In the aftermath of a vicious battle between darkness and light, the city of Elantra has emerged victorious. But Shadows continue to haunt every corner of its streets…

Elantra stands strong, but countless numbers of Hawks, the city’s staunchest protectors, were lost in the brutal attack. Humans, Barrani, Aerians, Leontines—none of the races emerged unscathed from the defense of the city. Homes were lost, families were scattered...and the outcast Barrani Lord Nightshade is missing from his castle in the fiefs.

Yet as the chaos surrounding the battle begins to wane, Private Kaylin Neya’s duties must resume, despite her grief. Called in to investigate a triple murder in a quiet part of town, Kaylin and her companions are soon embroiled in a case that is anything but routine. Evidence of the deadly Shadows that still threaten the city leads to hints of ancient, forgotten magics...and everything can be traced directly to Ravellon, the heart of the Shadows and the darkness they contain.

But it is there that Lord Nightshade will be found—if he still survives.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author MICHELLE SAGARA and The Chronicles of Elantra series

“No one provides an emotional payoff like Michelle Sagara. Combine that with a fast-paced police procedural, deadly magics, five very different races and a wickedly dry sense of humor—well, it doesn’t get any better than this.”

—Bestselling author Tanya Huff on The Chronicles of Elantra series

“Readers will embrace this compelling, strong-willed heroine with her often sarcastic voice.”

—Publishers Weekly on Cast in Courtlight

“The impressively detailed setting and the book’s spirited heroine are sure to charm romance readers, as well as fantasy fans who like some mystery with their magic.”

—Publishers Weekly on Cast in Secret

“Along with the exquisitely detailed world building, Sagara’s character development is mesmerizing. She expertly breathes life into a stubborn yet evolving heroine. A true master of her craft!”

—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Fury

“Each visit to this amazing world, with its richness of place and character, is one to relish.”

—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Silence

“Another satisfying addition to an already vivid and entertaining fantasy series.”

—Publishers Weekly on Cast in Chaos

“Sagara does an amazing job continuing to flesh out her large cast of characters, but keeps the unsinkable Kaylin at the center.”

—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Peril

“Über-awesome Sagara picks up the intense action right where she left off… While Kaylin is the heart of this amazing series, the terrific characters keep the story moving. An autobuy for sure!”

—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Cast in Sorrow

Cast in Honour

Michelle Sagara

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Mary-Theresa Hussey,

With thanks and gratitude for a decade of partnership.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Kaylin had a new home, and she loved it.

The Imperial Palace was, to many, the pinnacle of dream homes. But to Kaylin, it had been a nightmare—one that she’d finally escaped. The Palace Guard no longer lined the halls outside of her room, and her rooms were no longer so grand or so fine that she felt as if she didn’t belong in them. The shutters on her windows—and they were shuttered, not barred—weren’t as warped as they had been in her old apartment, but the windows opened to let both light and air in, when she desired it.

And best of all: Dragon arguments no longer woke her out of a sound sleep.

In theory, Barrani arguments were quieter than draconic arguments, Barrani throats being confined to the general shape and size, even if they were immortal. Angry Barrani weren’t exactly safer to be around, but at least they didn’t demand attention half a city block away.

So much for theory.

The Barrani engaged in this particular argument were in the same building. Their shouts shook the floor, which shook her bed, which caused Kaylin to sit up and scrabble under her pillow for the dagger she always slept with.

Her small dragon familiar, usually a floppy and relatively inert mass somewhere at the top of her pillow, hissed. It was dark enough—barely—that she could feel him more than see him.

In response to the stray thought, a soft glow lit the interior of the room. This was a standard feature of living in an intelligent and responsive building, but three weeks in, Kaylin still found it a bit creepy.

“I’m sorry, Kaylin,” Helen said, although she didn’t dim the lights. “It’s habit. Generally when people are worried about visibility, it’s because they might injure themselves in the darkness.” She was, of course, nowhere to be seen—or, conversely, everywhere, as she was the building.

Guilt, of course, came on the heels of light. Kaylin wasn’t used to guarding her thoughts. She could (mostly) keep the bad ones firmly sealed behind her teeth, but Helen didn’t require the spoken word. Then again, Helen didn’t seem to judge or take offense at the unspoken word, which was definitely for the best.

The floor shook again, and this time, Barrani words were clearly audible. There were, as expected, two voices, crashing into each other: Mandoran’s and Annarion’s.

“What exactly are they doing?” Kaylin swiveled to dump her feet off the side of her bed. The mattress was dense and thick, but it was not—like palace mattresses—three feet off the ground.

“Disagreeing.”

“Sorry, I got that part. What are they disagreeing about?” Mandoran switched, midsentence, to the Elantran that was Kaylin’s mother tongue.

“You can’t hear them?”

“I heard the last bit, and you should tell Mandoran that what he’s suggesting is anatomically impossible.” She walked to the chair nearest the actual closet and retrieved the clothing she’d be wearing, bar disaster, to the office today. The small dragon showed his appreciation for being rudely woken by taking off with the stick she used to keep her hair off her neck and face. He also squawked a lot.

“Mandoran says,” Helen finally replied, “that it’s not anatomically impossible for them. Annarion says—”

“Yes, thanks, I heard his response. Have they let up at all in the past four days?”

“They haven’t been shouting at each other—”

“I mean, have they taken any breaks?”

“No, dear.”

“It’s probably a miracle they’re both still alive.”

“Mandoran agrees. He apologizes and says they will take a break now, and resume practice once you’ve headed into the office.”

In the three weeks since their narrow defeat of the ancestors, Annarion had not emerged from wherever he was training. Kaylin didn’t expect that he would until Helen believed that his self-containment was complete enough to walk the city streets without immediately attracting every Shadow in the heart of the fiefs—or worse.

He’d already done that once, though unintentionally. Helen insisted that Annarion had been shouting for attention—for want of a better description—and the ancestors had heard him. Since Kaylin had been standing beside the young Barrani for most of his stay in Elantra, she sympathized with his confusion: she certainly hadn’t heard—or seen—anything that demanded attention. Nothing beyond his striking Barrani looks, at any rate.

But...the Shadows had come, leaving the containment of the fiefs and venturing into the streets of Elantra proper. And they’d made a beeline to Annarion. They weren’t particularly careful about anything standing in their way, especially once they turned their attention to the Barrani High Halls. At that point, the Barrani and the Dragon Court had arrived in force.

The city had mostly recovered, although the streets in the high-rent district were no longer flat; the stone had been melted, and the creatures that had done the melting had left marks in the road when it once again solidified.

Helen was attempting to teach Annarion to be quiet. For some reason, Annarion did not take as well to these lessons as Mandoran had done. Mandoran joined Kaylin from time to time; Kaylin suspected that he did it just to annoy Annarion.

Then again, Annarion was desperately worried for his brother, Lord Nightshade. Nightshade’s abrupt disappearance from his fief—and, more important, his Castle—weighed heavily on his younger brother, who suspected that his presence was the cause of Nightshade’s absence. Kaylin privately agreed, but she didn’t blame Annarion.

She blamed herself. She shouldn’t have let Annarion visit his brother in Castle Nightshade. She shouldn’t have let him out into the city at all until she was certain he wasn’t a danger to others.

And you would have stopped him how, exactly?

Rationally, she was not responsible for anything that had occurred within Elantra. But as hers had been the hand that had rescued Annarion and the rest of his cohort from their jail in the heart of the green, her guilt had clear and undeniable roots. Kaylin attempted to push aside the feelings of remorse—they pissed Teela off when she was in the office, and while Teela couldn’t actually read minds, her familiarity with Kaylin’s moods made her intuition pretty much the same in practical terms.

The sounds of shouting that would have contained nothing but curse words in most languages diminished as Kaylin made her way out of her room.

* * *

The halls in her new home were in far finer repair than the halls in her first home had been. Doors lined the walls—doors behind which some of her friends now lived. Those friends were seldom in their own rooms, with a single notable exception: Bellusdeo. Her sole guard, Maggaron, had spent two weeks standing in the hall outside of the Dragon’s doors; he took breaks for food, but they were short and silent.

Mandoran and Annarion spent their days—and nights—in what Helen referred to as the training room. It wasn’t, as far as Kaylin could tell, actually a room in the strictest sense of the word. Teela—the reason that Kaylin had attempted to even find it—didn’t consider it a room in the loosest sense of the word, either. Kaylin pointed out that it had a door.

Teela in turn pointed out that Helen—whose voice was present—had had trouble giving the two Hawks necessary directions to reach it; in Teela’s opinion, the door had only been created as a visible marker. Helen confirmed this.

Regardless, although the two not-quite-Barrani boys had rooms of their own, they’d been holed up in a part of the mansion that couldn’t be considered home, Maggaron had been standing or slumping against a wall in the hall, and Bellusdeo had treated her room like an impregnable fortress. As housewarmings went—and Kaylin had only attended one, at Caitlin’s insistence—it was unsuccessful.

Kaylin, however, had felt at home in her room from the moment she crossed its threshold.

She felt at home in the dining room, even though it was large; she felt at home entering the front door, even though it opened to a foyer with multiple levels and too much light; she was even becoming more comfortable with Helen’s habit of treating her thoughts as questions, and answering them out loud. Tara, the Avatar of Tiamaris’s Tower, did the same. It was hard to feel lonely in this house. If it was also hard to be alone—and it was—Kaylin didn’t mind. Helen didn’t judge her thoughts, her moods or her achievements—or, more specifically, their lack.

“I would,” Helen said, as Kaylin made her way to the dining room. “But thoughts are not actions; they’re not plans. If you were planning something unwise, I would tell you.” This was demonstrably true. “If you were planning something unethical, I would also tell you. I have lived with tenants who have chosen to act against their own beliefs—and the results were not pleasant.”

“They messed up?”

“Ah, no, dear. I have had a number of tenants since Hazielle. It is almost universally true that what you cannot bring yourself to do—or perhaps to avoid doing—you cannot believe anyone else would avoid. For instance: if you decry lying, but then do it yourself—and not in the way manners might dictate—you quickly assume that no one is honest. If you betray a trust for your own benefit, you assume that no one is trustworthy.

“This eventually causes a spiral of ugliness and loathing. The reason I would stop you from doing something you despise is not necessarily because I would despise it. It is because of the effect it would have, in the end, on the way you view and interact with the important parts of your world. If you have no self-respect, your ability to respect anything or anyone else is in peril.”

Kaylin thought about this as she ate.

Mandoran soon joined her, looking glum and exhausted. Had he been mortal, she would have attempted to send him back to bed. Since he wasn’t, and given that he was up against the wall of Annarion’s frantic fear for his brother’s safety, she decided against it.

“He’s going to be the definition of anti-fun until we find his brother. I’ve taken quite a personal dislike to Lord Nightshade.” He pushed food around his plate as if the eggs were unappetizing. “If it weren’t for his brother, we could try to learn to be ‘quiet’ at a reasonable pace. The way things stand now, Annarion might as well be mortal.”

“And you mean that in the nicest possible way, of course,” Kaylin replied.

“Not really.” Being on the receiving end of Kaylin’s glare, he glanced at Helen; her Avatar had been waiting, more or less patiently, in the dining room. She appeared entirely unruffled by his comment.

“Look, I understand why mortals are in a rush about everything—they get old and weak so quickly that they can’t afford to take their time. We’re not mortal. We have time.”

“We don’t know what happened to Nightshade.”

“We know he isn’t dead.”

“There are worse things than death.”

“One of which would be practicing with Annarion,” Mandoran replied. Wincing, he added, “Great. Now he’s angry.”

Kaylin was on Annarion’s side this time, but said nothing; the Hawks had taught her to leave Barrani arguments between the Barrani who were having them.

* * *

Thanks to Annarion and Mandoran’s not exactly silent disagreement, Kaylin was in no danger of being late for work. The midwives had called her out twice during the past three weeks; they’d sent a runner to the house each time. So far, Helen seemed unwilling to install active mirrors in the manse. Mirrors were modern necessities. Anyone of import used them to communicate, especially in emergencies. Since Kaylin was feeling surprisingly awake despite the hour, she turned to Helen to tackle the subject for a third time.

“I need some sort of working mirror connection somewhere in the house. It doesn’t have to be everywhere. It could be in one room. Or even only in mine. Marcus mirrors whenever he needs someone to shout at, and the midwives’ guild mirrors when there’s an emergency. So does the Foundling Hall. I can’t ask the midwives’ guild to send a runner between the endangered mother and this house and expect me to make it there in time. So far I’ve been lucky, but I doubt that will last.”

Helen’s expression flattened. There was a reason this was the third attempt at discussion. “I have made some inquiries about the mirror network; they are incomplete thus far. I am perhaps remiss; I do not wish to insult either you or the people for whom you work. But the mirror network is not secure. I am almost certain such forms of communication would not have been allowed in my youth.”

“Almost everyone has some sort of mirror access.” Everyone, Kaylin thought, who could afford it. She hadn’t had a mirror when she’d lived in the fiefs. She hadn’t daydreamed about having one, either—she hadn’t really been aware of their existence until she’d crossed the bridge. “Some people—mostly Barrani—have even set the mirror network to follow them when they move from place to place. And if the Barrani are willing to use it, how dangerous can it be?”

“There are many things the Barrani do—and have done in the past—that you would consider neither safe nor respectable.” Helen sighed. “Understand that the mirror network is a magical lattice that underlays the city.”

Kaylin nodded.

“At the moment, it is a magic that I do not permit across my boundaries. It appears to have been designed to travel around areas of non-cooperation; it therefore skirts the edge of my containments. I have not disrupted it in any fashion—it did not seem to be directly harmful. If you wish to have access to your mirror network, I would have to alter my protections to allow the grid’s magic to overlap my own, at least in part. I do not know who, or what, is responsible for the stability of the grid; I do not know who, or what, created the spells that contain it; nor do I fully understand the magic that sustains it.”

“Don’t do it,” Mandoran said.

Kaylin glared at him. “Why not?”

“You don’t let stray magic into the heart of your home.”

“Everyone else does.”

“So I’d gathered.” He winced. “Teela’s in a mood, by the way.”

Great.

“I don’t know what kind of power your people have—I have to assume it’s not significant.”

Big surprise.

“But someone with significant power could transmit or feed an entirely different kind of magic through the lattice on which the mirror network is built.”

“I’d think the Emperor would have something to say about that—mirrors function in the Palace.”

“Dragons aren’t as fragile as mortals, for one. Look—I’m not an Arcanist. There are no doubt some protections built into the mirror network to prevent its use as a weapon. I can imagine those protections being successful in most cases—but not all. Magic is not precise; it’s not entirely predictable—as you should well know.

“But the possibility of being used as a weapon is not the only threat the mirrors might pose. It’s highly likely that they could transmit private information to outside observers.” His expression darkening, he added, “I mean—Teela lets the damn network follow her.”

Not for the first time, Kaylin wished she could be part of that internal dialogue. “The communication—the flow of information—is bound to mirrors. Teela can’t just speak to me whenever she wants unless I carry a portable mirror on my person—and those are way too expensive to give to a private. I can mirror Teela—and she’ll pick up if she’s near a functioning mirror. Break the mirror, and you break the communication. And the mirrors aren’t any sturdier than regular glass.”

