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“Do I have something unpleasant on my face?” Bellusdeo asked, her eyes a steady bronze.
Kaylin remembered to close her mouth. “No—it just feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen it.”
“And absence has made your heart grow fonder?”
Kaylin blinked.
“It’s a mortal phrase, I believe.”
“Mortal covers a lot of cultural territory.”
“True. I admit that I don’t completely understand the usage. I’m using it incorrectly?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Are you coming with me to the office?”
“I’m not dressed like this for Diamart’s abominable, condescending lessons, no.” Her smile deepened in exactly the wrong way. “When he is recovered enough that apoplexy won’t kill him, I think I will be, though.”
The small dragon, having resumed his ownership of Kaylin’s shoulder, snickered.
“Get it out of your system now,” Kaylin told him. “I’d like to be taken seriously by the rest of the Hawks once we get to work.”
He hissed laughter.
* * *
“You’re going to find the office a lot quieter,” Kaylin told Bellusdeo as they walked.
“Why?”
“We lost four Barrani Hawks and a dozen Aerians; the Swords lost at least that many men and women. The office is still functioning; the duty roster is still being filled in all divisions that require one. It’s not that no one dies in the line of duty—they do. But this is the first time we’ve lost Barrani.”
“Is it the first time the Barrani have been injured?”
“What? No, of course not. Barrani arrogance doesn’t lend itself to caution. But nothing we run into on a regular walking beat is capable of taking down a Barrani.” Kaylin exhaled. “But we lost four in the battle with the ancestor. Four. We don’t get a lot of Barrani applying for the force. They’re culturally willing to swear to protect the city—but the ‘serve’ part of our oath really gets stuck in their throats.”
Bellusdeo chuckled. “Some things never change.”
“No. The Barrani weren’t given funerals that the rank and file in the Halls could attend. The Aerians were—but half of the Aerian funeral service takes place in the air or in the Aerie, and not all of us could get there or participate in those. Grammayre asked the Aerie if they could hold the parts that take place inside the Aerie somewhere the wingless could reach, and they agreed.” Most of them, anyway. One or two Aerians, raw with grief and anger at the loss, wanted their beloved departed to have nothing to do with the office that had indirectly ended their lives.
Kaylin hoped that the respect and grief of the Halls of Law would at least make them understand that their loss was felt, and felt keenly; that the lives of the lost had been respected and valued. She wasn’t certain, though. Funerals hadn’t been part of her childhood. A gathering of the living around the dead had usually had more to do with desperation than respect or comfort.
“Why do you think they serve?”
“The Barrani probably do it because they’re bored.”
Bellusdeo nodded. As an immortal, her thoughts on boredom resembled the Barrani opinion with which Kaylin was so familiar.
“The rest of us?” Kaylin shrugged. “I can’t speak for the others. But me? I wanted to be involved with something I could respect. I wanted—and maybe this is stupid—to be the good guy or the hero.”
“And now? I take it from your self-deprecating tone that you think the desire was naive.”
“A little. When I first met the Hawklord, I didn’t feel naive. I felt that everyone else was—I mean, everyone who lived on this side of the Ablayne’s bridge. Because they’d had it so easy. I still think that sometimes.” She shrugged again. “I wanted to be part of something bigger than me, in the end. I like the sense that we’re working on something together. That if justice and the law isn’t perfect, it’s better than the alternative. Someone is always going to be at the top. That’s just a law of power.
“But if the law can sometimes be used to protect those who don’t have that power, it’s better than nothing. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Frequently,” Bellusdeo replied, but her voice was gentle. “But not in this. I wanted to be perfect, when I ruled. I wanted to be a queen who could be admired and followed; I wanted to make no mistakes. In that, I failed. But I considered the alternative worse: to not try. I learned from my mistakes. I made new ones. As I gained power, the cost of my mistakes grew—because it wasn’t just me who would pay for them. It’s the one silver lining to the cloud of being powerless, here.”
“You could join the Hawks.”
“Given your Sergeant’s attitude toward Dragons, I highly doubt it.”
“He’s not in charge. If Lord Grammayre gives you permission...” Kaylin trailed off.
