She almost laughed, but it would have been the wrong laugh. “We couldn’t even walk outside at this time of night without taking our lives in our hands. We had Ferals hunting by sundown. I think I can live with a little risk—and it’s a risk I get to choose. I want to help. My reasons haven’t changed. I’ve seen what happened to those children, too—I understand the risks.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest.
“Fine.” He turned to Teela. “Escort Caitlin and Kaylin home. Clint will fly scout.”
Clint nodded.
As they left the office—still occupied by the rest of the Barrani, the Captain, and the Hawklord, Clint said, “Kaylin, you are going to age most of the department prematurely by the end of tomorrow. Swear to god I can see my hair graying.”
“Speak for yourself,” Teela laughed.
“Fine. Most of the department who can age. Have you really only been here two days?”
Kaylin nodded. She hesitated, and then said, “Did you mean it? About the flying?”
He raised a brow and then laughed. “Yeah, I meant it. I know where Caitlin lives. I’ll take you there the long way. No one’s targeting Caitlin directly, so it’ll even be practical.”
Teela and Tain came to Caitlin’s in the morning as well, and Kaylin caught a glimpse of Aerian shadow across the early-morning streets when they left the building. The two Barrani Hawks were silent and their expressions kept people away. They would have kept Kaylin away had she not known they were there for her benefit; even given the tabards, they looked like walking death wishes.
They made it to the Halls of Law without incident, which seemed to disappoint at least Teela. Caitlin took Kaylin to one side and, to the shock of many, asked for help sorting through the reports in her in-pile. This lasted only as long as it took Kaylin to admit that she couldn’t read the necessary précis of what the reports contained, never mind the reports themselves. The older woman pursed her lips and said, “That will have to change. If you mean to work here at all, you’ll actually need to write some reports, and you’ll need to be able to read—and understand—a lot of them as well.
“I’ll speak to the Hawklord about that. The new recruits are expected to take classes in a number of different subjects, because some of the knowledge the Hawks have isn’t considered general knowledge. You’ll probably be asked to join those.”
Kaylin nodded, only half listening. “I want to learn High Barrani.”
“You’ll need to learn High Barrani—but without the ability to read and write, that’s going to be very difficult. You can take these down the hall to the morgue, though. I’m afraid until you start classes, there’ll be a lot of errand running. Most days will not be as eventful as yesterday.”
Kaylin carried messages until Teela came to get her. “Here,” she said, tossing a bundle of cloth at Kaylin. “Just put it on over whatever you’re wearing. It’s going to be a bit on the long side, but hopefully not much.”
“What is it?”
“Just put it on.”
With a little help from Caitlin, she did just that—and discovered that it was a cut-down version of the tabard Teela and Tain wore when they left the Halls. The embroidered Hawk figured prominently across its chest. She was silent for a long moment, running her fingers over its stylized wings.
Teela gave her that moment, no more. “Come on, kitling. If we’re late to meet up with the Wolves, the Sergeant will have what’s left of our hides.”
“Be careful, Kaylin,” Caitlin called out at her retreating back.
“It’s like they don’t trust us,” Teela murmured.
“There’s a reason they don’t generally partner the Barrani Hawks with the fragile ones,” Tain pointed out. “And given everyone’s obsession with a handful of mortal years, they’ve classified Kaylin as exceptionally fragile.”
“Yes, but we weren’t supposed to be watching over the other ones. Heads up,” she added as they turned a corner and almost ran into Captain Neall and two of his Wolves. He nodded as if he’d expected the near collision and turned neatly on heel.
“The carriages are waiting.”
Kaylin winced, but said nothing; instead, in silence, she followed Teela and Tain. The Wolves weren’t particularly friendly or chatty, but at this point, she didn’t expect it; she expected the tension that had gripped the two Barrani, so she wasn’t disappointed.
