Cast in Peril

by Michelle Sagara

  The fact that the disappearances had been reported at all was an almost shocking display of trust. “That’s a dozen in total.”

  “Including your citizen, yes.”

  “What do you suspect?” It was clear he suspected something out of the ordinary, and fief crimes encompassed a lot of ordinary on any given day.

  “There are ways of remaining hidden; not all of them are one-hundred-percent effective if someone is watching with care. If those reported as missing were dead within this fief, we would know by this point. We have discovered no bodies. Given twelve possible disappearances in total, with no word and very little in the way of clues…”

  Kaylin grimaced. “Magic,” she said with the curt disgust only found in the Halls of Law.

  “Magic,” he agreed in about the same tone.

  “I think I need to talk to Tara.”

  * * *

  Tara was, as Morse had indicated, in the mirror room. If Tiamaris chose to scan fief records using traditional mirrors, Tara did not; she had a shallow, wide pool, sunk in stone, whose still surface served that function. She stood by the curve of the pool farthest from the door; her eyes were closed. She nonetheless greeted Kaylin and Severn as they entered. She had folded wings, and Kaylin marked the absence of her familiar gardening clothes.

  The pool by her feet had become the ancient version of a modern mirror, although the images in the water were not the ones Kaylin had expected. Where Tiamaris had maps of the fief in every possible view, Tara’s was focused on a set of buildings, as seen from the street. Kaylin frowned. She didn’t know Tiamaris’s fief as well as she once had—the catastrophic encroachment of Shadows had destroyed several buildings, and Tiamaris’s crews were working on replacing them—but these buildings weren’t fief buildings, to her eye. They were too finely kept, too obviously well repaired, and in the fiefs of her youth, that indicated danger.

  “They are not, as you suspect, within Tiamaris.” Tara turned to Kaylin, opening her eyes. They were the color of dull obsidian. “Hello,” she said softly. It took Kaylin a few seconds to realize she was speaking to the small dragon. The dragon lifted his head, stretching his delicate neck. “You are clearly here with Kaylin.”

  He squawked.

  “Can you understand him?” Kaylin asked.

  “Yes. He is not, however, very talkative.” The Avatar frowned. “Can you not understand him?”

  “No. To me, it sounds like he’s squawking.” The dragon batted the side of her cheek with the top of his head. “Sorry,” she told him. “It does.”

  “You are certain you are with Kaylin?” Tara asked him.

  He snorted, a dragon in miniature, and flopped down around the back of Kaylin’s neck. Kaylin reached up to rearrange his claws, frowning at the mirror’s surface. “Do you know what he is?” She asked Tara.

  “No, not entirely. Creatures such as this one were considered auspicious at one time.”

  “You’ve seen familiars before?”

  “I? No. Not directly. There are some fragmentary histories within my records, but they are not firsthand accounts.” She hesitated, which was unusual for Tara. “Perhaps this is not the time to discuss it. I do not judge you to be in danger at present; there are people within the fief, however, who are.” Her eyes once again darkened and hardened, literally.

  “You’re attempting to look outside of the fief’s boundaries?” Kaylin hesitated and then said, “Tiamaris can probably get Halls of Law’s records access as a member of the Dragon Court. I think you’ll find the buildings faster.”

  Severn, however, had come to stand in silence beside Kaylin. “Why are these residences of relevance in this investigation?” He slid into effortless High Barrani. Kaylin marked it; she wasn’t certain Tara did at this point. Spoken language wasn’t an impediment to understanding thoughts—why, Kaylin didn’t know. Tara had tried to explain it before, but Kaylin was pretty certain she thought in words.

  “Yes,” Tara told Severn. “They are significant for that reason.”

  If the concept of mind reading didn’t horrify Kaylin the way it once had, she still hated to be left out of the conversation. She turned to Severn. “Why do you know them?”

  “It was relevant to my former duties,” he replied after a long pause.

  Kaylin tensed. It took effort to keep her hands by her side. “You’re not a Wolf now.”

