Helen wouldn’t tell Kaylin the content of Moran’s mirror-based discussion. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered Kaylin; today, for reasons she felt were obvious, it did.
“They are not obvious to Moran, dear,” Helen replied, although Kaylin hadn’t spoken that part out loud. It didn’t matter. Helen could read the thoughts of almost anyone who crossed her borders. This bothered some of the immortals; it didn’t bother Kaylin. Helen was not judgmental about anything. “You understand that she is older, of a higher rank, and has handled far larger responsibilities than you currently officially have?”
“Yes.”
“She did not come here to put you in danger.”
“I know all that, Helen.”
“She does not wish you to worry. And, Kaylin? While thisisyour home, Moran is a guest here. Her privacy and her concerns are important to me. Had she no privacy, this would not be a home to her; it would be a prison. An imposition. That is not what you wished for her when you invited her to stay.”
“But Moran’s worried about her physical safety!”
“Yes. But she is not in danger while she is here.”
“She’s notstayinghere, Helen. She’s going to the Halls of Law.”
“Yes. That is also her choice.”
The small dragon squawked in Kaylin’s ear. When she’d ignored enough of this, he started to chew on the stick that kept her hair out of her way. “Fine.”
“Are you coming?” Mandoran shouted.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” Kaylin was at the front door of the foyer before the implication of his question sank in. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nightshade’s supposed to visit today. I’m going to the Halls with the rest of you.”
“Mandoran—”
“I don’t have trouble masking my presence. Annarion still does. But he’s going to spend another several hours shouting at his brother. Or being coldly disappointed in him. I’m not sure which one is worse. Being here while he’s doing either, however, sucks.” He grinned, his eyes almost green. “And it sounds like you’re going to be having far more fun today than I would if I stayed here. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Kaylin sent Teela a mute glance.
“Don’t labor under the misapprehension that I can tell Mandoran what to do.”
“She’s already tried,” Mandoran added cheerfully. “I’ve been using some of your favorite phrases in private.”
Given what Kaylin’s favorite phrases were, the private part was probably for the best. She offered Moran a very, very apologetic glance. “It’s not always like this,” she told the sergeant.
“No,” Moran replied, her eyes a steady blue. “It’s frequently worse.”
* * *
Stepping outside the open gates that formed the demarcation of Helen’s territory, she felt her skin begin to tingle. Kaylin had what she called an allergy to magic, at least when she was trying to be polite. It made her skin ache. The stronger the magic, the greater the ache; in the worst cases, she felt as if her skin had been sanded off the rest of her body.
She looked down at her arm; the marks that covered two-thirds of her body weren’t glowing through the long sleeves she always wore. When they did, they took on a particular color—usually blue or gold, sometimes gray. It was never precisely a good sign.
Teela noticed her glance immediately, and her eyes lost their green, the Barrani happy shade.
Bellusdeo’s eyes were orange. Mandoran had annoyed her enough—or had reminded her of how annoyed she should be. The Dragon glanced at Moran, who was silent, her eyes a blue that almost matched Teela’s.
Mandoran’s, on the other hand, remained green. “Once you get used to the smell,” he said to no one in particular, “the city’s not so bad.” They had turned onto the more crowded streets; people multiplied, and carts, wagons and carriages began to demand room. Or at least their ill-tempered drivers did.
No one appeared to hear him.
“Kitling?” Teela said.
Kaylin nodded. “It’s getting worse.” And it was. Her arms now ached. Magic sensitivity wasn’t exactly directional, but Kaylin looked up. The sky—absent a few patrolling Aerians—was crisp, clear and empty.
