“Lannagaros has found the Academia he thought destroyed by the necessity of the creation of the Towers. He is home. Bellusdeo is not home; her home was destroyed by the Shadows at the heart of Ravellon.” Emmerian exhaled. His eyes remained orange, but there was an odd shade blended in with that orange that Kaylin didn’t recognize. “I have seen her fight,” he said, voice soft. “It is when she takes to the skies—or adopts her draconic form—that she seems to burn with a sense of rightness.”
This made no sense to Kaylin, who had certainly seen more of Bellusdeo in combat than Emmerian had.
The home Bellusdeo had built for herself had been entirely destroyed by Shadow, its people lost, the remnants of the civilization she had ruled abandoned so that some of them might survive. “Do you want her to take the Tower?” Kaylin asked.
Emmerian did not answer.
“Fine. If I get seconded to Bellusdeo, however indirectly, I get paid, right?”
* * *
“Is everything money to you?” Terrano asked.
Mandoran kicked him. They had both been waiting for Kaylin in the dining room, which was her usual retreat when she wasn’t in her room. Emmerian had been seen to the door.
“Are you guys serious?” she demanded, grateful that they’d waited, because if they hadn’t, she’d’ve had to hunt them down.
“About what?” Terrano asked, while Mandoran replied, “Hardly ever if I can help it.” Their words were distinct, but there was a lot of overlap.
“The Tower.”
“It’s Sedarias,” Mandoran said, grimacing. “What do you think?”
“I’m thinking I hope Sedarias spends a lot of time at the High Halls in the very near future. I know that Candallar’s Tower liked Candallar. I think it’s the reason he wasn’t killed until he tried to kill the Academia’s students.
“Were any of you guys with us when we talked about what lay at the heart of the Tower?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nightshade’s Tower was built around one of the Barrani Ancestors. Tiamaris’s Tara wasn’t. Castle Nightshade is a murderous, hostile place. Tara is not. It’s the same with the Hallionne, except for the murderous and hostile part. I don’t know what the base of the Tower—let’s call it the heart—was. I think the Arkon said that Candallar’s Tower was once named Karriamis.”
“Does it matter? Karriamis was attached to Candallar, who was Barrani.”
“I’m not sure any of the twelve of you—except Teela—would be considered Barrani by a Tower.”
“That’s not your problem, is it?”
“Technically none of it’s my problem—or it wasn’t until Emmerian.”
“You don’t want to pick a side?”
“I want to know what you two think. This is obviously a Sedarias idea, with a tiny touch of Terrano on the side.”
Terrano looked offended. “I spent centuries jailed in a sentient building—you think I want to go back to that?”
“Yes, actually.”
He grinned; Mandoran laughed. “If it’s any help,” the latter added, “I’m totally against it.”
“How many of you are totally against it?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does. I’d like for the cohort and the Dragon not to be engaged in mortal fights in the fiefs—where Imperial Law doesn’t rule.”
Mandoran’s grin faded. “I’m totally against it,” he repeated. “So I thought, if you were stuck tailing the Dragon, I’d accompany you.”
“No thanks.”
“And you can stop me, how?”
“Helen can stop you.”
“Not permanently, and you know you’re just going to piss off Sedarias. Look, I like the Dragon. I shouldn’t, but I do. She’s not unlike us, except for the scales and the fiery breath. I hate to be serious, and if I am, it’s entirely on you—but she’s not happy here, and if fighting Shadows and constantly risking her life is what makes her happy, who am I to argue? But I don’t intend to be one of her targets. If you decide to accept this job—”
“It’s not a job. It’s a command.”
“Fine. If you decide to obey this command, one of us should go with you.”
“Sedarias just wants to know what’s going on.”
“And your point is?”
“Fine.”
Mandoran shrugged. “One of us is going. You’d rather it was Annarion?”
“Why are those the only choices?”
“Yeah,” Terrano said. “Why only you two?”
