Cast in Peril

She was silent.

As if he were Sanabalis, he said, “What purpose would such a lie serve?”

“I don’t know. Reputation. Community standing. Tact—the desire not to hurt someone else’s feelings.”

He frowned.

“Yes, they’re mortal terms, but I’ve noted that absent big words, there are certain similarities.”

“If I chose to lie to you now, how would you categorize that decision? I am not afraid of you, Kaylin. There may come a time,” he added, his glance flicking off the small dragon on her shoulders, “when fear would be the appropriate response, but I cannot see it. Your judgment of me, should you choose one, is irrelevant. Your feelings—ah, that is a more complicated issue, but I will not lower myself to live in such a way as to assuage your fear or your guilt.

“Let me make this much clear: you are valuable to me. You. It is not because you are mortal; your mortality does not, by extension, make the residents of this fief valuable in the same way. Nor will it. I am not beholden to Imperial Law, and I do not choose to indulge in its outward appearance at this time; it serves no useful purpose.”

“And if it did?”

“I would acquiesce, as the High Court does. But it would not change in any material way what I feel, either for you or for the mortals you mistakenly assume are your kind. Such feelings, such…interactions…are a matter of necessity; if the weak congregate, they have some hope of survival.”

Kaylin was silent for a long moment. When she once again met his gaze, she held it. “Tell me why,” she said, her voice heavy but steady. “Why did they buy your people?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that,” he replied. “And as there is no answer I can give you that will excuse the action in your eyes, I am not of a mind to do so, regardless.”

* * *

Kaylin’s walk back to the Ablayne was swift and silent.

Chapter 7

Marcus, seated behind a stack of paperwork that made him look smaller, looked up the minute she crossed the threshold that divided Hawks from Halls. His eyes were a pale orange, and given the past week, that was good. His ears flattened as she hesitated.

“Do not tell me that you’re handing me more work,” he said, wedging a growl between every other syllable.

“Not exactly. I went to Tiamaris.”

“The Missing Persons report?”

She nodded. “According to Tiamaris, Miccha Jannoson, reported missing today, crossed the Ablayne by bridge. He disappeared a few blocks from that bridge.”

“Disappeared?”

Kaylin hesitated, casting a meaningful glance at stacks of paperwork that weren’t in any danger of getting smaller in the near future.

Marcus growled. This caught the attention of the Barrani Hawks; as Sergeant sounds went, growling was generally quiet. The wrong kind of quiet. “What happened? According to the Hawklord, a request for Records access has arrived from the Imperial Palace.”

“The Palace doesn’t need permission.”

“In this case, it does; the request has been tendered by a member of the Dragon Court, but involves access outside Imperial boundaries.”

“We believe—and we have very little in the way of solid proof, Sergeant—that a Barrani Lord is responsible for the disappearance.”

Someone whistled. It wasn’t Marcus; it was Teela. She approached the sergeant’s desk with care. “What very little proof do you have?” She wasn’t particularly offended. Two decades of service with the Hawks made Kaylin’s claim reasonable on the surface; the Barrani were often peripherally involved in crimes investigated by the Hawks.

Very few of them were Lords. Kaylin turned to Teela. “I saw him.”

“You saw him grab the child?”

“Miccha wasn’t a child, strictly speaking.”

Teela generally considered most mortals children when she was in a mood. “Answer the question.”

“No. Not that one.”

This caused Marcus’s growl to deepen, and Kaylin surrendered. “Tiamaris has been monitoring his fief carefully this past week; Miccha isn’t the only person who’s disappeared—without an obvious trace—in the boundaries of his fief. The reason he noticed Miccha at all is because of the increased surveillance.

“While we were examining the fief’s internal Records, Tara caught something unusual; one of the citizens of Tiamaris appeared to be having a casual conversation with thin air as he approached the border between Tiamaris and Nightshade. The people who’ve disappeared have done so without struggle or obvious panic, and if someone’s going to voluntarily sneak across a fief border, it’s always going to be the one that’s between the fief and the rest of Elantra.”

Marcus’s brows rose. They lowered again without comment.

“The Barrani Lord,” Kaylin said, still watching Marcus, “appeared only when the citizen in question had crossed into the border zone. I didn’t recognize him,” she added. “But I would bet money he’s an Arcanist.”

