WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE, WHO NEEDS ENEMIES?

Private Kaylin Neya thought her home couldn’t possibly get more crowded. But when one of her housemates, Annarion, decides to undertake the Barrani Test of Name, his friends refuse to let him face his task alone—and Kaylin’s sentient home, Helen, is the only structure capable of shielding the rest of Elantra from the magnitude of their power.

Annarion and Mandoran almost caused the destruction of the High Halls once already. Add nine of their closest friends, and the danger is astronomically higher—especially since these guests are at the heart of a political firestorm. Imprisoned almost a millennium ago, their recent freedom threatens the rulership of several prominent Barrani families, and the machinations of those Lords make it almost impossible to tell friend from foe.

As political tensions ramp up, the shadows beneath the High Halls are seeking a freedom that has never been possible before. Kaylin must find a way to keep those shadows from escaping, or that freedom will destroy her city, the empire and everything she holds dear.

The Chronicles of Elantra

by

New York Times bestselling author

Michelle Sagara

CAST IN SHADOW

CAST IN COURTLIGHT

CAST IN SECRET

CAST IN FURY

CAST IN SILENCE

CAST IN CHAOS

CAST IN RUIN

CAST IN PERIL

CAST IN SORROW

CAST IN FLAME

CAST IN HONOR

CAST IN FLIGHT

And

“Cast in Moonlight”

found in

HARVEST MOON,

an anthology with Mercedes Lackey and Cameron Haley

Cast in Deception

Michelle Sagara

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Michelle Sagara 2018

Michelle Sagara asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © January 2018 ISBN: 9781474074681

Version: 2018-01-05

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

With thanks to

HexaDoken

Ijon

Jenova

Medicris

Mifu

Popsoap

Sgt. Shivers

Team NoD

TehVappy50

TerminusEst13

The Stronghold Team

Torr Samaho

WaTaKiD

Yholl

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

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

Epilogue

1

“You wake her up.”

Kaylin’s eyelids felt glued shut. She opened them anyway. Above her head, a tiny dragon appeared to be running in place.

“Why me? It’s not my decision that’s causing the difficulty!” That was definitely Mandoran.

She didn’t immediately reach for the dagger under her pillow. She did, however, push herself into something that resembled a sitting position. Her familiar leapt up on her shoulder, where he squawked at the hair that then fell into his face.

“You were the one who said we should warn her.” Annarion.

Kaylin knew that the two Barrani men could argue with their mouths shut. They knew each other’s True Names, and had their miniature version of telepathy. Grimly—morning was her best time of day only if you made a list and turned it upside down—she slid off her bed and toward a night robe, determined to remind them that they could argue silently.

“If the two of you could shut up for five minutes, I’ll wake her up.” That was Tain. Kaylin froze and changed clothing direction; there was no way she was going back to sleep.

“I think she’s awake now,” Helen, her sentient house, said, with just a hint of disapproval.

“Good.”

Say that in five minutes, Kaylin thought, shoving her arms into her shirt. The buttons were on the inside, which was not where they were supposed to be. “Helen, can I have some light?”

Light immediately flooded the room. The familiar squawked his resentment. Kaylin was saving hers for possible future need, but she was now worried. “Is Teela here?”

“Not yet, dear.”

Tain didn’t drop by for a random social visit. Not without Teela.

“What’s happened?”

“It’s not an emergency,” was Helen’s gentle reply. “Or at least not yet.”

* * *

“Don’t give me that look,” Tain said, before Kaylin could open her mouth.

“Why are you here?”

“Ask Mandoran.” Tain looked about as happy as Kaylin felt, which was unreasonable given that Barrani didn’t need sleep unless they were badly injured.

Kaylin, however, swiveled in Mandoran’s direction.

“Teela’s coming over,” he said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Why is she coming over?”

The two younger Barrani exchanged a glance. To Kaylin’s surprise, it was Annarion who answered. “She’s coming to ask Helen if she can move in for a while.”

Kaylin turned to Tain.

“I haven’t spoken to her yet,” Teela’s partner replied. His eyes were blue.

“I believe,” Helen said, interrupting them before Kaylin could speak, “you can ask her yourself. She’s almost at the front door.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mandoran told Kaylin. “This has nothing to do with me. I voted against it.”

“Against what?”

When Mandoran failed to answer, she passed the frown on to Annarion, who looked both defiant and uncomfortable. “I’m taking the Test of Name.”

Tain’s eyes darkened to a midnight blue, and if Kaylin hadn’t been human, hers would have joined them. “You’re what?”

“I’m going to the High Halls to take the Test of Name.”

* * *

Kaylin was not stupid, in spite of what many of her early teachers had believed. She could put two plus two together and end up with four. “If Teela is coming over to ask if she can stay for a while,” Kaylin said out loud, “does that mean the rest of the cohort are coming to visit as well?”

“Not without your permission,” Annarion replied, guilt shifting the corners of his eyes and mouth.

“Look, some of us think it’s an incredibly stupid decision. But we know it’s dangerous, and none of the rest of us have taken the Test, either. If he goes, we’re not going to let him go on his own.”

“Teela’s taken the Test.”

Mandoran exhaled. “Yes. We know. That’s part of the problem. She can’t come with us.” He stared, quite deliberately, at his feet. Since this meant—to Kaylin—that he was trying not to look at anyone else, she frowned.

“She can’t go with you.”

“No. Not if she follows the customs and laws of the High Halls.”

Kaylin did look up then. “But Tain hasn’t taken the Test of Name.”

Silence.

Kaylin said, “Oh, no. No. I am not getting between the two of you while you’re arguing. You won’t kill each other, but the collateral damage will probably kill anyone who isn’t Barrani!”

“We are not arguing,” Tain replied. His voice was chilly, his eyes the same dark blue.

Annarion apparently also found his feet interesting.

Tain was not a Lord of the High Court. He was Teela’s partner, and Teela was. But the other Barrani Hawks were like Tain. A second class of citizen, a lesser class, in the eyes of most Barrani Lords. He’d never seemed to give a damn. But clearly, he did now.

She wondered who, among the cohort, had voted against Annarion taking the Test. Mandoran and Teela, certainly. But had any of the others?

“Yes,” she said, out loud. “The cohort can stay here as our guests. Given what happened with the two of you,” she added, looking at the Barrani who were still staring at their feet, “I want some of the city to remain standing.”

“They’ve been taking the same lessons we have,” Mandoran offered. “They learn what we learn.”

“Are they like you or like Annarion?”

“...We’re not sure yet.”

“Then they are definitely staying where Helen can keep an eye on them.”

* * *

By the time Teela arrived at the front door, Tain, Annarion and Kaylin were standing in front of it. Mandoran hung back, but not with any real hope of avoiding a face full of blue-eyed, angry Teela, which is what greeted them when Helen opened the front door.

Her eyes shifted into indigo when she saw Tain. Tain didn’t appear to notice, but he wasn’t one of the cohort, and he’d lived in the real world—near Teela—for much longer than anyone else had.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, with no grace whatsoever.

Tain didn’t throw Mandoran to the wolves, which is clearly what Mandoran had been dreading. “I’ve heard that the cohort, as Kaylin calls them, is coming to stay.”

That wouldn’t have been Kaylin’s choice of opening words, but Kaylin was not Teela’s partner.

“Please come in,” Helen said, before Teela could respond. “Kaylin hasn’t eaten yet.”

No one had eaten yet. No one really felt like eating, either, as far as Kaylin could tell.

Teela and Tain quit what might have devolved into a staring contest as Helen ushered everyone into the dining room. They took their chairs as if chairs were weapons or armor. Teela even turned hers around so the back faced the table and she could fold her arms over it.

“Why,” she said again, “are you here?”

“I told you.”

“My friends are not your problem.”

“No.”

Teela’s eyes narrowed; she turned to glare at Mandoran, who shrugged. Her words, however, continued to be aimed at Tain. “I don’t want you to endanger yourself needlessly.”

“I’m not. I’ve always been far more cautious than you are.”

This was arguably true, but Kaylin was not nearly suicidal enough to make the argument. She looked at breakfast as it appeared on her plate, and wondered if it would be safer if breakfast for everyone else—or at least the Barrani—could be finger foods for just one day. Teela was giving the cutlery a side-eye that suggested she might use it for something other than food.

“You are not taking the Test with them.”

“I haven’t taken the Test. I can.”

“You’ve never wanted to be a Lord of the High Court. And babysitting—”

“Hey!”

“—is not nearly a good enough reason to change your mind.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Tain—”

“The cohort are coming to Elantra. Sedarias is coming to Elantra. The High Court has maintained the polite fiction of joy at the rescue of the cohort.”

Teela said nothing.

“How long do you think that joy is going to last? Annarion is the bloodline heir. Karian is the bloodline heir. Mandoran is—god help his family—the bloodline heir. And Sedarias is the bloodline heir.”

Kaylin turned to Tain. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Annarion is not the only person present who intends to take back what Nightshade lost. Sedarias, however, would have been the Lord of her line had she not been sent to the green. The others are technically heirs because of politics or deaths due to the wars.” He exhaled and turned to her.

“Is this really the time for a teachable moment?” Kaylin demanded. Tain continued to stare at her, which was his answer. “Fine. Their family lines—what are they, anyway?—have been ruled just fine since they were sent to the green. The Lords of those lines probably have no interest at all in being displaced.”

“I have no interest in reclaiming my family holdings,” Mandoran said.

“You said your family was gone!”

Mandoran shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, they are.”

“The High Court would not agree,” Teela said, her voice dry as tinder.

Mandoran made clear what he thought the High Court could do with its disagreement.

“You are correct,” Tain continued, speaking to Kaylin as if there had been no interruption. “Those families have held power for centuries. The children of the green were a myth—a sorrowful myth, perhaps—one that could be safely used. Now they are a very real fact.

“Teela is Lord of her line. She has had centuries to establish her rule. She is secure enough in that rule to be a Hawk—an Imperial Hawk. But the alliances she’s built to maintain that power are going to shift.”

“There is no guarantee of that,” Teela said.

Tain didn’t bother to reply, but his expression made clear just how little he thought of her counterargument. And he took his life in his hands by continuing to address his words to Kaylin. “Teela will, therefore, be drawn into the drama of the Test of Name. As long as none of the cohort are Lords of the High Court, everything remains academic. If they are not Lords of that court, they cannot claim their inheritance. It’s possible,” he said, his emphasis bordering on sarcasm, “that the High Court could be talked into believing that Mandoran, Eddorian, and Karian have no interest in ruling. There is nothing in the Empire that could induce the High Court to believe that Sedarias does not.”

Sedarias was the name Kaylin heard most often, when Mandoran referred to the members of his cohort who still resided in the Hallionne Alsanis. Her opinion was either valuable or dangerous—but it was never dismissed out of hand.

“And this is dangerous to Teela because?”

“Because some of her allies will be directly—and badly—impacted should the cohort decide to reclaim what is technically theirs. If Sedarias remained in the green, she could finesse the situation; Sedarias was not Lord of the High Court. If Sedarias is coming to Elantra—”

“She’ll become a Lord.” If she passed the Test. “And she’ll attempt to secure her place as head of her family.” The family that had abandoned her.

“Yes. Teela is currently the cohort’s only toehold in the High Court; she is a Lord, she is the head of her line, and she carries one of the three weapons that were proof against Dragons. She’s already felt some of that pressure, and the—”

“Tain.”

Tain shut up. Kaylin could almost hear his jaws snap.

He didn’t give up. He retrenched. This time, however, he spoke to Teela. “What you will need, if they set foot outside the Hallionne, are allies at Court. You did not require those allies in that fashion before. I have never had a desire to be a Lord of the Court. It wasn’t worth the risk, given my own origins. It is worth that risk to me now.” He folded his arms.

Kaylin caught Mandoran by the sleeve before he could vacate his chair and sneak out of the room. You brought him here, she mouthed. You can suffer with the rest of us.

* * *

Kaylin stared at the grim and silent Hawks. She was used to bickering and minor disagreements; she’d come to believe it came with the tabard. But this was different, and everyone in the breakfast room knew it. Someone had to interrupt them. One glance at Annarion and Mandoran told her there was no help coming from that quarter.

She was enough of a coward that help was unlikely to come from her, either.

But there was a Dragon in the house, and that Dragon appeared, as if by magic, in the dining room doorway. Kaylin was almost positive that the magic was called by Helen. Bellusdeo cleared her throat; Teela and Tain were probably aware of her presence, but were still glaring at each other across a suffocatingly quiet table. Since Bellusdeo was a Dragon, clearing her throat made a lot of noise.

It was Teela who turned toward her first, but Tain was quick to follow.

“Good morning,” Teela said, her eyes a martial blue that was only fractionally less dire than it had been when she was glaring at Tain. Although historically the Barrani and the Dragons had been enemies, Teela actually liked Bellusdeo.

The Dragon returned that affection. For Teela. She seemed to approve of Annarion, but Mandoran frequently caused her to exhale smoke. “Annarion and Lord Nightshade have only just stopped screaming at each other at the top of their Barrani lungs. I’d just as soon have a little bit of peace and quiet before things blow up again.”

“Lord Nightshade has merely accepted that he cannot change Annarion’s mind at this point. Do not think he has surrendered.” Teela seldom hesitated, but did now. When she started to speak again, she spoke to Helen.

“Mandoran has informed you—”

“That your friends are coming to visit? Yes, dear.” Helen could get away with calling Teela dear. Anyone else would have been picking up teeth. “And Kaylin has already offered you our hospitality at any time you wish to stay. I should, however, ask whether you would like to room with Tain.”

Kaylin cringed.

Teela said no at the same time as Tain said yes.

Bellusdeo’s grimace was exaggerated, but her eyes were gold.

“I would just as soon not involve him.”

“I’m involved.” Tain’s voice was curt. He was angry.

Helen rushed in to prevent silence from once again shrouding the table. “I will, of course, have rooms for you. You are allowed across my threshold without Kaylin’s express, explicit permission. She considers you—”

“Family. Yes. I know.”

“In the mortal sense, not the immortal one.” Kaylin knew mortal families that would have fit right in with the Barrani families of Teela’s acquaintance, but failed to point this out.

“In the Kaylin sense,” Teela said.

“That is the only one with which I am concerned,” Helen replied. “You are welcome here.”

Bellusdeo took a seat at the table on the other side of Mandoran. The smile she gave him was almost feline. “How many other guests will I be sharing a roof with?”

Teela’s answering grin was humorless. “Ten new guests, unless I can convince Annarion to change his bloody mind.”

“You are not going to convince me to change my mind,” Annarion said, finally joining a conversation that both he and Mandoran had managed to steer clear of.

Teela turned to stare at him, and to Kaylin’s surprise, it was Annarion who looked away. Teela had clearly chosen to reply to the statement in the privacy of their name bond.

It was, strangely enough, Mandoran who broke the silence. “Annarion was the youngest,” he said, looking at the table. “Nightshade was the eldest. Not the firstborn, but the eldest survivor of the war. He went to the Tower, and he returned.” He flinched. “I’m telling her. It’s not like she can’t find out.”

“Find out what?”

“Annarion had a sister. She was the middle surviving child. When it came her time, she went to the Tower to take the Test of Name.” He inhaled. Paused. Kaylin thought he was done.

He was. Teela, however, took up the slack his silence left. “She was the daughter of an ambitious family. Those who fail the Test, with one possible exception, have never returned. Annarion assumed—as we all did at the time—that she had died. He grieved privately; it is not the way of my people to otherwise discuss the failure of their own kin. I therefore know very little about her. If the rest of my cohort has become something other, something larger, than Barrani, they are nonetheless Barrani in thought. Had she died, nothing would change.”

This time, Annarion bowed his head. And Kaylin understood, in that moment, that Annarion knew. He knew the fate of those who failed that test.

Teela, seeing her expression, said, “Yes. Now he knows. Those who fail do not simply die; they remain where they fell. They will remain there until the creature at the base of the High Halls is destroyed.”

Her words almost a whisper, Kaylin said, “He intends to free the trapped.”

“The damned, yes. He intends to destroy the Shadow at the base of the Tower. He intends to free the dead. To be fair, he intends to free his sister.”

“...So, the reason—the real reason—he was so angry at Nightshade...” Kaylin lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

“No. You are not Barrani. The reason he is angry with his brother has been stated truthfully, and often. His brother chose to reject duty and honor by abandoning his bloodline.”

“He was made outcaste, Teela. He didn’t choose it.”

Teela just shook her head and made that you’ll understand when you’re older face that Kaylin hated. “Annarion does like you, and I understand why.” She held up a hand. “I never had any qualms about leaving him in your hands. Or rather, I never worried about what you might do to, or with, him. All of my worry went in the other direction. Annarion is not a fool. Or rather, he understands why the Test exists. He understands that were the Shadow beneath the High Halls to escape, it would be a disaster that would make the previous attack on the High Halls pale to insignificance.”

“But?”

“But, yes. My cohort was sent to the green. It was sent to be transformed. The experiment was not successful in the eyes of the High Court of the time—but it is being argued now that it was a success.”

“By your cohort?”

“Yes. No one likes to feel that they are a failure,” Teela added, with a rueful smile. “Shadow does not hold the same terror for Annarion or Mandoran that it does for you or the rest of my kin.”

“They think they can destroy that Shadow.”

“They think they have a chance.”

“And if they don’t succeed? If, somehow, that Shadow can subvert them?” She turned to Annarion who was still studying his plate as if it fascinated him. “If the Shadow takes your name, you can do things—you can all do things—that no other Barrani can. The Shadow’s released at least one person we know of into the High Court.” She did not mention who, and no one asked. “But if it has you and your cohort as its agents...”

Teela nodded, grim now. “Exactly.”

* * *

Kaylin was technically a Lord of the High Court because she’d inadvertently taken the Test of Name—a test that she couldn’t really fail, except by dying, as she hadn’t had a name at the time. She’d seen what lay at the base of the Tower. It was a Shadow, and in its folds, it held the names of those who had failed. It held the substance of who they had been in life. Kaylin didn’t exactly believe in ghosts, but didn’t have a better word to describe it.

It had shaken her.

It had enraged her.

It had, as so many, many things did, brought her face-to-face with her own insignificance, and her helplessness. There was nothing she could do to disperse that particular Shadow, and nothing she could do to free the trapped.

The creature at the base of the High Halls was the reason the High Halls had been erected in the middle of what was otherwise a Dragon-ruled empire. But death wasn’t the worst of it, for the Barrani. He could also control those he chose to allow to leave the Tower, because he had their names. He knew them.

For years, for centuries, probably for millennia, the Barrani had been feeding their children—or themselves—to that Shadow. And Kaylin even understood why. What the Shadow could not take, what the Shadow could not mislead or distract, it could not alter. Those Barrani had a base immunity to the effects of Shadow.

That base immunity was necessary. She knew what would happen to the city, her city, if the creature was no longer imprisoned. The Dragons might be safe. No one else.

After a long pause, in which Kaylin’s drink practically congealed in her hands, she said, “So...they’re all coming here.”

“Yes. Sedarias now feels that some exploratory testing is required.” Teela’s eyes were marginally less blue; Bellusdeo’s presence had shifted some of the tension out of the lines of her face.

More silence.

“We are aware of the danger—to others—if one of the cohort is subverted or controlled. Annarion was calling out to the Shadows without ever being aware that he was doing so. If he could be made to do so deliberately, the Shadow beneath the High Halls wouldn’t need to be unleashed.

“If this happens, the rest of the cohort could exert influence and possibly counter the control with controls of our own.”

“But to do that some of the cohort would have to remain at a distance.”