Kaylin had a headache, probably because she was clenching her jaw. “You win,” she said. “But don’t tell me anything else. I’d like at least a smidgen of plausible deniability.”
* * *
When Kaylin arrived at the office the next morning, she was surprised there was still a working door, because Marcus was glaring at it, fangs exposed, when she stepped over the threshold. To be fair, he said she’d done nothing wrong, but she was clearly at the center of whatever it was he found nearly enraging.
She wasn’t terribly surprised when he sent her, without comment, up the tower at the Hawklord’s request. Severn joined her before she reached the stairs.
“Did Marcus tell you what the Hawklord wanted?”
“No, but from your expression, you’ve probably got a decent guess.”
She nodded. “I’m being seconded to the Imperial Palace. Sort of.”
“Seconded to who?”
“Technically? You know, I’m not sure. Emmerian, probably. He was the one who made the request.”
“Lord Emmerian, if we’re speaking of technicalities—which we will be, when we enter the Hawklord’s tower.”
“Fine. Lord Emmerian asked.”
“What did he ask of you?”
She shrugged. “He wants me to tail Bellusdeo and Maggaron.”
Had they not been climbing stairs, Severn would have stopped to stare at her; as it was, she felt the edge of both surprise and concern, although neither were voiced.
“I don’t know what he’s said to the Hawklord, but I guess we’re about to find out.”
03
Severn was kind enough to place his palm over the door ward of the very closed doors. The Hawklord, who knew Kaylin’s allergy to wards—or their allergy to her—frequently left those doors open when he summoned her to the tower. That they weren’t open wasn’t a confirmation of his mood, but it was a sign that he was either heavily distracted or displeased.
No one wanted their boss to be pissed off at them, but Kaylin forced all signs of anxiety off her face. Her arms and shoulders were probably stiffer than normal, but...he was the Hawklord. She wasn’t, as a corporal, expected to be entirely relaxed in his presence.
The doors rolled open; the Hawklord stood to one side of his large, freestanding oval mirror. It didn’t reflect him. In the mirror, she could clearly see Lord Sanabalis. Which was better, she supposed, than Lord Diarmat.
Sanabalis’s eyes were a gold-orange as they shifted toward the two new arrivals.
“Corporal, Corporal,” he said.
Lord Grammayre nodded. His eyes, unlike Sanabalis’s, were a blue-gray, which was the Aerian equivalent of Sanabalis’s gold-orange. As she approached, she revised that; the gray was a darker gray, not the ash gray that was the resting almost-happy color.
“I have received an Imperial request, Corporal,” the Hawklord now said to Kaylin, his expression hooded but mostly neutral.
She waited. When she failed to interrupt, Sanabalis nodded—as if in approval—and Lord Grammayre continued. “I am not entirely pleased with the request.”
Closed doors had definitely been a signal. Kaylin continued in silence, although this was harder. She was a corporal now, not a private, which meant she had something to lose.
“Are you aware of the request, Corporal?”
; She nodded.
“I would like to hear what was asked of you.”
Sanabalis’s eyes shaded slightly toward orange, but he wasn’t angry. He looked tired.
“The Dragon Court is concerned about Lord Bellusdeo’s current excursions. She’s not a member of the Court, except as a courtesy.”
The Hawklord nodded.
“They want me to accompany her on her various outings.”
“To where?”
Kaylin stopped herself from shrugging. “Part of their concern is that they cannot actually answer that question to their own satisfaction.”
“And Lord Bellusdeo has chosen not to divulge that information.”
Kaylin was almost, but not quite, certain that no one had asked. It was a complicated situation, given Bellusdeo’s importance to the Dragons.
“I am not privy,” she said, grateful that she’d chosen to speak in Barrani and not the more casual Elantran, “to the discussions that occur between members, or honorary members, of the Dragon Court, sir.”