That caused a different kind of quiet. “What,” Teela finally said, “did he do to cause that assumption?”

“The usual.”

“And that?”

“Tried to kill me.”

Teela’s eyes shifted to an instant midnight-blue. Kaylin found it both stressful and oddly comforting. “I didn’t recognize the spell, but—Arcanist.”

“How did it manifest?”

“Purple fire.”

Teela said nothing. When Marcus growled, the Barrani Hawk shrugged. “I concur.”

“Pardon?”

“He’s an Arcanist. There’s more, kitling.”

“No doubt the Hawks will hear about it from Sanabalis and the Imperial Order at some point: the Lord was involved in either the creation of, or the protection of, something that functions as a portal to—somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure it has a name. Tara referred to it as the outlands. Tiamaris has quarantined the building we found it in, and he’s calling in Imperial mages to ‘study’ it. We think the Barrani Arcanist used the portal to access the fief of Tiamaris.” She hesitated, given Teela’s eye color, and then said, “The door bore two sigils.”

“You recognized them,” was Teela’s flat reply.

She nodded. “They were the same as the sigils on the Arcane bomb.”

“You’ve been informed that the Imperial mages could only find one?”

“Yes. The second—at least on the door—was subtle; it was pervasive, but strangely amorphous. I’m to speak to Sanabalis about it, but he’s so busy that I might be able to put it off for six weeks.”

“Private.”

“Sergeant?”

“When the alleged Arcanist tried to kill you a second time, was it because he recognized you?”

“No, sir. In my opinion it was because we’d seen him, and we’d interfered with whatever it was he intended. We no longer ditch our tabards when we enter Tiamaris at the request of Lord Tiamaris; it’s likely that the Barrani saw only the Hawk.” She exhaled. “If there’s any way to investigate the financial activities of the fieflords, I think you’ll find that a large portion of the embezzled treasury funds are now in the fiefs.”

“The…fiefs.”

“It’s possible that the money was funneled to the Arcanists—or an Arcanist—who then used it to pay fieflords for a few dozen of their citizens. There would be no reports filed and no objections to the disappearances.”

“The fiefs are not our jurisdiction,” Marcus growled.

“The disposition of the Imperial funds is, though.”

“You think the Exchequer was indirectly involved in slave trafficking?”

“No.” Pause. “Technically, yes.”

“If this is your idea of not adding to our workload, you fail.”

“Can I keep the job anyway?”

“Out. I believe you have an appointment at the High Halls. But first visit Records. The Arkon has sent word about needing another full scan of your marks.”

“Given the events of the afternoon, I was really hoping to give that a pass.”

“Given the importance of your pilgrimage, and your ignorance of same, that is not considered an option. Don’t give me that look—if you have a problem with the decision, take it up with the Hawklord and Lord Sanabalis. Corporal.”

Teela nodded.

“I’ve been extremely appreciative of your duty detail for the past three weeks.” That detail had involved hours that would have driven the mortals in the department literally insane; the Barrani worked around the clock with breaks for meals. They didn’t need something as petty as sleep, and lack of sleep didn’t slow them down at all.

“Not so appreciative that you’re offering a raise.”

“No. I’m following what I’m told is a time-honored tradition.”

“Which would that be?”

“If you want something done, give it to the person who’s always busy.”

Teela chuckled drily. “You want me to make certain Kaylin survives.”

“More or less.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Teela was not in good enough humor that she insisted on driving the carriage after their detour to Records, which was a mixed blessing; driving placed her on the outside of the cabin.

“You are certain about what you saw in the border zone?”

“Given that Yvander was convinced he was walking with a friend in an entirely different part of the fief? Possibly not. But that kind of illusion usually makes my skin break out in hives.”

Teela nodded in the absent way that implied she wasn’t listening to the answer. Long experience had taught Kaylin that this didn’t actually mean she didn’t hear it. “Refrain from mentioning this in the High Halls,” she finally said. “The Barrani Court expects a certain amount of political fallout from the failed assassination attempt. The Emperor was not pleased.” Gaze firmly fixed on the exterior landscape, she added, “What else happened? Before you attempt to tell me that there was nothing, remember what I’ve said about lying.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Teela, however, did. “You visited Nightshade. Oh, don’t give me that look.” Given that Teela’s gaze hadn’t shifted, this said something. “Kitling, I don’t know what hopes you have for Lord Nightshade, but hope, among our kin, is not a double-edged blade. It is single edged, and the edge always wounds. Always. He is not mortal. He does not value what you value.”

