Michelle Sagara Read Free Page A

Teela glanced over her shoulder, and lowered her voice again. “The Barrani who’ve passed the test of name in the High Halls are expected to travel to the West March and listen to the recitation.
    “There, if they’re lucky, they’re empowered. Somehow. Don’t give me that look. I wasn’t making lists. I don’t know how the effect is measured. But...the ceremony has an effect.”
    “On all participants?” He gave the dress a pointed look.
    She frowned. “I’m not sure. I’d guess no. But on some.”
    Severn nodded.
    “Some ambitious moron on the High Council came up with a great idea. It was during one of the Draco-Barrani wars.” She frowned. “I’m guessing not all adults are affected by the regalia in an obvious way. Maybe someone thought adults were less malleable. But anyway, one of the nameless High Lords suggested that if the regalia had subtle effects on the adults, it might have stronger, more useful effects on children. Those children would then be like a super–next generation, and they might make a difference in the wars.
    “The High Lord of the time liked the idea.
    “So twelve children were chosen. Teela was one of the twelve. Or maybe there were thirteen—they speak of twelve lost, and Teela’s not lost. The children were considered gifted; smarter, faster, that kind of thing. They all came from significant families.” She glanced past Teela, and caught a brief glimpse of Nightshade. “The children were brought to the West March.
    “The denizens of the West March were not happy. Because they weren’t happy, they didn’t offer the visitors from the High Halls the hospitality of their homes; the children—and the Lords they traveled with—were placed in the Hallionne of the West March.”
    “The Hallionne that’s considered unsafe by the rest of the Hallionne.”
    Kaylin nodded. “It wasn’t considered unsafe at the time—but staying in the Hallionne was the equivalent of being told by family that they don’t have room for you and you should go to the nearest Inn.”
    “The Barrani of the West March didn’t want the children exposed to the regalia?”
    “No. But most of the Barrani of the West March aren’t Lords of the High Court, so they didn’t have a voice. They couldn’t prevent the children from appearing at the recitation—but they tried anyway. They died.”
    “During the recitation?”
    Kaylin nodded, remembering the cadence of Teela’s voice. Teela, who never really talked about anything except drinking and work. One of those Barrani had been her mother. “The children listened to the recitation. It was—it was a complicated tale. I think Teela said that a harmoniste and a Teller had been chosen by the heart of the green, and both collapsed the moment it was done. It was considered auspicious; most of the recitations have neither. Just the Lord of the West March.”
    “A harmoniste and Teller have been chosen for the upcoming recitation.”
    “I’m the harmoniste. Believe that I noticed.”
    “What happened?”
    Kaylin shrugged. “The children changed. It wasn’t obvious during the telling; it became obvious after. They’d returned to the Hallionne before it became clear how dangerous they were. They didn’t apparently feel much loyalty toward the Barrani; I think most of the Lords responsible for their journey died in the Hallionne at their hands.”
    “How did Teela survive unchanged?”
    “That would be the question.” She hesitated again. “The Ferals that almost killed us—”
    “Don’t call them Ferals around the Barrani; it annoys them.”
    “They haven’t come up with a better name. Fine. The Not Ferals that almost killed us are related, somehow, to the lost children the Barrani said were dead. When we were fighting in the forest before we reached Hallionne Bertolle, one of our attackers called Teela by name.
    “And she answered. She called him by the name he used to use before he—before. Nightshade recognized the name: