Indeed,kyuthe, it is not. I have not visited Orbaranne much since you left, and this is not a social call. She is lonely, he added, his internal voice soft as well.Although you did much to alleviate that in your time.
I don’t get it. Isn’t she with you?
Yes and no. She is in all places, as the Hallionne naturally are, but she wishes to simply be in one. Tell me, did you truthfully bring aDragon?
Not on purpose, and no I didn’t. Remembering what Bellusdeo had said about the phraseit’s not my fault, Kaylin refrained from using it.The water sent us here.
His inner voice stilled completely. After a pause that felt long and significant, he said,I have asked the Hallionne to shorten your walk significantly.
Kaylin knew that the buildings could rearrange themselves to suit their guests, and guessed that Orbaranne would probably turn herself into a pretzel for the Lord of the West March’s convenience. She therefore expected that the halls would shorten or even disappear.
She was very, very disheartened to see the portal that shimmered into existence three yards ahead of them. She managed a very politic “Ugh, portal,” which probably hid nothing given the internal Leontine phrases she was picking between.
“It is safe,” Orbaranne said. “And the Lord believes it necessary, now.” Her voice was heavier, less polished with silent enthusiasm. “It will harm neither you nor Bellusdeo.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Bellusdeo said to the empty air. “I don’t have a problem with portals. Kaylin, however, finds them very, very difficult.”
“Oh?”
“They make her nauseous. Nauseated? I’m uncertain which is the correct word.”
“It doesn’t matter,” was Kaylin’s grimmer than necessary reply. “Let’s just get this over with.”
* * *
There were certain phrases Kaylin had learned never to use, chief among them:How bad can it be?She was ready to addlet’s just get this over withto the list of forbidden sentences. She was braced, had been braced, for the dizziness caused by swarming lights, the instability of visible floor, and the sudden shift in temperature between one step and the next. She was prepared for a great, long tunnel, with an end that could be seen but could not be reached, because while other people apparently stepped into portals as if they were open doorways, that did not happen for Kaylin.
But this time, it was worse. Magical theory held that portals were created by stitching two patches of reality together with binding magic, as if each segment of the real world were just a chunk of cloth that could be manipulated that way. This was almost exactly the explanation that Kaylin had been given in the magical education classes she’d received after her application to become a real Hawk, not just an official mascot, had been accepted.
Mascot. Ugh.
Sanabalis, in his personal lessons, had been more expansive, but as far as Kaylin could tell, his answer was essentially the same thing—just more easily interrupted with questions. She didn’t have topasshis lessons to be a Hawk. But she’d never really understood what that “magic” was. Not until she’d entered the portal paths that existed between the Hallionne. Unlike these portals, or the horrible one that led into Castle Nightshade, the paths were exactly that: paths. But they crossed through a very strange dimension in which geography was fluid: it could be a forest. It could be a desert. It could be shimmering, ugly landscape that was just one step away from the Shadow that devoured the living who dared to enter Ravellon, the heart of the fiefs.
This space was not those paths. It was, in theory, very like the portal that led to Nightshade’s interior domain.
Or it should have been. But to either side she could see what she could only describe as the ghosts of trees—majestic, tall, haunting and ultimately...lost. She could see spires, shimmering as if stone had brilliant color, in the distance beyond and above those trees. She could hear the faint, attenuated echo of birdsong—birds that were as insubstantial as these trees.
The ground beneath her feet rumbled, as if in time to her unsteady steps. She couldn’t see Bellusdeo. She reached out to the Lord of the West March and heard...nothing. Nothing but birds.
Portals had tunnels that one could follow; there was a beginning and an end, no matter how wobbly they became. This was therefore unlike those paths. The trees weren’t solid enough to be real landscape, but as she looked at them, she realized they weren’t lining a path. It was as if she was lost in the dream of a long ago forest.
She did not want to be lost here. She took a step forward, and again, the ground rumbled, swaying beneath her feet. The motion transferred itself up her body and into her head; she clenched her jaw, took two more steps, and stopped. She gave up on walking on two feet. Placing her hands on the ground, she swore—but this was not the first time she would emerge from a portal she had traversed on her hands and knees.
And at least the ground here wouldn’t wear out her clothing.
She regretted eating lunch. Or eating anything, ever.
Not that way.Not that way, Kaylin.
Had the voice not been distinctly feminine, Kaylin would have assumed that it was the Lord of the West March. Maybe it was the Hallionne Orbaranne. But no, that seemed wrong. Something about the voice was familiar, and she lifted her head, turning to see where the voice had come from.
No. Close your eyes. You shouldn’t be here. You have to leave.
“Who is this? Who’s speaking?”
We will make our own way out. Or—
“This is aportal. It’s meant to take me from one part of Orbaranne to another part. It’s a shortcut.” She spit the last word out with venomous sarcasm worthy of a Dragon.
