"Oh?"

"You're a Dragon. He's a Dragon. It's his territory and you serve the Emperor, which would be, for his purposes, the wrong Dragon."

Sanabalis lifted a brow, and then a faint smile moved the corners of his lips. Not by much, though. "It is, as you surmise, tricky. I have been Lord Tiamaris's teacher, and I am definitely his senior; I am his superior in most areas of knowledge. He, however, has always possessed better information about the fiefs as they are now than any of the rest of the Dragon Court. I do not serve Lord Tiamaris.

"But Lord Tiamaris serves the Emperor as a member of the Dragon Court. Therefore accommodations can be requested."

"I'm surprised Diarmat allowed it."

"Lord Diarmat is not the Emperor. He is, as you've no doubt surmised, the most conservative member of the Court, and not without reason. Lord Tiamaris accepted the Emperor's request that I oversee some of the resettlement. The Emperor is concerned."

Kaylin nodded and led the way toward the Tower automatically. Sanabalis, however, shook his head. "Lord Tiamaris is not currently at the Tower; he is waiting near the interior border."

"Why?"

"There have been some difficulties. And no, before you ask, I will not elaborate. This is his domain, Kaylin; he will tell you what he wishes you to know. The etiquette that governs my presence here is of necessity more strict than any etiquette that governs yours."

The walk to the border took longer than the walk to the Tower. The streets weren't empty-but they were empty compared to the stretch of beat that Kaylin and Severn normally covered. Here and there, some obvious reconstruction was already under way, and in those locations, there were more people; they were busy enough that three strangers pa.s.sing by didn't elicit panic, although it did elicit the usual suspicious looks that were at home on the face of fief citizens anywhere.

Sanabalis paused when Kaylin did, and resumed walking when Kaylin did; he didn't make any comment or otherwise attempt to interact with people. He did, however, pause in front of the small gardens that seemed to front most of the buildings along the streets.

"It's Tara's experiment," Kaylin told him. These gardens, unlike the usual streetside fare, were entirely practical, and given to the growing of food. "I think some of the more damaged areas now have no buildings; they have larger gardens-small farms, really."

"And the former occupants?"

"They lost a lot of people before Tiamaris took the Tower. And even if they hadn't, no one would be stupid enough to complain to the fieflord about something as inconsequential as having a place to live." She didn't even attempt to keep the bitterness out of her voice, although she knew that particular fear was no longer warranted in this fief.

"You are wrong," Sanabalis said. It surprised her.

"People complain to Tiamaris about having no roof over their head?"

"Ah, no. They do, however, speak to the Lady."

"They have to get through Tiamaris first."

"No. Apparently, they don't. She hears them regardless."

Kaylin smiled. "She's nowhere near as terrifying as Tiamaris."

"No, and that is strange to me; Lord Tiamaris has the hearing that all our race are born with. He cannot hear the words the people speak if they are judicious about their location; the Avatar can. She can also see what she chooses to see, if she bends her will toward it, no matter where within the fief's boundaries it occurs. But she invokes a very strange awe in her people, and very little dread."

"Have you met Tara?"

"I have."

"And you don't understand why she doesn't terrify them?"

"No, I do not."

"Was she wearing her gardening clothing?"

"I fail to see what her clothing has to do with the subject at hand." Dragons.

It was fairly easy to find Tiamaris, when all was said and done. From about two blocks away-where blocks in this case were mostly defined by the charred remnants of what had previously been some of the st.u.r.dier buildings in the fief-Kaylin could see the strangers. They didn't walk the way the rest of the mortals in the fief did; they walked as if they owned, or intended to own, the streets. They bristled with weapons, and although their armor wasn't in the best of repair, it was a d.a.m.n sight better than what the rest of the citizens were wearing.

Not that there were any "rest of" anywhere in sight.

If, however, the strangers had suddenly decided to become meek and terrified, it would still have been easy to find Tiamaris at this distance because he was, at the moment, a very large Dragon. She glanced at Sanabalis, who didn't appear to have noticed.

"Is he always like this?"

"Frequently. The Dragon form is more robust."

They made their way down the street, which attracted attention. It was easy to see why; they were the only more or less human-looking people who were actually approaching. "Please don't tell me that they're serving as his personal guard."

"It is...an informal guard."