“If you were better at magic,” Mandoran told her, “you could easily do what Teela does. It wouldn’t be expensive.”

Kaylin’s magic lessons had been severely disrupted for the past two months, but the implication that she was incompetent was clear. She tried to swallow her defensive words because, blunt or not, he was only speaking the truth. She even managed to succeed, although swallowing food was easier. She focused on that instead.

“If you allow your network access to this house, as opposed to the hovel you purportedly lived in before the Palace,” Mandoran continued, “the information to be gained could be a danger—to Helen. No one was interested in your previous home until Bellusdeo arrived. They might have had a great deal of interest in your palace residence, but Teela tells me the Palace is practically a magical stronghold.” His expression made it clear that he didn’t agree. And also made clear, after a moment, that Teela didn’t think much of his disagreement and was letting him know.

The thought of Teela in lecture mode made Kaylin appreciate being left out. “People mirror me when they need me. And when they need me, it’s an emergency. They don’t have time to run halfway across the city to hand-deliver a message.” She turned to Helen and added, “Even Tiamaris—the Tower of Tiamaris—has mirror access.”

Helen frowned. “Let me see, dear.”

Kaylin was already thinking about mirrors made of water in the large, glyphed stone room of that Tower, Tara standing beside them, her eyes not quite human.

“Is it only in that room that you have access to your network?”

Kaylin frowned. “No. Tara can create a mirror out of nothing if we need one.”

“Understood. I will look into this further. I am no longer—as you know—what I was when I was first created. Information I once possessed has now been lost, and I must work the way you do.” This was not in any way accurate, but Kaylin didn’t quibble. “It would be useful to have some contact with at least one of the Seven Towers; the Seven do not take unnecessary risks.” She glanced at Mandoran. “Perhaps you can be of aid in this regard.”

“I’d like to be a guest, if it’s all the same to you.” Mandoran’s answer—which didn’t appear to line up with Helen’s comment—caused Kaylin obvious confusion. “Guests aren’t asked to do necessary work—in large part because they can’t be trusted with it.” Mandoran’s smile was sharp, lean.

“I am not Barrani,” Helen replied, an edge of disapproval in her otherwise correct voice. “Believe that I would know if you were misbehaving anywhere it was likely to cause damage.” Her expression softening, she added, “We would not have survived without your intervention—and to intervene, you stood almost at the heart of my power. As such, there is now very little with which I would not trust you.”

“It doesn’t seem like an adequate reward for good behavior,” Mandoran replied. He was grinning unrepentantly; it made his entire face both younger and more compelling. “I am, on the other hand, willing to entertain the prospect—if helping out around the house gets me out of other duties.”

“I don’t know why you say these things; you are just going to annoy your brother.” Helen’s voice was now reproving.

“Too late.” Mandoran had apparently had enough of the breakfast he’d hardly touched. He stood, turned to Kaylin and added, “Sorry if we woke you up.”

“I had to go in to work today anyway.”

“That’s what I said, but Helen didn’t agree.”

* * *

As Kaylin left the dining room and headed toward the grandly lit front doors, there was another surprise waiting for her. The wide, curving stairs had a person on them. Bellusdeo.

Kaylin almost didn’t recognize her. Gone was the fancy court dress that marked so much of her life in public; she was wearing pants and a tunic. The shirt beneath the tunic was beige, and if the cloth was a much more expensive weave than Kaylin could afford, it wasn’t immediately obvious. Her hair had been pulled up off her shoulders; she wore no obvious jewelry.

“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.

Kaylin shook her off as soon as they’d made it out the doors. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not let the quartermaster see my face. He’s pissed off at Jenkins at the moment, and I’d like him to stay that way.”

“Jenkins has offended you? He’s a bit green, but—”

“No, he hasn’t. But it’s the first time in months that someone else has been the quartermaster’s official problem child.” Jenkins had recently lost a sword. “I’d just as soon not remind him that I exist.”

* * *

The Winding Path met Keffeer about a third of the way up the gentle incline on which the southern part of the city was built. It was well away from the Ablayne, although one small stream trickled down from the rocky heights of the unoccupied reach and fed into it.

The homes were not as fine as they were in the expensive districts around the Imperial Palace, but they weren’t as run-down as the buildings in the fiefs, either. There were fences and gates that fronted the street, but they weren’t uniform.

“Did he even give us an address?” Kaylin asked, as Keffeer came into view.

“You were there. You heard just as much as we did,” Teela said. She was, as Mandoran had said earlier, in a mood.

“Yes, but I remember less clearly.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Tain, silent, cast a sidelong glance at Bellusdeo. “You might want to sit this one out,” he told her.

She raised a golden brow. The line of the arch was almost identical to the line of the Arkon’s when he did the same thing. “Do you feel that I am in marked danger in this investigation?”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“And you think that I am likely to fall prey to this theoretical danger when two mortals will not?” She glanced pointedly at Kaylin and Severn, neither of whom were stupid enough to say anything.

Teela grinned. “Give it up,” she told her partner before turning to Bellusdeo. “The reason he’s attempting to be cautious is the lack of information we’ve been given. It implies—heavily—that the star of this leg of the investigation is going to be Kaylin.”

“Kaylin? Why?”

“Thanks,” Kaylin interjected.

“Kaylin is particularly sensitive to magic and its remnants. You’ve probably heard her whining about door wards?”

“I’m breathing, so yes,” Bellusdeo replied.

“It’s not just door wards. Any use of normal magic—”

“How are we defining normal?”

“Magic that might be used by a mage of the Imperial Order and most of the Arcanum. The Arcanum does have some branches— You know what, never mind. We can discuss this in a tavern on an off-night. The point is, Kaylin’s sensitive enough to see magic without using any of her own—that we can detect, anyway. The Sergeant doesn’t wish to influence what she might—or might not—see. He’ll have some inkling of what the Imperial mages discovered.”

“Inkling?”

“They’ll write a report, but it won’t come in until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Is everything in your city reliant on reports of this nature?”

“Yes. Paper is easier to lose than Records.” She turned to Kaylin. “What are you looking at?”

Kaylin swore under her breath. Mostly. “I think I know where we’re heading.”

* * *

Magic gave Kaylin hives. She’d gotten used to this in the West March, though the magic of the green didn’t cause the same reaction as the magic on the streets here did. The Imperial roads, such as they were, were well kept, from the merchant gates to the city’s economic center.

But the stones on the Winding Path were cracked.

Kaylin knelt.

“Did we get any witness reports?” she asked, as she touched the cracks she could see.

“Let me access Records,” Teela replied, and did so. Kaylin felt a twinge as the pocket mirror came to life in the Barrani Hawk’s hand. “Yes.”

“What did they say?”

“Marcus has put a hold on that information until you tender your first report.”

Kaylin was annoyed, but she tempered her reaction. “Do these cracks look strange to you?” she asked.

“What cracks?”

Which answered that question. “You know, when I first started training with the two of you, we had normal cases.”

“Technically, yes. Your first case—”

“Don’t mention it. I wasn’t a Hawk then.” She rose. The street, in her view, was cracked, the stones listing toward the crack as if something very large or very heavy had recently traveled on this road. But the cracks themselves felt odd. She stopped a yard up the path and knelt again.

At her back, she heard the familiar clink of metal against metal. Severn was unwinding his weapon chain. Neither Teela nor Tain told him to stop. “What does the road look like to you?” she asked him.

“Flat, for the most part. It’s a relatively smooth incline; there are patches of weeds to either side. You don’t see that.” It wasn’t a question, but Kaylin answered it as if it were, describing what she could see.

“This isn’t your usual paradigm,” Teela said.

“No. And I see no magical sigils, either. It’s not strong magic, but it’s definitely there.”

“Records,” Teela said. “Record.”

Kaylin described what she saw for a third time, and Teela moved the mirror so that it captured the street. She then handed the tiny captured image to Kaylin. Kaylin, well aware that her head would be on a pike if she dropped or damaged this mirror, took it gingerly. The image in the mirror was what Severn had described. She handed it back to Teela.

“What do you normally see?” Bellusdeo asked, as Kaylin rose again.

“Sigils and words,” Kaylin replied. “They’re often splashed against walls or doors like random paint. The larger the sigil, the greater the magic that produced it.”

“Not cracks.”

“Not usually, no. I think one or two of the mages in the Imperium look at magic as dimensionality, though. They see containers. Where magic has been cast, they see the type of shards you’d see if you dropped a vase. The greater the shattering, the larger the magic that caused it. One of them sees particular colors of glass or glaze—his version of my sigils.

“The crack—it’s mostly one—veers at the gate three houses to the left of where we’re standing.”

“The short, wooden gate?”

Kaylin nodded. “Why are you making that face?”

Severn coughed. “I don’t think that that’s the house with the bodies,” he said.

Sometimes Kaylin’s entire life felt like a game of gotcha. “Which house is it?”

“Three down,” he replied, “and on the other side of the street.”

* * *

Teela didn’t head to the aforementioned dwelling immediately. She began to cast instead. Her spell was much stronger than the afterimage of magic left on the road; Kaylin’s skin goose-bumped in protest. The Barrani Hawk handed the mirror to Tain as she knelt in the center of the road.

“Honestly, kitling,” she said, passing her hands over the crack that Kaylin could still see. “How bad a teacher can Lord Sanabalis be?”

“He’d say the quality of the student is the determining factor,” Kaylin replied. “Are you getting anything?”

“My initial response would usually be no.”

Kaylin, having worked with Teela for years, waited as the Barrani Hawk rose and retraced Kaylin’s exact steps. She was frowning; her eyes, which had been as green as they ever got at work, were shading toward blue. It was a green blue, so she was concerned, but not overly worried. Tain, on the other hand, was definitely worried.

Kaylin raised her brows at him, and he shook his head. “If you teach me nothing else in your short life,” he said, “you have forced me to reevaluate boredom as a concept. There is definitely such a thing as too much excitement.”

“This isn’t too much excitement,” Kaylin quite reasonably pointed out.

“Not yet. Are you betting?”

“Is she breathing?” Teela cut in. “Shut up, both of you. I can’t concentrate.” Severn—much more quietly—asked Tain what the bet, stakes and odds were. Teela did not tell Severn to shut up.

The Barrani Hawk straightened. “There is something. I wouldn’t have noticed it—I’m only barely detecting it now.” She glanced at Tain, who shrugged.

“Magic was never one of my strengths.”

“Bellusdeo?”

“Yes, it was considered one of mine.” The Dragon was frowning. She looked at Kaylin. Or rather, at the small dragon sitting on her shoulder. “Well?”

The small dragon was silent.

“Bodies, or house across the street from the bodies first?” Tain asked.

“House,” Kaylin said.

* * *

“Let Teela do the talking,” Severn suggested as they followed the path of this indeterminate magic to what appeared to be its source. “Records indicate that this house is occupied, that the taxes are paid up and that the owner is not a person of political significance.”

Kaylin said nothing. That lasted for five seconds. “Is it too much to ask,” she said under her breath, “that I not be shoved out in the dark with zero information whatsoever and asked to find something?”

“We’re in the same dark. If you hadn’t been arguing with Moran—how did that go, by the way?—you would’ve been in the office when the request came in.” When this failed to appreciably lighten Kaylin’s mood, he added, “You know that magical precepts are both individual and susceptible to suggestion.”

“I bet Ironjaw has more information.”

“The Sergeant is not a mage.”

Neither am I. She kept this to herself, aware that she was cranky in part because of her discussion with Moran. She was old enough not to be treated like a child.

Teela approached the gate, raised a hand, then lowered it. The frown she wore seemed etched into her otherwise perfect face. “Kitling?”

Kaylin shrugged off her resentment and came to stand by Teela’s side. She also poked the small dragon, who squawked quietly, but lifted one transparent wing. He tapped her face gently, to make a point, but kept the wing extended so it covered her eyes.

To Kaylin’s vision—with the added interference of a translucent dragon wing—the gate looked weathered. It was slightly warped. The nails that held it in place had rusted a bit, but that was it. “It’s a gate.” She turned to glance back at the road and froze. After a second, she lifted her hand to gently catch the small dragon’s wing. He expressed his appreciation of this loudly, but stopped short of biting her fingers.

“We’ve got a problem,” Kaylin said.

Chapter 3

Hawks were not generally armed for lethal combat. Severn was an exception, and the exception had been made because he was, in theory, a Wolf. Teela and Tain, on the other hand, didn’t require the usual edged implements to be deadly. Bellusdeo didn’t, either.

Everyone turned toward Kaylin and then looked beyond her to the stretch of imperfect, inclining road.

“I want one of those,” Tain said, to no one in particular. The small dragon squawked anyway. “What do you see?”

“Shadow,” Kaylin said, her voice flat.

Bellusdeo stiffened on a single, sharp inhale. Her experience with Shadows had defined—and almost destroyed—her. She spoke a sharp word. The hair on the back of Kaylin’s neck rose in protest as the Dragon moved to stand slightly ahead of her, without impeding her view.

“I can’t see it. Tell me what you see.”

“It’s a very narrow line,” Kaylin said. “Similar to what I saw as magic; it’s not solid, and it’s not—that I can see—active.”

“Active, meaning?”

“It’s not opalescent, and it’s not—quite—moving. But it’s there.”

“In the heart of the city.”

“To one side of the heart of the city, but yes.”

“And the line of shadow goes into this house.”

“Or through it, yes.”

Teela cursed in Leontine. Leontine coming from a Barrani throat was strangely musical. In this case, the phrase she’d chosen was entirely appropriate. “There’s nothing going to the house across the street where the murders took place?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Are you sure the idiots reporting this didn’t— Never mind. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a transcription error,” she added darkly.

Severn hadn’t set his chain spinning, but he carried one of the attached blades in hand. “Mirror back.”

Teela nodded. She glanced at Bellusdeo again.

“I am not leaving, if that’s the suggestion you intend to make,” Bellusdeo said. “I have been given Imperial permission to accompany Private Neya on her patrols.”

“This isn’t exactly patrol material.”

“No. But it is part of her usual duties.”

“If anything goes wrong and anything happens to you, you’re likely to lose that Imperial permission instantly. And Kaylin—”

“The Emperor would not dream of harming Kaylin.” The Dragon’s eyes had descended into orange; the orange was now tinged red.

Given that his first reaction upon hearing about Kaylin’s existence almost eight years ago had been to order her execution, this wasn’t exactly accurate. But given Bellusdeo’s current mood, accuracy was irrelevant.

“No one in Elantra has more experience with Shadows than Bellusdeo does.” Kaylin folded her arms. “If you’re worried about me, don’t be. I’ve had enough worrying-about-me to last ten lifetimes. The only thing we might want is Maggaron.”

Bellusdeo opened her mouth.

Kaylin continued quickly, “He fought by your side against the Shadows that consumed your world. He knows them as well as you do—probably better. He was there for a long damn time.”

The Dragon snapped her jaws shut. Normal-sized jaws shouldn’t have made that much noise. “We should destroy this part of the road—and that house.”

“It’s not as simple as that. If the house isn’t contaminated—and you know what that looks like—we’ll be destroying someone’s home. It’s—among other things—against the law, unless the Emperor orders it done.”

“You don’t understand the risk you’re taking.”

Kaylin wanted to argue, but she understood what Bellusdeo had faced in the past. “Let’s just check out the house.”

* * *

Teela did, indeed, take point. It wasn’t always smart to have Barrani be the lead investigators when dealing with mortals. It wasn’t always smart to have any lead investigator cross racial lines. In the very, very few instances when the Halls of Law were called in to deal with the Leontine quarter, Marcus took point. It was always the best—and smartest—approach.

In some instances, though, Barrani were the most effective. Most mortals didn’t believe that a simple thing like a hawk on a tabard guaranteed good behavior from immortals. Kaylin attempted to point this out, but Teela pulled rank. Literally.

She opened the gate more or less carefully, glanced at Kaylin and waited. Kaylin nodded. “The thread goes to the door.”

“Beneath it?”

“It’s hard to say. When I looked at the road normally, it looked as if something very, very heavy and very thin had just landed. There was a V-shaped indent and a crack at the bottom of it. The path to the house isn’t made of the same stone, but it’s staved in the same way.”

“The stairs?”

There were only two steps up to the door. “Same as the road. The door doesn’t appear to be damaged, though. I’m not sure whether the line goes into the house or beneath it.”

“Is it active?” Bellusdeo asked.

“I don’t know. It’s Shadow.” She hesitated and then said, “It’s like what we might see—the Shadow part, not the staved-in stone—if a living person had been deeply cut but could still keep moving. I think it might be the equivalent of—”

“Bleeding?”

Kaylin nodded. “This is not an expert opinion,” she added, as Teela lifted the mirror. “And I’d just as soon not enter that opinion in Records if I can avoid it.”

“You’ve got far stupider opinions entered in Records.”

“I was thirteen, Teela.”

* * *

The home itself was not large; it was not one of the grand manors nestled in the heart of the wealthy district. It was modest in size, but seemed to be in good repair. The stairs were stone, and the foundation appeared to be stone as well—but in Elantra, that wasn’t entirely unusual. Kaylin had been told that it was, farther away from the city, but her only experience outside of the city had been the West March, which didn’t count.

The front door was not warded. That was also unusual, but not unheard-of; Kaylin’s previous home had been without door wards, as had almost all of the other apartments in the same building. Door wards were expensive. Even if they didn’t make her hand numb and her skin ache, she would have had a decent excuse for not having one.

Teela knocked on the door. Given Kaylin’s description of the stairs, she chose not to stand in the center of them. They would have carried her weight, regardless. Bellusdeo stood back, beside Kaylin.

“You can’t see anything?” Kaylin asked.

Bellusdeo shook her head. “We have some methods of drawing Shadow out—of forcing it out—of its inanimate hiding places. But many of those methods are complicated; they can’t be done in an instant. To do it, the Norannir would have to come, and that would probably cause panic. You might recall the war drums?”

Kaylin nodded.

“They’re very effective, but definitely not quiet. I think Imperial permission would probably be necessary; at the very least, we would want to clear the drumming with the Swords. It is likely to cause some...unrest. Besides, your marks aren’t glowing.”

“How can you tell?”

“When they glow, they’re visible, even through your sleeves.” She glanced at the small dragon. “And Hope is alert, but not yet worried.”

The small dragon crooned. It was not one of his regular noises. He then glanced at Severn and made the same sound. Severn nodded as if he understood. It was very frustrating. The familiar, in theory, was hers, and she seemed to be the only person who couldn’t understand him.

Teela ignored them and knocked again, this time with more force. Tain lifted Kaylin—literally—and set her to one side; he then joined Teela in the space he’d cleared. Bellusdeo clearly found this amusing.

“She’s not furniture,” Teela pointed out, as she waited for some sort of response from the resident of the house.

“No. She’s too bony and too loud.”

Teela knocked a third time. Nothing. Kaylin knew there wouldn’t be a fourth attempt.

True to form, Teela raised her voice to let the occupants of the house—if they were present—know that Hawks were standing on their doorstep and were about to enter. This still elicited no response.

It wasn’t completely unheard-of for a house to be empty at this time of day, but it was rare. The streets often felt as if they were full of small children and their elderly minders, but many actually stayed home if they had yards or a small space outdoors—something Kaylin had never had in her childhood.

Teela tried the doorknob. The door was locked. Placing a hand on the door itself, the Barrani Hawk closed her eyes. “Bolted,” she murmured.

“We can kick it in,” Tain offered.

Teela, however, shook her head, her expression shifting. To Kaylin’s wing-masked eyes, the door looked entirely normal. “Kitling, the door?”

Kaylin reached up and pushed the dragon wing aside. “No magic that I can see.”

“None?”

She pushed her way past Tain and looked again, bringing her eyes inches away from Teela’s resting palm. She frowned. “...Maybe.”

“Best guess?”

“Someone may have bolted the door from the outside. It wouldn’t be difficult for most mages.”

“Not diligent students, at any rate.” Teela opened the bolt. Magically. She pushed the door inward and entered.

* * *

The house appeared to be empty, which wasn’t Kaylin’s immediate concern. As she once again lifted the dragon’s wing, she looked down at the floor. The crack they’d followed to this particular door couldn’t be seen; the wooden floor was worn in some areas, but solid. The sense of magic was absent.

Teela walked into the house, announcing her presence loudly without actually shouting, a trick Kaylin had not quite mastered. The Barrani Hawk’s voice almost echoed. The house appeared to be empty. For one long beat, Kaylin felt that the house had always been empty.

The building had two stories. They searched the first floor. Aside from the accumulated mess any house gathered and displayed when visitors weren’t expected, there was nothing that caught the eye. Teela headed upstairs, Tain in tow. Severn, Kaylin and Bellusdeo headed toward the back door to investigate the yard.

The back door, like the front, was bolted; the windows that faced the yard were glassed and barred. The bars appeared to be new. Kaylin studied the bolt, first with small and squawky’s translucent wing, and then without; it appeared to be exactly what it was.

“The bolt looks new,” Severn said.

Kaylin nodded. She opened the door and looked down the few steps into a fenced yard. The fence, like the bars on the window, appeared to be newly constructed—and in this area of town, fences were rare. The yards were generally like one great common.

The steps just beneath the door bore cracks similar to the road and the front steps of the house. They also—in winged view—looked as if they’d been broken instantly by too great a weight. The line led out into the yard. Kaylin followed it; it seemed to bisect one of the paths between cultivated vegetables, heading toward the distant quarries that provided the city with stone, among other things.

No, she thought, as she slowed an already crawling pace. “Severn, does this look like normal yard to you?”

“Yes. Except for the fence.”

“I think there’s a...hatch. Up ahead.”

“I can’t see it.”

“Right. There’s obviously a basement here; let’s assume the invisible hatch and the basement are connected.”

“I think it’s time we paid a visit to the house where the murders took place.”

“Basement first.”

* * *

Teela and Tain had found nothing of importance upstairs. There were two obvious bedrooms and one sitting room; the sitting room was so pristine it was clear it wasn’t used for much. The bedrooms had small, shallow closets that were filled with clothing and linen, and dirty laundry had accumulated in the usual places—at least in Kaylin’s experience.

The basement, however, was different.

The moment Kaylin opened the door, her arms began to tingle. Teela, moving slowly and scanning carefully, sucked in air; when Kaylin glanced back at her, the Barrani’s eyes were a much darker shade of blue.

“Teela?”

“Be careful here.” She glanced once at the Dragon.

The Dragon nodded, and the tingling across Kaylin’s marked skin grew sharper, though it was not yet painful. “What do you see?”

“Magic” was Teela’s curt reply. She didn’t bother to draw a weapon; Kaylin drew a silent dagger. Severn had not let go of his blade.

“I’ll go winged,” Kaylin said, as the small dragon huffed.

“I’m not sure wingless wouldn’t be more useful at this point,” Teela said. She gestured and light appeared to her right, in about the position a lantern would hold if she’d been using one. The light bounced off the walls as they began their descent. Teela had once again taken point, and once again, Kaylin let her have it, choosing to take the rear instead.

There was no trail of shadow on the stairs by which they made their descent. The narrow, steeply inclined steps were whole, if more obviously worn than the stone that girded the front and back of the house. The width forced Bellusdeo and the Hawks to move in single file.

Kaylin nearly leaped out of her skin when she heard clanging bells. It was only when Teela cursed—in Leontine—that she remembered the portable mirror. “Are you going to answer that?”

“No,” Teela replied. “It’s Marcus.”

Kaylin hesitated.

Teela, accustomed to Kaylin’s hesitations, said, “Marcus doesn’t normally have the ability to communicate with us in the course of a regular investigation. The lack of snarling has not notably harmed us, and he remains in a mood that can only charitably be called foul.”

“But—”

“If I answer, he will ask for an update. If I give him an update that reflects reality, he will almost certainly order you—and Corporal Handred—from the building. Possibly from the district.”

“He sent us.”

“Yes. But you have the most valuable citizen in the Empire as your shadow today. Examining corpses for possible magical taint is unlikely to harm her. Examining a deserted building for possible Shadows, not so much.”

Kaylin wanted to slap herself, hard. She did not, however, continue to argue with Teela. Instead, she looked guiltily at Bellusdeo, who she could just see over Severn’s shoulder. Bellusdeo had chosen not to hear the exchange, and given that she was in the literal middle of it, that took deliberate effort.

“That citizen,” Teela continued, when interruption or argument failed to stop her, “has seen more Shadow war than we have. Her presence might be of value in this investigation.”

Kaylin was acutely aware of just how little that would matter to the Emperor, but held her peace, since she was also acutely aware of how much it would mean to Bellusdeo. Bellusdeo was the most important single individual in the Empire—in the opinion of the Emperor. As she was the only surviving female Dragon, a life of decadent luxury was hers for the taking. She didn’t need to work or take responsibility for anything that occurred within Elantra; she never needed to lift a finger again in her life, never mind actually risk it on anything.

And it was killing her.

“You win.” Kaylin continued down the stairs, but felt compelled to add, “But it’s me he’s going to be mad at.”

“In this, your rank will preserve most of your hide. You’re a private. I’m a corporal.”

“Don’t remind me.”

* * *

They didn’t make it all the way down the stairs; Bellusdeo stopped walking suddenly, and Severn stopped just before he ran into her back. Kaylin, worrying about Bellusdeo, stopped when she ran into Severn’s back.

“What is it?” she asked.

Bellusdeo said, “The door. The front door.”

Kaylin pivoted and ran up the basement stairs. The small dragon folded his wings, slimming the lines of his body; for once he didn’t drape himself across Kaylin’s shoulders like a spineless, translucent shawl.

Two people stood in the front vestibule. One was a tall, slender man whose skin was pale in a way that reminded Kaylin too much of corpses. His clothing was fine; if he appeared at the Imperial Palace, he was unlikely to be sent to the trade entrance, unlike Kaylin herself. His hair was darker than Kaylin’s, his eyes darker, as well. He was just a smidge taller than Severn.

The second person was a young girl of intermediate age—not enough of her was visible behind the man. Her hair seemed to be a tightly braided, pale brown without the highlights that often made paler hair stand out, and her skin was that mix of ruddy and pale that implied temporary ill health—at least in the young of Kaylin’s acquaintance. But she clearly got more sun than the man who stood between the Hawks and the girl like a shield.

“What,” he asked, in a tone that made ice seem warm, “are you doing in my home?”

The girl peered out from behind his back, then tugged on his sleeve.

He glanced down at her, his expression softening.

“They’re Hawks,” she whispered. It seemed to Kaylin that she was attempting to either comfort or encourage him.

“There was some trouble in the neighborhood late last night or early this morning,” Teela told him, taking over the conversation as she pushed herself to the front of their five-person group; the hall had become quite crowded. “We’re here to investigate that.”

“I assure you that there was no difficulty in this house.”

The small dragon squawked softly.

He was not, however, inaudible, and the sound immediately drew two stares. The man’s was frozen and unblinking; he seemed to become a motionless, breathless statue. But the girl came out from behind him, her eyes wide and bright with curiosity. They were lighter in color than they’d first appeared. She took two quick steps, but the man caught her by the shoulder, pulling her back.

Kaylin understood his cautious gesture and immediately crossed the hall toward her; no one followed.

“Is it alive?” the girl asked in a hushed voice.

The small dragon leaned down and squawked more emphatically, which was answer enough.

“Look at it! Look at it!”

The man was doing exactly that; he seemed to shake immobility off with great effort. The smile he offered the girl was, however, genuine. “I am. Where did you come by that creature?”

“Long story,” Kaylin replied. To the girl, she added, “I think he’s one of a kind.”

“Can I hold him?”

Kaylin glanced at the small dragon, who appeared to be sighing in resignation. He opened his wings, hit Kaylin in the face with the left one and hopped off her shoulder. The girl held out her hands; he hovered above them dubiously.

“Don’t grab him, and don’t squeeze—he hates that.” She actually had no idea if that was true, but it was a safe assumption.

The girl’s nod was energetic as the small dragon did, finally, land in her hands. He lifted his head and sniffed her hair, and then her cheeks, while she giggled. “It tickles!”

Kaylin was much closer to the man now and revised her estimate of his height. “I’m Private Kaylin Neya,” she said, extending her hand.

“I am Gilbert Rayelle,” he replied. He made no attempt to take the offered hand, and after a few increasingly awkward seconds, Kaylin lowered hers.

“We have a few questions we’d like to ask you,” Teela said, picking up where she’d left off.

“This is not the best time.”

“And we regret the inconvenience,” she replied. Her tone contained no regret at all. It contained no anger, either. Her eyes, however, were dark blue. So were Tain’s. Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo, whose eyes were almost red. She’d bypassed the shades of orange that usually served as a warning.

“Kattea,” Gilbert said, “why don’t you go upstairs. It’s not yet time for lunch, and I must answer their questions.”

“Can I take him with me?” Kattea asked Kaylin.

Kaylin shook her head. “He’s my partner. One of them, anyway,” she added, catching Severn’s eye.

“Kattea.”

The girl very carefully handed the small dragon back to its owner. “I’m staying,” she said.

Gilbert looked ill-pleased, but to Kaylin’s surprise, he didn’t argue.

“They’re Hawks,” she continued. “They’re not going to hurt me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” When Gilbert failed to answer, she continued, “They’re not going to hurt you, either—you haven’t done anything wrong.” She spoke the second statement with as much conviction as the first.

Kaylin, observing the reactions of the immortals surrounding her, wasn’t nearly as confident.

“Won’t you come in?” Kattea invited. “And sit?”

This was so clearly not what Gilbert intended that Kaylin wanted to laugh. She suppressed the urge as the small dragon returned to her shoulder, where he drew breath and squawked, this time loudly. He appeared to be talking to Bellusdeo. The Dragon’s brows rose, but her eyes didn’t get any redder, which was a small mercy. Before she could reply, the small dragon swiveled to face Gilbert and screeched at him, as well.

“I think he’s talking,” Kattea said. To Kaylin, she added, “Can you understand him?”

“Not really.”

“Me, neither.” She turned to Gilbert, clearly hoping that he could. “What did he say to you?”

