“Do you have any of their names?”
“No. I am certain the Arcanist does.”
“Do you have the Arcanist’s name?”
“May I remind you that membership in the Arcanum is not illegal?”
She shrugged. It was a fief shrug. “What is the name of the Aerian Arcanist?”
“Aguila. Aguila dar Carafel.”
* * *
Teela’s eyes were already about as blue as they could get; they didn’t get any lighter. The same could be said for the Consort. Evarrim, however, was happier, for a Barrani value of the wordhappy. Severn’s eyes changed shape rather than color.
He was not very happy to hear the name.
You knew. It wasn’t a question; it was almost an accusation.
No. I didn’t. But I’ve done some research in the past week into the Aerian Caste Court and the members that comprise it.
Let me guess. Aguila’s one of them.
Yes. He is not the castelord, however.
And the castelord is?
His father. Fauconne.
“We’d like to speak with Aguila.”
“Of course you would.” Evarrim turned to the Consort and bowed. “With your permission, I will leave to make the arrangements.”
The Consort’s nod was regal, even stiff. Evarrim departed. The Consort did not, however, excuse the rest of her informal guests. She rose instead. “Come. I find this chair confining at the best of times—and clearly, this is not the best of times. Kaylin, attend me. I wish to know everything about this case you are allowed to impart.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
* * *
Severn had some disagreement about what Kaylin was allowed to impart, and to her surprise, he made this known, lifting a hand or speaking where it was necessary. The Consort didn’t seem to find this offensive; she accepted his corrections without comment and without changing eye color.
“Think what you will of Lord Evarrim,” she said, as she led the way to the fountain at the far end of the internal forest. “But he has saved my life many, many times. He has put his own life in danger in each of those cases; in two, I was concerned that he would not survive.
“He does not care for mortality—but, Kaylin, most of my kin don’t. He finds it somehow offensive that you bear the marks of the Chosen. At first, he thought it was due to your natural deviousness.”
“He thought I cheated?”
“Yes. He has come to understand, however, that that particular type of devious is not in you. I believe he feels some kinship in this one regard with Aguila.”
“Aguila doesn’t feel that Moran should have the wings of thepraevolo.”
“Yes.”
“Is he trying to figure out a way to somehow transfer them?”
“That is what I took from Evarrim’s elliptical answers, yes.”