There was something almost dreamlike about the carriage ride. The streets moved past, framed by the window, and jostling as the wheels moved up and down; she watched the buildings change, caught glimpses of other carriages on the wider roads, and saw people moving out of the way—or pointing—as they drove past. They drove quickly, and at last came to a stop. Teela was first out of the carriage.
“You’re sure the direct route is the one we want?” Eyeing the building dubiously, Kaylin climbed out and looked at it; the building, while not as tall as the Halls of Law, was still pretty damn tall. It had two towers, shorter but somehow more majestic, at either end. Between those towers lay an expanse of pale stone, with windows—glass windows—and wide arches for various doors. Of course, to get to any of the doors, they had to get through the fences, or over them.
Captain Neall, on the other hand, didn’t look like the type of man who was prepared to climb them. He walked to a small break in the fence—it looked like a small hut—and waited until someone came out. That someone was armed, large, and not particularly friendly—but while Kaylin preferred friendly, she’d long since given up on actually finding much of it.
The Captain handed the man some rolled-up paper, and the man unrolled it, read it—Kaylin had never wanted to read so badly in her life—and handed it back. Then he walked back into the small hut, and after a moment, the gates opened. They creaked.
“Let the Captain do the talking,” Teela told Kaylin quietly. “Even if they ask you a direct question.”
“This is your entire crew?” the guard asked Captain Neall. The Captain nodded, and added more impatiently, “The composition of the crew is detailed in the directive.”
Kaylin frowned. “We’re the Law, right?”
Teela nodded.
“We need permission to visit?”
“It’s the Imperial Order of Mages. You probably need permission to sneeze.”
“But…we’re investigating something illegal.”
“Yes. And apparently we’re required to remain within the boundaries of the law, regardless. Funny thing that. No one mortal likes a hypocrite, except perhaps the hypocrite himself.”
“And the Barrani don’t care?”
“The Barrani,” she said with a slender, edged smile, “don’t bother with the hypocrisy. If they have the power, and they’re certain of it, they do pretty much whatever they want. If there’s uncertainty, they resort to diplomacy, but no one believes a word the other person is saying.”
“So why are you working for the Hawks?”
Tain stepped on Kaylin’s foot, and that was all the reply she got. They followed the guards down the walk and toward the large front doors, where more guards stood waiting. These guards, however, didn’t stop them, as they already had two as escorts.
The building itself was very, very fine; it was bright, the halls were tall—although not so tall as the Aerie in the Halls of Law—and everything was well lit; the floors gleamed, where they could be clearly seen. Long rugs covered the center stretch of floor, absorbing noise. There was very little noise that wasn’t footsteps. She was beginning to feel comfortable in this silent anonymity, when a man approached from the other end of the hall. She recognized him: It was Magister Dreury.
Kaylin wasn’t too proud to hide behind Teela. Teela, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be concerned; she looked pointedly at Captain Neall.
“Captain,” the Magister said in a cold, autocratic voice. “This is a highly unusual visit.”
“It is, indeed, Magister. I’m certain you appreciate our concerns, and the reasons for a private, congenial visit. I w
as informed by the Lord of Wolves that any public investigation would be considered an insult to the fine members of the Imperial Order, and that such an extreme of accusation and possible public panic would be undesirable both for the Halls and for the Imperial Order itself.
“It is, however, possible—”
The Magister lifted a multiringed hand. “Enough,” he said curtly. “I am far too old to play games of this nature for more than a few hours a day, and I’ve served my few hours. The meeting is in progress. You will have the run of the two areas you’ve requested for the duration. You will leave before the meeting itself is adjourned.”
“Of course.”
“Good. I myself am somewhat late, and as the meeting will not commence without my presence, I will lead you to the rooms.”
The areas, as the Magister had called them, weren’t completely empty. There was one man lounging in a chair, his feet on a desk, his hands folded in a steeple across his chest. He appeared to be sleeping, although he opened one eye as they crossed the threshold. The man was not, however, human; he was Barrani.
Teela’s eyes went to an instant, cold blue; Tain’s also lost all green, but Tain, of the two, seemed less likely to overreact.