“Does he value what you do?”

“You don’t understand what I value. You assume because I’m a Hawk, I share yours. This is not a safe assumption,” she added in case it was necessary.

“Why did you come to the Hawks?”

“For reasons of my own. They are not particularly relevant. They were reasons,” she added drily, “you would possibly approve of; your own…were not.”

“But the reason I stayed—”

“Oh, hush, kitling. Not all of our heartless plans work as we intend; nor do all of our good intentions. We are where we are, and we can rarely predict where we will go, no matter how firm our beliefs.”

After a longer pause, Kaylin said, “I can’t tell whether or not you’re warning me off Nightshade or telling me not to judge him.”

“Can I not do both?” Teela turned to her then. “It has never been safe to know him or to keep his company. That much is true. But this is less about Nightshade, to me.”

“How so?”

“He is what he is, Kaylin. Accept that; you will find the Barrani less daunting. He is not mortal, and his concerns are not mortal concerns.”

“He sold mortals to the Arcanist,” was her flat reply.

Teela’s eyes darkened. “That is unfortunate,” she finally replied. “You are certain?”

“Yes.”

“The same Arcanist—”

“Who was responsible for a portal that led to what Tara called the outlands, yes. And who destroyed my home.”

“What is he doing?” Teela said, but she didn’t ask it of Kaylin; she spoke to herself. Realizing that she had a rapt audience anyway, she shook herself. “We are almost at the High Halls. I should warn you that the High Halls are in slight disarray at the moment.”

“…What do you mean by ‘slight’?”

“I did mention that our raid was not entirely conclusive. The Eternal Emperor paid a visit to the High Halls—in person—this afternoon.”

“He went Dragon?”

“Ah, no, you misunderstand me.” Teela hesitated and then added, “Or perhaps not. He did not, however, arrive at the High Halls in Dragon form. He did arrive at the head of the Palace guard, companioned by the worthy Lord Diarmat.”

“And he was let into the Halls?”

“Let us say that a detachment was sent—in haste—to greet him. He was not, by all reports, in an entirely pleasant mood, nor was he willing to embark upon the more delicate dance of diplomacy usually employed between the Barrani High Court and the Dragon Court.”

“What happened?”

“Swords were brought, armor was brought—I’m afraid you’ve probably missed them; they are artifacts, preserved in the Halls, from the wars between our kind.”

“The Emperor wasn’t impressed.”

“I wouldn’t say that. They didn’t enrage him, however; he was already too close to that state to be concerned about simple armor or weapons.”

Kaylin grimaced. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I assure you, a Dragon in the High Halls—”

“I meant tormenting me.”

“Oh, that. Yes, I admit your very mortal patience is a delight to try on occasion. I have to get it out of my system before we reach the High Halls and I’m forced to call you Lord Kaylin in a serious way.”

“As opposed to the way you use the title in the office?”

“As opposed to that, yes.” She smiled. She had a beautiful smile.

“So the Emperor was hunting for the missing Arcanist in the High Halls?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I believe there is some confusion. He wasn’t hunting for the Arcanist because of the Arcanum’s interference with the Human Caste Court; the investigation into the matter of the Exchequer, while a growing annoyance and a severe inconvenience, is unlikely to bring the two Courts to the brink of open conflict.” She paused. “It is likely, however, given your current suspicions, to cause far, far more concern to both Immortal Courts. At the moment it is in the hands of the Tha’alani and the Imperial Order of Mages.”

“Ugh. Let me guess: the Human Caste Court is claiming that they were enspelled.”

“Very good, kitling.”

“Is there any possibility that’s true?”

“If greed is a spell, yes, in my opinion. The Tha’alani will sort some of it out. At the moment, it’s uncertain how many of the Caste Court were involved in covering up for the Exchequer because they were expressing racial solidarity and how many were being heavily bribed. We have our actuarial experts working on that, as well. It is just possible that the Caste Court was collectively the victim of severe extortion; Nightshade indicated two Arcanists, one of whom perished and one of whom is missing.”