Teela nodded. She lifted a long-fingered, pale hand to her brow and massaged her right temple. “At the moment, the argument has devolved into who those people will be, and how much distance is distant enough. For obvious reasons, my friends will stay here if you permit it.”

Now, the disadvantage of having a Dragon join the conversation was made clear. Kaylin fidgeted but chose to speak. “While Bellusdeo is living here, the Emperor keeps a close watch on Helen. There’s no way he’s not going to know if a cohort of Western Barrani descend on my house.”

“That is the other concern.”

“She could just move out for the duration,” Mandoran suggested. “I’m seriously considering it.” He winced. “I can safely live elsewhere. And if Tain’s going to be staying here, I could stay in his old place.”

“Dear,” Helen began.

“Don’t ‘dear’ me. My entire life in the past week and a half has been nothing but argument, screaming argument, icy silence, and general condescension.”

“I laughed at your bad joke yesterday,” Kaylin pointed out.

“Fair enough. I’d shelve that under general condescension myself, but I’m not mortal and don’t always understand how you think. I’m not that fond of the Dragon,” he continued. “But I’d just as soon not fight an angry Emperor for no reason whatsoever.” For Mandoran, this was progress. It implied that there were actual reasons not to fight Dragons. When he’d first arrived that would have been unthinkable.

Bellusdeo exhaled a stream of smoke. Her eyes were now orange, but Kaylin suspected that was due to the mention of the Emperor, and not Mandoran’s commentary. “I am not moving out.”

“I’ve had some time to get used to you,” Mandoran continued, dropping the third person ‘Dragon.’ “You’ve had some time to get used to me. Annarion—well, he’s Annarion. He practically considers you a friend. Not everyone is going to see you the same way.”

Kaylin now understood why Teela was massaging her temple. “You haven’t been defending Bellusdeo to your cohort, have you?”

“Don’t make me lose whatever appetite I have. Of course not.” Food appeared in front of Mandoran. He touched none of it. Kaylin, however, started eating, purely by instinct.

“He doesn’t consider it defending her,” Teela added. She gave the food in front of her the side-eye. There were many things Teela’s childhood had lacked, but food wasn’t one of them. She could ignore it. “The truth, however, is that we like Bellusdeo.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Fine. I like Bellusdeo and Mandoran tolerates her. I understand what the wars cost her. She in turn understands what the wars cost me. Neither of us chose the wars. Neither of us were consulted by those who did.” Teela shrugged. “You saw what Mandoran was like when he first arrived.”

“You think the others will be like him?”

“No. Most of them have better manners. But the substance will be similar. They understand what we see in her. They also understand that the feeling is personal, emotional. They are likely to form their own opinions, but the forming might be, ah, fractious.”

Helen did not appear to be concerned. Since it would be Helen who would keep the consequences of ‘fractious’ to a minimum, Kaylin didn’t share Teela’s anxiety. Well, she did, but not about that.

“None of your cohort went to the Tower in the High Halls.”

“No.”

“None,” Mandoran added, “except Teela. But she did it later. And before you think she’s being selfless or anything, she’s not. Not entirely. She had problems readjusting to life in the Court, and she spent a lot of what remained of her so-called childhood under observation. She was tested constantly; the High Court knew what had happened to the others, and they were waiting to see that power manifest in Teela.

“She wasn’t exactly a pariah, but she was only accepted because her father was a very powerful man. Only those who were certain to survive crossing him made demands of her. You’ve always said the Barrani are arrogant.”

“When they’re breathing, yes.”

“Well, there were a lot of people who felt certain they’d survive. Time moves slowly for Immortals. But it does move. Teela hasn’t been considered an abomination or a subhuman liability for centuries.”

“...And if the cohort arrives in force...”

“She’s too stubborn to abandon us, and we’re too stubborn to push her out.”

Since they knew each other’s True Names, Kaylin doubted that was even possible, but said nothing.

“You are not being fair,” Helen told him. She often spoke to Mandoran as if he were not quite out of childhood. “That is a natural part of her concern, of course, but you are not presenting it well.” To Kaylin, in the face of Teela’s silence, she said, “Teela is considering the political costs because she intends to preserve her cohort.”

“I think we’re capable of preserving ourselves.”

“Yes. So, too, is Lord Nightshade. Teela, however, does not desire that you all be made outcaste. As outcastes, you would naturally be denied the Tower—and the High Halls. As outcastes, no Barrani would be required to lift a finger should outsiders, such as the Dragon Court, be called upon to end your existence. If, over the next few centuries, you prove yourselves to be considerable powers, you will be, as Nightshade is, grudgingly accepted. But the cost of waging that war could be profound.

“And of course, if you are made outcaste, there’s a possibility that Teela will join you. It is not a guarantee. If she was willing to publicly disavow you, she would, given her history in the Court, be excluded from your fate.”

Kaylin had a few thoughts then. Some of them could even be said in public—as long as public involved the Hawks, which was where she had learned most of the ruder words. “Someone has already made the motion.”

Mandoran’s smile, as he lifted his head, was bitter. “How did you guess?”

“Relatives of Annarion’s?”

“And the already outcaste Nightshade, yes.”

“When?”

Mandoran shrugged. “Does it matter?” He made a face at Teela. “She was going to find out anyway.” Teela clearly made her reply in the silence of their name bond; Mandoran couldn’t be bothered. “She’s a Lord of the High Court, Teela. She has access to the Consort. She’s seen the Lake of Life. She’s considered the Consort’s emergency replacement. If she wanted to, she could find this out by taking a walk in the Consort’s garden!”

Teela relented. “Yes, if she wanted. How much of Kaylin’s desire strikes you as political? It wouldn’t occur to her to ask. She’s accepted at Court because she is so firmly outside of the power structure she does nothing to shake it. Start down this road, and she won’t even last the few measly decades allotted her.

“The rest of us have forever. We can wait. Kaylin has forty or fifty years.” Teela stood, her eyes a shade that wasn’t quite blue but was definitely as far from green as it could get. “I’m not asking for any of you to put your lives on hold indefinitely. I’m asking that you wait. A handful of decades isn’t going to change your lives.”

Mandoran glared at Teela. Clearly he’d heard it all before.

“You understand,” Kaylin began, but Teela lifted a hand.

“I understand everything in exhaustive detail. I have had enough notice to form a skeletal defense against the worst of the politics.”

“Sedarias thinks you’d be more successful getting information than Teela has been,” Mandoran told Kaylin. “Because of your position as emergency mother to the Barrani.”

There was a flash of blinding light that made the dining room vanish because Kaylin hadn’t had time to close her eyes.

“Corporal,” Helen said, in a more steely voice.

Teela immediately said, “My apologies, Helen. The spell was not materially harmful.”

“No, I understand that. I know Barrani don’t require sleep, but in my long experience, they require some moments of privacy and peace. Come. I have rooms waiting for you.”

Teela’s shoulder’s sagged. “Affection,” she told Kaylin’s house, “is a curse and a terrible, terrible weakness.”

“So thought the people who built me,” Helen replied serenely. “I do not believe they were correct.”

“No?”

“There are reasons I am less than fully functional. I chose to destroy some parts of myself to preserve the parts I value. It was painful, and there are lingering regrets on the bad days. On the good days, I am grateful that I was sentient enough to be able to make that choice. Come,” she said again.

Teela quietly followed the Avatar of Kaylin’s house.

“And eat, Kaylin,” Helen’s disembodied voice added.

2

Teela, who had come prepared for work, left immediately. Tain, also properly attired, went with her. Kaylin, who had stumbled from sleep into several arguments, wasn’t ready. She headed to her room to start a day that already felt too damn long.

Something political was happening in the High Court, and some of—if not all of—the cohort felt that Kaylin had actual political power there. Of course, one of them was Mandoran, a man not known for his wisdom or caution. She dressed quickly and competently, no longer being half-asleep, and headed out the door, Bellusdeo in tow.

“You’re thinking,” the gold Dragon, in her distinctly human form, said. “I approve.”

“Probably because you can’t actually hear most of it. Don’t eat that,” she added, to the familiar who was gnawing at the stick in her hair. She was lucky that most of the stick was invisible, because it looked distinctly like a puppy chew toy when examined.

The orange in the Dragon’s eyes faded to a more prominent gold. “It’s not Teela you need to worry about. Or,” she added, “me. Although I admit I don’t find it as offensive most of the time. I have some respect for Annarion. I daydream about breathing fire on Mandoran. And I actually like Teela. I’m not concerned about the cohort and its arrival. Helen will keep me safe. Helen,” she added, her lips twitching up at the corners, “will keep them safe if they happen to anger me.”

“I’d bet on you, if that happened.”

“With your own money?”

“You’re getting the hang of this.”

“And you’re not answering the question.” But Bellusdeo’s eyes were a warm gold. “You remind me of one of my sisters.”

“Given what the Arkon has said about them, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“We were children, then. And children are often both beloved and difficult. But it’s not me you should worry about.”

“It’s the Emperor.”

“It is,” Bellusdeo agreed, “the Emperor. At the moment, he and his Court are heavily preoccupied. He trusts your intent, but also credits your uncanny ability to find disaster. I believe he used the equivalent draconic word for ‘epic.’ He will not, of course, demand that you turn over your guests—or that you turn them away. He is cognizant of his own laws, and will not create new ones simply for his own immediate convenience.” She hesitated.

Kaylin understood why. With no intent whatsoever, Annarion had caught the attention of Shadows in the fiefs—and they had crossed the Ablayne to find him. In and of itself that wouldn’t have been a problem; Shadows were the reason the Towers in the fiefs existed. But he had also been somehow loud enough to wake things ancient and slumbering, and they had not been subject to the Tower’s will.

When she finally spoke, her words surprised Kaylin. “I am concerned about the cohort’s arrival.”

“We’re all concerned—”

“As in, I am uncertain that they will survive their travel here.”

Kaylin’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Of all of the possible future disasters she had expected or considered, this wasn’t one.

“I believe it is one of the handful of things Teela fears. Mandoran and Annarion do not, but they are young. Stay out of it. I mean it. I might survive entanglement in Barrani politics—I have before—but you’re not a Dragon. I’m sure it’s the biggest reason that Teela doesn’t want the cohort here. You stick your nose into everything, and these matters are not remotely safe for any of us.”

“I live here.”

“It might have escaped your notice, but so do I, and I fully intend to avoid the cohort as much as possible. And if you keep arguing, you’re going to be late.”

* * *

Clint and Tanner were on the door, which wasn’t strange. Tanner looked alert and Clint looked worried, which was. Neither appeared to be interested in the how-late-will-Kaylin-be betting pool, which was not a good sign. Kaylin slowed as she approached the stairs. “There’s bad news,” she told Bellusdeo.

The Dragon didn’t argue. “Do you think it’s personal bad news, or is there some difficulty in the Halls?”

“Not sure. I don’t think it’s me. I haven’t been late in days, I’m not working on a sensitive case and I also haven’t pissed Margot off, so Marcus isn’t wading through the mountains of paperwork she constantly requires.”

“You could just climb the stairs and enter the Halls. It’s probably faster than speculating, and likely to give you more accurate information.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Kaylin drew breath, heading resolutely toward the doors Clint and Tanner were guarding.

“You look,” Bellusdeo said, out of the corner of her mouth, “as if you’re heading to an execution. Probably your own.”

“It’s Tanner.”

“What about Tanner?”

“He expects real trouble.”

“And Clint?”

“He...expects trouble from or for me.” Kaylin had done nothing wrong—that she knew of—and she was certain Teela hadn’t brought her personal troubles to the Halls of Law.

Was it Moran? Although she was technically still employed as a sergeant, she had been winding down the duties she performed for the Halls and had been training her replacement. Or rather, had been interviewing and browbeating the possible applicants. Her excuse for this—besides her obvious desire to remain in the infirmary—was that the infirmary needed someone who was fully capable of glaring down a Leontine when the Leontine was in an almost murderously foul mood.

To give her credit, Moran was perfectly capable of that.

But most people, Kaylin included, wouldn’t be. Bellusdeo had suggested that Kaylin be considered for the position, pointing out that Kaylin’s ability to heal would be well suited to the job. Moran’s eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. “Absolutely not. The Hawks would walk all over her.” Kaylin attempted to protest, but in truth, she was a private, and when Marcus went all fang-faced, she had to control the visceral urge to dive under the nearest desk.

Moran had faced him down. And to be fair to Moran and her interview process, Kaylin couldn’t think of many people who could, Hawk or no. Bellusdeo could, but she was not seconded to the service. Serving the Halls implied serving the Emperor. And she hadn’t so much warmed to him as cooled enough that his title did not send her into red-eyed Dragon resentment.

“You’re thinking with your mouth open,” Tanner observed, while Kaylin tried to choose smart words.

She shrugged and gave up. “What’s happening inside?”

The two guards exchanged a glance. “It doesn’t concern you directly,” Clint said. Of course it was Clint.

“It’s not Moran, is it?”

“No—but even I’ve come to pity the possible candidates for replacement.”

“I don’t think she wants to leave.”

“Betting?”

Kaylin considered it. “No.”

“And now I know I’m actually dreaming.”

“She’ll go. The thing that made her a good sergeant won’t let her stay in the Halls. I just hope she beats the Aerian Caste Court into decent shape. It might be the first time in Aerian history that we have someone in high places on our side. But if it’s not Moran, what’s happened?”

“There’s been...a bit of a problem.”

“Tanner.”

“Fine. There’s been a lot of a problem.”

Kaylin wanted to shriek.

“We’re not allowed to discuss it,” Clint added. “But you’ll want to step carefully the moment you pass Caitlin’s desk.” He hesitated, his eyes a shade of blue that meant worry, fear. “It’s the Barrani. Ours.”

* * *

Kaylin was silent as she sped through the Halls. Bellusdeo kept easy pace with her, but her eyes had shaded to Dragon orange. Her facial expression hadn’t changed at all. She didn’t consider the Barrani a threat.

But she was worried.

The Barrani Hawks were a small force in and of themselves. Their partners were other Barrani, except on very rare occasion, and usually when a Barrani and a human were partnered, it was Kaylin and Teela. The Barrani could be sent in to break up a drug ring and be expected to both succeed and survive. Humans had a much higher mortality rate.

They had lost one member of the Barrani force during the difficulties with the Aerian Caste Court; one of the Barrani guards had carried an offer from a member of the High Court to one of the human prisoners. That he hadn’t murdered the prisoner was in his favor, and Kaylin, in the end, felt that booting him off the force was too harsh. But Teela considered it necessary. There’d been an argument or two about it, and it hadn’t been perfectly civil, either.

Even the West Room, with its magical silence, couldn’t entirely absorb Leontine cursing. As far as Kaylin was concerned, the Hawk hadn’t broken any laws, and hadn’t disgraced his oaths. He had, however, introduced new problems for the High Halls.

In the end, Teela called Kaylin softhearted, and Marcus called her softheaded. So, they were down another Barrani. They had already lost Barrani Hawks on the night the Barrani ancestors, for want of a better word, had attacked the High Halls. Kaylin had mourned—everyone had—at a distance. The Barrani considered public grief a besetting weakness, to use Caitlin’s words, and no one wanted to offend them. Not when they were so very blue-eyed and grim.

“You’re worried about Teela,” Kaylin said to the gold Dragon, as they jogged down the hall.

“You aren’t?”

“I am, but Teela will rip my throat out if she sees it.”

“Teela is not Leontine.”

“Fine. She’ll snap my neck. Better?”

“Marginally. There are days when I do not understand why the Emperor attempts to force all of his racially diverse population into one office. People are different.” She stopped, shook her head, and added, “And I’m being unfair.”

“You don’t usually worry about that.”

“No, but if you’re correct, it’s better than worrying about Teela.”

* * *

Teela was not at her desk, which wasn’t unusual. Given the absence of Teela, Tain wasn’t at his, either.

But Caitlin was sallow. Not white, because that wasn’t a color she often adopted, but a kind of pale yellow that implied nausea. Since she was human, her eyes were their usual brown, but they seem to have adopted new creases. She did smile when she caught sight of Private Neya and her Dragon friend—the only civilian, for want of a better word, allowed to accompany Kaylin on actual police work.

“Bellusdeo,” Caitlin said. She didn’t rise, and she didn’t address her by stuffy title. “I should warn you—”

“Red-eyed, long-fanged Leontine?”

This added welcome color to Caitlin’s cheeks. “That isn’t the way I would have worded it. But at the moment, I’d suggest Kaylin note the duty roster.”

“Was it changed?”

“No, dear.”

“Then I know where I’m supposed to be.”

“I think she’s implying—heavily—that you would like to be there instead of here. Or possibly that the office would appreciate if I were there, instead of here.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, sounding genuinely apologetic, “but there have been...communication difficulties this morning.” Kaylin stiffened, and seeing this, Caitlin added, “On Moran’s strict orders, the infirmary is, at the moment, off limits. She will allow you through the door if you are bleeding or suffering from a broken limb, and made clear that toes and fingers don’t count.”

“There was a fight?”

Caitlin did not reply.

Marcus did, in a fashion. His low growl filled the office, which was otherwise unnaturally silent. Silence was never good, here. Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo, whose eyes remained a remarkable gold as she inclined her chin in Kaylin’s direction.

Kaylin then went to stand at attention in front of the sergeant’s desk. Hardwoods, she decided, were good. They didn’t scratch as easily, and it was clear from the surface of the desk that Marcus had been working at making a few gouges.

“You are to meet your partner and head—immediately—to the East Warren.”

Kaylin, who had expected the word “Elani” to crawl out from between the folds of a growl, blinked. The East Warrens, as the area was colloquially called, was a Hawk beat; its boundary ended at the Ablayne, and the enterprising fool who chose to cross it ended up in one of the fiefs. Kaylin’s geography was sketchy at best; she mostly knew what she’d walked across. She hadn’t walked into that fief.

Bellusdeo, however, had a strong interest in the fiefs—or, more accurately, the Towers that stood at their centers. “The East Warrens?” Her eyes had lost their gold, but at least that made sense; Marcus’s eyes were red. His facial fur, however, hadn’t jumped up two inches; it had settled. He looked sleek, his upper fangs more exposed than they usually were, his claws extended.

He wanted to tell Bellusdeo to get lost, except with ruder words. And he wanted to tell Kaylin to go home. She felt some sympathy for this, because she wanted to tell Bellusdeo to go home. The East Warrens were not Elani street in any way; they were vastly more dangerous. It was not a beat given the groundhawks of the mortal variety. The Aerians could fly patrol over the streets, but at a safe enough height crossbows wouldn’t be an issue.

No, it was a Barrani beat.

Marcus, for whom low growling had replaced all sound of breath, waited, daring Kaylin to argue. She wasn’t stupid. In his current mood, she’d agree that black was the new pink if that’s what he demanded, and consider herself lucky. Enraged Leontine seemed far more dangerous than a strolling walk through some of the city’s poorer streets. A Dragon would certainly make that patrol safer.

Until the Emperor heard about it.

“May I ask,” Bellusdeo began.

“No.”

“—if this has something to do with the fief of Candallar?”

Marcus said nothing. He growled, but didn’t bother with words. Unfortunately, he was facing a Dragon—a Dragon who hadn’t been forced to swear an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, whose laws the Hawks served. And any attempt to rip out her throat or tear off her arm—or leg—was going to be unsuccessful, in the best case. In the worst case—and given Marcus’s mood, worst was a distinct possibility—the office would be reduced to charred wreckage. Charred, broken wreckage.

And that was above her pay grade.

