Cast In Honour
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She waited, glaring at him. He didn’t finish the sentence.
“What he’s not saying,” Tanner said, when it was clear that Clint was conceding, “is that you will cause the Hawklord extreme political grief. It’s possible the Hawklord will be waiting to speak to you when you arrive in the office.”
“Fine. At this point, it’s probably moot. Marcus is going to rip out my throat before I can try to convince Moran a room in my house is better than the infirmary.” She exhaled heavily and added, “I don’t want to cause the Hawklord any difficulty. I’d like to make corporal sometime in my life.”
That claim apparently fooled no one.
“Can you explain—later—what or who Moran is to the Aerie?”
“Not easily. There’s more than one Aerie in the Southern Reach. Most of the Hawks come from one of three specific Aeries. Moran does not.”
“Is this something I should have learned in racial integration classes?”
“No. Racial integration classes are meant to be practical, and the only Hawks who are summoned to the Aerie are, by default, the ones who can fly.” He grimaced. “We’re all fond of Moran.” This wasn’t entirely true; it was, however, true of Kaylin. “Go on in.”
* * *
Marcus could be heard long before he could be seen—even by the merely mortal. “I suppose if I quit my job now and ran home, Helen wouldn’t let me starve to death.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it—at least not with my own money,” Teela replied, indulging in her usual encouragement.
“Was your life like this before you joined the Hawks?” Kaylin asked, as they walked toward the growling against all base survival instinct.
“Not nearly as frequently. Before you ask, my life in the Hawks wasn’t this unusual, either. Not until you joined as a mascot. When you joined the actual payroll...”
“Thanks for the support, Teela.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Private, stop dawdling!” Marcus roared.
Kaylin muttered a short Aerian curse under her breath; given the volume of Marcus’s voice, his sharper hearing wasn’t likely to catch it. She hoped. She also sprinted to reach his desk, bypassing the duty roster on the way. He was bristling, and the raised fur added inches in volume on all sides of his head, his visible arms, his face. His lips were a thin, barely visible line over much more prominent teeth, and his eyes were a decidedly unpleasant shade of orange.
His desk would definitely need replacing.
Kaylin lifted her chin, exposing her throat. Teela, standing beside her, did not, but her eyes were a wary blue. “We stopped by Evanton’s on the way back to the office,” Kaylin explained—not that explanations were always welcome unless he demanded them, not when he was in this mood.
“Corporal, where is Bellusdeo?”
He’d asked Teela. When a lowly private was standing beside her.
“Bellusdeo returned to the Palace in the company of Corporals Handred and Korrin. She was unharmed; she was never in any recognizable danger.”
Marcus growled. At the moment, that was what passed for Leontine breathing. “I left orders with Gavin.”
“Evanton, however, let it be known that he had news that he felt would be of interest to Private Neya,” Teela said smoothly. This did not move Marcus; he knew the Barrani had no particular qualms about lying. “He’s the Keeper, Sergeant. When he feels something is of interest, it generally implies an unspoken ‘if you wish the city to survive.’”
Kaylin privately thought that the city was not in the most pressing danger at the moment, but said nothing. It was very seldom that Teela was willing to throw herself between Marcus’s foul mood and Kaylin, and she meant to appreciate it while it lasted. And it did, to Kaylin’s surprise, last. His fur began to settle.
“Verbal report. Now.”
“I’m not even sure where to start,” Teela began. Marcus was now watching them both with more heavily lidded—but still orange—eyes. “Did you review the mirror transmissions we sent from the Winding Path?”
The Sergeant growled.
“We’d like to see the reports sent to you by the Imperial mages.”
“Come back in a week. We might have something then.”
“Gavin implied—”
“How long have you been working for me?”
Technically, Teela was not working directly for Marcus. She didn’t correct him. “Long enough to know that you can light a fire under their beards and they’ll write more quickly.”
“I think Bellusdeo will take care of that,” Kaylin said. “She was heading straight for the Arkon, and Severn and Tain don’t seem to have made it back to the office yet.”
“Your report?”
Kaylin dutifully repeated what she was almost certain was already in Records by this point.
Marcus’s eyes had shaded to a regular bronze by the time she’d finished. “You don’t think the bodies should be moved.”