“Neall,” Teela began, forgetting his rank. “You go too damn far.”
The Barrani stranger stood, straightening the fall of his robes. His eyes were completely emerald-green, and his smile, while stunning, was also like a dagger’s edge. “I see that rumors have some substance in this regard. You are with the Hawks.” He offered Teela what Kaylin assumed was a very sarcastic bow; she ignored it.
“Corporal.” The Captain’s voice was cold. “At the moment we cannot afford entanglement with Imperial mages. At least the Arcanists work, aboveboard, for money.”
“For significant amounts of money,” Teela snapped.
“Oh, not always,” the Barrani interjected. “Sometimes we do it because we’re…bored. This sounded like it had the possibility of amusement.”
“Given the price you’re charging,” Captain Neall said, “it had better provide the Wolves with more than just the dubious pleasure of amusing you.”
The man smiled. He glanced at Teela and Tain, and then at Kaylin—but her age didn’t seem to immediately trigger any condescension. Or, Kaylin amended, any unnatural condescension, given he was Barrani. “I’m certain it will provide the necessary information.”
Teela was frowning; Captain Neall noticed—Kaylin thought he’d miss something when they put out his eyes, if then. He nodded to the man he’d identified as an Arcanist, but hadn’t bothered to introduce. Kaylin, mindful of Barrani hearing, didn’t ask what an Arcanist was, or what the difference between an Arcanist and a mage was. Instead, when Captain Neall led them out of the room—through a different door—she trailed behind Teela and Tain.
She wasn’t certain what she’d expected. What she hadn’t expected was the mess. The desk made Sergeant Kassan’s desk look tidy.
“This,” the Captain said, “is Ceridath’s. Both rooms—the outer and the inner—are his. It is in this second room that he is reputed to do most of his study.”
Kaylin honestly couldn’t see how. Then again, she’d never owned so much raw stuff in her life; she had no idea if she’d be as messy, otherwise. There were layers of mess. She started to say something, remembered she wasn’t supposed to speak, and then bit her lip as her arms and legs began the slow burn that clearly indicated the presence of magic in the room.
What was disturbing was the fact that the Arcanist hadn’t bothered to gesture or speak at all. Looking at him, he appeared to be reading the spines of the several hundred books that formed a bastion along the shelves of the wall opposite the door, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He did walk, he did move, but he was—like Teela or Tain—completely graceful and entirely unselfconscious as he did.
Kaylin wasn’t. She walked slowly because it felt like her skin was being rubbed off every time anything came into contact with it—like, say, her clothing. But as the spell grew stronger, the room began to shift, very slightly, in her view. There were some spells on the books themselves, but not all of the books, and the spells were almost ethereal; there was very little obvious light cast. The color wasn’t the gold of the other spells; it wasn’t the blue of the Arcane bombs. It was a shadowy slate, which was probably why it was easy to miss.
She examined other parts of the room as the spell continued to grow in power, and again, some objects seemed to have been somehow magically enspelled, but the color was a theme; it was gray, or a gray-blue at its brightest, and it never quite emerged into something strongly runic. The last place she turned was the desk, and there she froze.
Teela came to her instantly, and touched her shoulder without speaking. Kaylin pointed toward the mirror on his desk. It was rectangular, with a metal frame that had small claws for legs; at the height of the frame, in the center of the bar, was one bright, golden sigil.
It was the same sigil.
“Thank you,” the Captain said to the Arcanist. “If we can now move to the second set of rooms?”
The Arcanist nodded. “He is not a terribly significant power,” he said dismissively of Ceridath. “But possessed of some subtlety.”
“Wait, can you tell what the spell is supposed to do?”
“I?” The Arcanist glanced from the desk to Kaylin for the first time. “Not immediately, although were I given a week, yes.”
“Without triggering it,” Teela added.
“Oh, well.”
