The Consort bid her rise when it became clear that she would not rise without permission—or command. Sedarias then moved to the side, where Ynpharion waited.
One by one the rest of the cohort approached the Consort—and the High Halls behind her—and offered the same gesture of absolute respect that Sedarias had offered. Only Terrano fidgeted before he approached the Consort, and his bow, while technically just as respectful, was nowhere near as perfect in form. He was too nervous.
Teela did not offer the same bow, although she did bend; nor did she wait to be told to rise.
“I see you bearKariannos,” the Consort said.
“A gesture of respect, Lady, no more,” Teela replied. So, Kaylin thought. Teela’s sword, like Nightshade’s, had a name.
“For their return?”
“For their return.” Teela’s eyes were blue. The Consort’s, however, were their usual green, and that green was—as it almost always was—in sharp contrast to the shade of the eyes of every other Barrani present.
“The High Lord,” the Consort then said, “wishes to greet you all, and welcome you back to the lands of your birth. Please, join us.”
The cavernous halls were almost empty; the guards, almost superfluous. The cohort, however, moved more slowly as they walked. They didn’t appear to be gawking, but they found the halls, or perhaps what the halls represented, almost awe-inspiring.
Kaylin understood; the architecture was intimidating. The ceilings were so high above the ground they seemed designed to make anyone walking beneath them feel small and insignificant, and if that didn’t work, the alcoves with their towering statues or intricate fountains were there for emphasis. Kaylin had seen it all before, and architecture wasn’t her first concern.
Kaylin’s familiar was seated in a rigid posture on her left shoulder, eyes wide and unblinking, wings folded. Kaylin glanced at him once and then let him fade into the background. Spike, however, was whirring. She hoped that this was audible only to her, but that hope was dashed when the Consort paused.
“Spike,” Kaylin hissed.
The whirring stopped. When Kaylin lifted her hand, there was nothing in it, which was disconcerting, because she couldfeelthe underside of Spike in her palm.
I am here, he told her.But I am attempting to be unobtrusive.
Kaylin wasn’t certain that would be any better, but Hope seemed to draw the attention of the very few people they passed as they traversed the halls. And the Consort knew about Spike, and knew he would accompany Kaylin, so it wasn’t as if she was trying to sneak him in.
More subtlety would be highly appreciated by all concerned, Ynpharion said.
If she wanted subtle, she’d’ve found someone else, Kaylin snapped back. She was nervous. She hated to be judged—but the fear that her actions would affect the future of the cohort was worse, especially if the cohort themselves behaved flawlessly.
Your actions always affect those around you, Ynpharion said, being his usual helpful self.
She let loose an internal volley of Leontine, to his amusement.
Kaylin quickly discovered the reason the outer halls had been so empty: the entirety of the Court seemed to have gathered in the small forest nestled within the forbidding structure. The perfect, interlocking stones of the narrow forest path were clear, but as the cohort followed the Consort’s lead, the people standing nearest the path began to grow in number. Even before the shelter of trees had been cleared, it had become almost dangerously crowded, and the Consort’s four guards now seemed entirely inadequate.
They are inadequate,Ynpharion informed her.But her presence is not. This close to the High Seat, none will attack her guests unless they intend to assassinate the High Lord simultaneously. If that is their intent, this is not the place at which to launch such an attack; it is the very seat of the High Lord’s power.
Regardless, he was nervous and alert. So were the other three.
Hope squawked, but it was a quiet, almost chirpy sound. Kaylin tried to relax, but abandoned that effort when her familiar lifted his wing. Mindful of what little dignity she had, he didn’t smack her face with it, but that was a tiny, tiny comfort, not unlike putting up an umbrella beneath an oncoming tidal wave.
Room was made for the approaching cohort, although it didn’t involve the usual shoving for space that occurred in less upscale crowds. Space was required, and space appeared with no accompanying fuss. From where Kaylin now stood, she could see the High Seat; it was occupied by the High Lord. The Consort’s throne was empty, but it became clear that that’s where she intended to go, once the cohort had been safely delivered.
Teela took the rear; Tain separated himself from his partner and joined the cohort. It wasn’t a surprise that Teela’s eyes were now midnight blue; although the two Barrani Hawks had argued—at significantly less volume than Annarion and his brother—it was clear that neither had budged from their initial positions. Tain intended to take the Test of Name. Teela couldn’t stop him.
The Consort moved to take her seat on the empty throne at the High Lord’s side.
The High Lord did not rise. Once the Consort was seated, the cohort executed a bow that encompassed both thrones. The gestures were astonishing in their perfect unison. Astonishing, Kaylin thought, even to the High Lord; the Consort, however, was not surprised. Kaylin bowed, as well.
Severn reminded her to hold that bow until the High Lord bid them rise. She didn’t even count the seconds; she was too worried. Hope’s wing was usually a sign that something was wrong—but she’d seen nothing wrong, unless the crowd counted. Since she was a Hawk, not a Sword, she didn’t have the visceral reaction to crowds that the Swords did.
“Rise and be welcome,” the High Lord said.
Kaylin rose. For once, her fear for the people in front of her eclipsed her own sense of inadequacy. Years of practice doing nothing but bowing might give her the peculiar power and understated strength of Barrani gestures—but she doubted it. One couldn’t make a career in bowing and scraping, and if one couldn’t, it didn’t pay. Money was a necessity.
