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The small dragon resolutely remained on her shoulder. “He’s not ditching the invisibility,” she said, glaring at her familiar. If he wouldn’t leave her shoulder, she’d have to move. The familiar was the only certain protection that either of them had against a large influx of magic, but his protection didn’t work at a distance.
The familiar squawked. It was a surprisingly quiet sound, given that he was sitting so close to her unprotected ear.
“Severn.”
He shook his head without looking back. He carried both blades; the chain was slack between them, traveling around his back. He shifted position. The links of chain made no sound as he did so.
* * *
The possible assailant did not pause to summon guards of any kind. Kaylin heard exactly zero footsteps; if he was moving—and the growing ache of her skin heavily implied that he was—he was moving silently. As silently as Severn would were their situations reversed.
Bellusdeo muttered something Kaylin didn’t catch. That should have been a clue. The Dragon did not mutter. But she felt the sharp sting of new magic in the silence that followed.
“I never enjoyed magical studies,” Bellusdeo said. She didn’t bother to lower her voice; she might have raised it a notch. She walked past Kaylin, but remained—barely—in the periphery of the familiar’s possible protection.
The ostensibly invisible Barrani who had the ability to fall well, if not fly, rounded the corner. He came to a stop, framed by the corners of the two buildings that formed the alley’s walls. His hair was a long drape of black that framed his face and fell out of sight down his back. His eyes were, as Kaylin expected they would be, blue.
Kaylin moved to stand beside the gold Dragon, rather than behind her.
Severn, who was closer to the alley’s mouth than either of them, did not move at all.
“So,” the Barrani said, “it is true. There is a Dragon among the Hawks.”
* * *
Kaylin knew the moment the Barrani chose to drop his invisibility; the familiar lowered his wing. But the motion caught the Barrani’s eyes, and they rounded. When his glance returned to Bellusdeo, they instantly narrowed again. “He is yours?” he demanded, of the Dragon.
The familiar squawked.
The man blinked. Barrani were famous for their composure under duress, and he seemed to recall this as he once again focused on Bellusdeo. “Magic was used to great effect in the wars against your kind.”
“Oh, indeed. But magic wasn’t required against yours.”
He stiffened. Bellusdeo was already pretty stiff. Kaylin, familiar notwithstanding, was irrelevant. Severn was apparently irrelevant, too. The Barrani had not once looked in his direction.
Not once...
Yes, Severn said. I am, while I remain still, effectively invisible. It doesn’t last.
It just lets you get the drop on your enemies.
Yes. If necessary.
It’s not necessary yet.
No. I’m uncertain who will break the law here first: Bellusdeo or the outcaste.
Kaylin was silent for another long beat, even on the inside of her own head. What do you mean, “outcaste”?
You don’t recognize him?
How could I? I’ve never seen him before. If he’s a fugitive, he hasn’t been captured in Records, at least not in the last five years. She’d made a furtive study of the Records that involved Barrani, Barrani crime, and the law. There hadn’t actually been that many available to an official mascot. Severn, who is he?
When he is addressed at all, I imagine he is called Candallar.
She frowned. Candallar? That’s one of the fiefs. And stopped. And looked. She’d asked, of course, before she’d come out on patrol. She’d had suspicions. But suspicions, apparently, weren’t visceral enough.
She knew what a fieflord could do in his own fief. If Severn was right, he wasn’t in his fief now. He was separate from the power that made him fieflord. Then again, so was Nightshade when he visited, and she would never consider his power insignificant.
She reached out and touched Bellusdeo’s regulation sleeve. “I think we should have this conversation somewhere else.”
“Oh?” the Dragon replied—without looking away from the Barrani. “Where did you have in mind?”
“Someplace less instantly flammable.” Before Bellusdeo could answer, Kaylin stepped forward, and then in front of her. Bellusdeo was taller, but not by as much as Teela or Tain. The tabard of the Hawk was front and center, and it grounded Kaylin. She understood it was nothing to hide behind—not safely—but it had never been about hiding, to Kaylin.
“Private Kaylin Neya,” she said, to the man Severn had named fieflord. The familiar squawked. “And this is my familiar.” His eyes did widen again, and it took them longer to revert to their less surprised shape. “You aren’t a citizen of Elantra.”
“In as much as citizens of any power are required to swear allegiance to the Eternal Emperor?”
