Terrano shrugged. It was a fief shrug, but Mandoran had taken to it like a duck takes to water, and the rest of the cohort had fallen in line.
“That’s a yes.”
Terrano said a long nothing before he shifted in place. He was shimmering faintly, as if lit from within by a subtle magic. It was a magic that didn’t make Kaylin’s skin itch.
“You have a delivery at the gates, dear,” Helen said.
Kaylin got up from the table. She wasn’t expecting anything, but the cohort was. “Do you want to let them in?” she asked as she made her way to the door.
“No. I don’t think that’s at all wise.”
Kaylin stopped. “Mortal or Barrani?”
“Barrani,” Helen replied. Something about her voice caused Kaylin to start moving again. Quickly. She’d drawn a dagger before she reached the door, but barely noticed the knife’s handle in her palm, because her familiar was sitting, rigid and alert, on her right shoulder. He lifted a wing and spread it across her upper face.
Kaylin opened the door to discover that the visiting Barrani—in livery—hadn’t breached the very shut gate. A carriage waited on the other side of the fence; it was the Barrani equivalent of a royal carriage. Although it didn’t have the solid appearance of heft, it was light and visually pleasing; greens and gold highlighted what appeared to be a Dragon’s head, very obviously not attached to the rest of its body.
Terrano came to the door; he’d moved so silently Kaylin jumped at the sound of his voice. “I don’t think you want whatever it is they’re claiming to deliver.” Something in his tone made her look to the side; his expression was grim, his eyes narrowed. They were blue, but it was an odd shade of blue, or so Kaylin thought at first; she realized that the blue was the typical Barrani color, but it had spread to cover the entirety of his visible eyes, blotting out the whites.
“Helen?”
The Avatar appeared to Kaylin’s left, looking distinctly more martial. Armor tended to have that effect. “Yes,” she said softly. She wasn’t answering Kaylin. “I think you’re correct.” She smiled. If knives had teeth, that’s the kind of smile they’d give.
“You recognize them?” Kaylin then asked Terrano.
“You don’t?”
Kaylin grimaced. She’d studied the piles of information handed to her by Diarmat but, as she so often did, concentrated on the names that were already somewhat familiar and therefore relevant. Only a few of the entries had had accompanying illustrations, and she was pretty certain she’d remember a decapitated Dragon as part of a standard. “No, obviously. I don’t. People you’ve had reason to interact with in the past? I mean, the recent past.”
Terrano nodded.
“I’m guessing you think they’re up to no good.”
“They might be here to welcome their long-lost kin.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“You approached them?”
“Not directly.” He grimaced. “Yes.”
“Which is it?”
“Sedarias would have murdered me if I’d gone directly to her kin—but they’ve always been interested in new and unusual power, and we needed people who were more concerned with power. I didn’t go to Mellarionne. Suicide would have been less painful—although Alsanis would probably have prevented that. But they serve Mellarionne. And in case it’s not obvious, that’s Mellarionne’s crest.”
“I think I’d’ve remembered a Dragon’s detached head.”
“It’s their ancient crest. It’s the one they used to use when we got sent to the green.”
And using it now was a statement. Great. “The Consort said she’d supervise clothing appropriate for both the High Halls and the Test of Name. I’m guessing this is not that clothing.”
“It’s possible that it is,” Terrano replied. “But there’s something off about the entire carriage.”
“The carriage?”
He nodded.
“Not the man in the tabard?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s normal.” Normal and clearly worried. A head appeared in the carriage’s open window; from this distance it was hard to tell whether the occupant in question was male or female.