The Hawklord’s eyes narrowed. Blue was now predominant. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”
“I’ve accompanied Bellusdeo before,” she replied. Lord was not technically correct, and Bellusdeo hated it. “I’ve always survived it.”
“Where do you believe she is going?”
Kaylin exhaled. She absolutely hated it when people asked questions to which they already knew the answers; she understood that this was some test of honesty. Or something. Nevertheless, he was her commander. “The fiefs.”
“I have had very little time to peruse your last report. I believe the fiefs figure prominently in that report.”
There was a literal hole in the report that Marcus had accidentally put there with extended claws. Kaylin had watched him do it without concern, and regretted that now.
“Yes, sir.”
“You believe you will accompany Bellusdeo into the fiefs.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you believe you will achieve there?”
Since Kaylin wanted nothing from the fiefs, she felt this was an unfair question. “I will carry out my orders, sir. If Bellusdeo enters the fiefs, I will enter them with her. If she chooses to visit the new chancellor in the Academia, I will visit with her. If she elects to enter a fief other than Tiamaris or Nightshade, I will accompany her.
“I will,” she continued, when he failed to comment, “report.”
“That report,” Sanabalis said, entering what was only barely a conversation, “will be tendered to the Dragon Court. To me, personally, or Lord Emmerian. The contents will not be a matter for the Halls of Law.”
Ah. This is why the Hawklord looked so disgruntled.
“I’m willing to go,” she said, when the Hawklord’s silence threatened to be almost lethal, it had sucked so much air out of the room. “She lives with me. I understand why the Arkon is concerned. I understand why the Emperor is concerned.”
“I believe she has guards. In fact, I believe Lord Emmerian—of the Dragon Court—serves in a security position.”
Sanabalis actually winced, but as the mirror was momentarily at the Hawklord’s back, he didn’t notice. “Lord Grammayre.”
“Arkon.”
“The requisition of the corporal’s services is not done lightly. We are aware that we are—once again—treading on your figurative toes. Were a Dragon deemed suitable company by Lord Bellusdeo, the Dragon would in all ways be preferable. He is not.
“She will accept the corporal’s company. She understands that the corporal will report to me, and if this does not please her, Kaylin is of value to her, and she will grudgingly accept it. She will be far less sanguine about Kaylin’s safety than she would be about her own, and Kaylin’s presence may encourage a caution she does not apparently feel otherwise.” He then turned to Kaylin. “The corporal’s salary will, of course, be paid by the Dragon Court.”
“And her partner’s?”
“We do not require Corporal Handred at this time.”
The Hawklord smiled. Kaylin often wondered how smile could be used to describe such a wide range of expressions, because there was nothing friendly, amused, or otherwise happy about this one. “Corporal Neya is a Hawk.”
“We are aware of that.”
“Hawks do not patrol without their partners. I believe Imperial Law and custom are quite specific about this.”
Sanabalis turned to speak to someone outside of the mirror’s frame. He then turned back. “Very well. Far be it for the Dragon Court to skirt the rigid confines of the Hawks’ bureaucracy. Corporal Handred is acceptable, and yes, we will make certain that the loss of his services is not reflected in your budget.”
The Hawklord nodded. “When do you intend to start this new assignment?”
“Immediately. It is likely that Corporal Neya will not be able to accompany Lord Bellusdeo today, but she is to leave the Halls of Law and make that attempt.”
* * *
Severn said a lot of nothing as they headed back down the stairs.
“At least he didn’t tell me it was my choice,” Kaylin said, her voice bouncing off the rounded stone walls of the stairwell.
“He doesn’t usually offer illusory choices. If you said no, the Emperor would have issued a command.” Severn exhaled. “The Hawklord doesn’t want you in the fiefs.”
“I’m better than I used to be,” she offered. “Tara helped. I like the idea of the Academia, and you can’t reach it without going through one of the fiefs.”