Bellusdeo, however, folded her arms and looked down at the sergeant, her eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for three long, half-held breaths. It was, to Kaylin’s surprise, Marcus who looked away first—but by the time he did, his eyes had shaded to a much safer orange.

“Yes.”

“And does the fief of Candallar have something to do with the current mood of the office?”

“I don’t discuss rostering issues with anyone who doesn’t outrank me.”

Bellusdeo’s smile was gem-like: hard enough to cut, but bright anyway. Kaylin wanted to leave to find out what had happened, but knew better. She waited. Marcus finally dismissed her, although he didn’t bother to look in her direction. Bellusdeo, however, did not follow.

* * *

“What happened?” Kaylin asked, keeping her voice as low as she could. Marcus’s hearing was good, but he was unlikely to hear her when she was in Hanson’s office. Hanson was the choke-point for the Hawklord’s time; he was like, and unlike, Caitlin. This morning, the dissimilarities were stronger.

“It is not a going to be a good day,” he told Kaylin. “The Hawklord hasn’t demanded your attendance—which is about as much luck as you’re likely to have in the near future. If I were you, I’d remember that you’re a private. Whatever is happening, it is not your problem.”

“Did I mention that Teela and Tain are coming to live with me?”

“Fine. It is your problem. Your problems, however, are not my problem.”

“East Warrens is a Barrani beat.”

“You don’t say.”

“Bellusdeo is coming with me, wherever I happen to be assigned.”

Hanson grimaced; she could practically hear the lines around his mouth crack. “Emperor’s problem,” he finally said. But he knew that if something happened to Bellusdeo, it would be everyone’s problem. And in this case “everyone’s” problem was a matter for the Hawklord. Which, of course, would become Hanson’s problem. “There was an altercation this morning between two of the Barrani Hawks.”

“Go on.”

“In general, Corporal Danelle handles difficulties between the Barrani Hawks. She is not the only corporal among their number, but her word carries weight with the Barrani for entirely extralegal reasons. The altercation occurred before her arrival; it was considered severe enough that she booked the West Room in which to resolve the difficulties.”

Kaylin nodded. In and of itself, this was business as usual, although Barrani altercations were on the wrong side of “intense.”

“The altercation was between Corporals Tagraine and Canatel.”

She frowned. They were partners. While altercations between Barrani could be intense, in general they had greater respect for—or at least care for—their beat partners. “What set them off?”

“The office was largely empty when the altercation occurred. Barrani don’t need sleep; they usually arrive early. Today, they arrived early. Teela did not.” He raised a brow, as if expecting that Teela’s tardiness—for a Barrani—was somehow Kaylin’s fault. “She entered the office as the altercation was in progress, broke it up and booked the West Room.”

Kaylin had heard nothing that would justify removal of Barrani Hawks from the duty roster. “She couldn’t stop the altercation.” It wasn’t a question.

Hanson bowed his head for a long minute. When he raised it again, he looked exhausted. “It appears that the altercation between Tagraine and Canatel was a fabrication. The purpose of the altercation was to separate the rest of the office from the Barrani.”

She froze then. The only good reason to do that was the laws of exemption: if only Barrani were involved, the Imperial Laws took a back seat to the caste court laws. A Barrani confrontation in the normal office could not be guaranteed not to cause extraracial collateral damage—and that would void the laws of exemption entirely. The implications of that...were not good.

She thought of the morning’s events, the morning’s arguments, the fact that the cohort were coming to stay with Helen, and Tain’s comment—cut off angrily by Teela—that Teela had already been under “pressure.” The Barrani definition of pressure.

“Something happened to Teela.”

“Something,” Hanson said, exhaling, “almost happened to Teela. She survived. One of the two would-be assassins did not.”

“Tagraine and Canatel?”

Hanson nodded.

“The survivor is in the infirmary that we’re not allowed to visit by order of Moran, unless we want to join him.”

He nodded again. “The High Court has been on the mirror network, demanding an explanation. The East Warrens may, or may not, have been involved with the altercation in some subtle way. Therefore the Barrani are off that beat.” He exhaled. “They are off their beats until some of the issues are resolved.”

“Meaning investigations are ongoing.” It was a catch phrase used in place of hells if I know.

“Meaning exactly that.”

“How, exactly, did the High Court even know?”

“Apparently they were informed.”

“By who?”

“Oddly enough, no one in the office even thought of asking that question. I’m sure if someone had, we’d have that information in our hands by now and everything would be resolved.” The sarcasm in Hanson’s voice should have been lethal; it was embarrassing instead.

“The Emperor’s going to reduce me to ash if anything happens in the warrens.”

“Figure out a way to survive a lot of fire then,” Hanson replied. It was the warrens; if was not precisely the right word. It was simply the hopeful one.

* * *

“The warrens are okay,” Kaylin told Bellusdeo on the way to said warrens. Severn said nothing. “They’re nowhere near as bad as the fiefs. They’re more crowded than the rest of the city, and more run-down. But: no Ferals.”

“I have no fear of Ferals,” Bellusdeo replied. “And before you warn me of all the other dangers, please remember I’m a Dragon. A prickly Dragon.”

“If it helps, this is considered a Barrani beat.”

“Because no one is stupid enough to think a few underfed thugs present a danger to the Barrani, of course.” Her chilly tone was a warning. She considered Dragons to be stronger than Barrani, and any implication to the contrary was not going to be well received. “Do yourself a rather large favor and worry about your own survival.”

She wasn’t worried about Bellusdeo; she was worried about the Emperor. She couldn’t point this out if she didn’t want to add to the hostility between the two Dragons. Since the Emperor had come to dinner at Kaylin’s house, there’d been something close to peace between them—but it was a peace between previously warring nations. It was fragile.

“Besides, I think your assignment in the warrens was a deliberate choice.”

“Oh?”

“I go where you go, with Imperial permission.”

“You think they’re expecting real trouble? No wonder Marcus was in a mood.”

“Oh, I think your sergeant’s mood had a lot to do with the Barrani unrest. He’s a sergeant. He expects everyone under him to operate under the same rules.” Bellusdeo smiled fondly. “It’s almost nostalgic.”

“You had to deal with sergeants?”

“Or their equivalents, yes. But never from beneath them.” She shook herself. “He is fond of you, of course, which is why you come in for more of his public displeasure than the average new recruit. He can’t afford to show favoritism. It bleeds solidarity from the ranks. If he’s fond of you—and he is, no one could miss that—and he treats you the way he does, it means no one is safe.” She wrinkled her nose. “I take it this is also where the tanneries are.”

* * *

Kaylin did not detest the warren. She didn’t feel the need to make excuses for the people who lived here; life had already done that. But she knew theft from the inside out. Knew that she’d been good enough not to get caught often. She needed to eat, same as anyone, and if there was no way to do that legitimately, she’d made other choices. She wasn’t proud of them, but she wasn’t humiliated by them, either.

She understood that once you started, crime became another tool, another way to survive. That you could want a better life, dream of it, of being a better person, and it didn’t matter. Dreams didn’t fill a stomach. But the warrens were on this side of the Ablayne. They were subject to the Emperor’s Law. The worst excess of human behaviors was curbed here. It wasn’t like the fiefs.

She knew that the tabard she wore put a wall between her and the warren’s residents. But at least it was the East Warrens, not the south.

“Power,” Bellusdeo said, “is always interesting. It is not an absolute, with few exceptions.”

“Exceptions?”

“The Eternal Emperor would be one of them. But he is considered out of reach. His position is not visibly contested in any way. People gather. It’s what people do.”

“Dragons don’t.”

“No. But Dragons have hoards, and hoards can make a Dragon dangerously unstable if they are not prepared for it. We do not make friends the way mortals do.”

“Or the way Barrani do?”

“Or the way Barrani do, no. We have not found there is strength in numbers, except perhaps in the case of war. And even then, it is questionable. I ruled. In any gathering of mortals, at any station of life, there is always a question of power. Or perhaps hierarchy. Even in the fiefs, where one could arguably say there is little true power, people struggle for position. People kill for it, one way or the other.”

“That doesn’t make humanity sound all that appealing.”

The Dragon smiled. “If that was all that humanity contained, perhaps it would be unappealing. The power games of most mortals makes no material difference to my life. But no, power itself is inert. People want it for different reasons. In the warrens—as in your fiefs—they want power because it is tied to survival. But so, too, family, kin, clan. To belong to a group is to gain a negotiable safety from it. It is why gangs clash. It is why reprisals exist.

“I would imagine the warrens are no different from the fiefs. Tell me, have you lost many Hawks to the warrens?”

Kaylin glanced at Severn. It was Severn who answered. “Yes. Not, however, since Barrani joined the force. Aerian patrols were also successful in preserving lives, but they were not considered as effective at deterring crime.”

“And the Barrani themselves are trusted not to add to the crime?”

“They have been,” Severn replied. “Teela, however, has been crucial to their performance.”

“And someone tried to kill her this morning.”

3

Each beat had its own route. Even Elani. Those routes, however, were considered by most beat Hawks to be general guidelines, and deviation from the suggested norm was not career-threatening. Flexibility was a necessity in the life of a beat Hawk, something that the higher-ups did understand, except when it came to quartermasters and uniforms.

Kaylin knew the warrens because she had come here with Teela and Tain before she had been given a rank and a uniform of her own.

Being with Barrani, and not hiding from them, had been a novel experience. She understood why people in the warrens vanished from visible windows or door frames as the two Hawks walked by. She also understood that the very young, very stupid, or very ambitious could—and occasionally did—attempt to take Hawks down.

It was the reason this was considered a Barrani beat. If the gangs felt they were equal to two officers with tabards, the equation changed markedly when the people who were wearing the tabards were Immortal. The gangs here had lived their lives in the maze of buildings and compromises that were the warrens. They could be forgiven for assuming the law was irrelevant, because in most obvious ways in their limited experience, it was.

It had been both irrelevant and a daydream in the fiefs of Kaylin’s youth, and at least these streets didn’t have Ferals literally devouring the unwary.

But...was that really any better? She wanted to slap herself for even thinking it. Clearly she’d been too comfortable, too safe, for too long. The Ferals were death. You had a hope of negotiating with anything else.

“You’re thinking, again.”

“Ferals,” Kaylin told the Dragon. “We were more terrified of Ferals than almost anything else.” Small and squawky snorted dismissively. Bellusdeo didn’t bother, but it was clear she felt the same.

“That wasn’t a terrified face.”

“It’s just...they weren’t personal. They weren’t plotting against us. They wanted one thing: to eat us. We wanted one thing: to avoid them. The cost for failure was high, but...it wasn’t personal. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Why are you thinking of that here?”

“Because the East Warrens are the closest the city comes to the fiefs I grew up in.”

Bellusdeo frowned. “I would like a word with your Emperor.”

“Have several. But before you do, are you implying that your city didn’t have warrens?”

Bellusdeo was silent for several steps. “No. I couldn’t realistically imply that. Some of my best soldiers, however, probably came out of my version of your warrens.” She smiled and added, “We’re being followed.”

“Oh, probably.”

“Will they attack us?”

“They might. They’re used to seeing Barrani in these tabards; the Barrani have been doing this beat for a long time, now. Seeing normal mortals—”

Bellusdeo coughed.

“They can’t see the color of your eyes from here, and you don’t look Barrani at a distance. Even if they could, I doubt over half would realize what the eye color meant. For obvious reasons, there aren’t a lot of Dragons randomly wandering the streets. If they do attack, though, going full-on Dragon would probably be the fastest way to end the fight.”

“I thought that was illegal.”

“You’ve always gotten away with it before.”

“Kaylin.”

She stopped talking at the sound of Severn’s voice. She didn’t, however, stop walking. She didn’t even glance in his direction. She knew where he was, knew how far away, knew how ready he was for a fight. “Where?”

“The old town hall.”

She glanced down the street toward the tallest building in the warren. It stood at the edge of this particular beat, but it had, some indeterminate length of time ago, been a rallying point in a besieged city. It was called the town hall because historical rumor suggested it had been built for that purpose. Whether it had seen any use in that capacity was an entirely different question.

Her small dragon, however, drew himself into the seated posture that implied he was ready for a fight. Or a bellow of outrage. Since she hadn’t done anything to warrant the latter, she tensed, but didn’t break her slow, steady stride.

Not until a familiar voice said, “This is not the place for you.”

Bellusdeo came to an immediate stop. Golden eyes reddened significantly into the orange that was anger, worry or fear—and Bellusdeo was not afraid of the owner of that voice. “What,” she said, in her icy, regal queen tone, “are you doing here?”

Mandoran, however, failed to materialize.

The small dragon squawked and then lifted a wing to cover Kaylin’s eyes. The wing was translucent, of course, but looking through it often revealed hidden things. Or worse. Mandoran wasn’t so much standing in the street as drifting above it.

“What are you doing here?” Kaylin demanded, repeating the gold Dragon’s words. Because Bellusdeo had stopped walking, she had come to a stop as well, the rhythm of patrol abruptly broken.

“Teela found out that you’d been sent to the East Warrens on patrol.”

“Yes. And?”

Mandoran made a face. “She doesn’t want you in the East Warrens. But it’s not actually you she’s worried about.”

Mandoran, Kaylin decided, was an idiot. Had she been in possession of his True Name, she’d be shouting at the top of her lungs in his figurative ears. His wince made clear that someone in his cohort—likely Teela—had had the same thought.

Sadly, Bellusdeo wasn’t as oblivious as Mandoran. “She couldn’t possibly be worried about me.”

“Maggaron’s been sulking for weeks now because he’s not allowed to accompany you—and you know how he hates being left out of a fight.”

Bellusdeo’s brows rose, briefly, in Kaylin’s direction—but to do that, she had to break her glare. “Ask Teela how political this is.”

Mandoran, unlike most of the Barrani she had known before the cohort, was terrible at lying. He didn’t try. “She says you’re likely to survive, and the miscreant she’s worried about—the soon-to-be possible miscreant—would take heat for any attack against you in the High Court. Problem is, he’s not part of the High Court, and hasn’t been for some time.”

“You have an outcaste living in the warrens?” At Mandoran’s expression, Bellusdeo added, “It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

“This would not be my idea of a safe hiding place.” Mandoran’s grimace was heavy with disgust; it was also brief. He turned to Kaylin. “Teela wants you out of the warrens.”

“Marcus doesn’t. And you can tell her I said so.”

“I won’t repeat what she just said.”

“Why not? I’ve heard it all before.”

“Yes, but the Dragon probably hasn’t, and you know the Emperor’s just going to blame you if she starts using that kind of language.” For a moment, his expression looked normal but his color was entirely off. His hair seemed almost white, his skin, blue. And his eyes were not Barrani colored at all.

The small dragon squawked, and Mandoran cursed. He turned toward the old town hall. Kaylin tracked the direction of his gaze with little effort.

She froze.

Standing at the peak of the decrepit tower roof was a Barrani.

* * *

Unlike Mandoran’s, his coloring was more or less the norm for Barrani: his hair was black, his skin ivory. At this distance, his eyes couldn’t clearly be seen, but Kaylin would have bet her own money that they were Barrani blue. She hadn’t managed to contain her surprise enough to look away, and although she couldn’t see the color of his eyes, she saw the subtle shift in their shape.

He was invisible, and had expected to remain so. She had seen him. Math had never been Kaylin’s strong suit, but even she could handle one plus one.

“Time to move. Move.”

Severn was armed, but had not yet unwound his weapon chain; not even in the fiefs did he fully arm himself unless it was night. She headed into the nearest narrow alley to break the line of sight, and everyone except Mandoran followed.

She practically spit his name in a whisper that would have been a hiss had his name had any sibilants.

“He can’t see me.”

“Don’t be so certain of that.”

“Even if I were visible, I wouldn’t be too worried. It’s the Dragon he’s going to be aiming for.”

“He can try,” the Dragon snapped. It obviously annoyed her to have to run and hide from Barrani. Then again, it often annoyed her to have to run, period. She was a Dragon.

“Are all Dragons like this?” Mandoran asked, as if he did have Kaylin’s True Name, and had heard the thought.

“Not the time for this,” Kaylin snapped back. “What is he doing?”

“Moving.”

“Coming down?”

“Yes. In case you’re worried, he’s not using the stairs.”

“Given the rest of the exterior, I doubt the stairs would support his weight.”

Mandoran swore.

“What’s happening?”

“He can, apparently, see me.”

Bellusdeo snorted smoke.

“I’m going to head back home now, while Teela is only enraged. She can’t leave the office if she wants to retain the tabard—but she’s considering it anyway.” True to his word, Mandoran faded from sight. Kaylin didn’t see him leave, but knew the moment he was no longer present.

“I’m going to strangle Mandoran,” Bellusdeo said, in a soft voice. “The minute we get home. I’m going to throttle the life out of him.”

“Fire would be faster,” Kaylin observed. She had retreated—they had all retreated—to the middle of the alley; there were walls to either side, and the windows they possessed weren’t large enough to cause tactical problems.

“Exactly.”

Severn had finished unwinding the chain, although this was not the place to make full use of it; the alley was too narrow. All of the alleys in the warrens were. “He’s coming.”

Kaylin nodded, her expression shifting. The familiar kept one wing across both of her eyes. She shook her head. “Go to Bellusdeo,” she told the translucent, winged creature. “Now.”

“I don’t need his protection—”

“No, I do. If anything happens to me, I’ll recover. Unless I’m dead. If anything happens to you, I’ll only wish I was dead. Probably forever.” She grimaced.

Severn said, “Magic?”

She nodded. Her skin was beginning to tingle. Tingling was not painful, but in general, it didn’t stop there. Kaylin’s allergy to magic—if allergy was the wrong word, it was the one she used anyway—made certain types of magic actively painful. It was why she hated doorwards and other modern security features. Invisibility—and there were whole libraries about how it worked, all jealously guarded by mages—was not a small magic. It wasn’t considered nearly as insignificant as a doorward.

The small dragon resolutely remained on her shoulder. “He’s not ditching the invisibility,” she said, glaring at her familiar. If he wouldn’t leave her shoulder, she’d have to move. The familiar was the only certain protection that either of them had against a large influx of magic, but his protection didn’t work at a distance.

The familiar squawked. It was a surprisingly quiet sound, given that he was sitting so close to her unprotected ear.

“Severn.”

He shook his head without looking back. He carried both blades; the chain was slack between them, traveling around his back. He shifted position. The links of chain made no sound as he did so.

* * *

The possible assailant did not pause to summon guards of any kind. Kaylin heard exactly zero footsteps; if he was moving—and the growing ache of her skin heavily implied that he was—he was moving silently. As silently as Severn would were their situations reversed.

Bellusdeo muttered something Kaylin didn’t catch. That should have been a clue. The Dragon did not mutter. But she felt the sharp sting of new magic in the silence that followed.

“I never enjoyed magical studies,” Bellusdeo said. She didn’t bother to lower her voice; she might have raised it a notch. She walked past Kaylin, but remained—barely—in the periphery of the familiar’s possible protection.

The ostensibly invisible Barrani who had the ability to fall well, if not fly, rounded the corner. He came to a stop, framed by the corners of the two buildings that formed the alley’s walls. His hair was a long drape of black that framed his face and fell out of sight down his back. His eyes were, as Kaylin expected they would be, blue.

Kaylin moved to stand beside the gold Dragon, rather than behind her.

Severn, who was closer to the alley’s mouth than either of them, did not move at all.

“So,” the Barrani said, “it is true. There is a Dragon among the Hawks.”

* * *

Kaylin knew the moment the Barrani chose to drop his invisibility; the familiar lowered his wing. But the motion caught the Barrani’s eyes, and they rounded. When his glance returned to Bellusdeo, they instantly narrowed again. “He is yours?” he demanded, of the Dragon.

