* * *
The parlor discussion, during which dessert and a variety of drinks were served, went on for the next two hours. Kaylin had never seen the Hawklord in an informal gathering before—if the gathering had started out stiffly, it had mellowed—and was surprised when he laughed. She could not remember ever hearing his laughter before.
She found it almost disturbing.
The Emperor’s smiles were similar. She had discovered that he was possessed of an actual sense of humor—but it was bone-dry, easily missed. She found it comforting to know that everyone seemed to like each other, and even more comforting to know that they had enjoyed being guests in her home.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to guests—she knew Teela, after all, and Teela pretty much dropped by whenever she felt bored. But this was different. The Emperor and the Hawklord were not men who simply made themselves at home whenever the mood struck them.
She thought the Arkon might be, but he resented deeply being pried out of his library, and in general left it only in emergencies. He clearly considered the state of relations between his Emperor and Bellusdeo to be one, but his eyes had taken only very brief jaunts into orange through the evening.
She saw her guests to the door, thanked them for coming and meant it, and relaxed only when they were finally gone.
Nightshade was with Annarion. “Tell them,” Kaylin said to Helen, “that they’re free to shout at each other now if they absolutely have to—the Emperor’s gone home.”
* * *
After Kaylin had ditched the dress and returned to comfortable clothing, they convened in the dining room. Mandoran joined them.
“They’re not shouting,” Bellusdeo pointed out.
“Yes. Some people would consider that an improvement.”
“I would, in general. Why don’t you?”
“They’re not speaking.”
Kaylin wilted.
“At all.”
“What is the problem?” the golden Dragon asked Mandoran. She was lounging across the nearest chair, in stark contrast to her very proper carriage and bearing during dinner. Apparently Kaylin wasn’t the only person who found propriety almost unbearable at times.
“Hasn’t changed any. Well, no, that’s not true. I think Nightshade’s biggest problem is the Test of Name in the High Halls. Annarion is insisting he’ll take the test; Nightshade is insisting that he can’t. If Nightshade weren’t outcaste, there’d be no question—Annarion would obey. He’d hate it, but he’d obey.
“Nightshade, however,isoutcaste. He isn’t the head of his line, and he has no moral power over his younger brother. He has familial power—and Annarion hates it, but can’t quite let that go—but no hierarchical claim. If Nightshade weren’t outcaste, on the other hand, Annarion wouldn’t be so insistent on being tested.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Kaylin told Mandoran.
“So Helen says.”
“I’ve undergone the Test of Name.”
“So Helen also says.” Mandoran folded his arms and tilted his chair back on two legs. “If Annarion goes, I’m going with him.” He grinned. It was not a comforting sight.
“You can’t. The Test of Name is faced alone.”
“According to Teela, you went with Severn.”
“Yes—but we didn’t intend totakethe damn test, Mandoran. We stumbled into it by accident. This isn’t a game.”
“No. For Annarion, it isn’t. Just between the two of us, I don’t give a damn about my family line. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the High Court. They sent us to the green. They didn’t care if we died there.”
“I think they hoped you’d all become more powerful.”
“Yes, and that’s why they sent their younger children, their youngest sons or their daughters.” Mandoran was not buying whatever the High Court of old had tried to sell him. Frankly, Kaylin didn’t buy it, either—but she wasn’t Barrani. Her opinion was irrelevant. “Also, frankly, Annarion finds his older brother’s attitude condescending. He dislikes being thought of and treated as a child.”
“By Barrani lights, he sort of is one.”