"Great." The very large sword that was being lowered in their general direction sure as h.e.l.ls didn't look informal. It did, however, make Kaylin and Severn stop much farther away than guards or thugs usually did; whatever Barren had managed to sc.r.a.pe off the streets had seldom been an actual threat. She lifted both hands, and turned them, palms out, toward the two men who had lowered their weapons; Severn did the same, although his hands were closer to his weapons. The two eight-foot-tall giants exchanged a few words and started to head toward the taller outline of Tiamaris.

Sanabalis, however, had decided that waiting wasn't in the cards. He roared. The two men stiffened, which gave Kaylin a moment of petty satisfaction. Tiamaris turned.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that," Kaylin muttered.

"If it were even possible, I would still refuse," Sanabalis replied. "Lord Diarmat would find it...impertinent."

Tiamaris parted the crowd of armed strangers by turning. They didn't rush to get out of his way; they moved. For all their apparent bulk, they moved quickly. As they cleared enough street for a Dragon with folded wings, Kaylin saw Tara. Tara was, in fact, wearing her gardening clothes, and Morse was walking by her side, looking about as happy at this new set of guards as Kaylin felt.

Morse had been a lieutenant of the previous fieflord, but she'd made the transition to Tiamaris without much trouble. Beside Tara, she looked like a thug in the true sense of the word; her hair was still a very short, shorn crop, and her face still bore scars from earlier fights. When she smiled at all, it was a grim, black smile, and it usually meant someone was about to die. Or it had meant that. She did smile at Tara, but usually only when she thought no one else was watching.

Tara broke into a wide grin as Kaylin met her eyes. Kaylin knew that Tara could be aware of her presence the instant she set foot on the right side of the Ablayne, but she often seemed so surprised and delighted, the thought held no weight. She broke into a run, which ended with her arms around Kaylin, and Kaylin's arms around her.

"Lord Sanabalis said you would come," Tara said when she at last stepped back. "h.e.l.lo, Corporal Handred."

Severn also smiled, and it was an unguarded smile. "Lady," he said, bowing to the fief's t.i.tle, and not the name Kaylin had given her.

"Did he explain the difficulty?" Tara asked.

"No. Now that the fief is Tiamaris's, he feels any information has to come from Tiamaris."

"Why?"

"Don't ask me. I'm not a Dragon." She did add when she heard Sanabalis's snort, "I think it's something to do with the etiquette of h.o.a.rd law. Dragons are, by simple human standards, insanely unreasonable about their h.o.a.rds."

"Ah. It's possible that he is entirely correct then." She turned and smiled at Sanabalis, who appeared unimpressed with Kaylin's description. "Thank you."

He bowed to her. He bowed d.a.m.n low.

Kaylin raised a brow at Morse, and Morse responded with a pure fief shrug. "What's happening?" Kaylin asked Morse, stepping to the side to add a little distance between them and anyone who might be listening.

"We have three thousand eight-foot-tall people who can't speak Elantran and have no place to live. They also have no sense of humor."

"Neither do you."

"Exactly. Consider the source of the comment."

Kaylin chuckled-but she also winced. "Sanabalis implied there were other difficulties."

"That's how he worded it? *Other difficulties'?" Morse spit to one side.

Kaylin frowned. "How bad is it?"

"There are two problems. One, we're trying to track down, but even the Lady is having some trouble; we're not sure why."

"That would be the subtle Shadow that Sanabalis also mentioned?"

"That's not what we call it, but yeah. You're here to help with that?"

Kaylin frowned, and then nodded. "That's my guess. What's the other problem?"

"The border boundary," Morse said, voice flat. There were four possible borders that defined the fief of Tiamaris-but only one was a threat to the fief's existence: the one that faced into the unclaimed shadow that lay in the center of the fiefs.

Kaylin almost froze. "The border's supposed to be stable."

"Oh, it's holding. If it weren't, we'd all-all-be dead by now. But the freaking Shadow across the f.u.c.king border is puking out whatever it can. Nothing small and easily killed, either; apparently the bigger one-offs can survive the *transition' with some of their power intact."

Kaylin sucked in air. "When the h.e.l.ls did this start happening?"

"Pretty much the same day they did," Morse replied, jerking her thumb in the direction of the strangers.

"Believe," Kaylin said after an uncomfortably sharp silence, "that they didn't bring the Shadows with them."

"Oh?"

"If I understood what was said correctly, they were fleeing from them."

"And being followed."

"I was there, Morse. If great chunks of Shadowy one-offs had followed them into Elani, believe I would have noticed." But she hesitated. Morse, no fool, noticed. "What?"