“He would require Imperial permission first, and I highly doubt he would receive it. Not in my case. And yes, I am aware that Lord Tiamaris has been, in the past, considered a member of the Hawks. I am content, however, to be allowed to accompany you on your patrols. If,” she added, “you have no objections.”
Right at this very moment, Kaylin didn’t.
* * *
If anyone else was surprised to see Bellusdeo approaching the Halls in regular clothing, they were better at containing their shock than Kaylin was.
Clint and Tanner were on door duty, and therefore had the first opportunity. They nodded to Bellusdeo; they were not required to be more formal while on duty. Not that any of the Hawks were great at formality, except those in the upper echelons.
“Anything I should be dreading before I’m given permission to enter?” Kaylin asked, glancing at Clint’s wings. They’d been singed, but not in a way that would prevent flight; Clint had assured her that they would be fully functional, and he’d been right.
“Moran had a screeching fight with Ironjaw. She also had a clipped, angry ‘discussion’ with the Hawklord.”
“Moran?”
“You might remember her? Shortish, speckled wings, foul temper, runs our infirmary?”
Moran had reportedly been clipped by fire that was hot enough to melt stone. According to Teela, one of her wings was a disaster; her prognosis for future flight was not good, and she was supposed to be confined to the Aerie in the Southern Reach.
“Why is she even in the office? Shouldn’t she be at home?”
“You might want to keep that opinion to yourself today,” Tanner replied, wincing. “She is not in the mood to have her presence at work criticized, and she made that quite clear.”
“Can she even fly?”
Silence.
Kaylin turned to Bellusdeo. “We’re going to take a detour to the infirmary.”
“Were we not just warned against that?”
“Not exactly,” Kaylin replied at the same time as Clint said, “Yes.”
“I am not familiar with Moran,” the Dragon said. “I’ve met her, of course, but our paths have not otherwise crossed.”
“If you’re smart, they won’t cross today.” Clint glanced at Kaylin before adding, “But if you mean to tag along where Kaylin goes, smart won’t count for much.”
“Thanks a bunch, Clint.”
“I thought you valued honesty?”
Chapter 2
“If your Sergeant was unable to convince Moran that her services are not currently required, what do you think you’ll achieve?” Bellusdeo asked pointedly as they made their way to the infirmary.
“I’ll worry less. I just want to make sure she’s all right.”
“You don’t expect her to be all right.”
Kaylin rolled back her sleeve, exposing the bracer that she wore. It was a gift—of sorts—from the Imperial Treasury, and it looked like a golden manacle, but longer, and with gems. The gems were actually buttons, and when pressed in a specific sequence, it opened. If one didn’t know the sequence, the bracer wouldn’t open. If it didn’t open, it did not come off. Cutting Kaylin’s hand off would not remove the bracer—because while she wore it, her entire arm seemed almost impervious to physical damage.
She frequently tossed it over her shoulder; she sometimes tossed it into the Ablayne. No matter where she threw it, it always returned to its keeper.
Its keeper was not Kaylin. It was Severn.
Today, she handed it to Bellusdeo instead. Bellusdeo didn’t exactly argue when Kaylin dropped it, but she clearly didn’t approve of the casual way Kaylin treated the artifact.
“You mean to heal her.”
“I mean to try, yes. She has a very Barrani attitude toward healing. She considers it intrusive.”
“It is intrusive.”
“I didn’t say she was stupid. I might in the very near future, though.”
Kaylin’s power had been used extensively the day after the disastrous attack. Moran had been absent from the infirmary, and the mood of the Hawks working in its crowded environs had been a blend of determination and gloom. Moran was not particularly fond of Kaylin’s healing ability; she seldom allowed Kaylin to heal at all. But First Corporal Kirby, the Aerian who had taken over the infirmary in Moran’s absence, was more of a pushover. He was only a little older than Kaylin, and he lacked Moran’s wintery presence and absolute authority.
Since Moran hadn’t been present, things had gone more smoothly. If over two dozen officers of the law had died, many, many more had been injured. Moran felt that setting bones—arms, legs, ribs, collars—was her purview. She was less sanguine about burns—especially those that involved flight feathers or wings.
Kaylin had insisted she be allowed to heal the men and women who were not guaranteed to survive. She tended to severe burns and the infections that came with them; she was allowed to heal crushed limbs and fractured skulls. Kirby approved it all, while muttering Moran is going to kill me under his breath.