“Yes.”
“It may come as a surprise to you, officer, but yes. Yes, I am.”
Bellusdeo snorted. There was smoke in it, which wafted across the back of Kaylin’s neck without charring anything.
Candallar’s gaze was pure Barrani condescension. “You presuppose I am not a member of the Barrani Court, or possibly the Barrani race. The supposition is correct: I am not. But my vow of allegiance to the Emperor—forced on me many years ago, I might add—has never been broken. I believe that I would still be considered a citizen of Elantra. The discretion would, of course, be the Emperor’s. And given politics, it would be difficult were he to accept me as a citizen of his empire when my own people do not acknowledge my existence at all, except perhaps as a blood sport.” His smile was slender, cold, and very sharp.
Bellusdeo snorted again. This time, Kaylin heard irritation, not threat, in the sound. She moved.
“The Dragon, however,” the Barrani said, “is not technically a citizen of Elantra.”
Kaylin was aware that she’d started this line of reasoning. Marcus had often said she was too clever for her own good, and too lacking in wisdom for anyone else’s. “Neither are most mortals, if citizenship is defined by a literal oath of allegiance. Most of us can’t talk from birth, and even if we could, the Emperor wouldn’t consider an infant’s oath binding.” She remembered just how much she hated politics. It shouldn’t have been hard to forget.
“I’m an officer of the Emperor’s Law, and according to an officer of that law, the Dragon is a citizen.” She folded her arms. The familiar squawked.
“And the...familiar...as you call it, is now standard issue for an officer of the law?”
“The familiar is considered acceptable to the Emperor.”
“You’ve asked in person?”
“Yes, as it happens.”
Don’t let him goad you, Severn said, an urgency to the words.
She didn’t argue, because he was right. She was annoyed. She’d let annoyance speak.
“I see.” He smiled. “I mean no disrespect to the tabard, officer, and none to the Emperor to whom I swore my oath.”
“Why are you here?”
“I occasionally come across the Ablayne—or the wall—to meet with old friends. Surely that is not considered criminal.”
“Not in and of itself, no. Would those friends by chance be Hawks?”
“I have a great respect for Imperial Law.”
“Why are you even here?”
“As I said—”
“I heard what you said.” She was absolutely certain that his presence and the altercation that had grounded all Barrani Hawks were connected. He could have worn a sandwich board the size of Margot’s stupid sign declaring himself part of a conspiracy, and it wouldn’t have been more obvious.
To make it worse, the Barrani blue of his eyes had faded into blue-green, which was as casual a color as Barrani ever adopted when dealing with strangers. They darkened again as Bellusdeo snorted. Clearly, if a mortal Hawk was insignificant, a Dragon was not.
“I will take my leave, officer, unless you wish to abuse your power by attempting to—illegally—arrest me.”
For one long minute she entertained fantasies of doing exactly that. But if he resisted, it would be the Dragon who would bear the brunt of the fight. The Dragon and the buildings in the warrens, which, although run-down, still housed a lot of people.
And it wasn’t as if it wouldn’t be obvious who he’d come to meet, or who he’d been meeting. The duty roster was the Hawk version of public knowledge. She gave him a curt nod, and headed out of the alley, making certain not to turn her back on him.
He stopped her—with a word. Given Bellusdeo’s presence, he kept his distance. “Wait.”
Kaylin didn’t answer.
“You had another companion before I arrived.”
She thought of Severn, said nothing. Severn, however, said, He’s not asking about me. Mortal, remember. He still hadn’t moved, and the fieflord did not appear to have noticed him.
“You must be mistaken,” Kaylin said sweetly. “Without Imperial permission, Hawks don’t patrol with random people.”
His gaze narrowed instantly at the tone of her voice. “I warn you,” he began.
Bellusdeo exhaled a small stream of fire. It was focused on the road some three feet to his side. She said nothing, and did nothing else. Her eyes were red orange. His were now dark blue.
“Don’t bother with the sword,” Kaylin told him, her voice conversational and much more cheerful. “Unless it’s one of The Three, it’s going to do more damage to the weapon than it will to the Dragon—but it’ll probably make her angrier. And before you say anything else, I’ve seen two of the three, and I’m pretty sure I know who owns the third one.”
She could practically hear Severn smacking his forehead, and shut her mouth.