“He said ‘hello.’”

Kattea looked dubious. “All that was ‘hello’?”

“Hello, in the old country, is long and involved,” Gilbert replied. “It involves a statement of intent, a statement of limitations and a statement of the rules the guest is offering to follow.”

“That’s not hello, Gilbert.”

“Not in Elantra, no.”

“What did he say to the lady?”

Gilbert hesitated.

Kattea, showing the patience of ten-year-olds everywhere, turned immediately to Bellusdeo. She started to repeat her question, stopped and asked, “Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?”

“No,” the Dragon replied.

“What did he say to you?”

“He said that Gilbert is not, at the moment, my enemy, and reminds me that my people are not all of one mind, and in like fashion, Gilbert may not be what I have...come to expect.”

“So...not hello.”

“No.” She exhaled, her eyes shading ever-so-slightly toward orange. “The small creature had better be right.” She exhaled again, which was a good trick, because Kaylin would have bet she hadn’t inhaled in between. “I apologize for my poor temper, Kattea. Your manners have been much better than mine. We would be delighted to accept your offer of hospitality.”

* * *

Kattea was a bustling whirlwind of energy and concentration for the next twenty minutes. The house was modest in size and it was clear that they had no servants—and that Kattea did not mind, or even recognize, the absence. She chattered politely but enthusiastically, she beamed and she reproached Gilbert for his heavy silence—without once sounding anything less than familial.

For his part, Gilbert was stiff as dry wood and about as expressive. He laid his arms on the armrest of his large, curve-backed chair and left them there as if he was clinging to it for dear life.

The small dragon sat on Kaylin’s shoulder, perched as if to lunge. Bellusdeo sat to Kaylin’s right, with about as much warmth and friendliness as Gilbert himself showed. In that, she was more extreme than either Teela or Tain; the Barrani had made an art of friendly, polite, charming death.

Kaylin wondered, as Kattea brought both water and wine, where she’d learned to entertain guests. Perhaps she had a mother who was also out of the house. Kaylin hesitated to ask; she found answering the question hard to handle gracefully herself, and she was no longer a child.

Everyone present, however, was aware that Kattea was a child, and one who clearly looked up to Gilbert. Gilbert had again asked that Kattea go to her room, but Kattea ignored the request. After it was gently made a third time, Gilbert surrendered.

“So,” Kattea began brightly as she sat down in front of a tray of breads and baked biscuits, her own glass full of water instead of the darker wine, “what are you investigating?”

Teela said, without preamble, “A murder.”

Years ago, that might have shocked Kaylin. The Barrani concept of “child” was not the mortal one. Bellusdeo, however, frowned at Teela. She said nothing, but said it neatly and loudly.

The child’s eyes widened. “A murder?” Her voice squeaked with, sadly, excitement, and Kaylin revised her approximate age down. “Where?”

“Across the street,” Teela replied. “We’re not actually supposed to talk much about the investigation to anyone but Hawks.”

The girl nodded, as if this made sense to her. She looked up at Gilbert and then away. Interesting.

“Why are you here, though?” she asked.

Gilbert said, at almost the same time, “Kattea, I really feel you should go to your room.”

“I didn’t like them,” Kattea said, instead of leaving. “The neighbors, I mean.”

“Kattea.”

“I think,” Teela said, “you should listen to Gilbert.”

Kattea immediately turned to Kaylin, as if seeking solidarity with the human woman present. “Why do you think we know anything about it?” The question seemed both honest and straightforward.

“We don’t necessarily assume that you do,” Kaylin replied, choosing her words with care. “But we normally try to talk to the neighbors; they might have seen or heard something unusual that would give us leads.”

“Leads?”

Ugh. “Information that might help us find the killers.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” she offered. “Gilbert, did you?”

“No,” he replied.

“Gilbert doesn’t sleep, you know. He doesn’t need sleep.” This was spoken to Kaylin, but of course everyone else in the room heard it, as well. Kaylin almost told the girl to be quiet—for her own sake, not for Gilbert’s. If, in the end, it was necessary to arrest Gilbert, it would also probably be necessary to kill or destroy him—and Kattea would discover, sooner or later, that her naive comments had somehow helped to betray him.

Gilbert, however, looked resigned. He lifted his hands from the armrests and turned them, slowly, palm out as he rose from the chair. “I will ask you all,” he said quietly, “to take care that your actions do not harm the child.” Turning to Kattea, he said, “I have told you before that it is unwise to tell people about me.”

“But they’re Hawks. And you haven’t done anything wrong,” Kattea insisted once again.

The small dragon squawked. Loudly. Everyone turned toward him, except Severn, who continued to watch Gilbert and Kattea.

“Barrani and Dragons don’t need sleep, either,” Kaylin said to break the awkward silence.

“You’ve met Dragons?”

“Yes, I have. We have one here.”

The child’s eyes alighted on the familiar, which caused Bellusdeo to snort. “Not that,” the Dragon said. “Private Neya refers to me.”

“Oh.” Pause. “You don’t look like a Dragon.”

“Not at the moment, no. But remember when you asked me why my eyes were red?”

The girl nodded.

“Dragon eyes—unlike yours—change color in different situations.”

“Is red bad?”

“It is very, very bad,” Kaylin answered, before Bellusdeo could.

Kattea fell silent. It didn’t last. “Can you turn into a real Dragon?”

“Yes. I won’t do it here, though—I don’t think your house would survive it.”

Gilbert looked wearier by the passing second.

Kattea surprised them all. Rising, she walked to the curtains and shut them. Gilbert did not resume his seat. None of the Hawks stood, but it didn’t matter; Teela and Tain could be out of their seats, armed and deadly by the time Kaylin had blinked twice. Gilbert was obviously aware of this.

“We did not see anything out of the ordinary,” he said. “Nor did we hear anything out of the ordinary. When did you say this took place?”

“Late last night or very early this morning,” Kaylin replied.

“Ah. Kattea—”

“No, I’m not leaving,” she told him, folding her arms and suddenly looking older. “I don’t think they’ll hurt you while I’m here.”

Chapter 4

Gilbert smiled. It was a drawn, but affectionate, expression. “Kattea believes many things with absolute confidence.” His smile was pained, but again, laced with resigned affection. “She does not always understand the world in which you live.”

“She’s not wrong in theory,” Kaylin countered. “But we do have a few questions.”

“I will answer, as I may, but first, I must ask: What brought you to our home?”

“Do Kattea’s parents also live here?” Bellusdeo asked.

The child stilled. After a long pause, and in a much quieter voice, she said, “My parents are dead.”

Kaylin’s heart echoed Kattea’s obvious pain. “Mine, too,” she said. “I was five years old and living in the fiefs.”

Kattea’s eyes almost fell out of her head. She turned, excited again, to Gilbert. “Gilbert! Gilbert! She’s just like us! Which fief?”

“Nightshade.”

“Gilbert! Gilbert!”

Gilbert closed his eyes; in the darkened room, he looked less pale. “Kattea was born in the fief of Nightshade,” he said quietly.

“Gilbert found me. Gilbert saved me from—” She stopped, paling at the memory. “Gilbert saved me. And then we came here. Well—not right here, but after.”

“So your parents didn’t live in the city.”

Kattea shook her head.

“And you made it across the bridge.”

She nodded.

“When did this happen?”

“Months ago,” the young girl said.

“Three weeks ago,” Gilbert clarified.

Three weeks. Every Hawk present exchanged a glance. “Three weeks,” Kaylin said slowly. “This was on the night that the Dragons were flying above the city?”

Kattea nodded.

“Kattea’s confidence in the city across the bridge was...high.”

Kaylin’s had been, too. In some ways, it still was; if the ideal city she’d imagined was tarnished, it was still a far better place to live than the fiefs had been. “Why did you bring her here?”

“Because the fiefs were not suitable. I do not think she would have survived them long. Had I not found her, she would not have survived at all.”

“Where were you born?” Bellusdeo asked.

“In Ravellon,” Gilbert replied.

Bellusdeo rose then. Kattea stepped, instantly, in front of Gilbert, her arms wide-open; Kaylin reached out and placed a hand—gently—on the Dragon’s shoulder. “Forgive us,” she said, the words aimed more at Kattea than at Gilbert, “but only Shadow dwells within Ravellon now.”

“That is true,” he replied. “But it was not always so.”

“If you come from Ravellon now, it’s true,” the Dragon said. Her eyes, which had lightened slightly while Kattea spoke, now shifted back into true red.

“It is not” was the quiet reply. “Perhaps you cannot discern the difference, but there is one. Understand that while we share mutual goals, we are not one creature, and those of us who maintain a shred of sanity retain some element of choice.”

The Dragon stared at him, unmoved.

Kaylin said quietly, “Bellusdeo walked the path between worlds to arrive in Elantra. Her world was lost to the Shadows.”

“I did not say that there was no danger; there is always an element of danger when dealing with the powerful. You,” he said, nodding to Bellusdeo, “are a danger to everyone in this room. I intend you—and your citizens—no harm.”

“And the child?” Bellusdeo asked.

“It is as she said. When I stumbled into the fief—and it seems an odd demarcation—I met Kattea. Minor creatures are given free rein in the streets of the fief; she would not have survived them. She called out to me; she asked me to come to her aid. I chose, for reasons of my own, to do so.”

“And those reasons are?”

“I say, again, that I have no harmful intent.”

“And we are to trust you? Your kind has done irreparable harm here, as well as elsewhere.”

“I am aware that it will be difficult to convince you. You have long held my kind in contempt. I am to be judged, always, by the actions of others—actions I would not have chosen to take.” To Kaylin, he said, “How is it that you chose to come first to my home? What error did I make?”

Kaylin shook her head to clear it. What Gilbert appeared to be claiming—that Shadows had free will and that they functioned as individuals—was a new thought, at least to Kaylin. It went against everything she had been told about Shadows; it went against anything she had ever personally experienced.

Yes, Shadows were not uniform in shape or size, although there were Ferals. There were one-offs, as her old friend Morse called them: creatures with too many limbs or no limbs or too many heads or too many mouths in one head—the list was endless. Shadows could be freaking weather. But every Shadow of any stripe Kaylin had encountered thus far had been attempting to kill. Or worse. The Shadows in Kaylin’s day-to-day life existed solely to torment, corrupt and ultimately destroy. Oh, and rule everything.

The Towers had been created by the Ancients to guard against the Shadow incursions that could otherwise destroy not only a city, but a world. Helen had defenses against Shadows, and she wasn’t even built in the fiefs.

Kaylin’s first thought—and second, and third—was that Gilbert was lying. That he had to be lying. But Kattea seemed neither injured nor cowed. She seemed, if anything, apprehensive and indignant—on Gilbert’s behalf, as he certainly wasn’t either on his own.

“Bellusdeo,” Teela said, “is this possible? You have the greater experience.”

Bellusdeo opened her mouth seconds after the small dragon opened his. This time, the translucent creature breathed.

Kaylin had seen this a few times now. The first time, she had understood the pearlescent cloud to be dangerous by the quality of blue in Barrani eyes. The second had confirmed the earlier Barrani opinion. A group of giant Ferals—for want of a better word—had attacked them on their recent journey to the West March and swallowed those clouds.

The clouds had destroyed them.

This seemed fair to Kaylin, because the Ferals’ blood had attempted to destroy the Barrani, and in what she assumed was a similar fashion: it spread, transmuting Barrani flesh into—well, into something that was no longer Barrani. Kaylin’s ability to heal couldn’t stop that transformation: she’d had to cut out the bad bits and start from there. The changes made by the combination of flesh and Shadow blood had instantly become the “healthy” or “default” state of the body. What the finished product of that default state would look like, she didn’t know; she’d worked desperately to make sure that it never happened.

This cloud hovered above the food in the still air of the room.

Since Teela and Tain were already on high alert, its existence didn’t noticeably change their expressions or their eye colors—in fact, Teela’s eyes might have actually lightened.

Gilbert stared intently at the cloud. Kattea sensibly asked, “Is it dangerous?” She spoke to Gilbert.

“Indeterminate,” he replied. At Kattea’s frown, he added, “I’m not certain yet. Is it?” he asked the small dragon.

The small dragon squawked.

Gilbert frowned. When he answered, he spoke in a language that Kaylin couldn’t understand. It was not a language that felt familiar, either; its vowels seemed sharp enough to cut the tongue on.

The small dragon squawked.

Oddly enough, this interchange seemed to set everyone else at ease—or as much at ease as they were likely to get—except Kattea, who frowned. “Why can’t you speak a language I can understand?” she demanded.

“I do not believe he is capable of it,” Gilbert replied. “And even if he is, there are some concepts I cannot easily discuss in your tongue. It is not always comfortable to exist in this fashion. My kin are often less confined in the shapes they choose to take.”

“He won’t teach me,” Kattea said to Kaylin. It was the first time she’d sounded less than perky.

“I don’t think he can,” Kaylin replied.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not human.”

Kattea rolled her eyes. “So?”

“We’re mostly stuck being what we are,” Kaylin replied. “We can learn to do more—or less—with what we are. We can live on either side of the bridge. We can learn to hunt Ferals—” Kattea shrunk into Gilbert’s side, at this “—even if we start out hiding in abandoned buildings and praying they can’t get in. But Teela is Barrani. She’s immortal. She’s going to live forever. She doesn’t really get cold and she doesn’t need to sleep. There are a lot of things we can do together, but I’m never going to be immortal, and when I get no sleep, it’s really bad.

“Gilbert isn’t like us.”

“I have explained this to Kattea before,” Gilbert added. “But apparently the word of a Hawk carries more weight.”

“The word of a mortal,” Kaylin countered. “The immortal don’t generally know much about us, except that we’re weak and not much of a threat.”

“That’s harsh,” Teela said.

“I notice you’re not denying it.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t true.” She turned to Gilbert. “Why are you in Elantra?”

“It was safer for Kattea.”

“Are you responsible for the deaths of your neighbors?”

“Did they die?”

“Yes. Their deaths are the reason you have Hawks in your parlor.”

Small and squawky came back to Kaylin’s shoulder and settled there. He didn’t seem to dislike or distrust Gilbert—and that, more than anything else, was the deciding factor for Kaylin. If Marcus ever learned of it, he’d bite her head off. While immortals tended to take the small creature seriously—possibly because he didn’t sound like an irate chicken to them—mortals didn’t.

“Private Neya,” Gilbert said, “may I ask one question?”

Kaylin nodded.

“The mark on your face—where did you come by it?”

* * *

Teela reacted first. In a voice that implied that frost was her natural element, she said, “Why do you ask?”

“It is unusual. I have not spent the majority of my existence in your streets, but I have spent some time observing—and I have not encountered its like anywhere else.”

“I should hope not,” Tain said.

“Does it break your laws?”

“Our laws, yes. The laws of the Emperor, no. In general, Imperial Laws are designed to deal with difficulties that are well understood and even common.”

“Is it painful?” Gilbert continued.

Kaylin ignored the question. “Can I offer you some advice for blending in?” she asked him.

He looked surprised at the question. “Yes, of course.”

“Blink occasionally. And stare less.”

This confused him. Which, given his origins, was probably to be expected. “The mark on my face was put there by the fieflord of Nightshade.”

