“Living with Helen is very much like living with the named. There’s nothing we think, unless we’re very, very careful—” and her tone implied most of the cohort found that impossible “—that she can’t have access to if she needs it. Helen pretty much fills that function.”
“Helen,” Teela pointed out, “is in one location; it is not hard to avoid her, if it becomes necessary.”
“And it would be hard to avoid us?”
“The wordhardimplies that it would be possible. I am against it, as you well know.”
“She’s saying that out loud,” Sedarias pointed out as Kaylin passed the intel on Mellarionne across the table, “because she expects that her opinion or her desire carries more weight with you than any of ours.”
“You agree with Mandoran?”
“Of course not. But this is possibly the first time I’ve really considered that he may not be an utter fool in this regard.” She had slipped into Barrani.
“Is there anything in there you don’t know?”
“Probably most of it,” Sedarias replied. The answer surprised Kaylin. “We’ve been shut away in Alsanis for nine centuries, give or take a few decades. It’s only in the past few months that I’ve been able to cautiously reestablish connections. Most of my early connections are dead now. Some are nonresponsive. Ihaveinformation; I have contacts. But as I’m sure you can imagine, things have changed.
“How much, how markedly, I won’t know until we are invited to Court. At this point, we won’t be invited to Court unless and until we pass the Test of Name.”
“You’re certain you’ll pass.”
“You have doubts?”
About Sedarias? No. Not really.
“This is Dragon intelligence, not Barrani intelligence, but some of the information was clearly gleanedfromBarrani.” Sedarias was frowning. “My brother is An’Mellarionne.”
“You were considered the heir?”
“The most likely heir, yes. It is why I was sent to the green. My family was considered bold, at the time; some called us reckless. But it is clear that Mellarionne, at least, survived and thrived. Ah, yes, very bold.” She smiled. It was not a kind smile. “I see we survived an attempt to take the High Seat.”
Teela frowned. “The Imperial intelligence—”
“It wouldn’t have been Imperial intelligence then,” Kaylin pointed out. “The Empire didn’t exist.”
“We don’t know when this information was gathered. I highly doubt it was gathered at the time of the attempt.”
“You remember it?”
“Clearly.” Teela offered nothing else. Kaylin had the suspicion that Teela would offer nothing that was not in the dossier itself.
“Were you involved in it?”
“What does the document say?”
“You were not An’Danelle at the time.”
Teela stiffened. “That is not the styling of my court name, as you are well aware.”
“It is not a styling,” Sedarias said—to Kaylin, who would have edged her way out of the conversation, and the dining room, given half a chance. “It is a statement of fact.”
“And perhaps whenyouare An’Mellarionne, you can call my personal choices into question.” Ugh. Teela’s eyes were definitely a darker shade of blue now.
“And does your line accept the obliteration ofits name?” Sedarias demanded. It had the sound of an old argument. It was a new argument to Kaylin, who didn’t know much about the hierarchy of the Barrani lords. She knew that being a Lord of the High Court meant that you had passed the Test of Name; she knew that the Court in the West March did notrequirethat their lords take and pass that test.
The An’Teela, An’Mellarionne, An’Danelle—which she promised herself she would never, ever use—were new to her. But she could read between the lines. If someone was An’Mellarionne—and that someone wasn’t Sedarias—it meant they were the head of the family, the first among the Mellarionne kin. Teela was called Teela; sometimes she was called Corporal Danelle. Danelle was her family.
But she was called An’Teela at Court. Kaylin had half wondered what the “An” before her name had signified, but assumed it was a pretentious Barrani styling. And apparently she had been wrong.
