“I am not at all certain that is true,” Helen said, although her Avatar hadn’t joined them in the room. “But I think it is the most apt metaphor for this discussion. Part of how Kaylin defines herself is her duties as a Hawk. They have been important to her for far longer than I.”
“What if you had to choose between them?” Terrano then asked. Kaylin wasn’t certain whether or not he was asking Helen or her. But Helen didn’t have the choice to leave. If this was a cage, as Terrano implied, it was locked and barred. Helen could, and did, gain information from those who entered; she offered advice where it was wanted. Sometimes when it wasn’t, as well—but everyone did that.
“I don’t know,” Kaylin finally said. “I could say I’d choose home, because I can always find another job. But...it’s not just a job to me. And I could say I’d choose the job because I can always find another place to live—but that place would never be home. I don’t know,” she said again. “Because I love both. I can’t imagine that I wouldn’t miss one of them, if I chose the other. I couldn’t imagine I wouldn’t have regrets.”
She slid her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe, and pulled out a small box. “When we were in the West March, Alsanis gave this to me. He said I’d know when to use it.”
Terrano didn’t even seem surprised.
“I think he thought you couldn’t make a choice without understanding what it was you were choosing between. I mean—without having the experience. I think he’s kept this for you, and honestly? If it returned to the West March, he’d continue to keep it. You did save him,” she added softly. “And I think he’d return the favor if he thought that salvation—yours—was up to him. Maybe you could talk to him about it?”
Terrano shook his head. He held out a hand, and Kaylin set the box in his palm, where it trembled slightly. “I’m going to go take a walk. Alone,” he added, not looking at Kaylin. Not speaking to her, either, if she had to guess.
“I will leave the back door open,” Helen replied, confirming her suspicion.
Kaylin did not see Terrano the next day.
Or the one after.
Or the one after that.
She did get an invitation to a ceremony to be held at the High Halls, and she would have resented it more but every member of the cohort plus Tain had also received an invitation, as had Teela. It was, however, Sedarias who explained that the use of the wordinvitationwas a polite fiction. It was a command, dressed in pretty paper with lovely handwriting.
Although the cohort had—demonstrably—passed the Test of Name, the High Lord considered the return of the lost children to be a moment of great import to the Barrani High Court. That celebration would occur in three days. All were expected to attend.
This had caused a welcome discussion over what had otherwise been a somber breakfast table, although there was some danger, given the color of Teela’s and Sedarias’s eyes, that it would spill into a less welcome argument. Perhaps because Bellusdeo was present, it didn’t.
But on the fourth day after Terrano’s departure breakfast was once again glum. Teela remained with Helen; Tain did the same. There were discussions about that, as well. Well, not exactly discussions; there wasgossipabout it, but Teela and Tain kept their disagreements to themselves. Teela was the only member of the cohort who could detach herself enough that she could maintain some semblance of privacy.
The cohort accepted this; if they’d grown into a hive mind over the centuries, they’d done so without Teela. Teela’s absence, while it had been a cause for guilt and sadness, had not fundamentally changed their nature.
Terrano’s absence, however, had left a hole in the group mind.
Four days became five; five became six. She guessed that Terrano had made his choice, and she understood, because everything she’d said had been truth.
Since the cohort had already accepted his decision, their continued gloom surprised Kaylin. But they hadn’t had much time to make a choice, or accept a choice or discuss individual choices on that day in the green. They’d made their choices, and they accepted them. They could, once again, return home. The absence of Terrano had not yet become as real as it became in the months that followed.
His physical presence had been better than nothing, but...it was only his physical presence. It was why, Kaylin reflected, they pulled him into their group huddles, the physical piles that most resembled the Leontine family unit. If they couldn’t hear him, they could still assure themselves of his presence.
That was gone. Apparently so was whatever it was that animated the cohort—or at least forced them to interact with words outsiders could hear. They were silent. Even Mandoran, whose idea of breakfast chat was admittedly tweaking the Dragon.
Bellusdeo asked Helen—before the cohort came down to breakfast on the seventh day—whether or not Terrano had even bothered to say goodbye.
“No, dear.”
“I’m worried about Mandoran. He’s been almost polite in the past week.”
“I heard that. What do you mean,almost?”
“You kept your mouth shut,” Bellusdeo replied without missing a beat. Any embarrassment at worry on her part was probably only in Kaylin’s imagination.
Mandoran took a seat at the table directly opposite Bellusdeo’s. “Perhaps I’m attempting to treat my title as Lord of the High Court with the dignity it deserves.”
“Oh, please. I’m eating.”
The rest of the cohort filed into the dining room. If Mandoran was up to his usual sparring with Bellusdeo, they weren’t, although Annarion had a slight half grin on his face, which he wiped clean, figuratively speaking, as he sat.
“He is attempting to practice appropriate dignity,” Sedarias said; she was the last to be seated. She wore a deep purple dress that accentuated her color. And her power. She looked like a storybook queen. “He will appear before the High Lord and the Consort as a Lord of the Court, and he will do so without fidgeting or attempting to pass through the nearest wall in boredom.”