The familiar squawked.

The man blinked. Barrani were famous for their composure under duress, and he seemed to recall this as he once again focused on Bellusdeo. “Magic was used to great effect in the wars against your kind.”

“Oh, indeed. But magic wasn’t required against yours.”

He stiffened. Bellusdeo was already pretty stiff. Kaylin, familiar notwithstanding, was irrelevant. Severn was apparently irrelevant, too. The Barrani had not once looked in his direction.

Not once...

Yes, Severn said. I am, while I remain still, effectively invisible. It doesn’t last.

It just lets you get the drop on your enemies.

Yes. If necessary.

It’s not necessary yet.

No. I’m uncertain who will break the law here first: Bellusdeo or the outcaste.

Kaylin was silent for another long beat, even on the inside of her own head. What do you mean, “outcaste”?

You don’t recognize him?

How could I? I’ve never seen him before. If he’s a fugitive, he hasn’t been captured in Records, at least not in the last five years. She’d made a furtive study of the Records that involved Barrani, Barrani crime, and the law. There hadn’t actually been that many available to an official mascot. Severn, who is he?

When he is addressed at all, I imagine he is called Candallar.

She frowned. Candallar? That’s one of the fiefs. And stopped. And looked. She’d asked, of course, before she’d come out on patrol. She’d had suspicions. But suspicions, apparently, weren’t visceral enough.

She knew what a fieflord could do in his own fief. If Severn was right, he wasn’t in his fief now. He was separate from the power that made him fieflord. Then again, so was Nightshade when he visited, and she would never consider his power insignificant.

She reached out and touched Bellusdeo’s regulation sleeve. “I think we should have this conversation somewhere else.”

“Oh?” the Dragon replied—without looking away from the Barrani. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Someplace less instantly flammable.” Before Bellusdeo could answer, Kaylin stepped forward, and then in front of her. Bellusdeo was taller, but not by as much as Teela or Tain. The tabard of the Hawk was front and center, and it grounded Kaylin. She understood it was nothing to hide behind—not safely—but it had never been about hiding, to Kaylin.

“Private Kaylin Neya,” she said, to the man Severn had named fieflord. The familiar squawked. “And this is my familiar.” His eyes did widen again, and it took them longer to revert to their less surprised shape. “You aren’t a citizen of Elantra.”

“In as much as citizens of any power are required to swear allegiance to the Eternal Emperor?”

“Yes.”

“It may come as a surprise to you, officer, but yes. Yes, I am.”

Bellusdeo snorted. There was smoke in it, which wafted across the back of Kaylin’s neck without charring anything.

Candallar’s gaze was pure Barrani condescension. “You presuppose I am not a member of the Barrani Court, or possibly the Barrani race. The supposition is correct: I am not. But my vow of allegiance to the Emperor—forced on me many years ago, I might add—has never been broken. I believe that I would still be considered a citizen of Elantra. The discretion would, of course, be the Emperor’s. And given politics, it would be difficult were he to accept me as a citizen of his empire when my own people do not acknowledge my existence at all, except perhaps as a blood sport.” His smile was slender, cold, and very sharp.

Bellusdeo snorted again. This time, Kaylin heard irritation, not threat, in the sound. She moved.

“The Dragon, however,” the Barrani said, “is not technically a citizen of Elantra.”

Kaylin was aware that she’d started this line of reasoning. Marcus had often said she was too clever for her own good, and too lacking in wisdom for anyone else’s. “Neither are most mortals, if citizenship is defined by a literal oath of allegiance. Most of us can’t talk from birth, and even if we could, the Emperor wouldn’t consider an infant’s oath binding.” She remembered just how much she hated politics. It shouldn’t have been hard to forget.

“I’m an officer of the Emperor’s Law, and according to an officer of that law, the Dragon is a citizen.” She folded her arms. The familiar squawked.

“And the...familiar...as you call it, is now standard issue for an officer of the law?”

“The familiar is considered acceptable to the Emperor.”

“You’ve asked in person?”

“Yes, as it happens.”

Don’t let him goad you, Severn said, an urgency to the words.

She didn’t argue, because he was right. She was annoyed. She’d let annoyance speak.

“I see.” He smiled. “I mean no disrespect to the tabard, officer, and none to the Emperor to whom I swore my oath.”

“Why are you here?”

“I occasionally come across the Ablayne—or the wall—to meet with old friends. Surely that is not considered criminal.”

“Not in and of itself, no. Would those friends by chance be Hawks?”

“I have a great respect for Imperial Law.”

“Why are you even here?”

“As I said—”

“I heard what you said.” She was absolutely certain that his presence and the altercation that had grounded all Barrani Hawks were connected. He could have worn a sandwich board the size of Margot’s stupid sign declaring himself part of a conspiracy, and it wouldn’t have been more obvious.

To make it worse, the Barrani blue of his eyes had faded into blue-green, which was as casual a color as Barrani ever adopted when dealing with strangers. They darkened again as Bellusdeo snorted. Clearly, if a mortal Hawk was insignificant, a Dragon was not.

“I will take my leave, officer, unless you wish to abuse your power by attempting to—illegally—arrest me.”

For one long minute she entertained fantasies of doing exactly that. But if he resisted, it would be the Dragon who would bear the brunt of the fight. The Dragon and the buildings in the warrens, which, although run-down, still housed a lot of people.

And it wasn’t as if it wouldn’t be obvious who he’d come to meet, or who he’d been meeting. The duty roster was the Hawk version of public knowledge. She gave him a curt nod, and headed out of the alley, making certain not to turn her back on him.

He stopped her—with a word. Given Bellusdeo’s presence, he kept his distance. “Wait.”

Kaylin didn’t answer.

“You had another companion before I arrived.”

She thought of Severn, said nothing. Severn, however, said, He’s not asking about me. Mortal, remember. He still hadn’t moved, and the fieflord did not appear to have noticed him.

“You must be mistaken,” Kaylin said sweetly. “Without Imperial permission, Hawks don’t patrol with random people.”

His gaze narrowed instantly at the tone of her voice. “I warn you,” he began.

Bellusdeo exhaled a small stream of fire. It was focused on the road some three feet to his side. She said nothing, and did nothing else. Her eyes were red orange. His were now dark blue.

“Don’t bother with the sword,” Kaylin told him, her voice conversational and much more cheerful. “Unless it’s one of The Three, it’s going to do more damage to the weapon than it will to the Dragon—but it’ll probably make her angrier. And before you say anything else, I’ve seen two of the three, and I’m pretty sure I know who owns the third one.”

She could practically hear Severn smacking his forehead, and shut her mouth.

“Private Neya,” Candallar said. He surprised her; he swept her a bow. “Give my regards to your master.”

She frowned and then remembered the mark—the flower—that adorned her cheek.

Yes, a familiar voice said. He understands what it means. If he harms you—at all—I will destroy him.

The word “master” really rankled. She opened her mouth. Shut it. “I seldom have occasion to meet the Emperor in person, but if I do, I’ll pass it along.”

* * *

“What in the hells was all that about?” Kaylin demanded an hour later, when Severn extricated himself from the warrens. She’d wanted to wait—she knew that you didn’t patrol solo, and Severn would be solo. Severn, however, pointed out that he’d spent the greater part of his Halls of Law career as a Wolf, and that was the definition of solo unless really big crap was about to go down.

He also pointed out that she had Bellusdeo.

“You know as much as I do.”

“You knew he was a fieflord.”

His shrug was pure fief. “I’ve spent a few years dealing with fugitive Barrani. Fugitive Barrani, unlike fugitive mortals, are frequently exceptionally political when they have the personal power and influence. Candallar has some power. He isn’t Nightshade; Nightshade’s closest ties are at the heart of the High Court.”

“The Consort?”

“She is not considered political.”

“But she’s—”

“She’s powerful. She might be the only Barrani who has a great deal of personal power coupled with the will to be neutral. No one will openly slight her, but...her brother is High Lord and there is no one he values more. Insulting or slighting the Consort is more dangerous than insulting or slighting the High Lord when it comes to the High Lord’s very political response. The High Lord fails to acknowledge Nightshade. He has never forbidden his sister’s acknowledgement.”

Kaylin nodded, preoccupied. “This beat was Tagraine and Canatel’s.”

“...Yes.”

Technically, they weren’t done with their patrolling duties. But given Mandoran and Teela, Kaylin thought the appearance of the fieflord of Candallar was newsworthy enough she’d be forgiven for abandoning them this one time. Had she been patrolling Elani, she would have dropped by any of a number of places to borrow their mirror and report in; most of the citizens of the East Warrens were too poor to own mirrors—and those who weren’t were likely to respond to such a request with violence.

Kaylin wanted to pass the information on to someone who was paid to deal with politics, but she was still disgruntled as they headed for home. Or rather, the Halls of Law. “You’re sure we couldn’t just arrest the bastard?”

“On what grounds?”

“Suspicion of conspiracy?”

“Conspiracy to do what? At best, we’ll have the caste court dropping on our collective heads via the Hawklord. This is Barrani politics. The Hawks don’t touch it for a reason.”

“But—”

“Even if it involves Annarion, Mandoran or Teela, it’s still Barrani politics. They’re never going to drag the Halls into a Barrani political war. Until and unless we can show that Candallar is illegally affecting non-Barrani, we have no grounds for either arrest or suspicion.”

Bellusdeo had said very little for half of the walk back to the halls. She did, however, add, “Do you really want a fieflord strolling through the Halls of Law? Severn is right, of course; we’re not going to be able to hold him. He clearly understands the full weight of Imperial Law, and he knows what the Hawks’ constraints are. Which marks him as somewhat unusual.”

“Why?”

“Because he actually believes those constraints are genuine. Even were he to agree to accompany us to the office, he believes that the rules that govern you would protect him. Is he right?”

Kaylin kicked a stone. “Probably.”

“How many Barrani do you know who would believe that?”

“Almost all of them.”

“Until recently, she only knew Hawks,” Severn reminded the Dragon.

“Yes, well.”

“And the Barrani Hawks believe in the law,” Kaylin added.

“The Barrani Hawks uphold the law. I would not, however, be surprised to hear that they consider it a game—much like the card games you play on breaks. Yes, they accept the various rules, but they’re looking for ways to game the system to win. Breaking the rules forfeits the game.”

“No one dedicates their lives to playing cards.” Kaylin frowned, considering the petty crimes divisions. “...Almost no one.”

“No, probably not. But I wouldn’t put it past Mandoran.”

“What are the odds we’ve done business with Candallar before?” Kaylin suddenly demanded. Of Severn.

He raised a brow.

“We know that Nightshade’s been contacted—or at the very least had his contact returned—by someone in the Halls. Is it that unlikely that Candallar is similar?”

It was Bellusdeo who answered. “To the Barrani, if I understand Teela correctly, both Nightshade and Candallar would be considered—are considered—necessary evils. They hold the Towers. The Towers keep Ravellon and its Shadows from spilling out into the rest of the world and destroying it.” There was a moment of bitter silence. “In my world, Towers such as those did not exist. Had they, I would not be here.”

The reminder of the enormity of the Dragon’s loss kind of killed the rest of the conversation, and it didn’t resume again until they’d reached the Halls of Law.

4

Caitlin seemed relieved when Kaylin entered the office and stopped at the choke-point of her desk. “I’m glad to see you’re safe,” she said. She didn’t bother to pitch her words in a whisper, which was the only way Kaylin knew she was not happy with Marcus’s decision to send them to the East Warrens.

“I’m not sure we’re done yet,” Kaylin replied. “But we’re fine. Nothing, aside from the legally questionable use of invisibility—not on our part—happened. But we’ve got some news to report in. Is Teela in?”

“Teela is in the infirmary.”

“...Where Moran said no one who was not half dying was allowed to be.”

“She is not, as you put it, half dying, dear. But she is not, strictly speaking, very happy at the moment. I haven’t seen her this upset since—” Caitlin stopped, reddening slightly. “And that’s neither here nor there, and I shouldn’t be gossiping. If you’ve got things to report, you should report them. Don’t mind me.”

* * *

Marcus was already in a foul mood. Kaylin approached his desk and was left standing at attention while he regained control of his seemingly permanent growl. He couldn’t, however, keep Bellusdeo standing at attention, not that she actually bothered. She wasn’t part of the office hierarchy, wasn’t beholden to it, and had been given permission by the Emperor to disrupt that hierarchy as she saw fit.

For some reason, this didn’t bother Kaylin. Possibly it was because Bellusdeo was a Dragon. Possibly it was because she didn’t particularly consider life to be fair. Dragon female trumped almost everything, as far as the Emperor was concerned.

But no, a little voice said, that wasn’t true. The empire trumped everything. Bellusdeo was considered important to the race, but that race didn’t really care about the empire, except in the abstract. It was the Emperor’s hoard. You disturbed it at your ultimate peril.

It was Bellusdeo who cut through rank and file behavior to tell Marcus that they had met the fieflord of Candallar in the East Warrens.

Marcus’s eyes couldn’t get any redder without spilling into the Leontine Frenzy color. Bellusdeo failed to mention either Mandoran or Teela. She spoke respectfully, but spoke as if to an equal. In the end, Marcus mirrored Hanson. He had a direct line to the Hawklord, but hadn’t chosen to use it, which meant that this wasn’t considered an emergency.

“There was no difficulty with the fieflord?”

“If you mean did he attempt to harm me, no.”

“Did he attempt to harm the officers?”

“No. Had he, what was left of him would be in the holding cells.”

“The Hawks would not—”

“Yes, I realize their hands are tied. But I’m not a Hawk, Sergeant Kassan. I’m a displaced person. A Dragon.”

Some of the red bled out of Marcus’s eyes then. “It was easier,” he said, “in the old country.”

“For you, too?”

“Yes. We could rip out the throats of our enemies—and our enemies seldom pretended to be our friends before we did.”

“I’ll suggest it to the Emperor,” Bellusdeo replied, with a sunny smile.

Marcus growled.

“I’ll suggest it on my own behalf; I shall utterly fail to mention your comment. You see, we also—in the old country—could rip out the throats of our enemies. Or their wings.”

Kaylin coughed. “I lived in a place where you could—if you had the power—kill your enemies with zero consequences. It was an awful place, and I don’t recommend it. The Emperor created the laws for a reason, and I think the reasons are good.”

“You would, though,” Bellusdeo said. “You’ve thrown your life into them, and no one wants to waste their life.”

Dragons.

* * *

Hanson’s reply came about fifteen minutes later. Or rather, the reply to the message Marcus had sent to Hanson did. The respondent in the mirror, however, was the Hawklord. Marcus didn’t seem to be surprised. He did seem disgusted. “You’re wanted upstairs,” he told Kaylin.

Given the part the fiefs had played in Kaylin’s childhood, she wasn’t surprised, either; the surprise would have been no response, or a rote one.

“He wants the Dragon as well,” Marcus added.

“The Dragon,” Bellusdeo said, unfazed, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” At Marcus’s lowered browline, she added, “He has no right of command where I’m concerned, no. But I’m not so petty that I would deprive myself of something interesting simply to spite him.”

Marcus said nothing. Loudly.

* * *

When they hit the middle of the tower steps on their way to obey the Hawklord’s command, Kaylin said, “Could you maybe try not to antagonize him?”

Severn was silent, and almost invisible; it was a neat trick. Kaylin wondered if he’d learned it while training with the Wolves. Or if he’d always had it. He’d survived the fiefs for a lot longer than she had, after all—and had it not been for Severn, she was uneasily certain she wouldn’t have survived at all.

“Your sergeant makes no effort not to antagonize me.” Bellusdeo snorted. “He dislikes the Dragon Court.”

“You’re not part of the court.”

“Fine. He dislikes Dragons.”

“Because it was the Dragon Court that pretty much decided I should be put down. As in executed. I was thirteen.” Bellusdeo stopped speaking, although she continued to walk. Kaylin, aware that she was being petty, said, “I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. He’s got a long memory when you threaten his kits.”

“And he considers you one of them.”

“Well, his first wife does. You want a terrifying Leontine—it’s her. He’s never going to forgive the Dragon Court. But you’re not them, and he’ll eventually accept you. Just—he’s got a long memory.”

At that, Bellusdeo chuckled. “Nowhere near as long as the memories of my kin. It rankles, but I must also remind myself: I am not ruler here. This is not my country.”

* * *

The Hawklord had done Kaylin the kindness of opening the doors, which otherwise operated by wards. He was standing to one side of an inactive mirror; Kaylin could see herself—and Bellusdeo, and a silent Severn—as they approached.

It was no surprise to Kaylin that the Aerian’s eyes were a martial blue. He tendered Bellusdeo a very correct bow—which in Aerians involved wing motions and stiffness in the right order—and rose. “My apologies,” he said. “Sergeant Kassan sent Kaylin on patrol in the East Warrens. It has been struck from her duty list for the time being.”

“For the time being, meaning, if I am to accompany her?”

The Hawklord said nothing.

“I believe,” Bellusdeo said, because it wasn’t her job or her dreamed-of promotion on the line, “that the reason Sergeant Kassan chose to send the private and the corporal to the East Warrens at this time was because I have been given blanket Imperial permission to accompany her. He expected difficulty of a type that the Barrani Hawks, and only the Barrani Hawks, could easily handle.”

“There were other teams he could have chosen.”

“Yes. But none of those teams happen to have a Dragon as a shadow.”

The Hawklord was not Leontine. “Yes, a remarkable coincidence, since I am confident that no one under my command would knowingly put you at risk in an encounter that might involve strange or dangerous magics.” His tone was bland. “Having made that coincidental decision, he has been informed that it will not be made again. We are all, I am certain, much happier.” He turned to Kaylin then. Although he’d offered Bellusdeo the very respectful bow of an inferior to a superior, he had no intention of allowing the Dragon to commandeer the discussion. He had made a decision. It was not hers to argue.

“You claim to have made contact with the fieflord of Candallar.”

Kaylin nodded.

“You are certain.” His glance moved to Severn.

“Yes.” Severn answered the question, but offered nothing else. He did not, however, bristle.

“Was he in the warrens to meet with my Hawks?”

“He was to meet, he said, with friends. In my opinion, yes; without corroborating evidence—”

The Hawklord held up a hand, which stopped Severn. “You have heard that there was difficulty this morning.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve heard, no doubt, that a political storm is brewing in the Barrani High Court.”

“Actually,” Kaylin said, “we hadn’t. Until this morning.”

“Candallar may well be part of that. What is the word in the office?”

“About?”

“This morning’s incident.”

“That Moran will make certain we belong in critical care if we show up in the infirmary for any other reason than that we already need it, sir.”

The Hawklord almost winced. “Sergeant dar Carafel is never going to leave the infirmary at the current rate of emergency.”

Kaylin, who still felt that Moran’s entire race had treated her horribly, couldn’t see this as a bad thing—for either the Hawks or Moran. Clearly the Hawklord had a different opinion, and she managed to keep her own to herself. Or at least to keep the words that would express it that way. “Teela is in the infirmary.”

“I was not informed of her presence there,” was the bland reply. It implied that he wished to remain ignorant. Ignorance, after all, had its uses. “At ease, Private.”

Given his eyes, ease was impossible, but she did relax her stance.

“What is happening?”

“I’m not Barrani, sir.”

He turned, then, to Bellusdeo. “Lord Bellusdeo, I am aware that you are not Barrani, but you have experience with both politics and assassination attempts. In your opinion, what has caused this...conflict among my Barrani Hawks?”

