?”
“War.”
That was major. Kaylin looked down at her pants, hating Nightshade.
“Severn is waiting below,” the Hawklord told her quietly. “I’ve summoned a carriage. It’s an Imperial carriage.”
Teela began to drag her out of the tower room, but the Hawklord had not yet finished. “Go quickly, and return quickly. Do not leave Severn’s side.”
CHAPTER 5
Severn was waiting. He was tucked into a corner of the carriage, and appeared to be sleeping. Or he would have, had she known him a little less well. She watched him for a moment; his closed lids were like fine-veined membranes, round and edged in a black fringe. His hair was actually pushed up over his forehead by a knotted band; she didn’t recognize the knot-work, but it was expensive enough to be official. He looked nothing at all like the boy she’d grown up with.
And yet, at the same time, exactly like him.
She shook her head; too much time spent looking and not enough moving. When she scrabbled up on the bench beside him, he opened an eye.
“Did you offend the mage?”
She snorted. “The mage is probably impossible to offend.” Then, slightly more quietly, “No. I didn’t.”
“Good.”
Bastard. He was smartly attired; he wore dress uniform, and it even looked good on him. His scars made him look like a Ground Hawk in any case; there was probably no clothing so ostentatious that it could deprive him of that.
The door slammed shut.
“Where’s Teela?” she asked.
“She’s driving.”
“She’s what?”
“You have a problem with that?”
Gods, Kaylin thought. This was an Imperial carriage.
It lurched to a start. “Yes!”
Severn managed to grip the window; it was the only reason he was still seated. He glared up through the coach wall. “Never mind.”
“What happened to the driver?”
Severn’s head disappeared out the window, and reappeared just as quickly; the window was not a safe place to hang a necessary appendage if you wanted it attached at the end of the journey. Not when Teela was driving. “He’s the large man in livery with the purple face?”
“I’m not looking,” Kaylin told him.
“Just as well.”
The carriage didn’t stop. Not once. It teetered several times on the large base of its wheels, and Kaylin and Severn tried to balance the weight by throwing themselves in the opposite direction. But Imperial carriages were heavy enough to carry four Dragons; they didn’t tip easily. If she had thought Teela was aware of this fact, it would have eased her somewhat—but she’d been in a carriage that Teela had driven before. Once.
She’d promised herself—and everyone else who could hear—that she’d never do it again. So much for promises.
Then, Tain had been her companion, and he had found the entire journey amusing, especially the part where Kaylin turned green. You had to love that Barrani sense of humor; if you didn’t, you’d try to kill them. Which was, of course, suicide.
Severn was not turning green. As if acrobatics on the interior of a very unstable vehicle were part of his training, he moved in time with the bumps, raised stones, and ruts that comprised the roads that Teela had chosen.
But these passed quickly by, as did the large, narrow buildings that fronted the streets, casting their shadows and shielding the people who were smart enough to get the hell out of the way.
The roads widened, and smoothed, as the carriage picked up speed. Beyond the windows, the buildings grew grander, wood making way for stone, and stone for storeys of fenced-off splendor that spoke of both power and money. The towers of the Imperial palace could be seen, for a moment, in the distance; the red-and-gold of the Imperial standard flew across the height of sky. Only the Halls of Law had towers that rivaled it, and that, by Imperial fiat; no other building erected since the founding of the Empire of Ala’an was allowed, by law, to reach higher.
There were other buildings with towers as high, but they were in the heart of the fiefs, where even Kaylin had not ventured. Not often. They were old, and had about them not splendor but menace; they spoke of death, and the wind that whistled near those heights spoke not of flight but of falling.
She shook herself. Severn was watching—inasmuch as he could, given the rough ride.
“The fiefs,” he said. Not a question.
She swallowed and nodded. The years stretched out between them. Death was there, as well. In the end, Severn looked away—but he had to; the carriage had tipped again.
There was so much she wanted to know. And so much she was afraid to ask. She’d never been good with words at times like these; they were awkward instead of profound, and they were almost always barbed.
Instead, she tried not to lose the food she hadn’t had.
“Remind me,” he said when the carriage began to slow, “never to let Teela drive again.”
She tried to smile. “As if,” she told him, “you’ll need a reminder.” Her legs felt like liquid.
He had the grace not to ask her how she was; he had the sense not to ask her if she would be all right. But as the carriage came to a halt in front of tall, stone pillars carved in the likeness of a Barrani Lord and Lady, he opened the door that was nearest him. He slid out, dragging his feet a few steps, and then righted himself.
She closed her eyes.
His hand touched her arm. “Kaylin,” he said quietly. “Come.”
She nodded, biting her lip as she opened her eyes and met his gaze. The pillars were perfect in every aspect; Barrani writ large, like monumental gods, the falling folds of their robes embroidered with veins of gold and precious stones. They dwarfed her. They made her feel ungainly, short, squat—and very, very underdressed.
But Severn wasn’t Barrani. He didn’t notice.
He offered her the stability of his arm and his shoulder, and she let him. The sun cast his shadow across her like a bower.
Teela jumped down from the driver’s seat, and rearranged the fall of her emerald skirts until the gold there caught light and reflected it, suggesting forest floor; the skirts were wide and long, far too long for someone Kaylin’s height.
Teela spoke a few words to the horses, low words that had some of the sound of Barrani in them, but none of the actual words. The horses, foaming, quieted. Their nostrils were wide enough to fit fists in.
“Don’t speak,” Teela told Kaylin quietly as she left the horses and approached. She didn’t seem to feel the need to offer the same warning to Severn.
Kaylin