  “No. But it is just possible that it is also relevant to the Hawks’ current investigation.”

  “The one that caused the Imperial raid?”

  Severn nodded.

  “Arcanists,” was Kaylin’s flat reply.

  “Yes. The property is interesting because it’s owned by Barrani; the deed is registered to a Barrani Lord.”

  “Please don’t tell me it’s registered to Evarrim.”

  Severn’s silence was not a comfort.

  “Severn?”

  “You asked him not to tell you.” Tara’s last word tailed up as if it were a question.

  “That’s not what that phrase means.” To Kaylin’s surprise, Tara didn’t ask her for the precise meaning, or rather, didn’t ask her to explain why the difference existed.

  Severn’s gaze had fallen to the mirror. “You didn’t see this yourself,” he finally said to the Avatar.

  “No,” she replied. “One of the men who crosses the bridge did. He is not a citizen of Tiamaris, but he is responsible for the disposition of building materials.”

  “A merchant?” Kaylin asked.

  “That is what my Lord hopes to ascertain.”

  “Are you reading the minds of every person who crosses the bridge?”

  “Yes. All. It is interesting and challenging, but tedious. It is also very difficult, and the readings may not be fully reliable. Listening to conversations is a much simpler affair. My Lord feels that the disappearances in the fief are not related to the fief itself; he is looking outward.”

  “You know about the raid on the Arcanum.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. My Lord was informed by the Emperor. It is not,” she added with a frown, “information that is to be shared. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. I’ll probably regret saying that, later.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “Because with our luck, it’ll be relevant. Who, exactly, did you take those images from?”

  Tara gestured and the mirror’s image shifted. A man in nondescript clothing appeared in the pool’s center. He was an older man; his hairline had seen better decades, but he seemed fit. She thought him in his mid-fifties, although he might have been younger. His eyes were dark, and his brows gathered across the bridge of a prominent nose, but there was a brightness to them, a focus, that implied lively intelligence.

  “You are absolutely certain that this is the man?” Severn asked softly. It was the wrong kind of soft.

  “Not absolutely,” Tara replied. “As I mentioned, it is difficult to read at this distance.” Before Severn could speak again, she added, “But he is the only man—or woman—present who is quite so difficult to read.”

  “And the rest take more effort but produce more certain results?”

  She frowned. After a long pause, she said, “There is one person I cannot read or follow.”

  “You’ve deployed Morse and her crew?”

  Tara nodded. “Morse doesn’t like it,” she added. “She appears to think I need protection. I am unclear as to why.”

  “Morse isn’t concerned about your physical safety; she’s not stupid. Can’t you just read her mind?”

  “I have. I do not understand much of what she thinks. She is concerned that the people in the fief will somehow take advantage of me.”

  “I can’t imagine why. Can you mirror that image to the Halls?”

  “Which?”

  “Both.”

  Tara nodded.

  “Be very careful,” Severn told her. “Lock it down to a specific person—the Hawklord would be best.”

  “Why?” Kaylin asked shar
ply.

  “The man in the mirror is influential; he is not considered a friend of the Imperial Halls. He is cautious but political.”

  “Meaning he might be able to access some of our records?”

  “Meaning exactly that.”

  “Is he Human Caste Court important?”

  Severn didn’t answer.

  “Is he too important to otherwise be crossing the bridge with carpenters?”

  “Demonstrably not.” Severn forced his hands to unclench. “Yes, Kaylin, his presence here is highly suspicious. There is no reason for his presence in Tiamaris, save at the invitation of the Dragon Lord, and clearly, no such invitation has been extended.”

  “It has not,” Tara said, confirming what was obvious.

  “Is he in Tiamaris now?” Severn asked.

  Tara frowned. “No,” she said without pause. “He did not cross the bridge today.”

  The two Hawks exchanged a glance. It was the day after the raid on the Arcanum.