“No.”
“Corporal?”
“Nothing about the corpses—aside from their arrangement and the lack of obvious cause of death—seemed out of the ordinary to me. None of our investigators would have noticed anything out of the ordinary, had it not been for Private Neya’s companion. Given that the familiar itself is arguably more unusual, I would nonetheless advise against moving the bodies. Send Red in person.”
“You’re not finished there, are you?”
Teela glanced at Kaylin.
Kaylin, thinking of Gilbert, shook her head. “Not yet, no. Though I’m not certain we’re going to understand what happened, or why, no matter how much time we spend there.”
Growl. Squawk.
“Fine. I’ll give you a week. I’ll reassign the Elani beat for the duration.” He started to carve wood chips out of the surface of his desk, clearly already thinking about the next item on his list. His eyes became a deeper orange as he did.
“Have you talked to Moran yet?”
Chapter 7
“No, sir,” Kaylin replied, already knowing where the conversation was headed.
“I’m going to ask you not to.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ironjaw’s eyes narrowed. “‘Yes,’ you agree not to speak with Moran, or ‘Yes,’ you know I’m asking you not to?”
“You’re asking me not to, sir. Offering her someplace other than the infirmary as a temporary home is not against any law on the books. It’s not against any departmental regulations.” Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t order me not to.”
Marcus said nothing.
Teela stepped on her foot.
Kaylin frowned, thinking. “You’re not actually angry at the fact that I’m late.”
“You’re becoming more observant as you age,” Marcus replied. “It’s not an improvement.”
“What’s happening with Moran?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss Moran’s situation. She has special dispensation to use the infirmary as a base of operations while she recovers from her injuries.” The word while sounded an awful like if.
“Has the Hawklord spoken to you about this?”
Marcus growled. His eyes returned to their more prominent orange, but his fur remained mostly where it had settled.
“We need to check in with Hanson,” Teela said, pulling her away from Marcus before she dug herself in any deeper.
* * *
“Of course the Hawklord has spoken to Marcus. Marcus is enraged. Moran is technically one partial rank below Marcus in hierarchy, but Marcus thinks of Moran as part of his tribe. He is not happy with whatever the Hawklord said. Part of that must have included you—as in, keeping you under a tighter rein. Don’t make Marcus acknowledge that if you want to do anything useful.”
“Is that why he was so pissed off?”
“You being late probably didn’t help. Bellusdeo being absent didn’t help, either. You realize it’s his neck on the line if—”
“Yes. Mine happens to be on the line, as well.”
“He’s aware of that. You’ve slept by his hearth, kitling. You are not his child—but you might as well be. He is never going to trust the Dragons; having Bellusdeo hanging around the office gets under his skin. Having Bellusdeo in the office and outside of his jurisdiction is actively annoying. Having you responsible for her when the Dragon Court doesn’t appear to exercise much control makes him angry.”
“This has nothing to do with Moran.”
“No. Before you give me the side-eye, I’m not entirely familiar with Moran’s circumstances. I admit that I was surprised when I first met her, but she’s sergeant material—and Hawk material—through and through.”
“Tell me why you were surprised.”
Teela hedged. “You know that you are not sent on sensitive investigations.” Sensitive being code for crimes involving the rich and the powerful. “You are left out of investigations of the Caste Courts.”
Kaylin missed a step. “Please tell me Moran isn’t part of the Aerian Caste Court.”
“I know very, very little about the Aerian Caste Court,” Teela replied. This was not an answer, and they both knew it. “But Moran is the daughter of an influential flight. She is the daughter of possibly the influential flight. I don’t know her reasons for joining the Hawks. To be fair, she doesn’t know mine, either. The Hawks are, in theory, not politically or racially motivated.”
“In theory?”
“In practice, the Hawks are people. People are political. I don’t expect any group of people to be perfect, theoretical beings—for one, the pay isn’t nearly high enough. Some of the racial decisions made are purely pragmatic; the Barrani are preferentially sent into figurative war zones because we’re much more likely to survive them. There is no equality because we are not equal; we are different. I attempt to respect those differences.”
“Given your comments about mortals, I’d fail you if I were teaching.”