Gilbert rose and bowed. “Then it is to you I must speak. You are Lord Kaylin?”

“I am Private Neya,” she replied, uncomfortable—as she always was—with the Barrani title. It had a weight she didn’t understand how to shoulder, and even if she could, wasn’t certain she wanted. “I’m a Hawk, and I serve the Emperor’s law.”

“Yes. I do not see that these are mutually exclusive.”

“What, exactly, do you need to speak with me about?”

“Lord Nightshade,” he replied. “I carry a message for you.”

Nightshade’s name—his True Name—reverberated in the hush that followed.

Calarnenne.

There was no answer. There had been no answer for weeks now, and the silence was slowly driving his younger brother insane.

It was Kaylin who attempted to repair the break in the conversation. “You’ve met him?”

“Yes, and no. If you enter Ravellon now, you will not find him.”

Kaylin nodded.

“But he is to be found there—or so he hopes—in the future.”

* * *

“She is not traveling to Ravellon,” Bellusdeo said flatly.

“It’s illegal,” Kaylin added, although the clarification probably wasn’t necessary, given the color of Bellusdeo’s eyes.

“It is not safe,” Gilbert agreed, as if that was the entire subtext of Bellusdeo’s statement. “But I was tasked with delivering a message.”

“From whom?”

Gilbert frowned. Kaylin considered the question a bit pointless, all things considered. “From—” and here he spoke a word that was thunder. With lightning for emphasis.

All of the hair on Kaylin’s body stood on end; her skin instantly broke out in the worst of the rashes that magic caused. In case there was any doubt, her arms—beneath the shroud of long sleeves—began to glow. It was not a glow that could be easily missed. Kaylin couldn’t fit syllables into the word—or words—that Gilbert had just uttered. She could not repeat the sounds.

The small dragon, however, lifted his head, squawking, and the pearly gray cloud that had hovered in place since he’d exhaled it began to move. It descended, and when it was a foot away from the top of the table on which Kattea had settled both food and drink, Kaylin leaped forward to rescue them.

The small dragon bit her ear without drawing blood; his eye rolling would have been at home on a Barrani face, if Barrani faces had contained eyes that looked like black opals.

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “You can do whatever you’re doing without destroying food.”

“Perhaps he means to imply that the furniture is more valuable than the food.”

Maybe it was. “You can’t eat furniture,” Kaylin replied. “Believe me. I’ve been hungry enough to try.” Not that she had any memory of that herself—but she dimly remembered the humorous stories that had sprung from the attempt. She set the tray on the ground nearest the girl who’d carried it so precariously into the room.

The cloud descended until it touched the surface of the table. From there, it rose. No, Kaylin thought, it unfolded, springing up in all directions from the wooden surface as if it had absorbed the base property and structure of the wood and was transforming it. What emerged, growing as if by layer, was something that might, in a nightmare, be a...dollhouse. It had what appeared to be doors. It had walls. It had a roof—or multiple roofs, as the various stories of the building, misaligned and not by any means entirely straight, expanded. It had towers, and one of these reached the height of ceilings that were much more generous than Kaylin’s previous home had once had.

Kaylin might have found it as magical an experience as Kattea clearly did, had her skin not ached so badly. Even her forehead throbbed; the only mark on her skin that didn’t hurt was the mark Nightshade had left there.

“What is this?” she asked.

Shaking his head, Gilbert said, “You must ask your companion; it is not a structure of my choosing.”

“But it grew in response to your answer.”

“Yes.” Gilbert knelt by the side of what could no longer be called a table, studying the structure that had replaced it.

“Records?” Kaylin asked Teela.

Teela blinked and then nodded. “The Sergeant is not going to be happy.”

“Not very, no—especially since we haven’t even started on the crime scene yet.”

* * *

The crack in the road was still there when they left the house Gilbert and Kattea occupied. The small dragon had more to say—and volubly—before they were allowed to depart. In all, it was almost embarrassing. But Bellusdeo allowed it. Her eyes were a deep, unfortunate orange, but at least they were orange. Kaylin avoided thinking about how she would have explained bloodred to any other Dragon.

In theory, the only one that counted—and was indirectly responsible for her pay—was the Emperor. Kaylin missed a step. Since the ground was flat, she didn’t end up falling—but she did stumble, righting herself only because of long years of drill-yard training. Sadly, she wasn’t exactly graceful about it.

“I feel exactly the same way” was Teela’s curt response. “I hope this doesn’t generate another fifty reports. Or a demotion. Don’t make that face—you don’t have anywhere to go. You’re already a private.”

“If there’s no down, there’s always out” was Kaylin’s gloomy reply.

“What are you worried about this time? I know that expression. You’re not actually worried about a living Shadow in the heart of the city; you aren’t even thinking about the murders.”

“I am,” she said morosely. She glanced at Bellusdeo. “I have an appointment at the Palace tomorrow night.”

“In Imperial defense, the etiquette lessons do seem to be having some effect.”

“Besides the headaches?”

“Besides those, yes. I admit a grudging respect for Lord Diarmat’s pigheadedness. He’s lasted far longer than anyone else who suffers under the same pretensions—at least when dealing with you.”

* * *

The shift of Hawks left on the murder premises was scant—and annoyed. Kaylin recognized both. “Sorry, Gavin,” she said to the older man. “We ran into a small problem on the Winding Path and had to take a detour.”

Gavin was not quite of the same school as Mallory, Kaylin’s avowed enemy—but he wasn’t part of Marcus’s office the way Teela and Tain were, either. He was as crisp as Diarmat on a bad day, his face etched into lines that implied his frown—and he was frowning—was a permanent fixture.

His partner, Lianne, was both younger and more friendly. She offered Kaylin a sympathetic smile from behind Gavin’s left shoulder. “Was the problem dangerous?”

“We thought it might have something to do with the murders,” Kaylin offered.

That dimmed Lianne’s smile, or rather shifted it into something more brisk.

Both Gavin and Lianne were mortal and human. Gavin could remember a time when Marcus had not been sergeant, and Barrani were new to the force. He was probably still grumpy about their induction, but at least he had grown accustomed to their presence.

He did, however, raise an iron brow when he caught sight of Bellusdeo.

“She’s with me,” Kaylin said. “By Imperial dictate.”

“Permission,” Bellusdeo said, correcting her. “I am here with Imperial permission.”

“You must be Lord Bellusdeo.”

“I am Bellusdeo, yes. I am not a Lord of the Dragon Court.” Gavin opened his mouth, but Bellusdeo continued speaking. “I am in the process of becoming a mage of the Imperial Order. I have the ability; I lack the paperwork.”

“She has the Emperor’s personal permission,” Kaylin said, wishing Joey had been the Hawk on duty instead of Gavin. “The paperwork, while theoretically important, is irrelevant. Anything that can even bruise her can turn at least three of us into pulped corpses.”

Lianne stepped around Gavin and offered Bellusdeo a hand, which the Dragon accepted. “I heard about what you did at the High Halls. If it weren’t for you, our losses would have been much heavier. I’m Private Tsaros. Lianne. My partner is Master Corporal Gavin Karannis. He’s a stickler for details; it makes him very valuable to the force.”

“That,” Teela cut in, “is why we have Records.”

“Records,” Gavin observed, “are not run on a schedule. And clearly, the Hawks’ sense of schedule is lacking.” He turned to Kaylin. “Private, you have been asked to review the evidence, the building and the bodies themselves. The Imperial mages have been and gone; I am to discuss their verbal reports with you after you have had a chance to assess the situation. And what,” he demanded, “is that on your shoulder?”

Before she could answer—and she was honestly surprised at the question, given it had been weeks since the familiar’s appearance in the Halls—he continued, “Unless it is an active part of investigative duties, Hawks are not permitted to bring pets on their rounds.”

The small dragon hissed.

Gavin did not look impressed. On the other hand, Gavin frequently confronted a face full of bristling Leontine without lifting a brow.

Kaylin glanced at the small, annoyed dragon. “There’s no point squawking at him. He barely blinks when Marcus does it.”

* * *

Kaylin wondered who had occupied Gilbert’s current home prior to Gilbert’s tenancy—she’d have to check Records to see if there was any information. The house directly across the street, which was under investigation, was slightly larger; it was in decent condition. The grounds—small though they were—had been partially given to vegetables and fruits, but those patches were mostly tucked in the back. The front, which faced Gilbert’s home and the rest of the street, was neatly fenced in; the fence and gate were wooden.

They appeared, to Kaylin, to be perfectly normal.

But most of life—and the crimes that accompanied it—actually was. Kaylin saw a fair bit of the magical and the unexplainable, but that didn’t warp her view of the world. For the most part, magic that threatened worlds was the subject of stories or legends. Magic that made the world run smoothly—mirrors, mirror networks, streetlamps—almost didn’t count as magic to most of the citizens of Elantra. Or at least to the citizens with money.

Kaylin had grown up on streets where night brought Ferals, not streetlight.

She shook herself. Gavin was giving her the stoic stink-eye, and if she resented the expression, she knew she also deserved it. She hadn’t figured out how to mention Gilbert and Kattea, although she knew she had to say something eventually.

“Hey,” she said to the familiar, “can you lend me a wing?”

The familiar cast a baleful glare at the master corporal, but lifted a rigid wing anyway. He did not smack Kaylin across the face with it; apparently, he was going to be on his best behavior.

“What exactly are you doing, Private?”

“The small dragon’s wing is like a magical filter,” she replied. She’d practiced this explanation, but hadn’t yet needed to use it. “In special circumstances, viewing magic or areas touched by magic through his wings reveals elements that aren’t visible to normal investigative procedures.”

He did raise a brow then, as if he knew she’d practiced saying pretty much exactly that. “This has been tested?”

“Yes. Extensively. But that’s a matter for—”

“The Barrani High Court,” Teela said.

“Arcanists?” the master corporal asked, his disdain practically freezing the syllables.

“The familiar is in the possession of the private. Do you imagine that she has done work at the behest of an Arcanist, ever?”

Gavin pursed his lips briefly. “Private Neya? No. Her opinion on Arcanists is well-known. This was tested in exemption-based investigation, then?”

Teela nodded. “It involved Barrani, and only Barrani, with the exception of Lord Kaylin and Lord Severn. I did, on the other hand, have reason to confirm that the wing of her familiar does exactly what she says it does. The circumstances were rather more dire. We should not be in danger here.”

Gavin didn’t ask. Lianne looked as if she desperately wanted to—but not in front of Teela. Smart.

Chapter 5

The house had a crowded and untidy vestibule. There were six pairs of boots, though none were of a size suitable for children. None of the victims were likely to be young, which was as much of a relief as she could expect in a murder investigation.

Regardless, the shoes, the coats and the various bits of furniture were not, in any way, magical. They looked the same no matter how anyone present viewed them.

The hall that led into the house from the vestibule was the same: slightly lived in, but also in decent repair. Worn rugs had been placed over slightly less well-worn floorboards that creaked a lot less under weight than her first apartment had. The sitting room was closest to the front of the house, on the right when facing in; on the left were stairs, beneath which was a door.

There were doors that implied other rooms, and a wide, brightly lit space at the back of the house that looked into the common yard.

Nothing about any of the house itself indicated use of magic. Nothing made Kaylin’s skin ache, and nothing like the cracked street outside appeared when she looked through her familiar’s wing.

“You’re wondering why we were sent here,” Teela correctly surmised.

“Kind of, yes. Do you see anything that implies magic’s been used here recently? It’s not particularly easy to magically kill a man—or three—and it would leave some markers.” It would be faster and less easily traced to kill them in any of the more familiar, mundane ways, which would still require Hawks to investigate, but not this particular set.

Teela’s compressed lips made it clear that the answer was no. She turned to Gavin, who was also tight-lipped and about as friendly as he ever got when the sanity of the people making the decisions was in question.

“Where are the bodies?” Kaylin asked.

“Downstairs.”

“Downstairs?”

“In the basement.”

Ugh.

* * *

Kaylin didn’t particularly like basements. She couldn’t imagine that anyone did, except for small rodents and large insects. She was the shortest of the Hawks present, but even she couldn’t stand up at full height once they reached the bottom of stairs that had probably been a hazard from the day they were first built. Bellusdeo offered to enlarge the basement by sinking the floor, which Kaylin assumed was a joke—until she saw Teela’s thoughtful expression.

Gavin, however, uttered a very distinct, very chilly no. He followed it up with a lecture on structural stability that only Bellusdeo found relevant. “The bodies,” he added, “are to the left.” He carried a lamp, which bounced off rough walls and rough floors in a way that seemed almost calculated to make them less appealing. Teela had clearly had enough of this and conjured up a magical light of her own, which had the predictable effect of raising goose bumps on Kaylin’s skin.

And her marks were glowing. Here, they emitted a glow that extended for yards, but they weren’t as bright as Teela’s light, and definitely not as directionally useful.

“Who reported this to the Halls?” Tain asked. He was generally content to let Teela do the talking, but Teela seemed preoccupied.

Gavin answered the question as if he’d expected it. “The daughter. A family of four lives here. One of the four is in the basement, along with two of his friends.”

“The rest of the family was unharmed?”

“The rest of the family was, apparently, asleep.”

“They heard nothing?”

“No.”

“When did they discover the bodies?”

“Early morning.”

“Are they here?”

“They’re at church, at the moment. The daughter is young, and I believe her mother wished to distract her. We’ve interviewed the mother and the father. Their son was one of the victims.”

“The mages have left?”

“An hour ago. Had you wished to speak with them, you might have arrived at the expected time.”

Imperial mages treated Teela with grudging respect—they’d never once demanded proof of her magical competence when she’d chosen to reveal any—but they treated Kaylin as if she were new to both the Hawks and the basic concepts of magic itself.

She was willing to admit—to herself, in private—that she didn’t know as much magical theory as she probably should by now. But if they’d bothered to check, they’d see that her reports were filed as part of official evidence and observation in dozens of investigations. She hated to have to justify her existence every single time she met a member of the Imperium.

Today, given the distraction of Gilbert and Kattea, she wouldn’t have to. She’d have to justify her tardiness to Marcus, but claws and growled threats of losing her throat didn’t irritate her nearly as much as Imperial mages did.

The small dragon squawked volubly. Kaylin slid her hand over her ear in a vain attempt to preserve some of her hearing. “I get it,” she told the annoyed—and annoying—familiar.

The hair on her neck had started to stand on end. Her arms, however, didn’t hurt—or rather, didn’t hurt more, given Teela’s light. “Teela.”

“You see something.”

“Not yet. But something’s off here.”

“How off?”

“Bellusdeo should probably go back upstairs.”

The gold Dragon had no intention of going back up the stairs, and the smoke she exhaled clearly indicated that she was offended at the suggestion. Gavin looked as if he was about to order her off the premises. She was, however, a Dragon—and even those who served at the Emperor’s pleasure understood the role of the Dragon Court. In theory, Gavin had the legal right to ask Bellusdeo to vacate—but theory was a very, very poor shield against Dragon rage.

Kaylin was only slightly surprised when Teela’s light hit the top of a second set of descending stairs. These were stone, but as the light illuminated them more fully, they appeared to be carved entirely out of a single piece of rock. “These stairs were here when you came to investigate?”

