us.”
“It is expedient for me to do so at this time. It is also,” Nightshade added, “no risk to me. What I see, you cannot see without my aid, and could you, you could do nothing with it while I lived.” His smile was slight and cool.
“But here—”
“Yes. I see more and less clearly than I would otherwise see if Barren was stable. But what you see along the blurred edge is accurate. The shadows of the interior have changed shape over even the past decade. They have been on the move—slowly—into the fief of Barren.”
Kaylin frowned.
“You’ve had word from the fief lord of Barren, have you not?” Nightshade asked her softly.
She glanced at Tiamaris, who didn’t seem to be surprised, and gave up. “Yes. But I didn’t understand why. And I still don’t understand why now .” The words sank into the silence that followed them. “It’s gotten worse,” she said, voice flat. “Recently.”
Lord Nightshade said, “It has, as you guess, recently become much more unstable.”
“Do you know why?”
“No. The interior is completely invisible to both my magic and my information network.”
“Do you think it has something to do with the Outcaste Dragon?”
“He was injured, when he retreated from our previous encounter,” Nightshade replied, his voice completely neutral. “The injuries he sustained were not insignificant, and unless he were capable of healing them quickly—” his tone made clear that he thought it highly unlikely “—it is doubtful, to me.”
She slid her hands to her hips, and then let them fall back to her side. “Nightshade, please—”
“When the tainted Leontines ran into the heart of the fiefs,” he told her softly, “it is just possible that their need and their voices woke something that should not have been woken. This is conjecture, on my part, no more, and for that reason I am hesitant to offer it.”
She swallowed. “I-it can’t be them.” The shakiness of her words failed to convince even Kaylin, and she’d said them. She looked at Tiamaris.
The Dragon Lord said, quietly, “The Eternal Emperor and the Dragon Court have decreed that the child of the tainted is not to be killed. They will not destroy him when they receive word of Lord Nightshade’s conjecture, Kaylin. That much, your service has bought the infant.”
That much, Kaylin thought. She tried to ignore her fear, but fear was hard that way. Swallowing it, she turned back to the mirror. Wondering what might wake in the shadows and the darkness of something that had looked, at first glance, like the rest of the city.
“Tiamaris, what happens if Barren somehow falls?”
“Falls?”
“If the shadows—if the heart of the fief—somehow expands to fill it?”
“You’ve lived in Nightshade,” was his quiet reply. “Your life was informed, in some ways, by the presence of those shadows, whether you knew it or not. The Emperor will hold the city,” he continued, after a pause.
Lord Nightshade raised a brow, but did not comment.
“But it will know ferals, and possibly worse. The Imperial Palace is not what Castle Nightshade is.”
“The High Halls—”
“The Barrani High Halls,” Tiamaris said.
She winced.
“You see the difficulty.”
She did. But she plowed on, regardless. “Could the High Halls hold out against the—the shadows?”
“Almost certainly, given the change in rulership. But it will not happen while the Eternal Emperor still breathes. He will not surrender an inch of his established domain to the Barrani.”
Lord Nightshade nodded. “I can enter Barren,” he told her quietly. “But it is not, then, safe for Nightshade. Not now; there is already too much instability and too much weakness.”
She had lived most of her life under Nightshade’s rule. In no way could she call it either just or fair. But the shadows—in the fiefs, and under the High Halls—would be far, far worse, and she accepted this. Because, she thought bitterly, she lived on
“It is expedient for me to do so at this time. It is also,” Nightshade added, “no risk to me. What I see, you cannot see without my aid, and could you, you could do nothing with it while I lived.” His smile was slight and cool.
“But here—”
“Yes. I see more and less clearly than I would otherwise see if Barren was stable. But what you see along the blurred edge is accurate. The shadows of the interior have changed shape over even the past decade. They have been on the move—slowly—into the fief of Barren.”
Kaylin frowned.
“You’ve had word from the fief lord of Barren, have you not?” Nightshade asked her softly.
She glanced at Tiamaris, who didn’t seem to be surprised, and gave up. “Yes. But I didn’t understand why. And I still don’t understand why now .” The words sank into the silence that followed them. “It’s gotten worse,” she said, voice flat. “Recently.”
Lord Nightshade said, “It has, as you guess, recently become much more unstable.”
“Do you know why?”
“No. The interior is completely invisible to both my magic and my information network.”
“Do you think it has something to do with the Outcaste Dragon?”
“He was injured, when he retreated from our previous encounter,” Nightshade replied, his voice completely neutral. “The injuries he sustained were not insignificant, and unless he were capable of healing them quickly—” his tone made clear that he thought it highly unlikely “—it is doubtful, to me.”
She slid her hands to her hips, and then let them fall back to her side. “Nightshade, please—”
“When the tainted Leontines ran into the heart of the fiefs,” he told her softly, “it is just possible that their need and their voices woke something that should not have been woken. This is conjecture, on my part, no more, and for that reason I am hesitant to offer it.”
She swallowed. “I-it can’t be them.” The shakiness of her words failed to convince even Kaylin, and she’d said them. She looked at Tiamaris.
The Dragon Lord said, quietly, “The Eternal Emperor and the Dragon Court have decreed that the child of the tainted is not to be killed. They will not destroy him when they receive word of Lord Nightshade’s conjecture, Kaylin. That much, your service has bought the infant.”
That much, Kaylin thought. She tried to ignore her fear, but fear was hard that way. Swallowing it, she turned back to the mirror. Wondering what might wake in the shadows and the darkness of something that had looked, at first glance, like the rest of the city.
“Tiamaris, what happens if Barren somehow falls?”
“Falls?”
“If the shadows—if the heart of the fief—somehow expands to fill it?”
“You’ve lived in Nightshade,” was his quiet reply. “Your life was informed, in some ways, by the presence of those shadows, whether you knew it or not. The Emperor will hold the city,” he continued, after a pause.
Lord Nightshade raised a brow, but did not comment.
“But it will know ferals, and possibly worse. The Imperial Palace is not what Castle Nightshade is.”
“The High Halls—”
“The Barrani High Halls,” Tiamaris said.
She winced.
“You see the difficulty.”
She did. But she plowed on, regardless. “Could the High Halls hold out against the—the shadows?”
“Almost certainly, given the change in rulership. But it will not happen while the Eternal Emperor still breathes. He will not surrender an inch of his established domain to the Barrani.”
Lord Nightshade nodded. “I can enter Barren,” he told her quietly. “But it is not, then, safe for Nightshade. Not now; there is already too much instability and too much weakness.”
She had lived most of her life under Nightshade’s rule. In no way could she call it either just or fair. But the shadows—in the fiefs, and under the High Halls—would be far, far worse, and she accepted this. Because, she thought bitterly, she lived on
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