Teela chuckled. “Respect, among the Barrani, generally means something different. If, for instance, I say I respect your territory, what I mean is I will not attempt to conquer it. It does not mean that I find your sloping, creaking floors, your pathetically short ceilings, your warped doors and their insignificant hinges or your...windows...to be the equal of my own.”
Kaylin rolled her eyes.
“Moran is significant to the Aerians.”
“I hadn’t noticed her being treated with anything but the usual respect.”
“Indeed. You’ve assumed it’s because of her rank and her function.”
Kaylin snorted. “Have you ever tried to avoid her when you’re injured?”
“Frequently.”
“Has it worked?”
“Less frequently.”
“She had Marcus practically strapped to a bed. Last I looked, he didn’t have wings.”
“Fair enough. Marcus doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with your request. Neither does Caitlin. But don’t ask him for permission—either do it or decide on the better part of valor.” She headed up the stairs as she spoke, and Kaylin fell in behind her. “Let’s talk to Hanson and then head to the infirmary.”
* * *
The Hawklord ruled the Hawks, but the details of schedule, among other things, was decided by Hanson, his attaché. Unless the Hawklord personally summoned you, you didn’t see him without speaking to Hanson first.
Hanson’s office door was creaky and stiff. Nothing would induce him to change this; it was his early warning system, as far as Kaylin could tell. He was at his desk, his glasses hooked to his ears but resting on his graying head, rather than in front of his eyes.
He didn’t look particularly surprised to see Kaylin; he didn’t look entirely thrilled, either. Hanson wasn’t normally unfriendly—he wasn’t, like Mallory or a handful of other Hawks, disgusted at her inclusion on the force.
“You don’t look happy to see me.”
“I am delighted to see you,” he replied, looking anything but. His lips did twitch, though. He glanced at Teela, and the hint of a smile vanished. “You, on the other hand, look like you have no time to waste.”
“If you’re the roadblock, I’m perfectly happy to take a break.”
“Thanks, no. What do you need?”
“Sergeant Kassan requires a fire to be lit under the butts of the Imperial mages on duty in the Winding Path investigation.”
Hanson glanced at the mirror on the left of his desk. It was smaller than Marcus’s mirror, but it was significantly cleaner. People did not leave fingerprints on Hanson’s mirror. “How big is this going to get?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Teela replied.
This time Hanson grimaced. “Anything else?”
“That we know of? No.”
Hanson’s mirror flared white in the room. “Private,” a familiar Leontine voice barked. “Imperial Palace transmission. Your presence is requested—an hour ago—in the Imperial Library.”
“The message just came in, sir.”
“Don’t bother with logic,” Hanson said; he had clearly keyed the mirror to mute his voice. “Nothing you do is going to make the rabid Leontine sheathe his claws. Not today.”
* * *
“Is it too much to ask?” Kaylin muttered as she tromped down the stairs.
“Is what?”
“A normal day.”
“Be careful what you wish for. As far as I can tell, this is your new normal.” Teela’s grin was sharp and very Barrani.
“It’s not just the weirdness of the Winding Path. I could deal with that. Marcus is almost certainly going to insist we accompany Red when he goes—but that’s work. It’s Hawk work. But I also have to go home to Mandoran and Annarion—and can I just say that Annarion has been in a mood? He’s getting angrier by the day.”
“You are not telling me anything I have not fully experienced for myself. Are you going to tell him about Gilbert?”
“I’m going to talk to Helen first—because if I tell him about Gilbert, he’s going to demand to visit, and Helen hasn’t cleared him yet.”
“Ah.”
“We lost too many people the last time he walked our streets. Knowing what we know now, it would be consenting to murder just to let him out the door.” She exhaled. “And he knows that. I’m not being fair. I would just... I’d kind of like to be able to leave my work at the office once in a while.”
“You’re whining.”
“Yes. I’m whining where a grouchy Leontine won’t hear me and rip out my throat.” Kaylin exhaled. “Sorry. I kind of like them both. And I understand why Annarion is going crazy—if one of my foundlings was missing, I wouldn’t be able to sit still, practicing whatever it is he’s practicing. But Nightshade’s not anyone’s definition of helpless. If we somehow find out that he is in Ravellon—and I seriously doubt that he could be, because I’d hear him, I’m certain of it—it’s Nightshade who’s likely to survive it in one piece.”