“Yes.”

“Did the person who reported finding the bodies mention anything unusual about the stairs themselves?”

“Yes. According to the interview conducted with the parents of the deceased, these stairs are new.”

“How new?”

“The basement is used for cold storage. The stairs were not—again, according to the parents—present three days ago.”

“Have you asked the daughter?”

“No.”

“Did anyone?”

“No. The daughter was not present for the interviews.”

“Where is she now?”

“As I said, at church.”

Kaylin cursed. “Which church, Gavin?”

Gavin had no answer to offer.

“Why is it relevant?” Bellusdeo asked. “You are not particularly religious yourself.”

“On occasion, new religions present themselves to people. Some of them start on Elani.”

“You suspect fraud.”

“Fraud is one thing,” Kaylin replied. Her skin began to feel raw whenever she walked or moved her arms. “I don’t care what people do to comfort themselves. I don’t care if people who claim to speak with the dead offer—and make money from—comfort to the bereaved. I don’t even care if people pay through the nose for that comfort. Yes, I used to despise it. I like to think I’ve gotten a bit smarter.”

“Liar.”

“It’s not the fakes I’m concerned about. Not all religions worship distant gods. Some have magic as their focal point.”

“Lianne,” Gavin said.

“On it,” the private replied, heading instantly back up the stairs.

* * *

The stairs looked the same with the familiar’s intervention and without: cold, hard and distinctly uninviting. Teela headed down the stairs first; Tain was two steps behind her. Kaylin followed; she wanted Severn to keep Bellusdeo out of what appeared to be a new subbasement. Naturally, he wouldn’t do it.

Kaylin couldn’t. Bellusdeo was older and more powerful than Kaylin, and vastly more knowledgeable. Kaylin was not a capable judge of the Dragon’s actual abilities—she was just the person who was going down, and hard, if anything happened to Bellusdeo. She tried not to resent the worry, and failed—but managed to keep it to herself.

The small dragon warbled very quietly.

“Teela?”

“Hug the wall. This is not a small staircase. It widens at the bottom.”

* * *

There were walls on either side of the stairs, of the same rough stone construction as the steps themselves. There were no torch-rings or lamp-hooks on the descent; there was nothing on the walls at all. Kaylin stopped when Teela did, the halt staggering back up the stairs.

“The walls, kitling?”

“Nothing up here.”

“Come to where I am.”

Kaylin headed around Tain and came to stand beside Teela. She didn’t lift the familiar’s wing; she didn’t need to. There was magic here, a sigil splashed and stretched across the left wall. Kaylin frowned.

“You can see it.”

“Yes, but...”

“But?”

“It’s the wrong color. Most of the sigils I’ve seen are shades of blue or gray.”

“This one?”

“It’s purple. Purple and black.”

“Is it active?”

“No—it’s definitely the remnants of a previously cast spell. Or spells.” She frowned again. “I’d say this is the work of more than one person; there are at least two marks here.”

“Do you recognize either of them?”

The problem with magical detection—or at least the chief problem, as far as Kaylin was concerned—was the lack of permanent visual Records. Perception was never consistent, and while a mage could reliably state where he’d seen the trace or sigil of the caster before—if he had come across it in any other investigation—the mage’s description would offer no useful information to any other mage. Only if the investigators were forced to use memory crystals could the images be retained. Memory crystals, however, were very difficult to make and exceedingly expensive. They made portable mirrors seem cheap and readily available in comparison.

Therefore, what Kaylin saw could not be recorded in any reliable way. What she’d seen over the almost eight years she’d spent with the Hawks could not be recalled and compared to the sigils before her now. Although this was also true for Teela, Teela was Barrani: she remembered everything with absolute clarity.

“I’m surprised the mages didn’t stay,” Teela said—in the wrong tone of voice. “Gavin, you have a mirror?”

“Not with me, no.”

“Here.” She retrieved her own mirror and tossed it—accurately—up the stairs; Gavin caught it in his fingertips. “Mirror Marcus the names of the attending mages. Mirror the Imperial Order. Bellusdeo, it’s time for you to leave.”

The ensuing silence was chilly.

“Go directly to Sanabalis. No, forget that. Go directly to the Arkon. Tell him exactly what you’ve seen so far. Tain and Severn will accompany you.”

Severn’s expression didn’t change at all. Tain’s did; he had become, in the few minutes since they’d descended these stairs, very starkly blue-eyed and grim. He didn’t argue with Teela’s command. Everyone present—except possibly Lianne—knew that to the Emperor, any harm that came to Bellusdeo would be paid for by the Hawks she was currently observing.

Or by one particular Hawk.

To Kaylin’s surprise, Bellusdeo almost instantly agreed. “Will you mirror the Arkon directly with any other relevant information?” she asked Teela.

“The portable mirror is keyed directly to the Halls. Without tampering, it’s not capable of accessing other mirrors, but I’ll ask for an immediate relay.”

“Keep an eye on Kaylin.”

“I will.”

“Kaylin,” Kaylin interjected, annoyed, “is a Hawk, in good standing.”

Bellusdeo shrugged—a fief shrug. She’d definitely picked that up from Kaylin or Severn. She then retreated.

“How far do the stairs go?” Kaylin asked Gavin.

“At least as far again as you’ve walked so far.”

“And the stairs weren’t here three days ago.”

Teela grimaced. “Why is nothing ever simple when you’re involved?”

“Hey, I’m not here for every case that seems to start normal and then goes sideways. You’ve probably been involved in way more weirdness than I have.”

Teela stared, pointedly, at Kaylin’s glowing arms. And forehead. Kaylin decided to quit while she was only slightly behind.

* * *

By the time they reached level ground again, Kaylin was grateful that Bellusdeo had marked the change in Teela’s tone and had decided to take it seriously. “I see six,” she told the Barrani Hawk. “Six distinct and separate magical sigils. Not three.”

“Are they all the same color?”

“In theory, yes.”

“I’ll go with the practical—you were never very good with theory, anyway.”

“You know how I said the top three were purple?”

“Top three being the ones you saw first?”

Kaylin nodded. “I think I was wrong. They’re purple now. But I think, if I’d been here during or immediately after the spell was triggered, they would have been the blue I’m used to seeing. Does that match what you’re seeing at all?” Teela had never fully explained the paradigm through which she detected magic.

“I’m uncertain. When you say you think they would have been blue, are you detecting a change?”

“...Yes. No.”

“Which is it?”

Kaylin pointed up the stairs. “The ones toward that end are much redder. They’re distinctly aftereffect, at least to my eyes. I don’t think they’re indicators of active contingency spells, but the last one is Dragon-eye red.”

“The one before it?”

“Red as well, at least compared to the first sigil.”

“They’re distinct marks?”

“There are more than six marks,” Kaylin replied, frowning as she stared up and down the wall. “But there are six distinct sigils.”

“You believe the casters repeated spells?”

“You’re seeing a pattern, too?”

“A possible pattern.”

Gavin took this moment to clear his throat. Loudly. Mages did not often discuss their evaluations while making them, though they might compare notes after the fact. Kaylin thought that was garbage. Discussing her observations allowed her to focus on what she was seeing in a slightly different way. But then again, she wasn’t an Imperial mage.

She went back to the first sigil and carefully made her way down the steps again. “I’m going to need to sketch these,” she murmured.

“I’m not certain it will be helpful,” Teela replied. Kaylin was not a very good artist.

* * *

The sigils did repeat. They did not repeat in an immediately obvious sequence. “I don’t think the mages involved were working in concert.”

“Because of the different saturation of red?”

“Partially, yes. But there’s also some overlap. If the placement of the sigils are any indication, these stairs probably appeared when the last of them was laid down. Teela—”

“On it,” the Hawk replied. “If you’re about to say these marks weren’t placed on these walls.” Teela frowned and gestured. She didn’t add to the pattern in any way; the detection spells of the mages were cast upon their own eyes.

“I think you’re onto something,” Teela finally said. “If we imagine that the spells were cast when the casters were standing on level ground with low—very low—ceilings, they would not overlap in the way they appear to overlap now.”

“The red worries me.”

“It worries me, as well. I don’t see red,” she clarified. “But I see some indication of...contamination.”

“Is it possible that six different people were trying to cast the same spell at different times?”

“It’s possible, yes. Which introduces a host of other questions, none of which are comforting.”

“No.” Kaylin glanced at the small dragon, who lifted a wing in silence, staring at the walls as if he could see, more clearly, what was written there. “Wing view is the same. There’s no new information.” Kaylin exhaled. “Shall we go view the bodies?”

* * *

The bodies were in the room the stairs led into. It was not a small room, and given the depth to which the stairs descended, Kaylin wasn’t surprised to find that there was standing room here. The ceilings were tall and appeared to be made of the same rock as the stairs and the floor. There was no way this room and the second set of stairs had been carved in just three days. Not without a lot of magic. And noise, for that matter.

Kaylin had not asked the familiar to lower his wing, and he hadn’t folded it across his back on his own, so she assumed he intended for her to see something. She entered the room, wondering—not for the first time—how he actually saw the world. Did he see what his wing exposed? Did he see more? Was everything just a jumble of possibilities and probabilities, without concrete reality to hold it in place?

“Gavin,” Kaylin said, lifting a hand and immediately regretting it as cloth chafed her already-sensitive skin, “where exactly did you say the bodies were?”

Teela turned to look at her in open disbelief. Gavin was probably drilling the side of her face as well, given Teela’s expression.

“Tell the familiar to lower his wing,” Teela told her.

The familiar in question squawked.

“I’m sorry,” Teela replied, with zero actual regret in her voice, “but we need Kaylin to see what’s actually here. You can play the part of slightly detached mask again afterward.”

The small dragon lowered his wing.

* * *

The moment it was gone, the bodies appeared. Nothing else looked different to Kaylin—the room was still far too large and the ceiling too high. The bodies, however, were a significant addition. There were, as Gavin had said, three. They were, on first glance, all male and approximately Kaylin’s age.

They were also lying in a kind of sleeping repose and had been arranged in a neat row, their feet even with one another. They wore nondescript clothing of the type that a carpenter or gardener would wear. They did not appear to have expired of specific injuries; there was no visible blood.

“Have the bodies been moved at all?” Teela asked.

Gavin replied in a tight voice, “I have been at this job for longer than most of the Barrani. Beyond what was required to ascertain that they were not alive, they have not been touched.”

Teela nodded thoughtfully. If she’d noticed Gavin was offended—and since she was Barrani, there was a chance she hadn’t—she clearly didn’t care. “So we have neatly lined up bodies of slightly different sizes—all apparently mortal—that Kaylin can’t see when she’s looking through her familiar’s wing. This is not looking promising.”

“Should we send the bodies to Red?” Gavin asked.

“I think,” Kaylin replied, before Teela could, “that we should bring Red to the bodies. I’m not liking the idea of bodies that can’t be seen—”

“By you.”

“—being deposited in the morgue. The protections we have in the Halls are for the regular magical criminality, and this clearly isn’t it.”

Gavin hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if taking any advice from someone so junior and from such questionable roots was against his every fiber. He was, however, practical, and his nature forced an end to that hesitation. “I’ll mirror it in. Head to the Halls and make sure the Hawklord sits on the Imperial Order—we’ll want those reports as soon as possible.” He glanced at the bodies. “His parents aren’t going to be happy.”

“Which one is the son?”

“The one on the left. Neither of the parents recognized the other two, so I’ve sent a request to Records for any information about previous criminal activities or any missing-persons reports that might involve them.” He handed Teela the portable mirror. “Request your forward. Marcus is expecting you in the office.”

* * *

“This isn’t the way to the Halls,” Teela observed as they walked away from the Winding Path. Kaylin glanced, briefly, at Gilbert’s house; she was almost certain his presence and the deaths of the young men were related. But she couldn’t force herself to believe that Kattea was also connected to the deaths. Kattea had been in Nightshade—and she’d gotten out. What would be left, for her, if Gilbert was gone?

“Kitling?”

“Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?”

“I asked you where you thought you were going.”

“To visit Evanton. It’ll be brief, I promise.”

Chapter 6

Grethan, Evanton’s young Tha’alani apprentice, seemed uneasy as they entered the Keeper’s shop on Elani Street.

“Is he in a mood?” Kaylin asked.

“He is currently meditating in the Garden.” Which meant, roughly translated, “not yet.” Evanton didn’t care for interruptions when he was meditating. “But he left instructions to let you in if you happened to visit.”

The familiar flapped off her shoulders and headed for Grethan’s instead. For some reason, the familiar liked Grethan. Or at least saw him as harmless. The Tha’alani’s smile was quick and wide.

“Can you conjure the image Hope showed us at Gilbert’s?” Kaylin asked Teela as Grethan took them down the very narrow hall that led to the Keeper’s Garden.

“Yes. I’m not inclined to do it more than twice today, but I will show the Keeper if he asks. I already dislike almost everything about this investigation, and we’ve only barely begun.” She exhaled. “Mandoran is upset.”

“Annoyed or actually upset?”

“Annarion had a minor setback this afternoon.”

Kaylin missed a step.

“Helen was there. Mandoran seems to be more adept at containing himself. Annarion’s containment falters when he is too emotional.”

“What happened?”

“Unclear. Annarion won’t talk to me at all at the moment, and Mandoran won’t talk to me about Annarion. They would like me to clear up the difficulties here and send you home.”

She had a thing or two to ask them, as well. Gilbert had implied, strongly, that he had met Nightshade, and that Nightshade had been in Ravellon. This was not exactly the news that would fill his younger brother—his frantic, increasingly worried younger brother—with joy or peace.

* * *

After her most recent visit to the Keeper’s Garden, Kaylin wasn’t certain what to expect when Grethan opened the door. The Garden, however, appeared to be in its normal, contained state. The small hut, which had interesting internal dimensions, decor and occasionally visitors, was not in immediate sight; the pond, around which various small shrines had been erected, was.

Seated on a rounded, mossy rock was the Garden’s Keeper. Evanton was dressed not as cranky shopkeeper, but as a figure of mystical import: he wore very fine blue robes that lent him a majesty that his usual apron and jeweler’s glass did not.

The small dragon left the apprentice and returned to Kaylin’s shoulders, where he flopped like a badly made scarf. Evanton made no move to stand or greet them; his legs were crossed, his eyes closed. He did not look angry, frustrated or enraged; he did not look worried.

Of course, he didn’t look up at all.

Grethan hesitated to interrupt Evanton, and Kaylin well understood why. She was hesitant herself, and Kaylin didn’t have to live with his moods the way Grethan did. But the apprentice didn’t have three mysteriously disappearing corpses and a sentient Shadow to deal with.

She glanced at the familiar. She was almost grateful that he’d been with her when they’d met Gilbert; had he not been, she wasn’t certain what she would have done. Leaving Gilbert on his own and trusting him not to harm anyone went against all of her instincts. And yet...small and squawky had been, if not friendly, then at least comfortable in the Shadow’s presence.

Marcus would eat her throat, and she’d probably deserve it. But...he wouldn’t bite Bellusdeo, and he wouldn’t roar at Teela—and they’d both been present. She exhaled. She was almost certain Marcus would at least hear her out. She’d probably need to go shopping for a new desk for the Sergeant by the end of it, though.