No one had questioned Kaylin’s work in the infirmary, though the use of her power was not entirely legal. Kaylin was not yet a member of the Imperial Order or the Arcanum—and she would rather die than join the latter.
In theory, there were strict laws that governed the use of magic in Elantra. But in practice, the use of magic wasn’t easily quantified. It was therefore very poorly governed.
Even had it not been, it wouldn’t have mattered. The Hawklord and the Swordlord were fully capable of petitioning the Emperor for permission; neither had felt the paperwork would be productive or entirely necessary.
The beds had emptied slowly. While Kaylin could heal—and very effectively—the process exhausted her, and she’d only been able to work on one man or woman at a time.
At least today, if she collapsed on the way home, Bellusdeo could carry her the rest of the way.
The likelihood of that happening was very small if Moran was, as Clint stated, at her desk. Kaylin wanted to believe that Teela had exaggerated. She didn’t. Moran, she was certain, should not be at work. Not yet.
* * *
Clint, unsurprisingly, was right: Moran was in the infirmary.
Her left arm was in a sling, and her wings...
Kaylin shook her head. Moran’s left wing was a mess; the skeletal structure of the limb itself could be seen, and huge sections of feathers were missing entirely. It looked as if half of the Aerian’s flight feathers were gone. Aerians, like regular birds, did molt—but they didn’t do it publicly. As far as Kaylin could tell, it would be the cultural equivalent of taking a bath fully nude in the market fountain. She knew that full regrowth could take months if the feathers were damaged. She was less certain about what happened if they were simply gone.
There was no way Moran had flown here. She must have been carried.
Moran glared at Kaylin.
Actually, she glared at everything. She nodded—stiffly—to Bellusdeo, the gesture weighted with what Kaylin felt was genuine respect. “We’re honored to have you back among us,” she said, startling Kaylin. Her expression softened slightly. “We owe you.”
Bellusdeo’s eyes, which were already mostly gold, brightened until they were shining. “I have become very fond of the Halls of Law, and of the city. I am less fond of the Barrani High Halls, but if a battle of any significance had to take place within the city—”
“It’s better there than anywhere, aye. You’ll be going on duty rounds with the private?”
“I will.”
“Then you’d best drag her off—she’s going to be late, and the Sergeant is not in a charitable mood.”
And whose fault is that? “I’m right here,” Kaylin said.
Moran had an impressive glare.
“What, exactly, are you afraid of? Everyone else who was badly injured accepted my help.”
“I am not—”
“You can’t fly, Sergeant.”
“Not immediately, no. The feathers will grow in.”
Kaylin didn’t believe it; she wondered if Moran actually did.
“I have already had an argument about the state of my health this morning. Two, in fact. If I did not listen to that giant, lumbering cat and I did not bow to Lord Grammayre, believe that I am not going to blithely obey a private.”
“Teela said you would be out for months.”
“She was demonstrably incorrect. There is nothing wrong with my hands, my legs or my eyes. I am capable of doing my duty. I can’t fly in these rooms, anyway.”
“Moran, please—”
“No.”
“But your wings—”
“Do you know why I’m a sergeant in the infirmary, Private?”
Kaylin did not roll her eyes, though it took effort. “Because you can deal with the injured, regardless of their moods or state of mind.”
“Exactly. You can plead, beg, cry and curse me. I won’t be moved.”
Kaylin inexplicably felt like crying at the moment. Moran’s wings—white and speckled with a brown that almost formed a pattern when the wings were closed—were unique among the Aerians of her acquaintance.
“You still have your childish obsessions, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Kaylin folded her arms, refusing to feel embarrassed.
Moran’s eyes narrowed. They were blue. Aerian blue was not the same midnight as Barrani blue, but it meant essentially the same thing. Moran was angry. Then again, Moran was almost always angry.
“Where are you staying?”
Moran blinked. “Pardon?”
“You can’t fly. You can get Aerians to carry you to and from the Southern Reach, but you can’t fly back on your own. Given it’s you, I’m willing to bet last week’s pay that you don’t even intend to try.”