“Private Neya,” Candallar said. He surprised her; he swept her a bow. “Give my regards to your master.”
She frowned and then remembered the mark—the flower—that adorned her cheek.
Yes, a familiar voice said. He understands what it means. If he harms you—at all—I will destroy him.
The word “master” really rankled. She opened her mouth. Shut it. “I seldom have occasion to meet the Emperor in person, but if I do, I’ll pass it along.”
* * *
“What in the hells was all that about?” Kaylin demanded an hour later, when Severn extricated himself from the warrens. She’d wanted to wait—she knew that you didn’t patrol solo, and Severn would be solo. Severn, however, pointed out that he’d spent the greater part of his Halls of Law career as a Wolf, and that was the definition of solo unless really big crap was about to go down.
He also pointed out that she had Bellusdeo.
“You know as much as I do.”
“You knew he was a fieflord.”
His shrug was pure fief. “I’ve spent a few years dealing with fugitive Barrani. Fugitive Barrani, unlike fugitive mortals, are frequently exceptionally political when they have the personal power and influence. Candallar has some power. He isn’t Nightshade; Nightshade’s closest ties are at the heart of the High Court.”
“The Consort?”
“She is not considered political.”
“But she’s—”
“She’s powerful. She might be the only Barrani who has a great deal of personal power coupled with the will to be neutral. No one will openly slight her, but...her brother is High Lord and there is no one he values more. Insulting or slighting the Consort is more dangerous than insulting or slighting the High Lord when it comes to the High Lord’s very political response. The High Lord fails to acknowledge Nightshade. He has never forbidden his sister’s acknowledgement.”
Kaylin nodded, preoccupied. “This beat was Tagraine and Canatel’s.”
“...Yes.”
Technically, they weren’t done with their patrolling duties. But given Mandoran and Teela, Kaylin thought the appearance of the fieflord of Candallar was newsworthy enough she’d be forgiven for abandoning them this one time. Had she been patrolling Elani, she would have dropped by any of a number of places to borrow their mirror and report in; most of the citizens of the East Warrens were too poor to own mirrors—and those who weren’t were likely to respond to such a request with violence.
Kaylin wanted to pass the information on to someone who was paid to deal with politics, but she was still disgruntled as they headed for home. Or rather, the Halls of Law. “You’re sure we couldn’t just arrest the bastard?”
“On what grounds?”
“Suspicion of conspiracy?”
“Conspiracy to do what? At best, we’ll have the caste court dropping on our collective heads via the Hawklord. This is Barrani politics. The Hawks don’t touch it for a reason.”
“But—”
“Even if it involves Annarion, Mandoran or Teela, it’s still Barrani politics. They’re never going to drag the Halls into a Barrani political war. Until and unless we can show that Candallar is illegally affecting non-Barrani, we have no grounds for either arrest or suspicion.”
Bellusdeo had said very little for half of the walk back to the halls. She did, however, add, “Do you really want a fieflord strolling through the Halls of Law? Severn is right, of course; we’re not going to be able to hold him. He clearly understands the full weight of Imperial Law, and he knows what the Hawks’ constraints are. Which marks him as somewhat unusual.”
“Why?”
“Because he actually believes those constraints are genuine. Even were he to agree to accompany us to the office, he believes that the rules that govern you would protect him. Is he right?”
Kaylin kicked a stone. “Probably.”
“How many Barrani do you know who would believe that?”
“Almost all of them.”
“Until recently, she only knew Hawks,” Severn reminded the Dragon.
“Yes, well.”
“And the Barrani Hawks believe in the law,” Kaylin added.
“The Barrani Hawks uphold the law. I would not, however, be surprised to hear that they consider it a game—much like the card games you play on breaks. Yes, they accept the various rules, but they’re looking for ways to game the system to win. Breaking the rules forfeits the game.”
“No one dedicates their lives to playing cards.” Kaylin frowned, considering the petty crimes divisions. “...Almost no one.”
“No, probably not. But I wouldn’t put it past Mandoran.”
“What are the odds we’ve done business with Candallar before?” Kaylin suddenly demanded. Of Severn.
He raised a brow.
“We know that Nightshade’s been contacted—or at the very least had his contact returned—by someone in the Halls. Is it that unlikely that Candallar is similar?”