“You are exhaling loudly enough to wake the dead,” Evanton said. He’d moved nothing but his mouth.

Grethan cringed.

“And,” he added, as his eyes flickered open, “you are late.”

* * *

“We had a bit of a problem on the Winding Path,” Kaylin began. Then she stopped. “Wait...late for what?”

This made Evanton chuckle. “You’ve clearly grown accustomed to apologizing for tardiness. Regardless, I was expecting you somewhat earlier.”

“I made lunch,” Grethan said quietly, alleviating Kaylin’s mounting silence.

“Good. I find myself somewhat hungry.” Evanton nodded to Grethan. “Lunch will be served in the Garden.”

“We’re in a bit of a hurry...” Kaylin trailed off, glancing at Teela, hoping for a bit of support. She got nothing.

“You’re too busy to keep an old, frail man company while he eats his first meal of the day?”

“...Or not.” She took a seat beside him, though she was not at all hungry, for once. Teela did not sit; she folded her arms, looking down at them.

“Have some tea.”

“I’ve already had tea this morning.” Evanton didn’t care for tea himself.

“I see. What exactly brings you here today?”

“How much do you know about Shadows?”

“An odd question to ask.” He didn’t sound at all surprised to hear it.

“We’re investigating a murder case. Three young men were found in the basement of a house on the Winding Path.”

Evanton nodded, waiting. For an old man who sometimes defined the word impatient, he was pretty good at it.

“Across the street from the house where the bodies were discovered is another house. It seems like an entirely normal house...but one of its occupants is not exactly human.”

“And not, I’m assuming, Barrani, either.”

“Definitively not Barrani,” Teela said. She’d mostly abandoned the conversation to Kaylin, but clearly felt this needed to be said.

Evanton rose. “Are you claiming that he is Shadowed?”

“He claims to have come from Ravellon. The only Ravellon I currently know is at the heart of the fiefs—and the only things that escape it usually leave a trail of bodies in their wake. If we’re lucky, the bodies stay dead.”

Evanton’s expression flattened. “You have left this man in the home he now occupies?”

“I know it sounds crazy. But he had a child with him. A girl.”

“This girl also claims to have come from Ravellon?”

“No. From Nightshade. He brought her across the bridge.”

“And just happened to find a suitable house in which to raise her?” The word skeptical did not do justice to his tone or expression.

Put that way, it sounded bad. Kaylin poked the adornment draped across her shoulders; he lifted his head and yawned. Evanton frowned.

“You saw this so-called Shadow?”

The small dragon nodded.

“And you accepted his presence?”

And yawned.

“Kaylin, do not take all of your cues from your familiar. While he does seem to serve you, he is not mortal. He is not human. His concerns and his fears are not—and cannot be—yours.”

“I know that, but they spoke to each other. He’s pretty clear on what he thinks is dangerous, and he didn’t consider Gilbert a danger.”

“Gilbert.”

“I think Kattea probably named him.”

“Gilbert.” Evanton shook his head. “Were you alone?”

“Severn, Teela, Tain and Bellusdeo were with me at the time. Bellusdeo was willing to accept Gilbert’s existence, and if she does...” Kaylin offered Evanton a fief shrug.

“So you came to ask me about...Gilbert.”

“Well, no. I mean yes, but not just about Gilbert.” Kaylin sighed, resigning herself to the idea of Marcus’s inevitable snarling back at the office. “Let me tell you about my morning.”

* * *

Teela added the details that Kaylin glossed over in her attempt to get to the office in time to preserve her job—and her throat—while Evanton listened carefully. He asked no questions until she reached the end of her narrative.

Suprisingly, his first question was not directed to Kaylin.

“An’Teela, have you seen the ruins just south of the West March?”

Teela frowned. “No.”

“They are not easily accessible; simple scholars have managed to lose themselves in the surrounding forest without reaching their place of study. They are, however, accessible if the scholar is an Arcanist.”

“This is relevant?”

“It may be. It is not clear who dwelled in those ruins; they are architecturally inconsistent with the West March and its environs. The ruins existed before the Barrani and the Dragons started any of their ill-advised wars. As ruins do, they attracted the attention of the curious.”

Teela said nothing.

“Entry to these buildings was often complicated—even after the buildings themselves were deserted. Kaylin, I believe you have some experience of this.”

Kaylin bristled. “Helen is not a ruin.”

“No. But her appearance—both internal and external—is under her own control. She cannot be easily invoked or altered against her wishes. I am not claiming that the basement of a nondescript building within the city is in any way equivalent to Helen—but there were always wards and protections cast upon buildings, and death does not always render them inactive.

“From the sounds of your staircase, it is possible that the homes in that area were built upon the foundations of older works.”

“But who would know enough about that to sneak into a basement with a member of the family? And what would they stand to gain by killing the three men?”

“Investigation of this nature is what you’re paid to do.”

“Meaning,” Teela said, “you don’t know.”

Evanton raised a brow at her tone, but nodded. “I admit that the bodies—and their presence or absence—is new to me. But difficulties of this nature are, sadly, becoming more familiar.”

“What exactly is the nature of these difficulties?” Kaylin demanded.

Evanton, however, shook his head. “That, I cannot reveal to you at this time. However, I will, I fear, be spending more time in the Garden in the immediate future. My knowledge is inexact, but my function is not. I keep the world...real.”

Scary thought.

* * *

Kaylin thought she could hear Marcus growling from two blocks away. The Halls of Law loomed like a gallows as they marched briskly toward them. Teela was tight-lipped and blue-eyed by the time they reached the doors. Tanner and Clint framed them, but one look at Teela’s expression made them instantly wary. Fair enough. Barrani blue was not a terribly safe look.

Clint’s eyes, however, were already the wrong color for an Aerian: coal gray, which made them look hard. He lowered his weapon as they approached, but didn’t raise it to allow them passage, and given Teela’s mood, that was significant.

“What’s wrong?” Kaylin asked.

“I heard a rumor in the mess hall.”

“Was it about me?” Kaylin asked.

“Got it in one go.”

“I can hear Ironjaw growling from here, Clint. He’s been waiting for us to arrive.”

Clint had the grace to wince, but didn’t immediately grant them passage. “It’s about you and Moran.”

Kaylin blinked. “Pardon?”

Tanner held out a hand, palm up. Clint dropped a few coins into it, although he didn’t really look away from Kaylin. Tanner then said, “Caitlin said you’re going to offer Moran a place to stay while she recuperates.”

“Caitlin told you this?” Kaylin demanded, feeling a bit of a pang.

“Clint grilled her.”

That was also highly unlike the Clint Kaylin knew. “It’s not a rumor. It’s true. I haven’t convinced Moran yet.”

“Moran will say no.”

“She’ll say no the first few times I try, yes.”

“Don’t try a second time.”

Kaylin stared at Clint as if he’d been replaced by a Shadow. “She can’t fly.”

“No.”

“She won’t let me heal her—and I offered that first.”

“There are reasons for that. The Hawklord wouldn’t let you heal him, if he had any say. The Barrani don’t let you touch them. I don’t imagine the Dragon Lords would countenance it, either.”

Bellusdeo allowed it, but Kaylin kept that to herself. This entire conversation had gone in a direction Kaylin would never have anticipated. “Clint—she’s living in the infirmary.”

“She has been offered conveyance to, and from, the Aerie. She has chosen to decline the offer.”

“I know that. But the infirmary is more of a jail than a home.” Kaylin had folded her arms at some point and was now tightening them.

“To you, Moran is a sergeant. She rules the infirmary. To Moran’s family, she is not a Hawk. Her work here has never been treated with respect; it has, among the more considerate, been politely ignored. She was injured in her service to the Hawks.”

Kaylin, confused, looked at Teela to see if she was having any better luck following this discussion. From the shuttered expression on the Barrani Hawk’s face, she was. The small dragon, however, didn’t consider it important enough to budge and lay across Kaylin’s shoulder like a slightly resentful shawl.

“I’m aware of how she sustained the injuries, Clint.” She used his name like punctuation. “All I’m offering her is an actual home-away-from-home. She needs a place to stay. My place will actually have rooms that are designed for an Aerian, even an injured one. She won’t have to deal with landlords. She won’t have to deal with rent. She can walk to and from the Halls in relative safety. You’re acting as if this is some kind of political deal.”

“It is. You’ve always thought Moran’s wings were different.”

“Well, they are. All the rest of yours are single colors. Hers look like they’re speckled.”

Clint nodded. After a few seconds, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many other speckled wings have you seen?”

“I just told you—” Kaylin caught up. “You’re telling me they’re significant in the Aerie.”

“I’m trying to tell you that, yes.” To Teela, he said, “Did you have these issues when you introduced Kaylin to the High Halls?”

“Not these specific ones, no. The Barrani Halls are slightly simpler. Everyone you meet is going to try to kill you at one point or another; she only had to try to avoid the ones who were going to do so immediately.”

Tanner chuckled.

Kaylin didn’t. “The Hawks are politically neutral.”

“Yes, kitling, they are. But none of us exist solely as Hawks. We have duties and responsibilities—and enemies—outside of the Halls. We have history. Some of us have a longer and more complex history simply because we’re older. Moran, clearly, has significance outside of the Halls, and you are somehow stepping in it.”

“I will let Moran decide.”

“Kaylin—” Clint started.

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.”

“That came out of a very specific budget, I recall.”

“Yes. The mascot budget. Which was embarrassing, but—people helped me. When I needed help, they gave it.”

“I do not need help.”

“No?” Kaylin forced her hands to relax, because she had balled them into fists. “I know you won’t die without it. But you know what? I wouldn’t have died, either. I knew how to survive. This is the first time in my life I’ve been able to offer to help. To pay back to the Hawks what was given to me.”

“Kitling.” Teela’s use of the word was so common it might have been Kaylin’s actual name. She slid an arm around Kaylin’s shoulders. “Your age is showing.” When Kaylin failed to reply, Teela added, “No one helped you out because we wanted to humiliate you—if I recall the early days, you did that quite effectively on your own.”

“Thanks a lot, Teela.”

“No one helped you with the expectation that you would owe us, or be obligated to us, in future. Any kindness done to you in the past is not an obligation you must carry with you until you can—somewhat forcefully, I feel—discharge it.”

“It’s not really that,” Kaylin said, looking at her feet. “It’s just—I never had much. I have things now. The Hawks are the only family I have. Moran, you’re a Hawk.” She lifted her chin. “You’re like a terrifying aunt or older sister. Not Barrani-scary—if you’re angry at me, I know I deserve it.”

Teela cleared her throat.

“But I feel like—I feel—” She stopped. “I know this is not really about me.”

“But?” Moran unexpectedly prompted.

“I feel like somehow, still, after years of being a Hawk, and working hard, and becoming an adult—I feel like I’m not grown-up enough, or not good enough, to be allowed to help you.”

“Ugh,” Moran replied. “It has nothing to do with that. It’s not about you, you’re right. I just don’t want to involve you in my personal affairs.”

“And if Teela had offered?”

“I don’t want to involve me in Teela’s personal affairs.”

Kaylin laughed. “I don’t have much choice.”

“You really don’t,” Teela agreed. “The perils of joining the force as a minor, even as a mascot.”

“We can drop the mascot bit anytime now.”

“Kids,” Moran said. “You can have the rest of that particular discussion in the hall. I’ve heard it enough to know there’s nothing new for an audience in it.” They remained silent, and she looked down at the desk, where the familiar was still expectantly perched. “This is irresponsible,” she continued.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Kaylin told her. “But—come with me when you’re off shift? You can meet Helen. You can see where I live—and where everyone else lives, if they’re okay with that. You can decide then.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll visit.”

Kaylin wanted to cheer. “Now?”

Moran sighed. “I suppose we might as well get it over with.”

* * *

“You’re expected at the library,” Teela reminded her quietly as they exited the infirmary.

“I know,” Kaylin replied.

“Kitling—”

“She’ll change her mind. If we don’t get her home, she’ll change her mind. I can talk to the Arkon tomorrow.”

“Your funeral.”

* * *

“You live in this neighborhood?” Moran asked as they walked toward Kaylin’s home. Trees—well-groomed and towering—covered the street as if they were nature’s fences.

“I know, right? But it’s where Helen was built.”

“I’m still having difficulty with that.”

“With what?”

“With thinking of a building as a person. It’s not that it has a name—buildings frequently do. So do rooms. They don’t generally have people names, though.”

“Or personalities,” Kaylin agreed. “You’ll understand it better when you meet her.”

Out of the corner of her mouth, Moran asked Teela, “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“You didn’t, that I recall. You just weren’t willing to accept the cost of refusing to consider it.”

Moran glared at Kaylin. “Teela doesn’t live with you, correct?”

“No. Two of her friends do, and she’s coming with me to check up on them.”

“So...I’d be living with Barrani.”

“Not technically. You might hear them, but at least one of them has been practically invisible for weeks. They’re not like normal Barrani—I think you’d actually like them.”

Teela coughed, but Moran smiled. When the Aerian smiled, she looked vastly more vulnerable—maybe that was why she did it so seldom. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Not really. Helen likes flowers.”

Moran blinked.

“...And I’m shutting up now. You’ll see.”

* * *

Helen was waiting in the foyer by the time Kaylin entered the house. Like Tara, Helen understood Kaylin’s visceral dislike of door wards; she even considered it sensible, as no one liked pain. She smiled brightly at the sight of Teela.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she told the Barrani. “I’m not certain I can talk any more sense into Annarion; he is very, very worried. Mandoran’s been trying, but Annarion has shut him out completely.”

“Yes, I’d heard,” Teela replied. “Are they in the basement?”

“Mandoran is in his room. Annarion is downstairs.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll go talk to Annarion.”

“Of course, dear. I’m very worried about that boy.” Teela walked past her, but Helen had already moved on—though Helen could accompany Teela and simultaneously greet a guest without even blinking.

“Helen, this is Moran. She’s a Hawk, and she’s in charge of the infirmary. As a sergeant. Moran, this is Helen.”

“If it’s easier,” Helen said, extending a hand, “think of me as a particularly concerned landlord.”

“Kaylin talks about you a lot in the office,” Moran replied, offering her the smile she seldom offered anyone in the Halls, except Caitlin. Her wings folded more naturally across her back, losing some of their height; her eyes settled into a comfortable dark gray. “This is a very impressive foyer.”

“Do the Aeries have foyers?”

“Not like this, but yes, there are areas that would serve the same function. The oldest of ours features more weaponry, though.” She seemed hesitant to elaborate further.

“I was hoping,” Kaylin said, rightly guessing the reason for the hesitation, “that Moran could stay with us. Her wings were injured when the Barrani ancestors came to visit, and she can’t fly properly, so she either has to take a leave of absence—”

“—or find a place to stay while she heals?” Helen was looking at Moran’s wings. Kaylin guessed that she was assessing them from a different vantage point—from the front, very little of the actual injuries could be examined.

“Yes, that. And at the moment, she’s living in the—”

Moran cleared her throat. Loudly.

