The Consort had led them to the fountain behind the thrones. Kaylin had seen it before, but the cohort clearly hadn’t; there was almost a marked hesitance in their movements.
It is very, very seldom that the Consort entertains guests here. She has rooms that are far more stately—and far more secure—than this.
I doubt they’re more secure.
They are more secure for the Consort. Yes, this is the heart of her power, but the power that she has over the Lake—and, by extension, our people—is not destructive in nature.
The cohort seemed to understand this. Sedarias was almost awkward in her hesitation.
“Forgive me,” the Consort said. She gestured. “Please. Be seated. I seldom entertain so many people here; this small courtyard is not ideally situated for guests of note.” There were benches here, but no chairs, and a table that looked distinctly out of place had been both prepared and provisioned. “I retreat here when I wish to think without interruptions.” Her eyes narrowed as she turned to Terrano. “What occurred there?”
Kaylin was almost certain she already knew the answer—or as much of the answer as Kaylin herself did.
Terrano said nothing until Sedarias turned to glare at him. He shrugged, which did nothing to soften the glare. “Coravante tried to force me to disengage.”
“Disengage implies that he engaged you.” Sedarias took control of the discussion instantly.
“He tried.”
“How?”
“He tried to cast the equivalent of a spell.”
“Tried or succeeded?”
“Tried.”
“Succeeded,” Kaylin said at almost the same time.
“That’s when your familiar stepped in?”
“No—he stepped in after.” Kaylin exhaled. “He used some sort of Shadow tendrils, and they entered Terrano through—as far as I could see—the ground. They traveled through his boots, and followed the trail of what passes for muscle.”
“What was their intent?”
“I don’t know. They were doing a fair amount of damage as they traveled. Terrano thought he could shake them,” she added, lifting a hand as Sedarias opened her mouth, “but to do that, he’d have to physically alter his body.”
The Consort was silent. They were all silent. Almost by unspoken assent, the cohort waited until the Lady broke that silence.
“Do you believe those tendrils would have done the same damage to any other member of the cohort?”
Did she? She looked at Terrano. She had expected, if an attack happened, that the victim would be Sedarias. It demonstrably hadn’t been. She both understood and failed to understand. Taking out Sedarias would destroy the cohort, because Sedarias was their natural leader. Coravante would, because he was Mellarionne, assume that.
If he attacked Sedarias, it would look bad for the line. Fights—and assassinations—were to be done behind figurative closed doors. But...would it have done the same damage?
“I’m not certain.”
“You don’t believe it would have.”
There was one significant difference between Terrano and the cohort. Or rather, one that might make the difference. Terrano had no name. He was capable of blending in with the formless, shapeless miasma that was Shadow. What Shadow could do to him, and what he might do to escape it, was not what the cohort itself could do.
Coravante couldn’t assume that the cohort had each other’s names. Or rather, that all of the cohort knew all of the other names.
“When you approached Iberrienne,” she asked, turning to face Terrano, “did you make it clear—in any way—that you...?” And here, she paused.
If you are concerned that you will reveal something that should remain hidden, be at ease,Ynpharion said.The Consort is well aware that the entire cohort is name-bound.
You told her?