“Annarion doesn’t want to take you with them.”
This should have made Kaylin feel better, but it didn’t. It annoyed her.
“He will, though.”
Kaylin stopped at the base of the Tower steps. “You can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
“Actually, I can.”
“You’re not going to Ravellon, Teela. Even if we do go.”
Teela smiled her best “that’s nice, dear” smile and walked past Kaylin into the office.
* * *
The Arkon, Caitlin told them—both Hawks studiously avoiding Marcus’s desk—had requested their presence in the Imperial Library. Bellusdeo, Tain and Severn would meet them there.
That left only one item on Kaylin’s list of things to do in this location. She headed to the infirmary. Moran was significant to the Aerian Caste Court. Kaylin knew the Human Caste Court—and didn’t particularly care for it—but it seemed to be a type of figurehead organization of the rich and powerful. The Caste Court could, in theory, rescue mortals from Imperial Law by invoking the laws of exception—and it had, historically. None of those exceptions had been called for in Kaylin’s seven years with the force.
She understood the composition of the Barrani Caste Court; they had never invoked laws of exception. Anyone Barrani who might have benefited from them wound up dead—very obviously dead—in a public space. If the Barrani in question had thrown themselves on the mercy of the Imperial Courts, however, their desire or request took precedence, whether the racial Caste Court liked it or not.
But the Aerian Caste Court was entirely unfamiliar to Kaylin. Kaylin tried briefly to imagine Moran throwing herself on the mercy of anything, and came up blank. She stared, instead, at the very closed infirmary door. Aerians, as a general rule, weren’t fond of closed doors; this one was the equivalent of writing GET LOST in large, unfriendly letters.
Kaylin tried the door anyway. It wasn’t locked—during normal operating hours, it wouldn’t be. Moran was seated, back toward the door, displaying her injuries. “Unless you’re dying,” she said, without turning, “I’m busy.” Her tone also indicated that physical state could be changed.
The small dragon left Kaylin’s shoulder before she could stop him—and she did try. He flew straight to Moran, and landed, somewhat messily, on what appeared to be her paperwork. Kaylin cringed. Her familiar squawked.
Moran’s ill humor did not immediately descend on the small, winged creature—anyone else would have lost a hand. “Private,” she said, still refusing to turn around, “this is not a good time to have a discussion. The infirmary—absent usual emergencies—is closed.”
“I didn’t come here because I’m injured.” Or because she wanted to be, but Kaylin chose to leave that out. “I came because you’re living here.”
Moran exhaled heavily. “Come and get your pet.”
Squawk.
“Or whatever it is you call him.”
“I call him ‘small and squawky.’”
“Which has the advantage of being accurate, I suppose.” Moran finally turned on her stool. She looked bruised and haggard; her hair was flat and dull, and her eyes were gray—a dark gray, not the ash-gray that meant serenity. “Why are you here?”
“Because you’re living in the infirmary.” Moran opened her mouth and Kaylin lifted a hand. “The only so-called living quarters in the Halls of Law are the cells. I have this on the authority of the Hawklord—because when I appeared in his Tower years ago, that’s exactly what he told me.”
Moran’s brows rose.
“Marcus insists that we lead by example. You’re several ranks above me. You’re not—that I know of—living in a cell.”
Teela, who had entered the room behind Kaylin, said a resounding nothing.
“You would have hated my old apartment—you would have twisted a wing just getting through the door. But I have a new place. Maybe you’ve heard something about it?”
“Not a lot. Caitlin mentioned she’d be visiting sometime next week.”
Not to Kaylin, but that was irrelevant. There was never a day on which Kaylin wouldn’t be happy to allow Caitlin into her home—she had even given her keys to the first one. “When you say not a lot—”
“I know you’re living with Bellusdeo and two Barrani who are visiting the city.” Her eye color slid toward blue. Aerian blue wasn’t Barrani blue, but the color shift indicated pretty much the same thing. Which of course meant Moran had heard a lot more than she was letting on.
“You forgot the Norannir. I’ve got a Norannir in residence, as well.”
“You’ve got one of the giants in your home?”
Kaylin nodded.
“Does he fit?”