The second set of rooms was a study in contrasts. Although the exterior room was very similar to Ceridath’s, the interior was almost spotless. It gleamed. It was possessed of at least as many books, at least as many shelves, and to Kaylin’s eye, the shelves were finer; the surface of the unoccupied desk was almost spotless. A mirror rested on the corner nearest the door. It was an oval, not a rectangle, and it seemed to be made of silver; the frame was not simple; the height of the oval was a carved figure with spread arms and the hint of wings, and the arms seemed to be more highly polished than the rest, because they seemed to reflect more light.
“This,” the Arcanist said, with a critical eye, “was a costly piece.”
“We’re not concerned with the piece, per se,” was Captain Neall’s terse reply. “But rather the possibility of external enchantment.”
But Teela said, “That was not crafted by mortal hands.”
“No?”
“Oh no,” the Arcanist said softly.
He began to cast, again with no outward display at all of his gathering—and spreading—power. Kaylin was almost surprised when no similar golden glyph appeared anywhere on the mirror. Which wasn’t to say that there were no glyphs; there were. They were ice-blue and forest-green; there was one that defined the color yellow. They worked in concert, and they were so intricate she couldn’t have traced their pattern; they were also compelling.
But she turned toward the rest of the study as the Arcanist did, and followed him as he began to examine the books on the shelves.
She didn’t get very far. What was missing on the mirror, she found on the books; the enchantments were not as subtle, not as hard to see, as the enchantments in Ceridath’s study. But every single one of them was, in Kaylin’s vision, a radiant gold, and in that light, she could see a very familiar sigil.
She looked to Teela who was watching her like, well, a Hawk. Something must have caught Captain Neall’s attention, because he said, “Thank you. We have the information we need,” to the Arcanist.
The Arcanist’s spell did not, however, fade or drop, although he did move away from the Captain toward Farris’s desk. Kaylin watched him as he sauntered over to the chair behind the desk. Seating himself as if he owned it, he leaned toward the mirror and gestured; the sigils that Kaylin now knew meant a spell had been cast began to move. They danced in the air just above the frame as if they were performing for his benefit.
Teela shook Kaylin by the shoulder
and Kaylin dragged her attention back to the attentive Captain of the Wolves.
“He’ll hear everything we say,” Teela told the Captain.
The Captain glanced at the Arcanist and shrugged. “He is not a fool. Whether he hears it or not, he will deduce.”
Teela stiffened. “We will speak elsewhere,” she finally said, “Or we will not speak.” Turning—and still holding Kaylin’s shoulder, she began to leave the room.
The Arcanist, however, lifted his voice. “Teela, if you are not still caught up in your present passion of attempting to blend in with the mortals—or perhaps, more interestingly, if you are—you will find this particular spell of interest.”
Teela’s grip tightened suddenly; Kaylin wondered, briefly, if she’d keep the collarbone. Then the Barrani Hawk let go and turned to Tain. “Take her out of earshot before you allow Neall his questions. I will speak with the Arcanist.”
Tain frowned; his eyes had shaded to blue. They weren’t as dark a blue as Teela’s, though. “I don’t like it.”
“No. I am not in danger, here. Remember.”
Tain nodded slowly, and withdrew; he also caught Kaylin by the shoulder, but only to break her stare, which had gone back to the sigils above Farris’s mirror as if anchored. He was less physical than Teela, or perhaps more willing to allow her some dignity.
Only when Tain judged the distance sufficient—which was when they were once again in Ceridath’s outer office—did he relinquish all command to Captain Neall. Neall was brusque; he was clearly not pleased, but he’d obviously been told when to make his compromises with the men of an entirely different division, even if he outranked them.
“Ceridath’s mirror was enchanted,” Kaylin said quietly. “By whoever cast the spell on both the dead girl and the holding room at the—at the site.” She glanced at Tain, who nodded.
“You are certain of this?”
“I’m not a mage, but…if what Ceridath said was true, yes. Mages leave signatures. The signatures are unique.”
“And Farris’s mirror?”
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