“You have a very grim turn of thought, by the way. I almost admire it.”
“What I don’t understand,” Kaylin said, “is why they waited.”
“Why they waited?”
“Until she was injured.”
“You can’t guess?”
At Bellusdeo’s tone, Kaylin frowned. “Politics?”
“Almost certainly. Ever since Moran donned the robes and the bracelet, she’s been treated entirely differently in the Halls. You must have noticed it.”
Thinking of Clint on one knee for an extended duration, Kaylin nodded.
“People can be both political and religious at the same time. Since Moran chose to wear the bracelet, have there been any assassination attempts?”
“Not that we know of, no.”
“It’s political. The Caste Court is, in my opinion, divided. I’m beginning to think that the people who wanted the augury—the Oracle, as you call it—weren’t necessarily the people who were trying to get Moran’s wings, either figuratively or literally. Or, rather, they were willing to do things up to a point.
“But when Moran flew, everything changed. The wingsareinjured. In your opinion, they shouldn’t be able to carry her—but they did. They can. So. Before she flew, there was uneasiness. I’d say there’s a split in the Caste Court now. Moran ispraevolo. People with ambition can delude themselves; they can talk themselves into believing anything. The fact that Moran didn’t fly when injured would be proof to them that she was a fraud.
“Now, that can’t be argued. And if she’s not a fraud...”
“It’s an actual crime to some of them?”
“That’s my take. I’m not Aerian,” she added. “But I did rule over a bunch of ambitious, fractious, frequently selfish people in my time. I would say that there are some who are old-school—I like that term, by the way—and they’re afraid of what the more ambitious among their kin are planning.”
“Well, that makes two of us. It’s nice to know that conniving, backstabbing political jerks havesomesense.”
* * *
“Well?” Kaylin asked, arms folded, back against the nearest stretch of blank wall. She was bracketed by paintings; Moran had been in the dining room when Teela, Kaylin and Bellusdeo had returned from the High Halls. Teela had chosen to stay; Tain had headed home. He wasn’t, he said, up to listening to the children squabble.
The children, as he called them, were not squabbling now; the entire house seemed blanketed in thick silence. It was not the happy, peaceful kind.
Mandoran was at the table. To his left, to Kaylin’s surprise, was Maggaron; they appeared to be speaking. Moran was perched on her stool, her back stiff, her eyes the wrong color; they had lightened when Kaylin entered the room.
They’d darkened when Kaylin asked the only question she wanted answered at the moment. “Can a dead person be made outcaste by the Aerian Court?”
Moran didn’t answer. Kaylin prompted her again, and she maintained her silence. It was a rigid, stiff-winged silence, with a lot of blue in the eyes.
“What would the point be?” Mandoran demanded. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for weeks. Barrani didn’t, in theory, need sleep; they did need rest or repose or something similar. Kaylin had never entirely been clear on what. “Making a dead person outcaste has to serve some purpose.”
“Outcaste means something different to the Aerians,” Kaylin replied, silently willing Mandoran to either shut up or leave.
“What does it mean to the Aerians?”
“Mandoran. Trying to have animportantconversation, here.”
“I am joining it. I am tired of thinking about Barrani politics, the Barrani Court and Barrani bloody family. It isveryloud in my head at the moment, and I’d appreciate any attempt to distract me.”
This seemed to amuse Moran. It didn’t amuse Kaylin. Because she was unamused, she wasn’t diplomatic. “The Aerians don’t kill their outcastes. They remove their wings.Remove. They don’t cut them off. They take them away.”
Mandoran frowned. “What do you mean, take them away?”
“I mean the wings cease to exist. The person who had them is still alive, but the wings, and their ability to fly, are gone.”