“It’s not likely he’ll flee to the High Halls.”

“No. As Lord Evarrim will, however, be present at the High Halls, it would be best if you tucked your pet under your tunic until we reach my rooms, if at all possible. I don’t think I need to tell you to—”

“Avoid him like the plague?”

“Indeed. I realize you are not fond of him. He is my cousin, and I am not fond of him, either.”

“Do you have any idea who the Barrani was?”

“I believe so.”

“What are the Emperor’s chances of catching him?”

“Not, at the moment, high. It would also be an interesting fight, although I think I would place odds on the Emperor.”

“Speaking of the Emperor—”

“He would have been content to leave the investigation—and the usual negotiations that occur when the Law and the High Halls collide—in the hands of the Halls and the Hawklord.”

“But?”

“Patience. You will recall one other event of significance that occurred yesterday?”

“My apartment was destroyed.”

“Very good. Yes. Your apartment was destroyed, and by some stroke of luck, folly, or very peculiar destiny, neither of its two occupants joined it.”

“He’s pissed about Bellusdeo.”

“He is, indeed, angry about Bellusdeo.”

“Did the Barrani even know about Bellusdeo?”

“Demonstrably.”

“…How many others are likely to try to kill her?”

“After the Emperor’s visit? Only the suicidal. We’re immortal, not invulnerable.”

Kaylin frowned. “How do you feel about her?”

Teela’s eyes narrowed. “That is an unwise question.”

“Which means you won’t answer.”

“Which means I will answer.”

Kaylin lifted a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then, next time, don’t ask. It wouldn’t trouble me—at all—if she died. It would not have troubled me at all had the attempt on her life been made in any other location. Or rather, had it been made while she wasn’t dogging your footsteps like a foolish, bored child. The Dragon Court already shadows the High Halls, as it shadows all of our kind; what need have we of more of them?”

“Teela—”

“We serve the Emperor.”

“I don’t think he’d consider your opinion appropriate service.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Bellusdeo has two points in her favor. She apparently likes—and respects—you, something that most of the Immortals of any power or significance fail to do, and she has, purportedly, argued at length with both the Captain of the Imperial Guard and the Eternal Emperor himself in an attempt to elevate your stature.”

“How do you know that?”

“I am part of the High Court, of course.”

“Which is never allowed anywhere near the Imperial Court. You’ve got a lot of spies in the Palace?”

“Kitling, please.”

Kaylin allowed—barely—that it had probably been a naive question. “But I don’t think the High Court cares whether or not she likes or respects me.”

“Ah, I wasn’t clear. She has two points in her favor where my opinion is concerned. Neither of those points will hold much sway where the rest of the High Court is concerned, but I’m sure you’re aware how much I care.”

“You wear the Hawk.”

“Exactly.” Teela grimaced. “No one was happy when word of her arrival reached the High Court. It’s been somewhat tricky for the Barrani Hawks, but as one of the few who is also a Lord of the Court, it’s been trickier for me. The others simply remained outside of the reach of the High Court.”

“They can do that?”

“They know the mortal city quite well. Yes, they can. It’s not considered politically wise in most circumstances, but given the probability that they would be required to spy on Bellusdeo in the best possible case, it was prudent.”

“You went to Court.”

“I did. I am not particularly afraid to deny a request that has no merit. Bellusdeo is a Dragon, and it is probable that if she survives, there will be young Dragons again, but I cannot see that as a material threat in the near future. The heart of the fiefs is a greater danger, and the Emperor is, in my opinion, critical if we wish to keep the Shadows in check. Evarrim does not agree; he feels all that we require are the Towers, now active.” Her frown was cool and slow to develop. “The Dragons and the Barrani are not at war, at the moment. But war has oft been our state in the past, and it is clear that it is a possibility in the future, as well. Fewer Dragons, in that case, would work to our advantage.”

Kaylin said nothing very loudly.

“You asked, kitling.”

It was true. She had. And she pretty much hated the answer, even if it didn’t surprise her. But she didn’t—and couldn’t—hate Teela for it. And why? Because Bellusdeo was a power. She was immortal. She had once been Queen. Hating Bellusdeo wasn’t in any way the same as selling gods alone knew how many helpless and powerless people to an Arcanist.