Bellusdeo’s eyes had shaded into a more natural gold. Orange deepened the color, but she was not struggling to contain Dragon rage. “You are aware,” she said, “of Teela’s companions.”

He nodded.

“I believe the political difficulties involve them.”

Kaylin wanted to kick her. She also wanted to continue to breathe. She said nothing, but, because she was Kaylin, was not entirely silent about it.

“And the fieflord?”

After a much longer pause, Bellusdeo replied. “I admit that I do not understand your fiefs or their lords. I understand their function; I understand why they are considered a distasteful necessity. I do not, however, understand why the lords of the Towers themselves are left to almost random chance. Were this my city, we would have chosen those Lords ourselves, and we would have had strict criteria by which to do so.”

Judging by expression, the Hawklord agreed. He was not, however, he Emperor. “I am not a scholar. My understanding of Shadow and its nature is pragmatic, but it is not deep. If you wish to discuss the nature of the Towers, it is to the Dragon Court you must look. But in my superficial and meagre understanding, the Towers have a sentience of their own. It is said that the Towers choose. Private Neya and Corporal Handred were present when the Tower of Tiamaris adopted its newest Lord; perhaps they will shed some light on the subject.” But not now, his tone implied. “Corporal Danelle was not forthcoming when questioned.”

“The assassin in question—”

“The incident in question involved the corporal, yes. She is not, I am told, in the infirmary to finish the job she started, or is said to have started. The Barrani in question is technically alive.”

“Technically, sir?”

“I expect we will receive a writ of exemption at any moment that will excuse his attempt to assassinate one of my Hawks. I have been told that the mirror network has been somewhat compromised, and not all of our messages are currently arriving. And no, Private, you are not considered an expert in the mirror networks; we have put in an official request for the oversight of an Imperial Mage.”

“That’ll take three days, sir.”

“It is a pity that the Imperial Mages are so heavily overburdened with official business that we are required to wait, yes.”

“You expect a writ of exemption?” Bellusdeo said. It was on the tip of Kaylin’s tongue, but she bit it. She could practically taste blood.

“I expect a writ and a demand for remand of custody, yes.”

Kaylin had expected a writ of exemption. She had not considered what most frequently happened when such writs were exercised: the criminal ended up as a conveniently packaged corpse on or near the steps of the Halls of Law. She paled. “So...we have three days to figure out what the hells is going on?”

“Given it involves Barrani, politics and a fieflord, I would guess that three days will not be nearly enough time. Three days is also not an exact measure. There is some possibility that the Imperial Order of Mages will, in fact, consider the demands of the Halls of Law a serious emergency, and rearrange their pressing schedules to accommodate us.”

Kaylin snorted.

“You will not be patrolling the warrens again.”

“Sir. Does that mean we’re back to Elani?”

“The duty roster is otherwise in the hands of the sergeant. I expect the difficulties with the Barrani to be resolved before the writ arrives. Did Candallar give any indication of what he wants from his involvement in this murky affair?”

“No, sir.”

The Hawklord’s eyes narrowed.

“He did, however, point out that while he’s outcaste—he is outcaste—he still retains citizenship in the Empire. His oath of loyalty to the Eternal Emperor has never been retracted or disavowed. And he probably understands the Imperial Laws at least as well as I do.”

“Interesting. Is there a reason this was relevant to your discussion with him?”

“She was threatening to arrest him and drag him back to the holding cells,” Bellusdeo replied. “He pointed out that this would be an unlawful detainment.”

“Very interesting. He is correct in this case. I assume no such attempt was made?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

* * *

Teela was, according to Caitlin, still in the infirmary. Tain, however, had drifted back to his desk, where he sat stiffly, blue-eyed and grim. Grim wasn’t necessary; Kaylin had seen Barrani with eyes of midnight laughing. But not often.

“Is Teela still in the infirmary?” she demanded.

“You’re expected to head out to Elani.” Which meant yes.

Kaylin folded her arms. Tain was seated; she could look down at him. It was Bellusdeo who spoke. “Teela’s enemies in the High Court are better prepared than you expected.”

“Characterizing them as Teela’s enemies is not, or was not, accurate. Sedarias is cunning, ambitious, and political in a way the High Court understands. She is not of the High Court; none of the cohort are. But were she, she would become a power to reckon with. Perhaps not in your lifetime, but perhaps at the end of it—and that would be meteoric in Barrani terms. But if their opposition is prepared to orchestrate an attack in the Halls of Law—where there are other races as possible collateral damage—it’s not a good sign. This won’t be the only assassination attempt; it’s merely the first.”

“You think they’ll attack Teela again?” Kaylin’s hands were fists.

“Teela is better prepared than the cohort. If the cohort arrives intact, it will be a small miracle. Or a large one. If they weren’t staying with Helen, I’d ask you to stay out of it.”

“You think she’d stay out of it if they weren’t staying with her?” Bellusdeo asked.

“I think the chances that we could keep the worst of it from her would be much higher, yes.”

“Oh, and assassination attempts in the Halls of Law would completely go over my head.” Kaylin folded her arms. She had never liked being treated as if she were stupid. And Teela was important.

“No one expected that.” Tain hesitated, which was unusual for Tain.

“Including Teela,” Bellusdeo then said, finishing the thought. “Who must be something of a political force herself if she can both retain her power at court and serve as a Hawk.” Kaylin knew Teela was a Lord of the High Court—but even that knowledge had been gained in the last year or two. She thought of Teela as a Hawk, and as a friend; sometimes as an older sister.

Tain did not reply.

The Dragon cleared her throat. “I believe I will visit Moran. I’m a Dragon, and I served as her bodyguard during the worst of the friction with the Aerian Caste Court. She will have a much harder time shutting her door in my face.” Her smile had long teeth in it. “I have Imperial permission to be in the Halls of Law. Moran is not my commanding officer. She can neither threaten nor command me.”

Kaylin wasn’t certain she wouldn’t bet on the Aerian, but said nothing.

* * *

Tain remained at his desk. Severn remained at Tain’s desk. Both suggested, with varying degrees of subtlety, that Kaylin remain there as well. Kaylin didn’t have time to argue, because when a Dragon made a decision—or when Bellusdeo did, at any rate—she acted on it immediately. The private had to scurry to keep up. If she followed in Bellusdeo’s wake, she’d be allowed in.

The old infirmary was still being rebuilt. In the weeks that had passed since a bomb had reduced it to splinters of wood, stone and glass, new floors and new walls had been installed, as if by magic. It wasn’t magic, of course; not yet. Magic would come later, when Moran had approved of the base rooms.

The conference room which had been the largest space available for emergency operations had been reclaimed by the Halls, but the infirmary itself had taken up temporary residence in a smaller set of rooms that were seldom used and more functional than a room that was essentially created to house a huge table and a bunch of chairs. They were less easily accessible, in part because they had been used as general storage. Kaylin didn’t ask what had happened to whatever was being stored here; that was the quartermaster’s problem.

The door was closed. The door was warded. Bellusdeo lifted golden brows in Kaylin’s direction, but touched the ward herself. Kaylin wasn’t entirely surprised when the door opened. She wasn’t surprised when a bristling Aerian with high, spotted wings stood almost in the frame. Nor was she surprised when the bristling wings folded as the Aerian caught sight of the Dragon. Slightly envious, but not surprised.

Moran’s eyes were Barrani blue. Her expression took a turn for the worse when she looked past Bellusdeo to see Kaylin.

“The private is my escort,” Bellusdeo said, in a perfectly friendly, perfectly bland tone.

“There is nothing here that requires the private’s attention, and a great deal that does not.”

Kaylin opened her mouth. Closed it. It was smarter to let the Dragon do the talking because Moran couldn’t do anything to the Dragon. Small and squawky, almost forgotten, lifted his head and batted Kaylin’s cheek with the top of it. He looked bored.

Teela appeared in the door frame behind Moran. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“It was here,” Bellusdeo replied, although Kaylin was pretty sure the question wasn’t aimed at the Dragon, “or the East Warrens.” Kaylin couldn’t see Bellusdeo’s expression, but the bland, cheerful, neutral reply was like a red flag.

Severn had probably made the smarter choice. Tain’s desk was safer. But Kaylin had really wanted to see Teela for herself. She’d wanted to be certain that Teela was whole.

It was the sergeant, not yet retired, who said, “The East Warrens. Marcus sent Kaylin to the East Warrens.” Clearly she had not been informed, and while the duty roster was not her responsibility, she knew it was a Barrani beat. Her glare traveled down the hall, as if she were considering offering Marcus a few choice words herself.

“I was, of course, with her.”

Moran folded her arms. “Come in,” she told the Dragon brusquely. She ignored Kaylin entirely and Kaylin followed like a shadow.

* * *

“You met Candallar. In the warrens.” Teela was now lounging on a chair so bare it should have been uncomfortable. To her left, in one of three beds in the small room, a Barrani Hawk slept. Since Barrani didn’t need sleep, he was probably unconscious. Or wishing he were.

It was Canatel. He was, like Teela, a corporal. He’d been part of the Hawks for as long as Kaylin could remember, which really only meant about eight years. In Barrani terms, that was a blink of the eye.

“This is well above your pay grade, kitling. It is not for you.”

“How many people are descending on my home in the near future?”

“If I have any say in it?” Teela exhaled and stood, losing the studied nonchalance of chair lounging. “You’re certain it was the fieflord?”

“I’ve never met him. Severn was certain.”

More Leontine followed, but it was soft. Clearly Teela trusted Severn’s opinion.

“Why is Candallar involved?” Kaylin asked, as Bellusdeo said, “Candallar is outcaste, yes?”

Teela only answered the Dragon’s question. “Yes.”

“Does he happen to be related to any of the cohort? Because I’ve got one furious fieflord visiting my home at least three times a week, and I think I could do without another one.”

“You would rather he visit your home than encounter him elsewhere. Candallar noted your mark?”

“Nightshade’s mark? Yes.”

“Good.”

Kaylin thought she’d take the nearest seat, she was so shocked. “Good? You still hate him for putting the mark there!”

“Yes. But it will serve as a warning to Candallar, if a warning is required. He is not Nightshade.”

“Nightshade is more powerful?”

“He was, before he was removed from the High Court. There is a reason he possesses one of The Three.”

And a reason, Kaylin thought, wanting to smack herself, that Teela possessed one as well. Three swords created to fight Dragons. They were called The Three; the capital letters were practically pronounced. Had she never really considered that they weren’t just handed out randomly?

“Candallar is younger?”

“We are all ancient compared to you. Candallar is younger. He was of the High Court. He took, and passed, the Test of Name.”

“Why was he turfed out?”

Teela pinched the bridge of her nose. Bellusdeo suggested Kaylin speak in Barrani, or High Barrani. “Which part of ‘above your pay grade’ isn’t clear? I can repeat it in all of the languages you know, and three you don’t. I am certain that Bellusdeo could repeat it in her native tongue—”

“That’s illegal without permission—”

“And suffer few ill consequences.”

“East Warrens was Canatel’s beat. His and Tagraine’s. Candallar was there—invisibly, by the way—to meet them.”

“He said so?”

“He said he was visiting friends.”

“Of course he did.” Teela cast one backward glance at the unconscious man on the cot. It was not a look of loathing; it was not a look of anger.

“What happened?” Kaylin asked.

“Tagraine and Canatel had an argument. They came to blows in the office. I invited the Barrani to the West Room to discuss, among other things, self-control. In retrospect, this was unwise.” Her smile was grim, but genuine. “It was clever,” she added, as if to explain her expression. “Only Barrani were present, as they must have known would be the case. I did not get far into my ill-tempered lecture before Tagraine attempted to kill me. With a dagger,” she added.

What was Teela not saying?

“Canatel attempted to stop Tain from interfering. Canatel was injured. Tagraine died.” Both her voice and face were devoid of expression.

This was not exactly the story Kaylin had heard. She knew better than to trust gossip for accuracy, but... “Canatel didn’t try to kill you? He didn’t help?”

“He attempted to come to the aid of his partner.” Teela’s glare was ice and steel.

Bellusdeo cleared her throat. “Candallar.”

“That’s not the direction I expected the politics to travel. I have limited access to fieflords. In theory, so does the rest of the Court—but the rest of the Court does not serve as Hawks, with the legal boundaries necessitated by that office. I was...unprepared for that avenue of pressure. Did you attempt to engage him?”

“She threatened to arrest him, if that helps,” Bellusdeo offered.

Teela covered her forehead with her left hand. “Of course she did.”

“He seemed surprisingly conscious of Imperial Law,” the Dragon continued, “and entirely unintimidated by it. He did not ask Kaylin for either information or concession; I believe he was distracted.”

“By the presence of a Dragon?”

“By the confirmation of the presence of a Dragon within the Halls of Law.”

That was not the same thing, and Teela knew it.

“On the other hand, if his contacts were Hawks, it is not entirely surprising he would have that information. Nor are the Hawks the only way that information might reach him; the Hawks themselves might speak with members of the High Court, and the High Court is, of course, very aware of my existence.”

“You are much more likely to survive involvement in my life than Kaylin is,” Teela said. “But the arcane bomb that would have ended your life was thrown well away from both the Halls and the High Court.”

“I would not be certain that my involvement in your affairs would be the cause of another assassination attempt. Nor,” she added, as Teela opened her mouth, “could the Emperor be. How much of a concern is Candallar?”

“He’s a concern. Whatever pressure he put on Tagraine—and I won’t know until Canatel wakes—he’s just a lever.”

“Do you have any idea who might be pushing that lever?”

“Some vague suspicion. I know Canatel’s family. Candallar was made outcaste for purely political reasons; he did not attempt to harm the Consort. Nor did he engage in illegal activities involving other races—at least not until he was forced to flee and found himself at home in the fiefs.”

“And he wants?”

“I would guess he wants to be repatriated. He wants to be forgiven.”

“But—”

Both the Dragon and the corporal turned toward Kaylin. “But?” Teela asked.

“But it’s the High Lord who decides, isn’t it?”

“In theory, yes. In practice? No. I do not believe the High Lord is behind Candallar’s movements.”

“You say that like you have some idea who is.”

“No, kitling, I don’t. I have some idea of who isn’t.”

“Why would they do this?”

“Tagraine? Canatel?”

Kaylin nodded. At heart, this was the only question she needed answered. The politics and malice of Barrani who were not Hawks was like rain or heat; it existed outside of the Halls.

“I can’t speak for Tagraine. I can’t speak for Canatel—he cannot speak for himself at the moment. And I should not tell you even this much. But Canatel has a sister. She is older, and she is a Lord. She is, however, a very, very minor lord whom most feel survived the Test of Name because the sheer terror of it drove her to mindless—but ultimately pragmatic—flight. She is surrounded by Lords of greater age and far greater power, be it economic, political, or as is generally the case, both. Had she never taken the Test, she would not now be in danger.”

Kaylin raised a brow, and Teela exhaled. “They would have to find her. Many of the Barrani who are of the High Court do not make their homes in the city.”

“And the ones who aren’t do?” This made no sense to Kaylin.

“It is frequently where the landless poor among the mortals dwell.”

“Teela, if rumor has any truth to it, Canatel tried to kill you.”

Teela said nothing; her eyes were a shade of gray blue.

Bellusdeo exhaled smoke with a bit of actual heat in it. “Kaylin,” she said, to make clear that her target of annoyance was not Teela, “you can be forgiven your ignorance; it is remedial. It can be alleviated. Teela, however, has enough to deal with. Corporal, Sergeant, my apologies for intruding while you are so clearly busy. We will take our leave now, as Kaylin is expected to begin her interrupted patrol on Elani.”

Teela actually chuckled. “I feel almost sorry for Margot today.”

5

“What am I missing?” Kaylin demanded, when they were safely quit of the halls and halfway to Elani. The word “ignorance” still stung; there were better ways to point to lack of knowledge, but given Kaylin wasn’t terribly diplomatic on the best of days, even thinking that was kind of hypocritical.

“Teela feels that the failure lies with her.”

“What?”

Severn, Kaylin’s actual partner, was silent and steady. Small and squawky actually left her shoulder to sit on his for half the march, glaring balefully at Kaylin as he did.

“I have not discussed this with Teela; I doubt she’s discussed this with anyone. I am therefore guessing, based on some minor observation.”

“Skip the part where you imply that I’m stupid.”

“I did not imply that; I implied that you are not observant.”

“Bellusdeo—”

“You focus on your job. You focus on your home. Where it is necessary, you will focus on other things as they effect the former or the latter. Beyond that, however, you still feel that the world is somehow other, or foreign.” She exhaled at Kaylin’s expression, and added, “You know nothing about knitting.”

Kaylin blinked.

“I do not expect that you will know anything about knitting. But when you are wearing a sweater of some intricacy, I will unconsciously assume that you know something of what went into its making. Let us say I know something about knitting. Don’t make that face, I chose this example for a reason. I have seen the same sweater you have seen, but I have marked the intricacies of stitch and design. I know that the sweater could not be made by, well, you. But I understand that it could not be made by me without painstaking effort. I assume, at times, that you will also see what I see.

“You have been given such a sweater. Your concern is the cold, or laws of public decency. You don’t care that it’s oversized. You don’t care that it might be inappropriately heavy given the weather. You understand that it is clothing, and some clothing is better than none. You don’t appreciate the quality of the sweater itself. It seems almost irrelevant to its function. I occasionally forget this. When someone wears such a sweater, it is, like most expensive fashion, meant to be a statement. No, it is a statement. Most people who make such statements are pretentious—but not all, and regardless, even the pretentious understand what they think they are trying to say. You don’t.

“Were knitting, however, integral to your job, you would. You would see the stitches, the wool used, the dyes used on that wool; you would know what size the needles were, and whether or not different sizes were required to knit the whole. You are not stupid. You are, however, too narrowly focused. Better?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s the best I’ve got.” She glanced over Kaylin’s head at Severn and the familiar.

“What Bellusdeo was trying to say before she started on knitting,” Severn then said, “was that Teela considers the attempt an act of desperation and fear. If she’s insulted at all, she’s insulted because Canatel—and Tagraine—didn’t come to her first. They didn’t ask for her help. They assumed that the people threatening them held all the cards. Barrani are, at heart, snobs.

“Teela is a Lord of the High Court. She has one of The Three. We all know this. But we also know Teela best when she’s wearing the Hawk. If she weren’t in service to the Halls of Law, none of the Barrani Hawks would know her. They’d know of her, the same way we know of the humans in the human caste court.

“When Teela’s wearing the Hawk, she’s just like them. Or you. Or me. She’s a Hawk. The Barrani can’t see someone who wears that Hawk as a power.”

Kaylin opened her mouth and shut it again.

“When they first started out as Hawks on the force, they were probably allowed to do so because they were considered—by their own people—barely better than your average mortal.

“They haven’t considered that their ability to be Hawks was guaranteed by Teela as Lord of the High Court. They’ve had at least a decade to see Teela in action on the ground. They can no longer hold her in awe. They can’t think of her as an actual power because she does exactly what they do. She even obeys a Leontine. She is not called Lord when she’s in the office. That had to be a deliberate choice on Teela’s part—and I’m not certain she’s happy with the results.

“The people who are threatening them, however, are powers, in Tagraine’s and Canatel’s minds. They didn’t come to Teela first because they felt, viscerally, that she was just another Hawk. They didn’t trust the protection she could have offered. That’s why she’s insulted. And I believe she holds herself responsible for their attempted assassination.”

“Because she knew things were getting political,” Kaylin said, after a more thoughtful pause, “and she wasn’t prepared.”

Severn nodded. “The Barrani Hawks have already been used.”