  “We’re going to head back to the Halls of Law,” Kaylin finally said. They turned toward the doors.

  * * *

  “Wait.”

  Kaylin turned back to see that Tara’s wings had suddenly unfolded; they were resting at a height that meant severe danger in the Aerians they mimicked.

  “Yvander is speaking to someone on Capstone,” the Avatar said. Capstone was a hard sprint’s distance. “Yvander is one of my citizens.”

  “Who is he speaking to?”

  “I do not know. I cannot see the person clearly.”

  Kaylin stiffened. “You’re certain?”

  Tara nodded. In the distance, loud, heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. “I can clearly sense Yvander. I can hear what he’s thinking.”

  “What is he thinking?”

  “‘I don’t have to work for another hour and a half. It should be safe.’”

  “What should be safe?”

  “A meal and a conversation,” Tara replied. “Someone has clearly offered him both.”

  “Someone you can’t see.”

  “Yes.”

  “Someone he shouldn’t be able to see, either.”

  “Yes, that is my concern.”

  The doors flew open; Tiamaris, eyes verging on red, stood in its frame. His voice as he spoke was a Dragon’s full voice, caught in the chest of a man. Judging by expression alone, the man part wasn’t going to last long. “Tara, the aperture.”

  She nodded, and Tiamaris turned and stepped back into the hall.

  “Kaylin, Severn, follow him. Quickly; we may be too late.”

  They ran into the hall in time to see Tiamaris finish a transformation that justified both the unusual width of the halls and the height of the ceiling. His eyes were larger and redder as he swiveled his head.

  “Yes.” Tara spoke out loud for Kaylin’s benefit.

  “Don’t just stand there gaping.” Tiamaris’s voice shook the ground as he glared at the two Hawks dwarfed by his Dragon form. “Get on.”

  Chapter 5

  The aperture, as Tiamaris had called it, was actually a wall, and from the interior side, it looked like solid stone. Given Tiamaris was running at it headfirst, Kaylin wasn’t too concerned; if it failed to open, it was unlikely to hurt him. Tara, however, flew ahead. At this height, most Aerians would have run—but her flight was like a loosed arrow; she moved. The wings seemed decorative.

  Parts of the rapidly approaching wall, unlike the roof of the Hawklord’s Tower, did not separate and retract. Instead, they faded, turning in an eye’s blink into a very large, very open space with a bit of ceiling over it. Beyond it, instead of the vegetable gardens that pretty much served as the lofty Tower’s grounds, was the length of a street that Kaylin took a few seconds to recognize: it was Capstone.

  Capstone at this time of the day wasn’t empty—but it emptied quickly, pedestrians moving to either side of the street in a panicked rush at the unexpected appearance of a large copper-red Dragon. Tiamaris’s color seemed to shift according to either mood or light; Kaylin, having seen so few transformations in any other Dragons, wasn’t certain why. It wasn’t the time to ask.

  “Tara, we’re near the border of Nightshade?”

  Tara nodded, scanning the people who were now standing in doorways, against walls, or, if they were lucky, in the mouth of an alley.

  Tiamaris drew breath, and before Kaylin could stop him—or before she could try—he roared.

  Tara lifted her chin. “There,” she said, pointing. “At the edge of the border. Kaylin?”

  Kaylin leapt clear of Tiamaris’s back and landed in the street. She took off down Capstone at a run. She hadn’t asked Tara what Yvander looked like, but at this point, it wasn’t necessary: he was near the border, and all but the most hysterical of people who lived on this side of the Ablayne knew damn well to avoid it; there was likely to be only one person near its edge.

  Severn caught up with her as she ran, pulling ahead because he had the greater stride. The man in question—dark-haired, slender of build—froze in place as he heard their running footsteps. Given that he’d just heard a Dragon’s roar, this was surprising. He hesitated for one long moment and then turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes widened as Severn barreled into him, knocking him off his feet.

  Thank gods, Kaylin thought, that they weren’t in the streets of their city. The two men rolled to a stop as Kaylin approached them.