"When they arrived, they did this funny thing with a bunch of drums and a lot of loud chanting. It was supposed to be some sort of purification ritual, but the end result? The Dragons-all four of them-took flight over the city while they did it." Kaylin shook her head, glancing briefly at two of those four: Tiamaris, in full scales and wings, and Sanabalis, in slightly drab but official clothing. "And...the chanting was magical, somehow."

This admission of the use of magic by obviously dangerous giants did nothing positive for Morse's mood.

"But...something answered them. Something in the fiefs. If I had to guess," she added quietly, "something from the heart of the fiefs."

"What, it was some kind of f.u.c.king challenge?" Morse's brows rose toward the nearly shaved dome of her head. "Are they insane?"

From a fief perspective, there could only be one answer to that question. But...this fief had become, almost overnight, an exception to the rules that generally governed the fiefs. Kaylin glanced at the large huddle of strangers-she'd have to ask Sanabalis what their own name for their race was because "strangers" wasn't going to cut it-and said, "Not insane. I think they're used to fighting a war with the Shadows, rather than locking the doors and praying a bunch."

"Great." Morse glanced at Tara, who seemed to be involved in a serious discussion with Sanabalis, while Tiamaris, over her shoulder-well, part of his jaw, at any rate-looked on. Severn was beside the older Dragon, listening intently.

Kaylin frowned.

"What?" Morse said sharply.

"There's something I don't understand."

She was rewarded by something that was halfway between snort and grunt; the sarcastic comment that would have usually followed failed to emerge. For Morse, this was a big improvement. "What?"

"Tiamaris is fieflord in a way that Barren wasn't."

"You can say that again."

Fair enough. "Barren didn't hold the Tower. Tiamaris does."

"And?"

"Holding the Tower at all should prevent your one-offs from getting through."

Morse shrugged. "The Ferals get through."

"I know; they get through everywhere. I'm not sure why."

"Time to find out?"

"Well past." Kaylin turned toward the discussion that was even now taking place without them, and as she did, Tara froze. It was a very particular stillness, and it reminded anyone who happened to be standing close by that Tara's physical form, the form of her birth, was made of stone.

It was warning enough for Kaylin, but if it hadn't been, there was another one that followed less than thirty seconds later: the strangers began to shout, and weapons began to catch sunlight and reflect it in a way that spoke of movement.

Morse swore. Loudly. But her brief word wasn't equal to the task of carrying over the cries and shouts-directed, not panicked-of the strangers. "Kaylin!" she shouted.

Kaylin turned.

"Incoming!"

Sanabalis's eyes turned instantly orange as Tiamaris swiveled his head and roared. Kaylin's ears were still ringing when the fieflord spread wings, bunched legs, and pushed himself off the ground; it was a miracle of grace and movement that prevented those wings from knocking anyone else flying. Tiamaris roared again as he rose above the heights of the standing structures erected along the border-they were few, and they were clearly meant as lookouts and not living quarters.

Severn had already unwound his weapon chain; Morse had a sword in hand. But Morse remained close by Tara, rather than running to join the giants. After a brief glance at Severn, Kaylin headed toward those giants, her own daggers still sheathed. Severn joined her; Sanabalis did not. But Tiamaris's shadow pa.s.sed above them as the drums began their rolling thunder.

What kind of people carried drums into a war zone anyway?

Kaylin noticed, as she approached the main body of the strangers, that there were no children here. There were men-and women-who looked as if they'd left youth behind, but they carried their weapons with the same grim determination that the younger men and women did. If any of them had ever survived to be elderly, they were also nowhere in sight.

They noticed her, but they were accustomed to a lack of clear communication from the humans and made no attempt to question her; they did, however, let her pa.s.s into their midst. She briefly regretted her armor; it was hard to shove it out of the way, and as she couldn't, she couldn't expose the marks on her arms with any ease. Those marks, the strangers did recognize in some fashion.

But Severn spoke a single curt word. "Bracer."

Her reply was less civil. She shed splints, exposing the heavy golden manacle, and she crushed gems in sequence to open the d.a.m.n thing. It clicked, she removed it and tossed it over her shoulder, remembering after it had left her hand that there were enough people behind her that it might actually hit someone. No one, however, shouted in outrage, and better yet, no one attempted to remove her head from her shoulders, so she moved in the direction of the drumming itself.