“Against Moran, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s recent enough that she knew they could be used. She didn’t shore up her own defenses—and part of those defenses would be providing protection for the Hawks. They were threatened because she was too caught up in the concerns of her cohort.”

Kaylin thought that was hugely unfair.

“I’m not agreeing with her assessment,” Severn continued. “My agreement won’t matter to Teela one way or the other.”

“I’d suggest you stay out of it,” Bellusdeo told him quietly.

Severn glanced at Bellusdeo. “We need information.”

“Teela’s a Lord. Leave the information gathering to her.”

“Teela is a Lord,” he agreed. Severn could agree as if agreement were irrelevant. “But a Lord doesn’t enter the warrens. A Lord doesn’t—ever—meet with outcastes.”

Bellusdeo’s eyes had shaded to a gold orange. Kaylin intervened. “Teela’s met with Nightshade before.”

“Not under her own instigation. Her tabard and her choice of employ protects her in such situations. While the High Court does not consider the Halls of Law a suitable place for the Barrani nobility, they have all sworn oaths of service to the Eternal Emperor.”

She remembered what Candallar had said, and nodded.

“Teela’s interactions with Nightshade are considered, by the Barrani, to be a direct result of her tabard. Were she not a Hawk, she would not have met with him. Teela’s enemies are Lords of the High Court.”

Kaylin nodded, thinking. “The Barrani Hawks met with Candallar. They probably didn’t meet him by accident. Either he was told to approach them, or they were told to approach him. Do you think they left the East Warrens and headed into his fief with an offer of some sort? Or do you think he already had an offer on the table and left the fief to meet them?”

“Either would work,” he replied, in his neutral tone. “If the Hawks crossed the Ablayne, there are bound to be witnesses.”

“They’re from the warrens. They’re not going to talk to us.”

“They’re not going to talk to Hawks, no.”

“Corporal,” Bellusdeo said, in a sergeant’s tone of voice. “Teela is no doubt waiting for Canatel to regain consciousness to ask him.”

“He has a vested interest in giving her the answer she will find most acceptable,” Severn countered.

“It’s none of our business.”

“It’s not,” Severn agreed. “Until the cohort descends from the West March. We’ve got six weeks, if they travel overland the way we did.” And he clearly intended to use those six weeks to their full advantage. “Although I believe Mandoran is attempting to talk them out of it.”

“No one listens to Mandoran,” Kaylin pointed out.

He chuckled. “That’s certainly how Mandoran feels. But Helen is concerned. She cannot—and would not—refuse to house them; she’s your home and you wouldn’t.”

Kaylin opened her mouth.

Severn spoke before she could. “She’s a building, Kaylin. She’s sentient. She has will. She’s made choices that were physically almost ruinous for her in order to maintain some sense of her own autonomy. You think she did that to buy her freedom.”

“She did.”

“Yes.”

“And no,” Bellusdeo cut in. Severn fell silent, allowing Bellusdeo to carry the rest of the conversation. “She bought a measure of freedom. She injured herself so that she had a measure of choice. But her choices are, and have always been, confined. She is a building. She was created to be a building. Her sentience was bound into her nature. It is not that different from you—or me, or Teela. There are things we might want to do that our actual existence does not allow. You cannot live forever, no matter how cautious you might choose to be. Not,” she added, “that you ever choose to be cautious.

“Helen is a building. She is your home.”

“I’ll tell her she can say no.”

“She knows the likely outcome of that—and it is an outcome that affects you directly. You want them under your roof because you trust Helen to minimize the danger, both to them, and from them. But Helen, I think, is less certain about that ability, precisely because of the choices she made in the distant past.

“But they will not stay in Tiamaris, and it is a disaster to even think of placing them in Nightshade—and those are the only two Towers that might, just might, be able to do what Helen is afraid she cannot.” She exhaled steam.

Something in her tone of voice caught Kaylin’s attention, and she stopped walking in order to catch Bellusdeo’s. It took the Dragon half a block to notice, but she did reverse course. “The Emperor does not yet know about the cohort and their imminent arrival. According to Annarion, I’ll have six weeks in which to smooth over future difficulties.

“The politics of the High Court, when it comes to the internal hierarchy of Barrani lords, has been largely irrelevant to his concerns. An attempted assassination at the Halls of Law will not be.”

Kaylin winced. “And you’re living with me.”

“Yes. The Emperor is confident of Helen’s ability to protect me from the immediately lethal: arcane bombs, for one. I am uncertain that his confidence will remain intact with the addition of eight Barrani would-be Lords of the High Court. In the worst case, I expect that I will be ‘invited’ to return to the palace.” The orange of her eyes made clear just how welcome that would be.

* * *

It was not a surprise that the Hawks ended up at Evanton’s shop. It wasn’t intentional, but Evanton’s shop was part of their beat, and Grethan had appeared at the window to wave as the Hawks patrolled.

“Is he in?” Kaylin asked Evanton’s apprentice. Her familiar immediately leapt off her shoulder onto Grethan’s, who—as always—seemed delighted to have him. Hope had always liked the Tha’alani apprentice.

“I think—I’m not certain—he’s expecting you.”

“Good or bad?”

“He’s been absentminded, but not grouchy, if that helps. I think he’s in the garden. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

* * *

They gathered around the kitchen table in the cramped, small space. Kaylin understood that the cookies Evanton offered were a type of bribe, and truly didn’t care. She also drank the tea he made. He wasn’t having enough of a bad day that he was willing to drink any himself, which was probably a good sign. Then again, with Evanton, it was hard to tell.

“I have had the opportunity to speak with the elemental water this morning,” he now said.

The cookies lost all taste. “And she told you to speak to us?”

“I am not sure that ‘she’ is the appropriate pronoun, but I will endeavor not to criticize.”

Try harder, Kaylin thought. “What did the water have to say?”

“I would consider it mostly irrelevant to you in different circumstances.” He was not in a terrible mood, but was obviously feeling testy. Kaylin, however, understood this test, and she could pass it, if not with flying colors, at least with passable grades.

One bushy brow rose as he considered her. “Very good. Teela’s confederates are—as I believe you must now know—leaving the green. The heart of the green is concerned.”

Kaylin nodded, but had to bite back the obvious how do you know this that wanted to leap out of her mouth. He wouldn’t answer and it would annoy him, which meant there was no possible gain.

“The water believes they will travel between Hallionne, making use of the portal paths to avoid unwanted attention. You are expecting visitors?”

Kaylin hesitated; Bellusdeo—who treated Evanton with far more respect than most mortals did—stepped on her foot. “Yes. What does the water want from me?”

“I do not believe the water intends to command you in any fashion,” was the slightly defensive reply.

“Fine. What do you want?”

“I’d like you to stay out of trouble, if that’s at all possible.”

“Something I can actually do.”

This pulled a smile from the older man. He looked worn, tired, and entirely more fragile than he had when she’d first met him. He didn’t look any older, though. “I would like to make certain that Teela’s friends are staying with you. Helen’s intervention to date has been both fortuitous and necessary, especially with regard to Annarion. That young man has an unfortunate temper.”

Kaylin blinked. “Annarion?”

“You cannot hear him.”

“No. He’s generally the quiet, reasonable one.”

“A terrifying thought.” Evanton exhaled. “His actions—over which he does have some control—are quiet and reasonable. But he is in pain, Kaylin, and when he leaves Helen—on the rare occasions he does—his anguish can be heard. It can practically be felt.”

“And Mandoran?”

“Mandoran does not have that effect.”

“You think the others will?”

“That is the question. The water does not hear as I hear. The heart of the green hears more. The Hallionne in which Teela’s friends have made their home since your intervention, hears all. There has been much discussion, and much concern shared. I believe that at least two of the visitors would have voices as loud, as detrimental, as Annarion’s were they to be left to their own devices. They do not need to break the law you have made it your life to uphold,” he added. “No conscious choice is required.

“But they are not—as I am certain even you are aware—what they were. Some of them recognize and accept this fact; some do not. It is those who do not who are the biggest danger. And no, don’t make that face. Annarion is a threat, with no intent, no desire to be one.” His eyes narrowed. “Do not let them interfere with Helen,” he said, which was not what she’d expected.

“They can’t.”

He said, after a long pause, “You rescued them, in a fashion. You believe that the Hallionne Alsanis sheltered them because that was the purpose for which the Hallionne were constructed. You believe that they were forced to change their nature to better slide between the bars of a very forgiving cage. You have correctly divined that the Hallionne, being sentient, have some access to living emotion; you have even correctly understood that the Hallionne are subject to isolation and loneliness.

“But you have failed to understand the subtleties.”

“And you’re going to explain my failure.”

“Yes, now that you’ve asked.”

It wasn’t a question; Kaylin shrugged.

“Annarion’s friends didn’t just reform or reshape themselves. They created subtle changes in the Hallionne as well. Before you ask, no, I do not know the specifics. I am not Hallionne. I have access to the Hallionne in a fashion, because I am Keeper, but the language of the Hallionne is notoriously difficult to learn, let alone master. Were I Barrani, or High Barrani, I do not think it would be this difficult; I am not. Nor is Grethan.

“The Hallionne Alsanis was altered by the children who were themselves altered by the green. This will likely make their passage through the portal paths safer for them. It will make any presence in Hallionne other than their own more difficult. I do not think the changes they made were made immediately. I am less certain that they were made unintentionally. I am not,” he added, at some twitch of Kaylin’s expression, “blaming them; it serves no point. They were captives, they were children, and they desired freedom.

“It is possible, however, that their sense of what ‘home’ is or means is radically different from your own. They were captives for far, far longer than they were Barrani children. Helen can create living quarters for Annarion. She is therefore confident that she can create those same quarters for the rest of Teela’s friends. She was, if I understand her history correctly, equivalent to the Towers that guard the borders of the fiefs, but the commands at her core were not the same.

“Discuss this with Teela. She will better understand the dangers.” He looked at the cooling tea. “What did happen this morning?”

Kaylin explained. She left out names, with the exception of Teela’s. Severn’s expression made clear that he didn’t think this was an appropriate discussion to have outside of the Halls, but he didn’t actively try to shut her down.

Evanton looked vastly less pleased when she’d finished. “I am almost sorry I asked,” he said, pushing himself up from his chair. “But politics are entirely political. Meaning they are not my problem.”

“Neither is my home,” Kaylin pointed out.

“If things go awry in your home, it could well become my problem, and I would like to avoid that. I am old, Kaylin. In the past decade I have seen more threats and upheavals than in the previous century, with one or two notable exceptions, neither of which can be blamed on you.”

“None of them can be blamed on me!”

“Grethan!”

Evanton’s apprentice appeared before the last loud syllable had died out. The familiar on his shoulder sighed and squawked before leaping off to land at his home base, Kaylin’s shoulder.

Evanton headed out the door into the rickety hall that led to the Keeper’s Garden. He turned in the door frame. “Understand,” he said softly, “that the world and the Keeper will almost certainly continue to exist if there are no people in it. My job is not actually to choose sides. The elements are adversely affected by Shadow, but not in the same fashion as we are. My job, such as it is, is to stop the elements from destroying the world in their attempts to destroy each other. There are no Shadows in my garden. Do you understand?”

Kaylin nodded.

“I am the Keeper. My power, where it exists, exists because of that. I am, however, partial to people in general. The location of the garden does not change, and I would rather have the occasionally irritating company—”

“Most people call them customers, in this part of town.”

“—than not. I understand what exists beneath the High Halls. Where I can, I will aid you, as I have always done. But the political—and yes, when we speak of politics with the Barrani it inevitably defaults to assassination or war—is not my arena.”

“It’s not mine, either.”

“Not yet. It will be. I’m sorry.”

“If I’m forced to enter that arena, will I have to be diplomatic?”

“Only if your commanding officers drop dead and someone who has never had to work anywhere near you is then put in charge.”

* * *

The first thing Kaylin did when they returned to the office from their shortened Elani patrol was stop by the duty roster to see if the Barrani were once again being assigned their regular patrols. The second was to visit the infirmary. Teela was no longer there.

Moran, however, was, and the long day hadn’t improved her temper any. The sergeant was glaring at a small mirror. If looks could kill, that mirror wouldn’t be in pieces—it would be melted glass with little rivulets of silver in it.

“Go home.”

“Moran—”

“I mean it.”

“Has anyone else come to visit your Barrani patient?”

“No one has been permitted to visit, with the exception of Teela.” Moran turned away from the mirror to face Kaylin directly. “Given how successful I was at getting you to ignore the politics of my entirely personal situation, I am not going to waste breath telling you to ignore hers. But kitling? I wouldn’t have broken your arms or legs.”

“Teela won’t—”

“No, she probably won’t. Being a Hawk has been a lark for the Barrani—or at least that’s the impression they’ve always given. It’s the reason that most of the nonpatrolling Hawks find it hard to work with them.”

Kaylin nodded again.

“It is not a lark at the moment. Teela may take a leave of absence when things get truly tense.”

Kaylin did not ask how assassination attempts in the Halls failed to qualify as truly tense. “At the Hawklord’s request?”

“No. The Barrani wear the tabard. He would not ask them to leave the office; it would send the wrong signals.”

Kaylin blinked.

“Having Barrani Hawks on the force give the Barrani an accessible public face. People are often terrified of the Barrani.”

“People are sometimes terrified of the Hawks. But most of those are criminals.”

“Most yes, but not all. Having Barrani on the street and wearing the Hawk makes them a little less frightening.” She was silent for a beat. “But surely you already know this.”

Did she?

She’d been a Hawk for seven years, unofficially. The Hawk had never terrified her the way Barrani in Nightshade had. It had never terrified her the way the howls of hunting Ferals did. It had never terrified her the way the cold did, the way hunger did. But the warrens were as close to the fiefs as anyplace inside the city could be—and if she’d been born there, and the warrens were her home?

Would she love the Hawk then? Would she be unafraid of it?

Fear of the Barrani made sense to Kaylin. Outside of the Law, they could kill most mortals on a whim. Barrani against Leontine was not as sure a thing.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “There wasn’t a lot of difference for us between Shadows and Barrani when I was a kid. And if I’m being honest, most mortals of my acquaintance I tried real hard to avoid as well. You don’t understand what it’s like. If I met me from back then—”

“Yes?”

“I wouldn’t have given me a chance if I didn’t want my throat slit.”

Bellusdeo exhaled and moved to stand beside Kaylin. Moran’s glare did not—had never, apparently—included the gold Dragon. “It’s so hard to have productive discussions with you,” she said, but fondly. “Most men—most Barrani, most Dragons—when forced into the space you are standing in now might deflect. They might, if pressed in an unavoidable way, justify. They might give excuses—ah, pardon, I believe they would call them explanations.”

Kaylin shrugged. “Look, I’m not proud of what I once did.”

“No.”

“But I understand why I did it. If I were there now, if I lost everything now, I’d make different choices. But I didn’t even see the possibilities, then. I saw death. When all you see is death, or probable death, you don’t trust much.”

“And the tabard?”

“I doubt I’d’ve trusted it, either.”

“Even before you lived in Barren?”

“Even then. I believed that paradise existed across the Ablayne. But none of that paradise came into the fiefs, and the Hawks? They didn’t, either. Can we drop this?”

“Yes. But I expect you to accept Teela’s leave of absence.” She hesitated.

Kaylin stared at her.

“Or her resignation, if it comes to that.”

6

“Kaylin,” Helen repeated, in her most patient tone, “I cannot answer that question.”

“You can.”

“I cannot ethically answer that question.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Teela is a guest. Teela is not present. If she wishes to share that information with you, she will.”

“She won’t!”

“Then perhaps there is a reason for that.”

“Yes—she thinks I can’t do anything. She still thinks I’m helpless—”

“She does not think of you as helpless. She has told you so. It is hard for her to make that adjustment, but given your age when she first met you, you must be able to understand that.”

“She treats me as if—”

“You are mortal. You are not Barrani. You are not a Dragon. You do not, objectively, have her power. Even were she not trained to the arcane, even were she entirely without magic or magical weapons, you would stand very little chance against her. Her enemies, at the moment, are not mortal.” Helen frowned. “Or perhaps some of them are; I find the politics of your cities confusing at times.”

“Welcome to my life.” Kaylin looked down at her hands. They were fists. “Bellusdeo thinks Teela might resign.” Kaylin spoke the last word as if it were suicide. Or worse, somehow.

“And Bellusdeo is speaking as a former ruler and an observer of Barrani, admittedly in a more martial context. She is not speaking with any certainty.”

“No, she can’t. But you could.”

“No, Kaylin, I can’t. Were I an entirely different building,” she added, “you could force that information from me, and I would have no choice but to give it to you.”

“...That’s unfair.”

“Yes, dear. But it is also fact. Teela is your friend.”

“And you’re my home!”

“Yes. But I do not think friendship is best served by using that home as a spy.”

Kaylin flushed.

“You are tired and hungry. I think this is possibly one of the only times I’ve seen you refuse food.” It was true. Kaylin could eat anything, at any time, because some of her instincts were still those of a starving, underfed street kid. You didn’t turn your nose up at food when there was never any guarantee of another meal. “In the morning, or perhaps even after you’ve eaten, I think you will see things more clearly.”

She is correct.

Kaylin bit back the urge to tell Lord Nightshade to do something anatomically impossible. And then glared at the Avatar of her house. Helen had fairly granular control of incoming communication; if Nightshade was speaking to her, it was because Helen let him. Yes, he was speaking to her because she knew his True Name—but Helen had proven that she could limit or curtail the connection.

Her house smiled gently.

You’ve heard.

I have been speaking with Annarion, yes. I am apprised of all of the complications.

She ate, because talking to Nightshade did not require her to open her mouth when it was full. She also drank spiced milk. Helen clearly thought Kaylin was in a mood because the milk was warm and apparently contained honey.

Tell me what you know about Candallar, Kaylin finally said.

Candallar is a fieflord.

Okay, let me amend that. Tell me what you know that I don’t.

This elicited two responses; the first, a sharp annoyance; the second, amusement. You frequently know things I would expect no mortal to know, while being ignorant of things that appear to be common knowledge. If you wish information, you will have to bear with me. Candallar is a fieflord. He is, as I am, outcaste. He had less choice in the designation, and less support within the High Court. He is younger than I, and his fall more recent. You will have noticed, no doubt, that the Consort does not treat me as outcaste.

Kaylin nodded.

She is the only Lord of the High Court to have that option. Ah, no. Her brother could, if he desired—

If you’re talking about the High Lord—as opposed to the Lord of the West March—if her brother wanted to, he could repatriate you. You could be part of the High Court again.

To do so would imply—strongly—that the customs of the High Court have no weight; that the decisions of the High Court have no consequences. Do not be angry; I am not.

But...he’s the High Lord.

She could feel Nightshade’s frustration, and was surprised to feel his exhaustion, as well. The only other time she had felt such exhaustion he’d been injured.

I am not injured. I am frustrated. He is High Lord, yes. But if An’Teela has not made this clear, his rule is contested, even now. There will be a series of tests, skirmishes if you will, for the remainder of your mortal life—no matter how long you live. His tone implied that he expected that to be a handful of years, if she were lucky. Even to you, this must imply that his power is not absolute. He is not the Eternal Emperor, Kaylin.

Frustration drove his pause; Kaylin was almost surprised when he continued. When power is not absolute, when it is not guaranteed, alliances are made. They are alliances, often, of convenience, as a majority of alliances are. He is close to his Consort; she does not intrigue against him.

She’s the Consort!

Another full silence.

Nightshade?

I am...attempting to remember how appallingly little is taught to your Hawks. You will speak with An’Teela about this. Or Annarion. Or Mandoran. They will attempt to correct your appalling ignorance.