Moran shifted her gaze; it fell on Bellusdeo. There was nothing else in the room to look at, as the beds were all empty.
Bellusdeo held up both hands. “I am willing to face Barrani ancestors, Shadows and death. I am not willing to pull nonexistent rank on a private. Please don’t ask—I am here on sufferance, with the understanding that I will not interfere with the private’s duties.” She spoke in more formal Barrani, though the rest of the conversation had been uttered in Kaylin’s mother tongue.
“You’re a Dragon,” Moran pointed out. “You don’t need rank.”
“She’s the Chosen,” Bellusdeo countered. Her eyes were still golden, although her expression was neutral. Except for the corners of her mouth, which were twitching.
Moran turned to Kaylin. She could look down on the private from the secure position of rank, but she wasn’t quite tall enough to tower. “I intend to stay here until I’ve fully recovered.”
No bloody wonder Marcus had thrown a fit. “This isn’t exactly residential.”
“It has a roof, and the doors are never completely unmanned. Food is within relatively easy walking distance, and if I need supplies, that’s what privates are for.”
“And where are you going to sleep?”
“In the Aerie in the halls.”
“Which you can’t reach.” Kaylin’s eyes narrowed a little more with each sentence.
“Which is none of your business,” Moran snapped.
“Fine.” Kaylin turned and marched toward the door. When she reached the frame, she turned back. Bellusdeo was still standing beside Moran; the Dragon looked amused. She was the only person in the room who did.
“I believe Private Neya is attempting, in her brusque fashion, to offer you a more amenable place to stay while you recover,” Bellusdeo said.
“I don’t need her charity.”
“Ah.”
Kaylin attempted to count to ten. She made it to three. “But it’s okay for me to accept yours?”
“I’m not offering you charity.”
“You’ve offered me help and guidance for years. You’ve taken care of me after training accidents. You were here when we almost lost a fight to a Dragon.” The small dragon, bored or silent until now, lifted his head and bit Kaylin’s hair.
“You,” Moran replied, “were here. Taking care of you here is my job. And you weren’t here for long.”
“There’s supposed to be give-and-take, Moran.”
“Sergeant.”
“Whatever. This is the first time in my entire life that I’m able to offer you any help at all!”
“I don’t need it.”
“Fine.” Kaylin turned and walked out.
* * *
“If you were a Dragon,” Bellusdeo said, “you’d be steaming the halls. Possibly even melting parts of them.”
“It irritates me that my help isn’t good enough.”
“The sergeant probably doesn’t understand what you’re offering. I believe the entire department knew where you were living before the assassination attempt destroyed your home. She might assume you now live in similarly sized quarters—and frankly, the ceiling of your old apartment would be nearly crippling for an Aerian over the long term.”
Kaylin stomped down the long hall, but slowed her pace as Bellusdeo’s words caught up with her temper.
“I know you’re upset at the sight of her wings.”
“They told me—” Kaylin exhaled. “They told me she’d been damaged by the ancestor’s fire. I didn’t actually get to see the damage. It’s a wonder she didn’t die; there’s no way she could keep herself in the air with wings like that.”
“No. But I have noticed the Hawks keep an eye out for their own. She is alive, Kaylin. But she is an older woman, and she clearly does not care for...coddling.”
Kaylin gave a little shriek in response. The small dragon whacked her face with his wing.
* * *
Marcus appeared to be looking for a suitable target for his obvious frustration. His eyes were a steady orange, and his facial fur was almost standing on end. Kaylin picked up the thrum of his growl just after she had time to reconsider the wisdom of entering the office. Of course. Leontine anger was never quiet or invisible.
She headed directly for his desk, bypassing the duty roster and anyone else who stood between them—except for Caitlin, who waved her over.
“Have you seen Moran?” Kaylin demanded, as Caitlin opened her mouth.
“Yes, dear.”
“Why is she even in the office? She should be at home recovering!”
“It’s...complicated,” the office mother replied. The tone of her voice had a dampening effect on Kaylin’s outrage.
“Complicated how?”
“Given that you’ve seen her—you didn’t start an argument with her, did you?”
“I didn’t start the argument, no.”
Caitlin sighed. It was as close as she generally came to open disapproval. “If Moran didn’t discuss it with you, I can’t. She is having some difficulty at home.”