It was Bellusdeo who answered. “To the Barrani, if I understand Teela correctly, both Nightshade and Candallar would be considered—are considered—necessary evils. They hold the Towers. The Towers keep Ravellon and its Shadows from spilling out into the rest of the world and destroying it.” There was a moment of bitter silence. “In my world, Towers such as those did not exist. Had they, I would not be here.”
The reminder of the enormity of the Dragon’s loss kind of killed the rest of the conversation, and it didn’t resume again until they’d reached the Halls of Law.
4
Caitlin seemed relieved when Kaylin entered the office and stopped at the choke-point of her desk. “I’m glad to see you’re safe,” she said. She didn’t bother to pitch her words in a whisper, which was the only way Kaylin knew she was not happy with Marcus’s decision to send them to the East Warrens.
“I’m not sure we’re done yet,” Kaylin replied. “But we’re fine. Nothing, aside from the legally questionable use of invisibility—not on our part—happened. But we’ve got some news to report in. Is Teela in?”
“Teela is in the infirmary.”
“...Where Moran said no one who was not half dying was allowed to be.”
“She is not, as you put it, half dying, dear. But she is not, strictly speaking, very happy at the moment. I haven’t seen her this upset since—” Caitlin stopped, reddening slightly. “And that’s neither here nor there, and I shouldn’t be gossiping. If you’ve got things to report, you should report them. Don’t mind me.”
* * *
Marcus was already in a foul mood. Kaylin approached his desk and was left standing at attention while he regained control of his seemingly permanent growl. He couldn’t, however, keep Bellusdeo standing at attention, not that she actually bothered. She wasn’t part of the office hierarchy, wasn’t beholden to it, and had been given permission by the Emperor to disrupt that hierarchy as she saw fit.
For some reason, this didn’t bother Kaylin. Possibly it was because Bellusdeo was a Dragon. Possibly it was because she didn’t particularly consider life to be fair. Dragon female trumped almost everything, as far as the Emperor was concerned.
But no, a little voice said, that wasn’t true. The empire trumped everything. Bellusdeo was considered important to the race, but that race didn’t really care about the empire, except in the abstract. It was the Emperor’s hoard. You disturbed it at your ultimate peril.
It was Bellusdeo who cut through rank and file behavior to tell Marcus that they had met the fieflord of Candallar in the East Warrens.
Marcus’s eyes couldn’t get any redder without spilling into the Leontine Frenzy color. Bellusdeo failed to mention either Mandoran or Teela. She spoke respectfully, but spoke as if to an equal. In the end, Marcus mirrored Hanson. He had a direct line to the Hawklord, but hadn’t chosen to use it, which meant that this wasn’t considered an emergency.
“There was no difficulty with the fieflord?”
“If you mean did he attempt to harm me, no.”
“Did he attempt to harm the officers?”
“No. Had he, what was left of him would be in the holding cells.”
“The Hawks would not—”
“Yes, I realize their hands are tied. But I’m not a Hawk, Sergeant Kassan. I’m a displaced person. A Dragon.”
Some of the red bled out of Marcus’s eyes then. “It was easier,” he said, “in the old country.”
“For you, too?”
“Yes. We could rip out the throats of our enemies—and our enemies seldom pretended to be our friends before we did.”
“I’ll suggest it to the Emperor,” Bellusdeo replied, with a sunny smile.
Marcus growled.
“I’ll suggest it on my own behalf; I shall utterly fail to mention your comment. You see, we also—in the old country—could rip out the throats of our enemies. Or their wings.”
Kaylin coughed. “I lived in a place where you could—if you had the power—kill your enemies with zero consequences. It was an awful place, and I don’t recommend it. The Emperor created the laws for a reason, and I think the reasons are good.”
“You would, though,” Bellusdeo said. “You’ve thrown your life into them, and no one wants to waste their life.”
Dragons.
* * *
Hanson’s reply came about fifteen minutes later. Or rather, the reply to the message Marcus had sent to Hanson did. The respondent in the mirror, however, was the Hawklord. Marcus didn’t seem to be surprised. He did seem disgusted. “You’re wanted upstairs,” he told Kaylin.
Given the part the fiefs had played in Kaylin’s childhood, she wasn’t surprised, either; the surprise would have been no response, or a rote one.
“He wants the Dragon as well,” Marcus added.