  She blinked. “Pull him back,” she told Severn. “We’re too far in.”

  Severn dragged himself—and the young man—to his feet. “Sorry. The Lady wants to speak with you.”

  The man blinked. His dark eyes were wide. “The—the Lady?” He didn’t seem likely to bolt, and Severn relaxed his grip on a rumpled brown tunic. “Why?” He blinked again and looked around, his eyes widening farther, which Kaylin would have bet was impossible. He turned quickly to his right. “Get Michael,” he said. “Michael!”

  He was clearly looking for someone. “There’s no one else here,” Kaylin told him as Severn began to pull him back toward the safe side of the street.

  “He was right beside me,” the man insisted. “We were—” He frowned. “We were heading to Luvarr’s.”

  “You were heading in the wrong direction. There was no one else with you.” Kaylin’s hands slid to the tops of her daggers as she gazed down at the street. At the height of day, the boundary that existed between Tiamaris and Nightshade seemed almost invisible. But Kaylin looked toward the fief of her childhood, the street that continued into it, and the buildings that stood at its edge, drained of all color. What was left was gray, black, and white. The border had a width that normal maps didn’t give it.

  “Kaylin?”

  She shook her head. Something about the shapes of the buildings looked wrong at this distance. “Take him back to Tara.”

  “Not without you.”

  Yvander was bewildered. “I don’t understand,” he said in a tone of voice that made him sound much younger than he looked. “Why am I here? Where’s Michael?”

  “That’s a good question. Go back to the Lady,” Kaylin said gently. “I’ll look for Michael.”

  “Kaylin—”

  “That will not be necessary.” The fieflord stood yards away, the Tower’s Avatar—and his figurative crown—to his left. “Yvander.”

  The young man dropped to his knees with no grace at all; Kaylin suspected fear had caused his legs to collapse. “Lord.”

  There was no official title for the fieflord, because if you were very, very lucky, you never had to meet him. Tiamaris, however, accepted this in stride. He turned to Tara. “Lady, this is Yvander?”

  She nodded, her eyes obsidian, her wings high. “You were not with Michael,” she said.

  “I—I was, Lady— He was just—he was right here.…” Severn caught his arm and helped him to his feet, for a value of help that saw the Hawk doing most of the heavy lifting. He then guided him toward Tara, who hadn’t moved an inch. As Yvander appro
ached, she lowered her wings.

  “Private Neya.”

  “Lord Tiamaris.”

  “Tara does not believe it is wise to remain where you are standing.”

  Kaylin turned to look back at the street. “Tara, can you come here?”

  “I? No.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I am the Tower, Kaylin; in exchange for power within the boundaries ascribed me by my creators, I am left with very little beyond them.”

  “This is now beyond your boundaries?”

  “Yes.”

  “And in theory, that means I’m standing in Nightshade.”

  Tara was silent for a long moment. “You are aware that that is not the case.”

  Kaylin nodded slowly. “But I don’t understand why.”

  “Come back to Tiamaris, Kaylin.”

  Kaylin, however, frowned as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone was standing at the window of one of the gray, washed-out buildings. He wasn’t gray in the way the buildings were; he wore loose robes that might have been at home in the High Halls. She recognized the long, black drape of Barrani hair.

  His eyes widened as he realized she was looking directly at him.

  “Tara, there’s someone here!”

  Severn sprinted across the ill-defined border to her side as the hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end. She had enough time—barely—to throw herself to the side before the street where she’d been standing—gray and colorless though it was—erupted in a livid purple fire. She rolled to her feet and leapt again as the fire bloomed a yard away.

  The small dragon squawked in her ear; he’d been so still and so quiet she’d almost forgotten he was attached. “Go somewhere safer,” she told him sharply.

  Her skin ached as her clothing brushed against it, but she didn’t need the pain to know that magic was being used. Severn stopped in front of the building as he unleashed his weapon’s chain. “Get behind me!”