She is the Consort.

Yes. It grants her immunity until and unless another is found who can fulfill the role she has undertaken. To our knowledge, there is only one who might—but she is entirely unsuitable in every other way. Before you ask, it is you. You are aware that many families push their children into the Test of Name.

Kaylin nodded.

Are you further aware that many push their children into the more complicated and far more deadly tests required to become Consort?

Was she? She thought about it; the Consort had certainly spoken of the tests, the difficulty, the failures.

They do not do this primarily for the benefit to the race; they do it for political reasons. The Consort is the only position in the High Court that is nonnegotiable. But do not imagine that it is not, in the end, political; everything about the Barrani is. Only those who absent themselves from the Court are outside of the political sphere.

Like you.

She felt his bitter smile.

Like me, yes.

You think this will pass.

I believe that if the High Lord retains his seat in the next century, or perhaps two, I could be repatriated, or at least offered the opportunity to return to the High Court. It is what the Consort desires. But there are many who do not desire it, and a handful of those are of significant power.

If they don’t want you, they don’t want Annarion.

Indeed.

And for the same reason? Because he’ll have a legitimate claim to the lands—or whatever—that you once held?

Claim and legitimacy are polite fictions, in the end. If we have the power, we can embroider any claim and make it, as you say in Elantran, “stick.” The facts of the matter give Annarion an open field; the base arguments against legitimate claim cannot be made, and were he to start a war, it would be less difficult to do so without open censure.

So...claim of blood gives him early room to maneuver?

Yes. It is not, of course, legitimacy that is the real concern.

It’s the regalia and the centuries jailed in the green.

An’Teela suffered prejudice because she survived—but she was never captive in the Hallionne. She returned from the green—the only child to do so. She is, to our eye, Barrani. She was tested, Kaylin. She was pushed. She was powerful, but had she not had that potential, she would never have been sent to the green.

Her father desired her to undergo the test of the Lake. She refused. Here a glimmer of amusement adorned his words. She was unwilling to give him anything he desired of her. She had gone to the green under his command.

And he had killed her mother there. Kaylin exhaled. Your brother’s still angry.

She almost felt the fieflord’s wince, and liked him better for it. But...in truth, his concern for, his devotion to, his only remaining brother was one of the few things about him she admired. She had never, ever expected to admire anything about the fieflord of Nightshade.

Annarion’s anger is focused and traditional. He intends to take the Test of Name. I cannot stop him. Discussion will not move him. He is...almost unchanged with the passage of time. It is frustrating.

If you were reinstated, I think he could be reasoned with. I think if the High Lord offered you your name, your position, if you could reclaim your family line—which he thinks you should never have surrendered—we could keep him here.

And I have told him that this will, in all probability, happen, but not now. He understands that. But he understands, as well, the necessity of the Towers, of the fiefs. Do you honestly think that I could wage an intelligent war from Castle Nightshade, as you are wont to call it? Ah, I see that you do.

She was revising that opinion as they spoke. Some of her anger—at Helen, at Teela—had subsided, as it always did.

“That’s because you’ve eaten something, at least,” Helen said quietly. “I understand your concern. If you were not the type of person who feels such concerns, I am not certain I would be the right home for you. But Kaylin, there are always limits. Your concern, your worry, is yours,” Helen continued, bringing the conversation back to where Kaylin had started it. “Love is not a reasonable excuse to ask me to invade a guest’s privacy. I do not answer Teela’s questions.”

“She asks you about me?”

“On occasion, yes. Oh. I’ve surprised you.”

“...And you don’t answer her questions, either.”

“I will answer questions that you would answer, if you heard them or remembered them. But everyone who is not Tha’alani has boundaries and a need for privacy. Young children—of any race—will ask questions without regard for privacy; everything is new to them. They have not yet learned the weight of responsibility and the weight of poor decisions. But you are not, as you so often tell most of your friends, a child. Your concern is admirable. But you cannot use concern to justify things that are less so.”

Kaylin’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.” She exhaled. You’re willing to wait because you know the Towers are necessary.

Yes. And because I have no great desire to return to the High Court.

Does your brother know this?

Perhaps. We have exchanged very heated words in the past month. His loss of control is understandable; he is a child, still. The intervening time has not given him the experience required of the Barrani; it has given him experiences for which the Barrani were not created. Most of us cannot understand them. But I have made clear that finding a fieflord is not as simple as the Test of Name.

The Test of Name was not simple.

He does understand Ravellon’s threat. He is willing, grudgingly, to allow that I am not entirely without honor or a sense of duty.

...Which means he really can’t be talked out of it. I mean, from Annarion’s perspective, what other options does he have? Kaylin exhaled. Does this have anything to do with Candallar?

It is likely. If you have met him at this time, it cannot be coincidence. Have you spoken to Teela about this?

I doubt very much she’ll talk to me.

She is not the only Lord of the High Court to whom you have access. She is not even the most significant.

Candallar, Kaylin said, trying to pin the conversation down to the important point, even as it squirmed away.

I am not Candallar; I am not much in contact with him. I can be, of course; the Towers can communicate with each other. In a grave, grave emergency, they can work as one. There has never been such an emergency, he added. My experience is therefore entirely theoretical. Be that as it may, I can bespeak Candallar without leaving my fief. But I cannot guess at his involvement until I understand more fully the movement within the High Court.

Speak to the Consort, Kaylin. She will have questions for you. You will have questions for her.

And Candallar?

I will speak with Candallar—but I do not expect to glean the information you desire at the speed you desire it. You are much like my brother: everything is an emergency. Everything must be immediate. He is truly young: like a mortal he is afraid of lost time. But unlike a mortal, he has time.

Would Candallar be in contact with the High Court? I mean, with some of its elements?

Oh, undoubtedly. But he is not me. I could attend the ceremony in the green with impunity because the green chose me. I could attend because the Consort accepted me as a High Lord. And I could attend because I wield one of The Three.

Those are meant to kill Dragons.

Yes. But they can kill any other enemy just as well. I am not hunted as outcaste. This was not always the case. But we are Barrani, not Dragon; power is its own legitimacy.

And Candallar doesn’t have it.

She could feel the shrug she couldn’t see. He has survived, was the eventual, noncommittal answer.

* * *

Kaylin was awake far earlier than she wanted to be the next morning. She was tired, but not sleepy, the two words being slightly different, and thoughts of Candallar, Teela, the Hawks and the cohort immediately demanded attention. It was a day off, so she couldn’t retreat to the Halls of Law—and the demands of work—to distract herself. She gave up on sleep, got dressed, rearranged the familiar and decided that turnabout was fair play. She therefore headed out of her own room, with its comfortable, creaking floors, into the hallway, and eventually deposited herself outside of Mandoran’s room.

There, she knocked. Helen didn’t stop her.

“I’m sleeping.”

“Liar. Barrani don’t need sleep.”

“I’m sleeping anyway. It’s better than angst.” Mandoran’s voice was not muffled although a closed door stood between Kaylin’s ears and the Barrani.

“You talk in your sleep? I guess that shouldn’t be surprising given how much you love the sound of your own voice.”

Mandoran laughed. “If you promise not to nag me about Teela or Annarion, I’ll get out of bed.”

“Are you actually in bed?”

“Yes. You can join me, if you want, but I can’t promise—”

“I’ll pass.”

He laughed again. “No Teela, no Annarion?”

“Done.”

“What’s the penalty for failure?”

“What?”

“What do I get when you fail?”

“Dinner.”

“Helen will feed me anyway.”

“Not if I ask her not to.”

“Helen?” Mandoran said, raising his voice. “Will you starve me if Kaylin demands it?”

Helen failed to answer, and Mandoran chuckled.

“Don’t disturb your brother,” Helen then said.

“Nothing I could possibly do would make him any worse.”

Kaylin, in the hallway, waited for another minute; the door opened. Mandoran was tugging his left arm into the empty sleeve of a jacket. He did not otherwise look rumpled. Or unshaven. Or sleep deprived. She opened her mouth.

“We have a deal. No Annarion. No Teela.”

“Fine. Can I ask about Tain?”

“Boring old nursemaid.”

“He is not!”

“Is too.” Mandoran held up a hand. “Have you ever had to live with him?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ll soon see what I mean. I’m beginning to understand the phrase misery loves company.” He grinned.

“Barrani don’t have that one?”

“No. But it’s oddly useful. If someone makes us miserable, we generally feel justified in attempting to end their lives.”

“Annarion makes you miserable all the time, according to you.”

His grin deepened. “Exactly. So. Misery and company. And—no Annarion, remember? Annarion’s situation is far, far simpler than—” His Elantran segued into expressive Leontine. “Apparently,” he said, “I’m not allowed to talk to you about this.”

“According to who?” She guessed Teela.

“Sedarias.” Apparently, she guessed wrong.

“Sedarias is the one with the complicated situation?”

“Not the only one. Look, I told you I was an orphan, right?”

“You lied.”

“Very good! I admit I despaired—” He stopped again. “Someone told you.”

“Yes.”

“Then I take it back. You spent your formative years—not my phrase, don’t make that face—in the fiefs.”

“Yes.”

“You must have lied, and you must have at least been decent enough at it to survive.”

“I was never good at lying.”

“What did you do instead?”

Kaylin shrugged. “Groveled in abject fear.”

“I would think lying would be easier.” He flicked something invisible off his sleeve. “Clearly you’ve never been lazy enough. Food?”

Kaylin made a face. “Helen?”

“Yes, dear,” the disembodied house replied.

“At what point does someone stop being a guest?”

“I imagine the moment you ask them to leave.”

Mandoran laughed at Kaylin’s expressive, but silent, response.

“Fine. I guess we’re feeding him.”

* * *

His good mood did not last through an early breakfast. It didn’t last through the start of breakfast. While he enjoyed teasing Kaylin—his words, as she had ruder ones to describe it—he couldn’t entirely forget the predicament his cohort were in.

“What did you want to know about the great boring nursemaid?”

“Nothing. I did want to know about Tain.”

“I’ve pretty much described everything you need to know. I cannot believe you’re inviting him to stay with the rest of us. I can’t believe he’d even consider it. He’s not particularly fond of us.” Mandoran’s grin reappeared. “He’s a protective, jealous bastard. Well, not bastard, not exactly—but he’s not from a great line.”

“Unlike the rest of you?”

“Unlike Teela. He hadn’t met the rest of us when he started associating with her. Were it not for my name—for all of our names—and the history associated with those names, he would have assumed that I was his social equal. That’s not good,” he added, in case this wasn’t clear.

There were days when she liked Mandoran; he was accessible in a way the Barrani generally weren’t. And then there were days like these. Mandoran didn’t appear to notice the difference.

“Look, don’t get defensive. He’s stodgy and boring because he’s too damn cautious. We might as well be the unawakened, waiting helplessly in the arms of our parents for the gift of our name.” He hesitated, and then his shoulders drooped toward the tabletop. “He’s been good for Teela. She doesn’t have his name—he’s never offered, and she’s not stupid enough to ask—but she might as well.”

“He’s her partner.”

“The only person who thinks being a Hawk is more significant than being a Lord of the High Court is you.”

Kaylin folded her arms and tilted her chair up on the back legs. It was either that or leap across the table to strangle him. “He’s her partner.”

“Fine, fine. The point is, he’s not one of us.”

“Technically, neither is Teela if it comes to that.”

“Teela is. She’s not as changed as we are. She doesn’t have trouble passing as normal—well, not now.”

“But she did.”

“Duh.”

“I think I prefer it when you speak High Barrani.”

“You probably prefer it when I don’t speak—but you did ask.”

“About Tain.”

“Tain’s been her ally for much longer than he’s been a Hawk. They didn’t just meet when they joined. Every Barrani Hawk in the Halls was vetted, one way or another, by Teela first.”

“And none of them are Lords of the Court.”

“Nope. But there’s no other Lord of the Court who would join the Hawks. If Teela weren’t Teela, she’d’ve suffered for it. But she’s never stayed strictly within the Court’s circumscribed social rules, and in the end, it would have been too much trouble to make her pay for straying outside of them. Her father was powerful, and her father is dead. So are most of the Lords who chose to ally themselves with him, in the beginning. But not all.

“The Barrani who haven’t taken the Test of Name—and passed it—are mostly invisible in the High Halls. They’re not considered significant. They can be servants—and we do have those—or guards; they can be soldiers, if war demands soldiery. But they can’t be anything else. If they have ambition or pretension, they take the Test. Tain didn’t.”

“So he’s considered insignificant.”

“Yes. She’s hoping to change his mind,” he added. “She’s never considered him insignificant, and I think she’s afraid she’ll lose him.” He winced. Kaylin couldn’t hear Teela, and was very grateful for that fact at this particular moment.

She didn’t know Tain as well as she knew Teela, but she knew him well enough by now. “He won’t listen.”

“That’s what I told her. Does she believe me? No, of course not. She might believe you.”

“I’m not stupid enough to try.”

* * *

Bellusdeo found Kaylin in the breakfast room three hours later. The Dragon, like Kaylin, preferred Kaylin’s work days to her days off, and probably for similar reasons. “What did Mandoran do this time?” she asked, drawing Kaylin’s attention from whatever it was she’d been looking at. Her hands, probably. Or the table. Helen had long since caused the plates to vanish, although technically cleaning up was Kaylin’s job.

“Nothing.”

“You’re worried.”

Kaylin nodded. “I was thinking of paying a visit to the High Halls.”

Bellusdeo wrinkled her nose. “Take Severn with you.”

“It’s not Hawk business. Not officially.”

“Almost everything you do is Hawk business. You intend to visit the Consort?”

“If she’ll see me. I have a hundred questions, and I think I have to whittle them down to the important ones.”

“And those are?”

“The ones I can ask without giving offense to anyone.”

“In which case, you might as well stay home.” But the Dragon was smiling fondly. “I don’t suppose you could invite her to visit you here?”

“I could—but I highly doubt she could accept. This isn’t exactly a safe space—” Helen cleared her throat, and Kaylin flushed. “Getting to Helen isn’t exactly safe for the Consort.”

“Who would destroy her?” Bellusdeo asked. “Dragons might have, once, but the Dragons that would have are dead or asleep. And the Dragon that rules now would fight to the death to preserve her because she is, in part, of his hoard.”

Kaylin flinched. “I’ll thank you to never ever say that where the Barrani—any of them—can hear you.” She pushed herself off her chair in order to pace the length of the large room. “I hate politics.”

“Then you hate the living—of every race. Politics exist wherever the living congregate. What you call politics in the comfort of your own home are the things you feel are above you, beyond you. The Emperor is political. The High Lord is political. The Hawk Lord is political. What you fail to understand is that even within your office, politics happen. You call it something else—but at base, it is not that different. The reach of the powerful is greater, therefore the effects of their gambits are both more visible and less easily affected.”

“Office politics don’t get people killed.”

“No, with the possible exception of Teela.”

“That wasn’t office politics—that was High Court politics.”

“But office politics can get people dismissed. And Hawks—like any other living beings—need food and shelter.”

“How do you know this?”

“I listen. I talk, but mostly, I listen. I look for the rules of the game being played, because any game requires a winner. And I don’t play. There is nothing, here, for me to win, and very little to lose.”

“But not nothing.”

Bellusdeo exhaled. “I would almost suggest you move out for a month or two, if I thought you could. But Helen would not be happy, and I have no wish to hurt her. Teela personally chose the Barrani Hawks. One of them attempted to assassinate her. If she is not foolish enough to trust Barrani, she desires what she once built with her cohort: trust.”

Bellusdeo held up a hand as Kaylin opened her mouth. “The Barrani Hawks are not Lords of the High Court. They do not have power, and lack a Barrani measure of wealth. Teela’s personal power has been enough, in the past, to protect them. She did not anticipate the necessity of demonstrations of that personal power to those who might consider becoming her opponents; she has been secure in her power for too long. Such necessary demonstrations will be neither peaceful nor entirely safe.”

“For me.”

“For you.”

7

Kaylin woke to the sound of shouting. Some of it was in Elantran. Some of it was in Dragon. The rest was more or less Barrani. The small dragon was pretty much trying to put his claws up her left nostril, and his squawks, while quieter than real Dragon roars, were much closer to her ears.

She rolled out of bed, noted that she had not grabbed the dagger she kept under her pillow, and considered this—more or less—progress.

“It wouldn’t help,” Helen said. “It is not morning by any standard definition. Would you care for light?”

Her house did not wake her up in the middle of the night unless there was an emergency call from the midwives. Midwives did not enrage or terrify either Barrani or Dragons.

“Where are they?” Kaylin asked, squinting as her eyes acclimatized themselves to bright light. She got dressed while the familiar circled her head, waiting for a place to land.

“I am currently trying to keep Mandoran and Annarion calm, with lamentably little success. I did call for Teela.”

“How?”

“The mirror.” Helen disliked and distrusted the mirror network. The fact that she had used it made things much more dire.

“Bellusdeo is roaring.”

“She isn’t angry. She felt she needed to get the boys’ attention—and native Dragon certainly did that.”

Kaylin headed to the door, her floors creaking comfortably beneath bare feet. At the door, she slid those feet into boots. She wasn’t certain what had happened, but if running or fighting were involved, bare feet wouldn’t be helpful. “What caused this, anyway?”

“The cohort.”

“The cohort’s not even here yet!”

“No. But they are traveling by Hallionne and portal path, and...they seem to have encountered some difficulty.”

Kaylin froze, hand on the doorknob. “Pardon?”

“I believe you did hear me.”

“But—” She was cut off by Dragon roar. “Did that bit involve fire?”

“Yes, but it’s contained. Bellusdeo is trying to stop the boys from doing anything catastrophically hasty—and she has my absolute blessing. I would advise you to hurry, on the other hand.”

“Oh?”

“Teela is almost at the door.”

* * *

Teela was. But so, to Kaylin’s surprise, was Tain. Their eyes were midnight blue, their expressions grim. In the distance Bellusdeo roared, but this time it had intelligible words in it.

Teela made a beeline for the kitchen.

“The boys are downstairs,” Helen explained. “I had to move them to the training rooms. Mandoran is not particularly happy with this.”

“Is Bellusdeo with them?”

“Yes.”

“What’s going on?” Kaylin demanded—of Tain.

“You probably know as much as I do. There’s been some trouble with the cohort in the West March. The impressions left by the cohort are chaotic and unclear.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not certain, at this point, that they can communicate with Teela and the boys. At all.”

Kaylin cursed. In Leontine.

* * *

Barrani could run for longer than most mortals; they were taller than Kaylin and their legs had a greater reach. It took Kaylin five minutes to catch up to Tain, because the training rooms were down an intimidating spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. Kaylin couldn’t see the floor. She did, however, see a closed door on the wall side of the descent.

“They’re here?” Tain demanded of thin air.

“Yes, dear,” Helen replied.

What, a familiar voice demanded, has happened? It was Nightshade. Kaylin didn’t even fight him as she answered. I will be there soon. If Annarion reappears do not let him leave.

I’m not his boss, and I’m not his jailer.

I was not speaking to you. It took her a moment to understand that he was speaking to Helen. That moment, however, was spent watching Tain’s back as he opened a short, squat door. It was thick and old and scarred. She had been to rooms in Helen’s basement before, but this one, more than any other, reminded her of holding cells, except for the light.

Bellusdeo and Maggaron stood in the room’s center; the Dragon’s eyes were orange red, and the Ascendant was armed. Not that weapons appeared to be necessary.