“The Dragon,” Bellusdeo said, unfazed, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” At Marcus’s lowered browline, she added, “He has no right of command where I’m concerned, no. But I’m not so petty that I would deprive myself of something interesting simply to spite him.”
Marcus said nothing. Loudly.
* * *
When they hit the middle of the tower steps on their way to obey the Hawklord’s command, Kaylin said, “Could you maybe try not to antagonize him?”
Severn was silent, and almost invisible; it was a neat trick. Kaylin wondered if he’d learned it while training with the Wolves. Or if he’d always had it. He’d survived the fiefs for a lot longer than she had, after all—and had it not been for Severn, she was uneasily certain she wouldn’t have survived at all.
“Your sergeant makes no effort not to antagonize me.” Bellusdeo snorted. “He dislikes the Dragon Court.”
“You’re not part of the court.”
“Fine. He dislikes Dragons.”
“Because it was the Dragon Court that pretty much decided I should be put down. As in executed. I was thirteen.” Bellusdeo stopped speaking, although she continued to walk. Kaylin, aware that she was being petty, said, “I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. He’s got a long memory when you threaten his kits.”
“And he considers you one of them.”
“Well, his first wife does. You want a terrifying Leontine—it’s her. He’s never going to forgive the Dragon Court. But you’re not them, and he’ll eventually accept you. Just—he’s got a long memory.”
At that, Bellusdeo chuckled. “Nowhere near as long as the memories of my kin. It rankles, but I must also remind myself: I am not ruler here. This is not my country.”
* * *
The Hawklord had done Kaylin the kindness of opening the doors, which otherwise operated by wards. He was standing to one side of an inactive mirror; Kaylin could see herself—and Bellusdeo, and a silent Severn—as they approached.
It was no surprise to Kaylin that the Aerian’s eyes were a martial blue. He tendered Bellusdeo a very correct bow—which in Aerians involved wing motions and stiffness in the right order—and rose. “My apologies,” he said. “Sergeant Kassan sent Kaylin on patrol in the East Warrens. It has been struck from her duty list for the time being.”
“For the time being, meaning, if I am to accompany her?”
The Hawklord said nothing.
“I believe,” Bellusdeo said, because it wasn’t her job or her dreamed-of promotion on the line, “that the reason Sergeant Kassan chose to send the private and the corporal to the East Warrens at this time was because I have been given blanket Imperial permission to accompany her. He expected difficulty of a type that the Barrani Hawks, and only the Barrani Hawks, could easily handle.”
“There were other teams he could have chosen.”
“Yes. But none of those teams happen to have a Dragon as a shadow.”
The Hawklord was not Leontine. “Yes, a remarkable coincidence, since I am confident that no one under my command would knowingly put you at risk in an encounter that might involve strange or dangerous magics.” His tone was bland. “Having made that coincidental decision, he has been informed that it will not be made again. We are all, I am certain, much happier.” He turned to Kaylin then. Although he’d offered Bellusdeo the very respectful bow of an inferior to a superior, he had no intention of allowing the Dragon to commandeer the discussion. He had made a decision. It was not hers to argue.
“You claim to have made contact with the fieflord of Candallar.”
Kaylin nodded.
“You are certain.” His glance moved to Severn.
“Yes.” Severn answered the question, but offered nothing else. He did not, however, bristle.
“Was he in the warrens to meet with my Hawks?”
“He was to meet, he said, with friends. In my opinion, yes; without corroborating evidence—”
The Hawklord held up a hand, which stopped Severn. “You have heard that there was difficulty this morning.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve heard, no doubt, that a political storm is brewing in the Barrani High Court.”
“Actually,” Kaylin said, “we hadn’t. Until this morning.”
“Candallar may well be part of that. What is the word in the office?”
“About?”
“This morning’s incident.”
“That Moran will make certain we belong in critical care if we show up in the infirmary for any other reason than that we already need it, sir.”
The Hawklord almost winced. “Sergeant dar Carafel is never going to leave the infirmary at the current rate of emergency.”
Kaylin, who still felt that Moran’s entire race had treated her horribly, couldn’t see this as a bad thing—for either the Hawks or Moran. Clearly the Hawklord had a different opinion, and she managed to keep her own to herself. Or at least to keep the words that would express it that way. “Teela is in the infirmary.”