“She knows that I have considered all information that has been presented to me, as I always do before I venture out of my humble abode.”
This caused Kaylin’s snort to join Bellusdeo’s. The Consort, however, was polite.
“My initial position would match more closely the High Court’s. Time—and caution—are critical. For our peoples, the passage of time—a paltry century—should not be telling. But your people, being far more numerous, tend to play games in which survival is not guaranteed; there is a risk to the cohort should they take that time. I am certain they understand this, and I will not insult your intelligence; I’m certain you do, as well.
“If they intend to make their home the Barrani High Court, they will be familiar with those dangers. Time, therefore, is irrelevant. The next decade, however, will intensify those games, regardless of the outcome of the Test of Name. There are three elements that come into play now. One, you’ve already mentioned: Lord Kaylin. I will agree that she is reckless—even for a mortal, she is young, and mortals who survive do gain wisdom at an astonishing rate.
“The second, linked to Lord Kaylin, is her familiar. While he is willing to converse, he does so in a limited and unpredictable way. With his aid, Lord Kaylin is capable of perceiving things that you or I would have difficulty perceiving without great effort and exertion. And the third, which I did not expect, and have not fully factored in, is Spike.
“I now understand what is at stake for you. What you have shared with me—and I believe it to be the truth, given Lord Kaylin’s excessively open reactions—the Imperial Court did not fully comprehend. I believe that there is some merit to taking the risk at this present time.”
“If you wanted a short answer,” Bellusdeo added, “you’ve asked the wrong person.”
“I would ask him many other questions, and listen to his lengthy response, were I in a position to do so. I envy you,” she added, her voice softening in such a natural way Kaylin believed her. “But especially at this time, interaction with the Imperial Court would cause difficulties for the High Lord.
“My presence here has caused political waves—but given the war band and the possible attack, by Dragon, in the West March, waves are the order of the day. You believe that I am correct?”
“I believe that this may be the best chance you have.”
“And our chances of success?”
Before the Arkon could answer, Annarion did. “Ourchances of success. Not yours. You have played your part here—and played it well, if perhaps unconventionally. But you are not coming with us.”
“You do not seek, surely, to give me orders?” Her words were cool; her tone was warm. She looked at Annarion in the same way she sometimes looked at Kaylin, and Kaylin realized, with some chagrin, that it was because she thought of them both as children.
It’s taken youthis longto realize that?
“Lady,” Annarion said, bowing. “You have said that you are the mother of our race. We will—should we survive—bring our children to you. Without your presence, they will not wake.”
“No. Without the presence of the Consort, without the presence of someone to whom the Lake speaks, they will not wake. But I am not the first, and I will not be the last.”
“You are too important to risk,” he insisted.
“And do you all feel that way?”
Silence. Kaylin realized, belatedly, that this was a test—of Annarion, of his honesty. And Annarion was honest. He didn’t answer.
“I don’t,” Sedarias said, speaking in Elantran, as if this were a test of her, as well. Kaylin couldn’t decide whether or not she had failed it or passed it; Annarion and Sedarias were not the same people, and the tests they faced would be different. Ynpharion considered it a decided fail, however. “As you must have inferred. I don’t believe that we will be able to accomplish what you require without some interference from you.”
“And you say this as a member of Mellarionne?”
Sedarias’s smile was sharp, edged, infinitely unkind. “So youhaveheard.”
“Of course I have. I am not concerned, however, with the Mellarionne candidate. You could never pass the final, and most determined, of the Lake’s tests. Nor, I believe, can she. You fail to understand the nature of the Lake, and its sentience; you therefore fail to understand the nature of the Consorts. I have no children, but in the future, I will. And yet, even if some terrible fate were to befall me, if someone could pass that final test, I would have an heir. An heir that would be true to the responsibility that has devoured the whole of my life and thought. There ispeacein it, Sedarias. I do not fear being irrelevant.
“Should the Mellarionne candidate pass, I would feelgratitude, not political tension. Families push their daughters—their competent, powerful daughters—into taking the tests of the Lake. They do it constantly. They see the position of Consort, and they see the tangible political benefit; they may even believe that the Consorts will choose only names of great power and significance when bestowing those names upon the chosen, favored few—those favored being, of course, of the line that birthed the Consort.
“History could teach them better lessons, had they the will to learn them. No one who could use the position in that fashion would ever be granted the position. Daughters of the powerfulhavebecome consort, or heir, throughout our history—and yet, they have failed to become pawns of the families to whom they were birthed. If your candidate succeeds, so, too, will she.”
“But there is no heir,” Annarion continued, dogged now. “The High Lord himself would surely forbid it.”
At this, her eyes did darken, although her lips turned up in a smile. “He would not dare.”
Ynpharion wasn’t shocked; he was chagrined. He didn’t condescend to confirm the Consort’s opinion, but it was clear that he agreed with her assessment.
“You are perhaps laboring under a misconception,” she continued when no one spoke. “You are responsible for your choice. You can elect to take the Test of Name and face what waits below the Tower. Or you can refrain. You cannot make choices for me; nor can you direct my actions in this regard. I have assessed the risks I am willing to take, and the choice of those risks resides entirely with me. As do the consequences. No blame or guilt accrues to you—to any of you—should you deign to fulfill my request.”
“Of course,” Sedarias said, inclining her head. Annarion looked far less accepting. “You are Consort; we are not even Lords of the Court. In no wise would we be up to a task that was beyond your reach.” She looked at the maps that were laid across the table. “Shall we now discuss what you feel we need to know?”