There was no sunlight, no window into the external world. There were no obvious sources of illumination, and even had there been, Kaylin might not have noticed. What she noticed were the moving, swirling splashes of color that seemed to spread across the walls and the ceiling as if they were alive. It reminded her of Shadow, although each color was too bold, too definitive, otherwise. There was a conversation going on that Kaylin couldn’t hear, and this was its detritus.

Tain appeared to see what she saw, but color wasn’t what he was looking for.

“Teela!”

To Helen, Kaylin said, in a much quieter voice, “Is this the room Teela entered?”

And Helen said, “Yes.”

Teela was nowhere in sight.

“She is,” was Helen’s grim reply. “She’s with the boys. Those flashes of color you thought of as argument? She’s one of them.”

* * *

Tain stepped into the room, Kaylin practically hugging his back. He hadn’t drawn a weapon, but both of his hands were lifted. To Kaylin’s eye, everything was a blur of color, and none of that color was Teela. Or Mandoran or Annarion either, if it came to that. “Are they even here?” Kaylin demanded of Helen.

“Yes.” As she spoke, some of that color shifted, becoming less of a flat, moving splash against stone as it did. Kaylin was suddenly reminded of Annarion in Castle Nightshade and was glad that she hadn’t bothered to eat much.

“Guys,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. There wasn’t much sound in the room if she stopped to think about it, but something about the kaleidoscope of color implied shrieking. “There is no way you are going to the High Halls like this! There’s no way you could even enter a Hallionne in this shape or form!”

The slowest of the racing colors recombined; they came together in a way that resembled Annarion, had he been sculpted by someone who wanted to suggest his form artistically, rather than render it realistically. Even his eyes—which were very blue—did not look solid or whole.

“Your brother is coming to visit,” she told him. “And I’d really appreciate it if you’d give Teela back—Tain is about to explode.”

* * *

It took another five minutes before Annarion resembled his usual, breakfast-room self. Teela emerged more quickly, but her color was off. Kaylin would have been gray or green; Teela was simply pale. Her eyes were the same shade of midnight that Annarion’s were. Mandoran did not coalesce.

Tain was at Teela’s side the minute her feet were solid—and it was her feet that took shape last. In all, it was disturbing; it was not something that Kaylin had seen Teela do before, and she had a very strong desire never to see it again.

“Look, I appreciate that you guys had to learn how to talk to, and live in, a Hallionne. But Teela didn’t and she is not cut out for this. You’re guests here. I’m happy to have you. Mostly. But this has got to stop.”

Mandoran lacked a mouth to reply.

“No, he doesn’t, dear, but I don’t think I’ll repeat his answer.”

Kaylin folded her arms. To Annarion she said, “Your brother will be here soon. Anything you can do to become more solid would probably be good.”

“Oh great,” Mandoran said, speaking for the first time. “Tell him we don’t want visitors.”

Kaylin’s arms tightened. “If this is what you do when you’re upset or worried, you’re never going to become Lords of the High Court. I doubt they can actually kill you—but they can make you all outcaste if you push it.”

Bellusdeo dropped a hand on Kaylin’s left shoulder. Small and squawky curled his tail around her neck. He didn’t lift a wing to bat her face, and he didn’t press it over her eyes, either. If he could see Mandoran as he was, he didn’t feel it was necessary for Kaylin to see him, too.

“If you’re all outcaste, you’ll never take that Test. You won’t make it past the front doors.”

“They can try to stop us.” Mandoran’s disembodied voice again. The splashes of flat color across the room’s walls moved as he spoke. It was not comforting.

“Kaylin,” Helen began.

“They will try. But you’re not the people they’ll put pressure on first. Maybe you’ve got no friends and no living family. Maybe you’ve got family, and they don’t want to give your stuff back. But Teela has friends. She has allies. They’ll start there first, because they don’t have a choice. They’ve already started.

“Teela may be part of your cohort, but she’s lived in the High Halls for centuries, on and off. She’s the wedge in the door. She went to the green, and she returned. She fought Dragons. She did it well enough that she has one of the three damn swords.

“If they can kill her, they’re free to shut you all out.”

Tain cleared his throat. Teela locked her hands behind her back, which was unusual. She really did look terrible.

“This is the only place you can afford to do this—and it’s hard on Helen. If you could please pull yourself together, we can have the rest of this discussion.”

“What rest?” Mandoran demanded, not really budging. Or not really staying still; the colors were practically vibrating.

“Your cohort,” Kaylin snapped back.

The rest of the colors bled from the walls back into the center of the room, as if they were liquid and someone had just pulled a plug. Mandoran stood three feet from Annarion, his arms folded in almost exactly the same way Kaylin’s were. His expression was grim, his eyes narrowed slits. “...Fine,” he said. “I’m listening.”

It was Teela who turned to Kaylin. “We are not in contact with our...cohort, as you call them. Helen says the lack of communication is not by her choice; she doesn’t interfere with us.”

“I contain the unintentional noise,” Helen added.

“You can stop communication between people who are bound by True Names,” Kaylin pointed out, more for Teela’s benefit than Helen’s, since Helen already knew this.

“Yes. But again, I do not interfere with the cohort in that fashion. I interfere—on occasion—on your behalf. You are not entirely guarded, and I believe there is some information that you have deliberately chosen not to divulge. I merely maintain some privacy of thought while you are within my boundaries. Teela is capable of doing so on her own.”

“I notice you haven’t mentioned Mandoran or Annarion.”

There was a small pause. “They are not, as you imagine, terribly private in their communications with their cohort. I don’t think they’re capable of it, but it is not necessary. For all intents and purposes, all of the cohort except Teela are like a much smaller Tha’alaan.”

The Tha’alaan was not small. It was a living repository of the thoughts of an entire race, dating back—if dating was the right word—to its creation.

“So...the cohort sent one message and they’re gone?”

“Yes.”

“Are they still alive?”

Mandoran was looking slightly stretched. Annarion, however, was looking entirely like his usual self.

Again, it was Teela who answered. “Yes. If Nightshade died, you would know. We know they are still alive. But that’s all we know.” She let the silence stretch again before she said, “I’ve lived most of my life without contact with my cohort.”

“But...you knew they were alive.”

“I knew they were not dead. But I knew, as well, that they were beyond my reach. I could not hear them. They could not hear me. I assume this was the Hallionne’s decision, but have never asked. I am not Tha’alani. I am Barrani. My life, my existence and my sanity are not predicated on my connection to the thoughts of others. There is a natural expectation of silence.

“Annarion and Mandoran don’t have that. The centuries I spent in the natural silence of my interior thoughts, they spent in constant communication.” She hesitated, glanced at Annarion and Mandoran, and then continued. “I am not sure they would have remained sane, otherwise. Terrano was the most...adventurous...of all of us. I haven’t heard his thoughts since their return to us—but neither have they.”

Terrano was the lone member of that long ago cohort who had had no desire to return to his kin. He had not reclaimed the name that had been his from just after his birth, and the names themselves were the binding that held the cohort together.

“Are you afraid that he came back for them?”

Mandoran snorted. “No. Look, he wanted—for us—what we wanted for ourselves. And we wanted, for him, what he wanted for himself. There’s no way he would come back, attack them, and carry them off. There’s a small chance that he approached them and attempted to convince them they’d be happier where he is now—but the rest of us would know.”

“Fine. What did they see?”

Silence.

“Teela?” When Teela failed to answer, Kaylin turned to her House, figuratively speaking. “Helen.” Her voice was flat; there was no wheedling in it. “What did the boys see?”

“They have been trying,” Helen replied, “to describe it.”

“They can’t. You can.”

“I can describe it to them, yes. It is not a matter of privacy, Kaylin. It is a matter of words, of experience. Something happened. The cohort have been learning from Mandoran and Annarion. They have been practicing to live outside of the Hallionne. But they have had less practice and less contact with people like you. The closest analogue is Teela, but it is hard for them to think like Teela, because to do so, they have to experience only a narrow range of their existence.

“It is like trying to pour the contents of a pitcher into one glass. For you, it is natural; you understand how quickly water flows. You understand when to stop pouring. They are attempting to do what you naturally do when they can see neither the pitcher nor the glass.”

Kaylin turned to Mandoran. She poked her familiar. Her familiar squawked and squawked again, like an angry bird.

“It is not that you would not see what happened were you there,” Helen said, after a pause. “You would. But you would not see it as they saw it. You would not understand it as they might.”

“If I try to stab Mandoran right now and you don’t attempt to stop me, he’s going to see it the way I see it.”

“Yes.”

It was Annarion who said, “No.”

“Did someone try to stab them?”

It was Teela who said, “I think so, figuratively speaking.” At Kaylin’s expression, she added, “Just because you can see what someone else is seeing doesn’t mean that it makes more sense. I haven’t had the experiences the rest of my cohort has had. I have had more experience with the arcane arts that are confined to the reality I perceive. I believe, if you were to venture to the location in which they disappeared, you would find obvious—and large—traces of magical aftershocks.

“It is possible that those aftershocks exist for perfectly understandable and harmless reasons—”

“But not bloody likely.”

“Not in my opinion, no.”

Kaylin opened her mouth. Before words came out, Helen said, “I believe Lord Nightshade has arrived.”

Annarion said nothing. Mandoran, however, said a lot. In Leontine.

* * *

By this time, everyone was more or less “stable” as Helen called it, and she ushered them all into the parlor. Kaylin would have preferred the dining room, but Helen chose to ignore those preferences, probably because Nightshade was involved.

Moran was not in residence, which was the one silver lining of the evening. The last thing Moran needed was the political infighting of an entirely different caste court, given her current position.

Everyone else, however, was in the parlor. Mandoran had attempted to have Bellusdeo excluded, but Helen vetoed it, and Kaylin—who really didn’t want to put the Dragon at risk—hadn’t the heart to agree with Mandoran. Bellusdeo was more likely to survive extreme danger than Kaylin herself.

Nightshade appeared composed and almost casual. He also looked like he’d gotten sleep. While she knew the Barrani didn’t require sleep, every other Barrani in the room, Tain included, looked like they needed about a week of it. She was certain she didn’t look any better.

“Not really, dear,” Helen said.

Severn was the only regular who wasn’t in attendance.

Annarion’s bow, when offered to his brother, was stiff and overly formal, which was not lost on Nightshade. Since the brothers had had almost two weeks of relative peace, Kaylin had hoped that this meant arguments were behind them. But no, of course not. The issues that had caused the argument hadn’t been resolved.

The attempt, on Annarion’s part, to resolve them had become the point of contention, widening the conflict to encompass everyone else.

Helen offered drinks to everyone present. Teela and Tain immediately accepted. They didn’t ask for water. Kaylin, who already had a headache, decided that alcohol wasn’t going to make it any better, but Mandoran followed the Barrani Hawks’ lead. Annarion and Nightshade did not.

“Kaylin has told me some of what has occurred.”

This wasn’t entirely accurate, but Kaylin let it go. What mattered right at this particular moment was the cohort. All of it.

Annarion was silent. Teela, however, took the reins of the conversation, such as it was. She had always been a reckless driver—no one with any experience in the Hawks let her drive anything if they had to be a passenger—but she steered this particular conversation with ease. Probably because it was short and the Barrani were good at implying things without actually using the words.

“But they were not in the Hallionne?” Nightshade asked, when it was clear Teela had finished.

Mandoran answered. “No. They were in transit to Hallionne Orbaranne, on the portal paths.”

Annarion did not glance at his brother, but it wasn’t required. Kaylin suspected it was Annarion who was directing the conversation because Mandoran spoke High Barrani, and he spoke it politely and perfectly.

Nightshade considered them all. “Lord Bellusdeo,” he finally said.

She was orange-eyed and regal as she nodded. Teela’s eyes were blue; Tain’s eyes were blue. They were seldom any other color in the presence of Nightshade.

“Lord Kaylin has been granted access to the Hallionne, should she be the agent of investigation. You however...”

“Have not.”

“No.”

“And would not likely be granted that access.”

“No. The Hallionne are not duplicitous, in general; they would not offer you rest or shelter with the sole intent of destroying you once you were entirely within their power. At best, they would become a prison, should they be inclined to grant permission they were not built to grant. If, as I suspect, intervention is required, it would be inadvisable for you to travel west.”

“And you, as outcaste, would be granted that permission?”

“I have offered blood to the Hallionne; I have paid the price of entry. Once accepted, the Hallionne will not reject me unless there is deliberate intervention.”

“I do not understand how there could not be.”

“No, you do not. The Dragon outcastes and the Barrani outcastes are not the same. Among your kin, you would have had both friends and enemies, as is the case with the Barrani. But the designation of outcaste has a physical meaning to your kin that it does not have to mine. The Barrani designation is political. It is oft deadly, but not, as you are aware, always.

“If the High Court considered me the danger that Dragon outcastes are considered, they might bespeak the Hallionne—but it is both time-consuming and dangerous to do so. They cannot merely mirror the Hallionne and change the guest list; they must travel in person. And the request is not delivered by the simple expedient of word.”

“The Consort could do it,” Kaylin said.

“Yes. But it is not without cost to her, and the High Lord seldom countenances such an action.”

Kaylin hesitated again. It was marked by everyone in the room, but they were all on high alert. “Your brother’s friends aren’t outcaste.”

“Not in the political sense, no. And they had permission to travel; they gained it during the war and it was not revoked.”

“During the war.”

“When they traveled to the West March at the behest of the High Court.”

“...They’re not the same as they were then.”

“No. They carry, I am told, their names. But they are closer now to Dragon outcastes than Barrani outcastes have ever been. It is tacitly unacknowledged. The Hallionne Alsanis has restricted the flow of information about their time in his care, but he is in contact with the other Hallionne that form the road they will travel. Not until they leave Kariastos, if they travel that far, would they be required to travel across land—and Kariastos is well away from the shadowlands and ruins the Hallionne were built to guard against.”

“Annarion and Mandoran did not travel the portal roads to reach Elantra.”

“We’d spent enough time in the damn Hallionne,” Mandoran said, dropping High Barrani in favor of the Elantran he usually preferred. “We thought it would be a nice change to travel outside of one. Mostly, it was boring. And sullen.”

Annarion’s expression was not nearly as neutral as Teela’s as his brother continued to speak.

“The Hallionne are capable of limiting communication of any kind beyond their borders. You are aware that Helen...oversees our communication to a greater or lesser extent. Helen is not the equal of the Hallionne. If she has that functionality, it would be naive to think the Hallionne do not possess it as well.”

Kaylin struggled with resentment; she didn’t want Nightshade to talk about Helen as if Helen were a thing, an inanimate object.

Helen, however, did not appear to suffer the same resentment. Her gaze went to Kaylin, and one brow rose in curiosity. “He speaks of me,” she said, “as if I were a building. And Kaylin, I am. It is the core of what I am.” She turned once again to Nightshade. “I am not in contact with the Hallionne; I cannot say if his assumption is correct. But I believe it must be.” To Nightshade, she said, “Do you believe that Kaylin will be required to visit the Hallionne?”

“I am uncertain at this point. But I do not believe it would be in the best interests of either Annarion or Mandoran to investigate in person.”

“And Teela?” Kaylin asked.

“Teela has been a guest at the Hallionne after her return from the West March; she has been more, at the behest of the green. The Hallionne will not cage or attempt to destroy her. They know her and they accept her.” He turned to Teela. “I have heard that there has been some difficulty in the Halls of Law.”

She failed to glare at Kaylin, not that it would have made much difference to the color of her eyes. If Helen could limit communication within her boundaries, she had no control of what Nightshade could hear outside of them.

“If it is true that there is some unfortunate political unrest, this may be an appropriate time to investigate.”

“I will take that into consideration,” Teela replied. Her voice, like her expression, was a forbidding wall. Kaylin could well imagine what consideration meant, in this case.

Mandoran cursed in Leontine. Since no one had said anything out loud, Kaylin assumed it was at something that passed privately between the three who could speak without speaking.

“There is nothing you can do tonight,” Helen said, and Kaylin revised that number to four. “Kaylin intends to visit the Consort in person.”

“Oh?” Teela’s word was cool. Chilly.

“Yes, dear. Her initial concern was Candallar. Kaylin is sensitive to the idea of fieflords and their interactions within Elantra.”

Teela exhaled. She did not, however, look any friendlier as she turned her glare on Nightshade. Nightshade countered with an elegant smile that was about as friendly as Teela’s glare. Helen stepped between them with drinks.

“Candallar is not your problem,” Teela said anyway.

“Did I encounter him while on patrol?”

“He didn’t break any laws.”

“Not on this side of the Ablayne, no. And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.”

Tain winced. Mandoran whistled.

“While I’m visiting the Consort, I can ask about the Hallionne.”

“I consider that unwise,” Teela replied.

“Probably. But she might have answers that we don’t, and we’re going to need them.”

Mandoran coughed. “I think I’m supposed to say that the Hallionne and our friends are not your problem.”

“If I’d never gone to the green, none of you would be here. You wouldn’t be able to travel. The High Court politicians wouldn’t be up in arms.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with asking the Consort, myself,” Mandoran added.

“There is everything wrong with it at this time,” Tain said. “It may have escaped your notice, but Kaylin is mortal.”

Kaylin tried not to bristle. She failed. “I’m a Hawk.” She folded her arms.

“A mortal Hawk.”

“I was sent to the East Warrens. Not you.”

“You wouldn’t have been sent to the East Warrens if—” He stopped.

“Ifs don’t matter. I was sent. I met Candallar. Candallar is a fieflord, and Candallar appears to be involved. And probably not in a good way, given what happened with the rest of the Barrani Hawks. I won’t push into Teela’s political problems—those are above my pay grade. They’re probably above the Hawklord’s pay grade. But I will talk to the Consort about Candallar.”

“Why would you think she would have any information about Candallar?” As he asked, his gaze shifted to Nightshade.

To Kaylin’s surprise, Nightshade inclined his head. It appeared to surprise some of the Barrani present as well, but did not surprise Annarion. “You are all familiar with Private Neya, surely. She will not pester—” he used the Elantran word “—the rest of the Barrani Hawks. I can give her very little relevant information about the current political substructures in the High Court, or she would pester me.

“She could ask the Lord of the West March, and may be forced to do just that if the situation with your friends deteriorates; he is familiar with Hallionne Orbaranne, and the Hallionne appears to be attached to him. But if his political strength is significant, his reach is compromised by his position; he does not dwell in the High Halls. Any threat of retribution made is made and taken with that understanding: time and distance are issues.

“She could, of course, ask An’Teela, but An’Teela will not answer. She might ask Lord Andellen, but he is almost a political outsider; his tenure as Lord of the High Court expires when Kaylin expires. He cannot build positions of true influence when he serves an outcaste.

“I believe that Kaylin is safe with the Consort; the Consort is safe with Kaylin, and not solely because she is mortal and relatively harmless. We speak that lie frequently, but the Consort does not believe it. Regardless, she will ask. Let her ask there. If she is with the Consort, no one will attack her; if she is with the Consort, none but the most subtle will attempt to engage her at all.”

“Such subtlety does exist at Court,” Teela said.

“Yes.”

“I will go with her.”

* * *

Kaylin used Helen’s begrudged mirror room to make what amounted to an appointment to speak with the Consort; the Consort was not Kaylin, and no one except perhaps possibly the High Lord, just “dropped in” for a visit. Because Barrani didn’t need to sleep, the High Halls were never closed for business. Someone in official, or at least elegant, clothing responded to the mirror, activated it, and—with a narrowing of blue eyes, bid her wait.

He returned, his expression completely neutral, informed her that the Consort was willing to entertain her very “unusual” request, and told her when to arrive.

And then, hearing Annarion’s raised voice in the background, Kaylin cringed and snuck back to her room and her interrupted sleep.