The small dragon nudged her cheek with its head; she ignored him until he bit her earlobe. “Can you just promise me one thing?” she said when she had stopped her very Leontine cursing and had covered one ear with her hand.

Teela lifted a brow.

“Can you hold off on the whole war thing until after I’m dead?”

Chapter 8

Fittings for Barrani clothing were definitely not the same thing as fittings for uniforms. For one, there was no Quartermaster. There were Barrani, but they appeared to have been vetted by Teela, because they treated Kaylin with abject—and genuine—deference. Kaylin found that, more than anything else in the Halls, truly unsettling, because Teela didn’t even seem to notice. Kaylin did. She usually noticed the exchanges between those who had all the power and those who had none; she’d been on the zero end of the scale for a majority of her life, and in her case, old habits died hard.

These Barrani—two men and two women—also failed to notice the small dragon that was nesting, at the moment, in Kaylin’s hair. The dragon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find this troubling.

“What, exactly, is disturbing you, kitling? Has someone poked you with a needle?” Teela’s tone was cool and regal, although her eyes were green. She spoke Barrani, not Elantran.

“Just—nothing. Nothing.”

“If someone is clumsy enough to injure you, even in so minor a fashion, I will deal with it.”

Kaylin wondered if Teela had said this on purpose, because Teela was perfectly capable of being deliberately cruel. “I can deal with it myself,” Kaylin said stiffly, this time in Barrani.

“Ah. So you merely desire permission?”

“Teela—”

The Hawk lifted a hand. “Endure for a moment or two longer,” she said. “I will not have you presented to the rest of the Lords who have chosen the pilgrimage in inappropriate attire; as befits your station, you are expected—by title—to know better. If you fail to do so, it is not upon you that their derision will fall.”

That stopped her cold. “Upon you?”

“Very perceptive. If they insult you while I am present, I am bound by custom since I have claimed you as my kyuthe to defend you. It is therefore unlikely to occur, and if it does, it will be because an enemy of my kin wishes to engage me.” She smiled. Her smile was slender and very sharp. “I have no reluctance whatsoever to rid the Court of my enemies or the enemies of my line, but I wish to do it on my own terms. I would rather not reward them with a challenge over something as trivial as your attire; if they seek to provoke me, let them at least be creative.”

Kaylin exhaled the rest of the breath she would have used for more angry words. “I’m never going to understand the Barrani.”

“You needn’t sound so morose, Lord Kaylin. They are unlikely to understand you, either.”

“Yes, but I’m unlikely to try to kill them for fun.”

* * *

At the end of two hours, the attendants offered graceful bows to Teela, who accepted them as her due. When they left, she glanced at the door and then spoke three sharp words. Or at least three sharp syllables; Kaylin didn’t recognize the language.

“Many of my kin in particular dislike being ruled by a Dragon. Given the history of our two races, that is unlikely to surprise you. If it does,” she added darkly, “refrain from sharing.”

“Very funny.” Kaylin found a nearby cushion that was about three sizes larger than anything she’d ever owned. She sat on it and then, surprised by how soft it was, sprawled flat on her back instead. The dragon leapt off her head before she landed, and set up a loud squawking that lasted a good thirty seconds, while Teela chuckled. “Now that one of the Barrani Arcanists has attempted to assassinate Bellusdeo, the Emperor is watching. And he’s pissed off.”

“The Emperor is always watching. But yes, he is angry. It is possible that there exist, among the High Court, Lords who would do much to inflame his fury.”

“Because they’re suicidal?”

“Because it would rekindle war, Kaylin. They think, at this point, we would have the advantage in a war—and with the appearance of your Bellusdeo, that advantage is likely to dwindle with time.”

“What do you think?”

“War bores me,” she replied in a tone that perfectly suited the words. “And treason, only a little less. They are both so frequent and hold so few surprises; if you read up on the history of the Barrani—in the High Court texts, not the sanitized dribbles in the Halls—you will find that treason, like war, is an age-old practice for the very conservative among my kin. I feel it has been long enough that those same conservatives might consider it attractive again.