“And by power I mean she understood politics, and was perfectly willing to play that game.”
“And the others? The other half?”
“They’re like me. Is it horrible? Yes. But, Kaylin: no one is forced to take that test. I’ll go, if Annarion goes. I have to go. He’s mykyuthe, my chosen kin. Teela can’t go—she’s gone. She’d need permission, and I don’t think she’d be given it. But if Annarion chooses to go, Helen’s going to get alotmore crowded.”
“Why?”
“None of us would let Annarion go alone.”
“You’re here,” Kaylin pointed out.
“Yes. And they would be here, as well. Even those who think he’s being an idiot.”
“Nightshade thinks he’s being an idiot.”
“Yes.”
“...And Annarion thinks his brother has lost all sense of honor and responsibility.”
“Yes. Got it in two.” Mandoran slumped across the table and said, in a plaintive voice, “I’m starving.”
Helen glanced at the top of his head with mild disapproval. “That is not how we ask for dinner,” she told him. But food did appear to the left of his elbow.
“If I’d realized how complicated this was all going to be,” Mandoran told the tabletop, “I’d’ve stayed in the green.”
“You could have.”
“Annarion’s too straight and narrow to be left on his own. He was the best—or the stupidest—of all of us.” He lifted his head. “He revered his older brother. Even when we changed, when we were altered by theregalia, his regret and desire was to find Nightshade and bring him home. And that was before his brother became outcaste.”
“The current High Lord is not the one who banished him.”
“Yes. We believe there may be avenues available to have him reinstated. Nightshade, however, has professed disinterest in that.”
“The Lady seems to like him.”
“It doesn’t matter, Kaylin. He is outcaste until and unless the High Lord deems otherwise. He is alive—and was left alive—because he captained one of the Seven Towers; he was considered by many an ugly necessity. He is still considered that way—but his life is guaranteed by his position in the fiefs. And Annarion has opposition, regardless. Annarion’s line did not end, but it passed into the hands of distant cousins—and they are all Lords of the Court. They have no desire whatsoever to see Nightshade returned to prominence.
“They’ve even, according to Teela, made moves to demand the return ofMeliannos, his great sword, to the Court.”
She snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Mandoran grinned. “I believe Teela’s suggestion was that anyone who felt theycouldtake the sword that he’d earned was free to try. She refused—as a wielder of one of the three—to join in the attempt. I don’t think Teela hates Nightshade, either. Or she didn’t, until he marked you.”
“I think—I think he did that because—”
“Because he wanted to keep you? Because he thought you’d be useful in finding and, possibly, finally rescuing his long-lost younger brother?”
“Something like that.”
“Do me a favor.Don’tsay that to Annarion, if you haven’t already. He’s blaming himself enough; he doesn’t need to add that mark to his score.”
“Score?”
“Isn’t that the Elantran word I want?”
Given Mandoran, it probablywasthe word he meant. Given the gravity of the situation, she said, “I’m sure it’s not.”
“Well, anyway. He feels guilty. We’d like him to stop that; it’s painful and yet at the same time almost boring.”