“I think we should start in Tiamaris. Head home, check with Helen to see when Bellusdeo left. The Hawklord’s right—we’re not going to find her today unless she decides to put part of the fiefs to the torch, figuratively speaking. But we can talk to Tara and see what Tara thinks.”
“She won’t talk about it if she’s been told not to.”
“Bellusdeo can’t command Tara, and Tara’s courtesy isn’t as strongly rooted as Helen’s. Tiamaris is a Dragon, a member of the Dragon Court, and someone who will share Imperial concerns. I don’t think he’ll tell her not to talk to us.”
* * *
They both headed to Kaylin’s home, and by the time the front door opened, Helen knew why. “She left before you left for the Halls of Law.”
“Maggaron was with her.”
“Yes, dear.” Helen hesitated.
Kaylin cursed in the Leontine she both loved and failed to properly pronounce, given the physical differences in the throats of the two races. “Did Mandoran follow her out?”
When Helen continued to hesitate, Kaylin switched to Aerian. “Did Mandoran and Terrano follow her out?”
“Terrano felt that you had accepted Mandoran as a companion, and to be fair, Mandoran frequently accompanies both of you when you patrol. Mandoran is, in my opinion, capable of reining Terrano in. Sedarias and her escorts have returned to the High Halls.” She paused. “Valliant and Serralyn have expressed a desire to deliver their more fragile possessions to the Academia now.”
Kaylin was not aware that they had any.
“If you would escort them through Tiamaris, they would be grateful.”
“Barrani gratitude is not something anyone sane wants.”
“Ah, no. Perhaps grateful is a poor word choice. They are not quite ready, but if you are willing to eat an early lunch, they will join you.”
* * *
Kaylin’s sour expression, which she felt no need to discard in her own home, softened completely when Serralyn walked into the dining room—if walked was the right word. She seemed to be floating, and her eyes were so green it was almost impossible to look away from them.
Valliant, who trailed after, was more traditionally green-eyed; his eyes retained their flecks of blue. Anxious blue, Kaylin thought. Serralyn was looking forward to a future she had never ant
icipated being a possibility with open, unfettered delight. Kaylin thought Valliant was less trusting of the future—she would have been. She would have been privately certain that something she did would screw everything up. But Serralyn’s unadulterated joy was almost infectious—possibly because Kaylin had seen so little of it in her life. It was fascinating, and outside of her experience enough that she couldn’t even envy it—she couldn’t imagine feeling it.
Happiness, yes. Of course. But this...wasn’t the same. She had no doubt that Serralyn’s eyes would once again resume the familiar Barrani shades of emotional color. Life did that. But she wanted to enjoy what she could of this while it lasted.
“I hear we’re escorting you guys to the Academia.”
Serralyn smiled. “We have a couple of things we want to take there.” She lifted a strapped pack. “We don’t have enough—we’ve never had enough—to need an entire caravan’s worth of wagons. And we’re not the chancellor.” Meaning, no one would die if their personal items were somehow scratched or jostled. With the former Arkon, that had never felt like a guarantee.
Kaylin finished eating and stood, lifting Hope from the table where he was playing with what remained of her food. She placed him on her shoulder, where he slumped in a drape of translucent scales. Severn waited until the two Barrani they were to escort were ready. In Serralyn’s case, that was instant. In Valliant’s case, it was less so, although it was clear that some background conversation between parts of the cohort was in progress by the time he left Helen.
Neither Severn nor Kaylin had chosen to wear tabards, as they weren’t officially on roster duties. It was much safer than it had once been to wear the Hawk in the fiefs, especially the one to which they headed: Tiamaris. Tiamaris enforced Imperial Law within the boundaries of his fief, with a few notable exceptions—those governing transformation and flight above the skies of his fief.
Tiamaris did not yet feel like home, but wearing the Hawk’s tabard in that fief wasn’t an instant invitation to skirmish—at best. Since they weren’t certain to remain in Tiamaris, lack of tabards was a simple precaution.
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