Cast in Sorrow. Michelle Sagara

to speak of the experience.” Or at least, not all of it. “But I assume the Lords of the Court hold their silence with cause.

      “If you have seen the Tower, you know what waits there. To become a Lord of the Court, in the case of the two mortals who bear the title, all that matters is survival.”

      “Will you speak of what you saw?” Another Barrani, farther down the table, said. The woman spoke softly, but clearly, and as silence seemed to have descended on both of the other tables, the room’s acoustics easily carried her words.

      Kaylin glanced at the Lord of the West March; he watched her, his eyes slightly narrowed. She looked to Nightshade, whose eyes were emerald; they were probably the only green eyes in the building at the moment.

      “Yes.”

      If she’d thought the room quiet before, she discovered how wrong she was.

      “Mortal memory is not, as you’re all well aware, reliable. It’s not perfect. Elements of what I witnessed have faded. If any who have seen what I saw wish to correct me, I will take no offense.” She thought she heard Teela snort. “I wasn’t raised in the High Halls. I was a visitor there, but the building is immense. I was searching for the courtyard, and I found the Tower instead.

      “There was a word on the Tower wall. I could see it. The Barrani who had passed the Tower’s test could see it; the others couldn’t.”

      “You...could see the word.”

      She nodded. “And I understood that it was both an invitation and a command.”

      Nightshade said, “It was an invitation. None can be commanded—not even by the Tower—to take that test. But those who choose to abide untested will never gain a place in the High Lord’s Court.”

      Is this your story, or mine?

      It depends. If you ask your Corporal, he will assuredly claim that I had some greater hand in its writing.

      “I chose to enter the Tower. Lord Severn chose to accompany me.”

      “The Tower allowed this?” The woman’s eyes rounded slightly.

      “Yes.”

      “At the base of the Tower—and arriving at that base was not a simple matter of descending stairs—was a hall that was much rougher hewn than any of the halls I’d seen in the High Halls. At the end of that hall was a cavern.” She fell silent for a long moment, considering her possible words with care.

      “The Hallionne were built for a reason,” she finally said. “The Towers in the fiefs of Elantra were built for a reason. The High Halls exist—in the heart of an Empire ruled by a Dragon—” she paused to allow ice to seep into the silence, but did so without apologies; it was true “—for a reason. I met that reason. The test of name is purely a test of resolve, and if you fail your name is lost to the Lake of Life; it is lost until the moment that the creature in the cavernous basement is destroyed.

      “What he takes, he holds. I—” She stopped.

      The woman who had spoken seemed paler now. “How?”

      “Pardon?”

      “How does he take what he holds?”

      “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

      “Do they suffer?”

      Kaylin wasn’t certain how to answer the question, it was asked with such intensity. Honesty, with the Barrani, wasn’t always the best policy; it was less risky than slitting your own throat, but not always in a good way. No one came to her rescue; no one gave her advice on what—or more germane, what not—to say.

      “Yes,” she said. “They know where they are. They know they’re trapped.”

      Humans—mortals, really—had pretty clear concepts about souls, not that they always agreed with each other. Kaylin had never been clear on the Barrani life and afterlife. Had the trapped people been mortal, it would have been clearer, for a value of clear that left nothing but bitter, helpless rage in its wake.

      The woman fell silent for a long moment. “Thank you, Lord Kaylin.”

      Kaylin shook her head. She almost reverted to Elantran, but she didn’t recognize this woman as one of the party that had traveled with the Consort, and she wasn’t certain she’d be understood. “I hated it,” she said, voice low. “I couldn’t understand, at first, why the test existed at all.

      “But I understood it during the Leofswuld. No one who intends to rule the High Halls—and the Barrani, even if at a distance—can be vulnerable to the forces trapped beneath it.” This was not entirely truthful, but the theory was absolutely sound. “The High Halls houses something ancient and monstrous at its core; it’s meant to stand as a wall against that darkness. Those who have faced it and walk away can hold fast. If someone untested took the seat, what’s leashed there would be free.”

      “And you consider that a significant danger.”

      Kaylin was nonplussed. “I do.”

      “To our people or your own?”

      “Both.” The hands that rested in her lap began to ball into fists. “I understand bitterness at the loss. Believe that I understand it. But no one is forced to take that test.”

      “Are they not?” was the cool reply. The woman glanced across the table, and her gaze fell squarely upon the Warden of the West March.

      “No.”

      Teela cleared her throat; it was audible because no one else spoke. Kaylin dared one look at Lord Barian, and regretted it.

      “Perhaps,” the Barrani woman continued, “mortal customs are different. Or perhaps your knowledge of the Barrani is inexact. You were not required to take that test—indeed, I imagine that there are those present who would have argued strenuously against such an attempt. But for my kin, there are positions and privileges which accrue only to those who have taken that test and emerged.”

      “My knowledge of the Barrani people is, as you suggest, inexact. My knowledge of my own people isn’t. There are positions within society which I’m unqualified to hold. I’ll never be part of the Human Caste Court, and I’ll never be wealthy. I was born in the fiefs, and spent all of my childhood there.” She did not look at Nightshade, because she was angry. Had she wondered where her anger had gone?

      “But I choose the work I do now. If I had been told that my job depended on taking this test—and had I been informed that pass or fail was a simple matter of survival—I would have two choices.” She emphasized that last word. “I could have taken the test, in the hopes of keeping my job, or I could have found a different job.”

      “And if someone was more than qualified for greater duties, but did not, for the same reasons, choose to undertake such a risk?”

      “Then he’d have to find a different job. I understand that you feel there’s not much choice in that. But—it’s a choice, even if it’s a bad one.” She hesitated, and then said, “The Lady has what we would consider an extremely important job. Mortals don’t have True Names; we don’t require a Lady of our own. But not everyone can see the Lake of Life. Not everyone who does see it can hold their own name in abeyance; the desire to join what is there proves too strong.”

      Kaylin, how do you know this?

      She didn’t answer the Lord of the West March; she concentrated on the Barrani woman.

      “Someone who can’t pass the test of name won’t survive the duties of Consort. If the Consort fails, a search will begin for someone new. But every single one of those women will be tested. I imagine the search won’t even extend to those who haven’t passed the test, because—” Her brain caught up with her mouth, and she shut up.

      “And if someone was found who could touch the words, but had not taken the test?”

      “The words would kill