“The common ceilings are pretty high. I’ve got a tower—much like the Hawklord’s Tower—as well, although that won’t be as useful to you right now.”
Moran folded her arms.
“You probably don’t want to live with me, and I get that. You’ve probably never lived anywhere where someone could just lob an Arcane bomb if they wanted you dead.”
“Not recently, no.”
Kaylin stopped. Moran’s expression was deadly serious. “You’ve had someone lob an Arcane bomb into your home?”
“Not recently,” Moran repeated. “And that is an entirely personal matter; it has nothing to do with the Hawks.”
Kaylin lost track of most of her words and attempted to gather them again. “Please don’t tell me you’re staying in the Halls of Law because their base protections are so strong.”
“Fine.”
“Moran—”
“I can’t get to and from the Aerie in my current state. I won’t abandon my responsibilities here while I laze about waiting to heal. I will not,” she added, in the same dire tone, “allow you to heal me—we’ve had this discussion before.” She exhaled. “And no, I’m not comfortable accepting hospitality in another’s home at the present time.”
“The Emperor is willing to let Bellusdeo stay with me.”
“Good for him.”
“He even said he’d enjoy seeing the Barrani attempt to assassinate her again. He doesn’t think they’d survive even the attempt.”
Moran stilled. “You’re paraphrasing.”
“I’m not Barrani—I don’t remember his exact words.”
“Wait. You’re claiming that you heard the Emperor say this directly?”
Kaylin snapped her jaw shut. Teela had, apparently, forgotten to breathe. Which was unfortunate, because Moran turned to the Barrani Hawk for the first time since they’d entered the room. “When did you let Private Neya speak with the Emperor? It was agreed—” She stopped abruptly, shaking her head. “Apparently the private isn’t the only one who’s forgetting herself. I’m going to pretend I never heard you say that—and you’re going to pretend you never said it. Records,” she added, speaking to the flat and nascent mirror, “note. Personal Records: infirmary.”
“My current home is Helen. She’s like the Tower in Tiamaris. She’s not as strong, and she’s not as aware of events that occur outside of her grounds—or walls, I’m not entirely certain. Inside her walls, she’s got the same control over architecture that Tara has: she can make and change whole rooms, stairs, ceilings, floors—you name it. I wasn’t lying about the aperture in the tower—we used it to join the battle outside the High Halls.
“I don’t want you to live in the infirmary. One: I was told it was almost illegal, and I want to believe that everyone has to live by the same rules. Two: it’s not a home. You never get to leave your place of work. Everything frustrating about it—and having seen some of your patients, I can’t believe there’s no frustration—is around you all the time.
“If you’re here because you won’t take a leave of absence—and I get that because I couldn’t afford to lose more than a week’s pay myself—”
Teela cleared her throat.
Kaylin forged ahead. “—then the Hawks are grateful. You’re scary—but anyone who wasn’t couldn’t be in charge here. People obey you instinctively. They obey you when you give orders.”
“Or when I tell them to get the hell out of my infirmary?”
Kaylin reddened, but plunged on. “I know Aerians don’t live in normal houses. I know the Aerie is nothing like any of the rooms we’ve seen in Helen so far. But Helen can make quarters that will at least be comfortable for you. It’s not far from the Halls, and there’s nothing wrong with your legs. If you’re likely to face assassins while walking to work, it’s not more of a risk than you probably faced while flying in.”
“Kaylin—no.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want—”
“I’m not at risk, Moran!” Kaylin was almost surprised at the strength of her emotional response—an emotion she was trying very hard to name.
Her efforts, as they often were when she felt too strongly about something, were apparently wasted. Moran’s eyes shifted back to gray, though. “Kitling,” she said—a word she seldom used with Kaylin, “—it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”
“I’ve never had much,” Kaylin said, in a lower tone. “When I came here—when the Hawklord chose not to—” She swallowed. “I had the clothing on my back and the gear I’d used to scale the Tower. I had my weapons. I didn’t have a coin in my pocket. I didn’t have a home of my own.
“Not everyone loved me. Not everyone liked me. One or two people were offended by my very presence. But most of the Hawks were at least neutral, and some of them were even friendly. Caitlin helped me find a place of my own. I didn’t have the money to pay for it, so the Hawks did.”