“Yes, I see. That won’t do. I do have rooms that I think might suit you, if you would care to look at them. I don’t, unfortunately, have a working connection to the mirror network yet. Kaylin has been quite vocal about the necessity. Would you also require it?”

Moran’s smile in response was almost feline. “No, actually, having no mirror connection would be a godsend.”

* * *

Kaylin followed her guest and Helen, trailing behind. She wasn’t certain what she should be doing. Moran’s rooms would be her rooms; they weren’t part of Kaylin’s living space unless Moran specifically invited her in. But Helen was Kaylin’s home, and in theory, it was Kaylin offering hospitality. Would it be bad manners to tag along? Bad manners to hang back?

Etiquette gave Kaylin a headache, in part because good etiquette demanded entirely different behaviors in almost exactly the same situations. And also because it was Diarmat who was teaching.

She lagged behind, small and squawky across her shoulders like a wet blanket. He didn’t even lift his head when Moran opened the door Helen indicated. Her room was nestled between everyone else’s in the hall of doors; the door was adorned by a very simple, but obviously winged, person in silhouette.

Kaylin wasn’t certain what to expect. She’d seen the Aerie in which Clint and his flight lived—or rather, she’d seen the large, public spaces the entire Aerie shared. It had looked like a giant cave, though with smoother walls and adornments. She didn’t recall windows, but didn’t remember the darkness of natural caves, either. She had no idea what Aerians did for kitchens; she knew they didn’t eat sitting in normal chairs, because their wings made it impossible.

She had no idea how they slept. The fledglings slept in traditional bassinets, though with more padding. Other creatures with wings slept sitting upright—or hanging upside down, in the case of bats. She’d never been stupid enough to ask the Aerians whether they did the same thing. Or perhaps she’d just been too self-conscious about sounding stupid.

Kaylin started forward and almost ran into Moran’s back. The Aerian was standing in the doorway, her right hand on the frame; her knuckles were white.

“Moran?” Kaylin asked.

Moran didn’t appear to hear her, which might have been because of the raucous noise of birds. Kaylin couldn’t tell if they were angry birds or not; she could only tell that there were a lot of them.

Moran turned in the doorway to face Helen, who waited in silence. She then looked at Kaylin. “Did you know?” she asked, her voice entirely unlike the harsh bark the infirmary required.

Kaylin shook her head. “I still don’t.”

Moran stepped into the room, indicating by gesture that Kaylin should follow.

* * *

This was not a room in the traditional sense of the word; it only had three walls, for one. The floor was harder than the one in Kaylin’s room; it was stone. Flat stone, mind, that had obviously been worked—but still, stone. Kaylin’s habit of falling out of bed when nightmares were bad or the mirror barked did not lend itself to hard stone floors.

The walls appeared to be made of stone, too—and the stone wasn’t cut stone or block; it was all of a piece. Arches had been worked into the walls, and Kaylin could see light from rooms to the left and right of this one. But this room was enormous. It was also not one in which Kaylin thought she could ever sleep, because it was missing a wall.

There were buildings so decrepit in the fiefs that walls had come down. Tiamaris was fixing those, usually by destroying the rotting ruins and rebuilding from scratch, but Nightshade had never cared enough about the fief and its citizens to do the same—and having a shelter without walls was the same as having no shelter at all, when night fell.

She said nothing. She knew Moran’s life in the Aerie was not her own life in Nightshade. Hells, it wasn’t her life in Elantra. But it shadowed her; it was so much a part of where she’d come from.

Moran left Kaylin at the door and walked, wings lifting, toward the open sky that faced the rest of the room. The sky was city sky: it was dappled with clouds, but blue and bright, sun setting in the distance. Moran turned away from that sky to face Helen. Kaylin had never seen the expression her face now wore. It was almost uncomfortable to look at; Kaylin felt as if she was intruding on something incredibly private.

Moran opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked much, much younger than she did in the Halls. Without a word, she turned and left the entry room, walking to the right of where Kaylin stood looking out.

When she’d left, Kaylin said quietly, “She has to stay here. She has to stay here.”

“I am not a jail,” Helen said. Her voice was gentle. “I understand what you want to offer, and Kaylin, I am—as I have said before—happy to do so. Your Moran means you no harm; she is afraid that her presence here will cause it. I can’t convince her to shed that fear, because her presence will cause you no harm here. But it isn’t what happens here that she’s afraid of. It’s what happens outside of these walls.

“She trusts your safety to me while you are here. I’m not entirely certain what you told her, but I don’t need to be. I cannot promise your safety while you are not within my walls—and you will not always be here. I accept that, or I could not have become your home. If she can live with the guilt, she will, I think, remain.”

Moran came back. She looked frail, which again was discomfiting. She didn’t speak; instead, she walked directly through the arch opposite the one she’d just exited. She paused this time and said, “Kaylin, come with me.” She held out a hand. It wasn’t a command, but it also wasn’t the sarcastic barking that generally passed for requests in the Halls of Law from anyone who wasn’t Caitlin.

Kaylin, almost mute, followed, thinking at Helen before she realized that Helen might actually respond to the thoughts—which would just humiliate a Hawk and an Aerian who were both accustomed to more privacy. Helen was mercifully silent.

Chapter 8

Kaylin looked across this new room to the pool at its center. Moran had removed her shoes, and her feet dangled in what did not look to be particularly warm water.

Kaylin had seen the natural baths the Barrani liked, and this resembled them; there was rock and water. But the water was also open to the sky and the elements; the shape of the basin implied that rain actually fell here. So not Kaylin’s idea of a real room.

“This,” Moran said quietly, “reminds me of my childhood.”

“The other room reminds me of mine,” Kaylin replied. “But not entirely in a good way. I think I like actual walls.”

“The Barrani influence everything,” Moran continued, without looking up. “My grandmother lived in quarters very much like these.”

“You were fond of her,” Helen said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. She represented sanity and safety to me in my early childhood. She was considered far too old-fashioned, too outdated; she lived like a—commoner? I think that’s the word.”

“So?” Kaylin said. “I live like a commoner.”

Moran nodded. “And yet you are Chosen and you number, among your friends, Barrani High Lords and Dragons. And a very cranky Leontine sergeant and his slightly more scary wife. My grandmother had none of these things. She had birth and bloodlines, but after the death of her husband, she leveraged neither. She moved out of the Reach and into the antiquated quarters she had known as a girl.

“When things became...difficult...for my own mother, I was sent to live with my grandmother. I lived with her for four years, until her death.”

Something about the way this was phrased made Kaylin tense. Moran didn’t appear to notice.

“Her wings were different; they weren’t like mine. When I was young, I thought that perhaps I had baby wings and that the spots would fade with time.”

“Like freckles?”

“Yes. Exactly like—but mine never faded.” She turned her face toward the water and sat, silent, for a long moment. “I know I shouldn’t stay here.”

Kaylin hoped that this meant she would.

“The old quarters are gone. When my grandmother died, they were...remodeled. The Aerians have their own mages; they are not like Imperial mages. They...shape things; rock and wood and water. Most of the interior Aeries look like places the Barrani might live, if given the chance.”

“They wouldn’t live here.”

“No. Not here. I shouldn’t stay,” she said again. “But the truth is: I am injured. I will heal. But it won’t be instant. I would rather live in the infirmary than live—without any freedom—in the home of my flight’s leaders, and that’s where I would otherwise stay. But—” She drew in a sharp breath.

“We’re going to give you a few minutes alone, dear,” Helen said. “We’ll be downstairs in the mess hall.”

“She means dining room,” Kaylin added, slightly confused; Helen had never made this association before.

“Moran understands the mess hall in the Halls; eating spaces in the Aerie are not quite the same, although practically speaking, they serve much the same function.”

Moran nodded. She didn’t rise as Helen drew Kaylin away from the bath toward the exit, but she said, without turning around, “Thank you, Helen. I now understand exactly why Kaylin was so insistent that I convalesce with you.”

* * *

“But will she stay?” Kaylin asked.

“I am not certain. I think she was unexpectedly moved by what she found when she opened that door, but she is not as young as you are.”

“Meaning?”

“She has experienced more, and that experience influences how she makes her decisions. Were she your age, but otherwise herself, there would be no question. She would remain. She would feel very indebted to you, however.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

“No?”

“She would feel indebted to you. But I think that’s going to be the case anyway. You’re my home,” Kaylin added, “but you’re not my slave. Most people don’t have sentient homes. You speak, think, interact like a person—because you are one. Moran won’t be able to see you as some part of me. I don’t, and can’t, own you. You’ve decided, for your own reasons, to let me live here; you’ve decided that you’ll accept my guests—even Imperial ones. You go out of your way—”

“It is part of my essential function—”

“—to make those guests feel safe and at home here.”

“Mandoran and Annarion were willing to die to protect me,” Helen countered. “I could not in good conscience offer less. I would even be willing to house your Teela, but she is...less comfortable with my presence. She does trust me where you’re concerned, but she is afraid that the fact that she is not you, and not like you, would tell against her where I’m concerned. She thinks that I am very like Caitlin.”

“And you’re not?”

“I do not think so. I have not yet met your Caitlin.”

“You’d like her.”

“I hope, for your sake, that she likes me,” Helen replied. She led the way into the dining room.

“Shouldn’t we use the parlor?”

“This is a much larger room, and the windows are both bigger and brighter.” She frowned.

“Problem?”

“Teela and Mandoran are speaking to Annarion; he is not responding. Or rather, not well, and not with words. I should go.” Helen’s voice could be in two locations at once; that ability did not extend to her full, physical Avatar. Tara could, and the Hallionne could. But there was a lot Kaylin didn’t know about Helen and her capabilities.

“I’ll wait.”

The small dragon squawked, loudly, in her ear, and Kaylin said, “But he’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.” More squawking and one spiteful snap at the stick that kept Kaylin’s hair in place later, the small dragon was gone, flapping around Helen’s departing head in a circle of irritability.

Kaylin took a chair and folded her arms on the tabletop; she dropped her head onto her forearms. She was exhausted. What she did know about Helen was simple enough: she trusted her. Everything else could wait.

* * *

The first person to enter the dining room was not Helen. Nor was it Moran, Teela or the other two Barrani. It was Bellusdeo. She was accompanied by Severn and Tain, who looked decidedly ill-at-ease.

“The Arkon wants to see you,” Bellusdeo said without preamble.

Kaylin lifted her head. She wondered how long she’d slept, because she had that slightly fuzzy brain that meant sleep had just been broken. “I like the Arkon, but when he wants to see me, it’s usually because he has a thousand questions. None of which I can answer. When I can’t answer, he gets cranky. He’s pretty much never cranky at you.” Unlike Diarmat. It was possibly the first kind thought she’d had about Diarmat—and that was upsetting in an entirely different way. She looked up; Bellusdeo was smiling. Her eyes were gold.

Tain’s eyes, on the other hand, were blue.

“Teela’s here,” Kaylin told him, although he hadn’t asked. “She’s arguing with Annarion.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Mandoran’s on her side.”

“You think that’s going to change the outcome?” Tain snorted. “I honestly do not see the appeal of children.”

“They’re not exactly children.”

“I’ve lived with them. That’s exactly what they are. They might not appear to be young in the fashion of mortal children, but they have the fecklessness of Barrani youth, coupled with far too much power.”

Kaylin remembered what Mandoran had said about living with Tain; he’d likened it to a dungeon, but less dark. She coughed to cover her amusement, because laughter wasn’t going to make Tain feel any better.

“What are they arguing about?”

“Nightshade.”

Irritation drained from Tain’s expression. “What is Annarion going to do?”

“Best guess?”

Tain nodded.

“He’s going to head into the fiefs.” She smacked herself in the forehead. “That’s what I forgot!”

“You don’t intend to tell Annarion what Gilbert said, surely.”

Kaylin blinked.

“If you don’t want him charging into the heart of the fiefs, you’ll keep it strictly to yourself.”

“I think it’s too late.”

Tain pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the Barrani equivalent of smacking himself in the face.

“I didn’t tell him—I haven’t seen him since I got back. I visited Evanton and endured a faceful of raging Leontine sergeant, and I’m trying to convince Moran that she wants to stay here instead of living in the infirmary for three months. If Annarion knows, it’s because Teela told him.”

“If Teela told him, she has her reasons.”

But if Kaylin told him, she wouldn’t? Kaylin glared at Tain; Tain ignored it. “I can’t think of any other reason they’d be arguing. Helen had to go downstairs to help out; she thinks Annarion’s close to losing it.”

This did not change the color of Tain’s eyes any.

“What were you thinking, bringing them back from the West March?”

“I didn’t bring ‘them’; I brought Mandoran. He would have come on his own anyway, because Annarion was here. I didn’t expect—” She exhaled, thinking about Moran, and the Hawks that had not survived the ancestors’ attack. “I was thinking that they were Teela’s friends, that they were people she trusted and that she’d thought they were lost forever. I was thinking that it would be as if they were let out of jail after a really, really long sentence.

“I didn’t understand what they were—or weren’t. But neither did Teela.”

Bellusdeo said, “Leave her alone, Tain. What’s happened has happened. There was no malice or ill intent.”

“They weren’t your losses.”

“No?” Bellusdeo drew herself up to her full height, which was much more impressive than Kaylin’s.

To Kaylin’s surprise, Tain looked away first. “Apologies,” he said—and even sounded as if he meant it, although Barrani were very capable liars. “I am worried—”

“About Teela, yes. I imagine she appreciates it about as much as I would.”

This startled a genuine laugh from the Barrani Hawk. “At least as much” was his rueful reply. “Teela’s family lost a lot to the wars, but I can see why she likes you.”

“I lost everything,” Bellusdeo replied. “But yes, it’s hard to dislike Teela. It’s much easier to dislike Mandoran.”

“Agreed on both counts.” Tain then turned to Kaylin and opened his mouth to speak. Severn, however, gave them all a quiet heads-up as Moran descended the stairs.

* * *

The absolute ruler of the infirmary stopped for a moment in the doorway when she saw Severn and Tain. Then she walked past them to the table, and to the backless stool positioned in its center. She sat heavily.

Helen appeared with food—which was to say, food appeared on the table and Helen came into the room. “You’ll want to speak with Annarion, dear,” she told Kaylin.

That was not the first item on Kaylin’s list of desirable activities.

“I know. But he is upset. I’ve created a containment; he should be able to rage as much as he wants without ill effect on the rest of the house. I cannot, however, continue to confine him.”

“Meaning he can leave anytime he wants.”

“He is a guest, not a prisoner—but even were he to be a prisoner, I have become too diminished to maintain a cell for either him or Mandoran for long. Mandoran did ask,” she added. “He is also very, very worried about Annarion.”

“Is Teela less worried than she was?”

“No, dear. I would say she is vastly more worried than she was.”

Tain grimaced. Teela worried was about as much fun as Marcus enraged.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Moran asked, entering the conversation.

“No!” Kaylin said, before Helen could reply, although it was to Helen she’d directed the question.

“In my experience,” Helen replied, with a gentle smile, “there is never a good or a bad time. There is only time. Please, eat. You haven’t had dinner yet, and neither has Kaylin.” She turned to Tain. “I don’t believe we’ve met, and I am not always conversant with the social customs of my guests.”

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