Cast in Sorrow. Michelle Sagara
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Название: Cast in Sorrow
Автор: Michelle Sagara
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежное фэнтези
isbn: 9781472054647
isbn:
The two attendants exchanged another glance. Kaylin did her best not to take it personally, and mostly succeeded. “There is a spring; this hall is built around it. The water for the baths within the personal rooms of the Lord of the West March comes from that spring.”
Kaylin frowned. “The fountain in the courtyard—is it connected to the springs in some way, as well?”
“It is.”
She turned immediately to the small dragon and dropped into Elantran; while the Barrani in the city could be expected to know Kaylin’s mother tongue, the Barrani of the West March might not. She considered Aerian, but her Aerian wasn’t as fluent. “It doesn’t matter if the water’s elemental, idiot. It’s safe.”
The small dragon wasn’t having any of it. She had no idea why he reacted so poorly to the water; he hadn’t reacted that way to fire, and fire was, in Kaylin’s opinion, vastly more dangerous.
Or, given he was a miniature dragon, maybe not. The small amount of dignity she did possess was unlikely to hold up in the face of an argument with a pet—and given the reaction of the servants, they seemed to see it as a pet and not a mythical, sorcerous creature. Wilting because she was hungry, she turned to her attendants. “Could we do this bath the old-fashioned way?”
* * *
The Barrani were not, apparently, accustomed to the human version of bathing, since it mostly involved nothing but buckets. It also involved hot water, which was a blessing. They didn’t complain; they asked a few brief questions, their tone neutral enough it couldn’t be called curt. Kaylin toweled her own hair dry, but allowed the Barrani to set it. They combed it to within an inch of Kaylin’s life; she was surprised there was any hair left when they’d finished. She’d picked up an annoying assortment of plant bits on the walk between Orbaranne and the West March; the Barrani obligingly dislodged all of it.
They even brought jewelry. Kaylin politely refused. Her ears weren’t pierced; holes were what other people put into you against your will. She already had one necklace. They didn’t approve, obviously—but also, silently. If Kaylin hadn’t been so certain Teela would rat her out to Sanabalis, she would have left the damn medallion in her room.
And if it is lost?
Losing something significant that belonged to a Dragon was not high on Kaylin’s list of acceptably painless suicides. I’m wearing it, aren’t I?
Yes, you are. You are perhaps unaware that you are the only person in this Hall who could wear it and expect to survive the week?
She hadn’t really considered that at all. It doesn’t mean it won’t upset people.
Nightshade was highly amused. If it upset no one, there would be little point in it. You do not belong in any Barrani Court, but you are here; you wear the blood of the green; your companion is of note to even the most powerful among our kin. Word has almost certainly traveled, Kaylin; the Lord of the West March may find his hall rather more crowded than even he anticipated.
Damn Barrani and their boredom.
You understand.
Chapter 5
In the Halls of Law, the mess hall could get crowded. Unless it was deserted, it was never quiet. There were scores in the wood of old tables and benches, some of which commemorated old war stories, and some of which were part of them. Kaylin didn’t know everyone who worked in the Halls on a first name basis, but she came close.
She was reminded that Barrani weren’t human when she entered the dining hall. Instead of one long table, it boasted three, but each of the three was immaculate. If the tables were wooden, she couldn’t tell; they were covered in pale cloth. The cloth itself was of no fixed color; hues changed as she walked. There were chairs, not benches; instead of candles, there were globes of what looked like hanging water.
Kaylin knew people did this with glass—but glass didn’t ripple and surge like a liquid. She found it disturbing.
It was far less disturbing than the silence that enveloped a relatively quiet hall as she entered. Nightshade hadn’t been wrong; the hall was crowded. The tables were longer than any single table she’d seen, and wider than most of the ones in the mess hall. The chairs were filled. A sharp, rising panic made her dare a sweep of the room to find Teela or Severn; she found Severn first.
“Lord Kaylin.”
At the head of the middle table—a table that was slightly taller than the two that bracketed it—stood the Lord of the West March. He didn’t rise; he hadn’t apparently taken his seat. Which meant, in Dragon etiquette terms, that no one could start to eat. Because she was late.
Being late had never filled her with so much horror.
A glimmer of a smile touched the eyes of the Lord of the West March; he’d clearly chosen to be amused. This set the tone for the rest of the meal—or it should have. For elegant, graceful, stately people, the ones gathered here watched like eagles. Or vultures.
Not vultures, surely, a voice that was not Nightshade’s said.
Her eyes rounded and she had the grace to flush.
Walk, Kaylin. Do not scurry, but do not dally. As you suspect, all eyes—or ears—are upon you. You have a place of honor in this hall while you wear the blood of the green; your place after you have served your purpose will be decided by your behavior before the recitation.
She knew his True Name.
Yes.
Nightshade could—and did—intrude on her thoughts as he pleased; the Lord of the West March had never done so. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he could until he spoke.
This deepened his amusement.
You are unaccustomed to power, kyuthe. It is an advantage—to me. But you are not in the friendly and tolerant environs of the High Halls now.
She didn’t stumble by dint of will. His smile deepened; his eyes were a shade of green that was tinged with blue, but not saturated by it. She didn’t need to tell him that the High Halls did not define either friendly or tolerant in her books, but she had a feeling that if she survived this, it would. At least where Barrani were concerned.
The small dragon raised his head and brought it to the level of her cheek. His wings remained folded, although today they couldn’t do much damage to her hair; she was fairly certain she would never again be able to take it down. Men and women turned in their seats as his head swiveled from side to side.
The servants had almost entirely ignored his existence.
They did not. They were aware of him.
Will they make reports to whoever they work for?
Most assuredly. They are mine. They report to me.
You probably know everything I know already, she said, not bothering to hide the defensive note creeping into her thoughts.
No. I understand what a name means to you. You believe that the interest shown you is unwarranted; you assign it to the СКАЧАТЬ