“She thinks she’s going to be living here.”
“Her living quarters are definitely not your problem.”
“In the Halls, Caitlin.”
“You’ve lived in far less optimal conditions in your life. She won’t starve and she won’t be hunted; she’ll have a solid roof over her head. The Halls were designed, in part, with Aerians in mind. She will not suffer.”
“I want her to live with me.”
Caitlin’s eyes flicked briefly to the side, in Bellusdeo’s direction. She did not, however, tell Kaylin that she thought it was a bad idea. “Let me speak with her,” she said, rising. “I know Marcus and Lord Grammayre have attempted to do so, but I might have better luck with a different approach. You’re certain you want this?”
Kaylin nodded, trying not to look as mutinous as she felt.
She was rewarded by Caitlin’s smile. “Good. I wouldn’t have suggested it—but I think that might be for the best. We’re not certain that—” She shook her head. “You’d best speak with Marcus. He’s been waiting for you—and not terribly patiently.”
* * *
Marcus immediately barked Kaylin’s name. Or Kaylin’s rank, at any rate. No other private rushed to fill the space in front of his disaster of a desk.
“Since Moran is back, you can stop moping around in the infirmary and get back to work.”
That was unfair, but life generally was. The Sergeant growled at the mirror on his desk; it flickered instantly to life as an image began to coalesce. “Corporal Korrin! Corporal Danelle!”
Teela and Tain materialized almost instantly, which meant they’d been eavesdropping from a safer distance than most mortals—at least the non-Leontine ones—could manage. Severn joined them before his name could also be barked.
This was two people too many for Elani beat work. Kaylin pushed thoughts of Moran aside.
“There was a triple murder reported up the Winding Path.” The Winding Path was both the road’s official map name and an accurate description. It crossed two market areas at its lowest point and then headed toward the Southern Reach. It was not a particularly short street.
“Where on the Winding Path?”
“At the Keffeer crossing.” As he spoke, the mirror showed a clearly marked spot on the map. “The bodies are to be moved to the morgue when you’re done.”
“What are you not telling us?”
“I am not telling you anything other than the location. You are expected there as soon as you can make it. Take the carriage.”
Kaylin glanced nervously at Teela and shook her head. “We’ll get there faster if we walk.”
“Not if I’m driving,” Teela said.
“We’ll get there alive if we walk.”
Marcus growled, but his eyes lost a touch of their orange; Teela’s driving was the stuff of legend in the office. “Teela, take a mirror kit. The quartermaster is waiting with it. Private, there are Imperial mages on the property. Attempt not to offend them.”
“Yes, sir.” She hesitated.
“Yessss?” He turned the full force of his gaze on the silent Dragon by Kaylin’s side. His exhale was rumbling. “You intend to follow the private?”
“If that is permissible.”
“I don’t like it. You’re not a Hawk, and this is serious Hawk work; it’s not patrolling fraud central.”
Bellusdeo was helpful; she smiled benignly and held the Sergeant’s glare until he growled again. “Keep an eye on her.”
Kaylin tried not to bristle.
“I will.”
“If any of the idiots in the office attempt to buy you a drink or grovel their gratitude, I’d appreciate it if you ignored them.”
“Oh?”
“They’re grateful for your intervention. They’re not idiots. They’re aware that the Emperor wasn’t.”
Bellusdeo’s face stiffened. Had Kaylin been on the other side of the desk, she would’ve kicked him. She would’ve regretted it, of course—if he’d even noticed, that was.
“But they’re impressed, anyway. Private, are you going to stand around all day gaping like a new recruit?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Head out.”
“Going, sir.”
“Good.” He ran a claw through what was fast becoming a collection of loosely connected splinters. “If you can talk sense into Sergeant Carafel, I’ll send your rank request up to the Tower immediately.” Seeing the change in her expression at the mention of Moran, he added, “No, I did not bring this up.”
“You’re at least the same rank—”
“And the Hawklord outranks her. She is not listening to either of us.”
Kaylin shrugged. “Caitlin went to talk to her. I want her to move in with me.”
He growled his way through a Leontine phrase for which there was no Elantran equivalent. Teela caught Kaylin’s arm and dragged her toward the nearest exit.
