“But this case—it’s got nothing to do with money. It’s probably got something to do with power, if it has anything to do with people at all.”
Squawk.
The Emperor blinked. “Your familiar has lost cohesion?”
Squawk.
“Is that a formal way of asking if he’s invisible?”
“Ah, no. I have some experience with illusion and invisibility; I would be aware of him were he here and merely invisible. I am without guards and without my Court; I am not foolish enough to also forsake reasonable precautions. He is not merely invisible. I would not have said he was present at all were it not for his very audible voice.”
“I don’t really understand it myself, but at the moment he’s here in a way that we—or at least I—can’t see.” She frowned.
“You are thinking again.”
Still frowning, Kaylin began to walk. The familiar existed. He was here. She couldn’t see him, and neither could the Emperor. She didn’t understand it. No one else she knew did, either. But...small and squawky wasn’t terrifying. And any reasonable person might consider that stupid: he could change size, he could fight with Dragons, he clearly had motives of his own.
More important, it wasn’t the first strange invisibility-that-wasn’t-invisibility of the day.
Annarion and Mandoran could see the little stinker. Teela and Tain couldn’t. Helen probably could.
Helen couldn’t be moved; she was a building. But Annarion and Mandoran could. With the familiar’s aid, they could even be moved safely. Kaylin wanted to take them to the crime site and ask them what they saw. Were the bodies similar to the familiar in his current state?
They were there. They were physical, they were real, they were lifeless.
But until she’d removed the familiar’s wing from her eyes, she hadn’t seen them. It was the inverse of invisibility, to most people. And most would have no reason to doubt the truth of their senses—and their prior experience.
She turned in the direction of the familiar’s voice. “You’re like the bodies.”
His squawk was softer and more encouraging. It didn’t, however, give her any new information. She remembered, belatedly, that she had company when said company cleared his throat, which was never a promising sound.
“I’m sorry. The small dragon is hooked into a reality that the rest of us can’t directly experience, being alive, corporeal and...well, actually, that’s all I know. Helen understands it better, but she can’t explain it in words we have concepts for.”
“You think your current investigation is somehow connected to this phenomenon.”
“I am really hoping it isn’t. But...yes.”
“I ask that you do what I cannot,” he said. This was an enormously humbling request, but Kaylin’s mouth was already closed and she managed to keep it that way.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Kaylin replied—which, as replies went, was strictly third class—or lower. “She understands, probably better than I do, what Elantra means to you. She understands what her presence theoretically means to the Dragons. But she is never, ever going to beg more than she already has. And before you say she hasn’t, she’s living here. She came here with pretty much nothing. She has no money, no power and no status of her own. The one thing she has to offer, her one area of expertise, is Shadow.”
“And Shadow is unpredictably dangerous.”
“Yes. Believe that she’s aware of that.”
“You are not saying this idly.” His eyes grew more orange.
“...No. I’m doing that thing that I always do.”
“Babble?”
She reddened. “Yes, that, too. I’m talking myself into doing the right thing, even when I don’t want to do it. I told you before—my big fear isn’t about dying. It’s about losing the people I love.
“And Shadows don’t care about love. Or at least not about the people I love.”
“I understood that. Do you intend to take Bellusdeo into Shadow?”
“I don’t intend to take her anywhere. But...she intends to follow wherever this leads. I can’t actually order her to remain behind and expect her to obey me.”
“And I—nominally—can.”
Kaylin nodded.
“This is a test?”
No one with a functioning brain tested the Emperor.
His eyes, a deeper orange in color, made clear just how little he appreciated this. But he understood that if orders were to be given, he had to be the one to give them. And he now understood that the orders would have consequences. “I will not, as you call it, turn you to ash if Bellusdeo survives. There are things she might, in time, forgive. Your death at my hands will never be one of them. If she perishes while in your care, her opinion of your death will no longer be relevant.
“You have never seen me angry.”
She had seen him angry at least once, but wasn’t stupid enough to correct him.
“She is not mine,” the Emperor continued. “She is not my hoard.”
“Could she ever be someone’s? Could you?” It had never occurred to Kaylin until this moment that the concept of “hoard” was elastic enough to encompass actual people. Given the Emperor’s expression, that was probably for the best.
“She is a Dragon,” he replied.
“I take it that’s a no.”
“I will speak with the Halls’ educational liaison. Your lack of fundamental knowledge is appalling.”
“Do female Dragons have hoards?”
“I will speak with the liaison the moment I return to the Palace.” He hesitated, which should have been a big red flag. “I had hoped to invite Bellusdeo to dinner.”
“At the Palace?”
“At any place of her choosing. No,” he added, looking even more uncomfortable, “I wish to choose a place in which she would feel comfortable.”
“Oh, that’s easy.”
“Not, apparently, for an Emperor.”
“Come to dinner at our place.” The minute the words left her mouth, she felt stranded by them, but she had no way to reel them back in. “Are you— Do you mean to come as the Emperor?”
“No.”
“I mean, you are the Emperor and that doesn’t really change—but—” She stopped digging.
“I understand why Lord Diarmat finds you so difficult. Bellusdeo, however, does not. I intend to issue the invitation in person, and I hope to be less...formal.”
She doubted he could be more formal than he was in the audience chambers in which he and Bellusdeo had had several very audible arguments. “I’m really not great at relationship advice. Really, really not great at it. So I want you to keep that in mind.”
“I will not hold you responsible.”
“Unless she dies?”
“Yes. It is unlikely that an invitation to an informal dinner will kill her.”
“Was that a joke?”
“I am not entirely without a sense of humor; I have been told mine is very, very dry.”
Dry enough to spontaneously catch fire apparently, which, given Dragon breath, was not ideal. “An informal invitation would work, I think. I don’t want her to be upset, and I don’t want her to think I’m ratting her out.”
“I will attempt not to take offense. When do you believe she will be free?”
Kaylin, thinking of Ravellon, the fiefs and Annarion, almost shrugged. Because her companion was the Emperor, she didn’t. “Tomorrow, she’ll come with me to visit the Arkon. And after that we’re probably going to chance Nightshade. So, tomorrow is no good.
“I don’t know what will happen in Nightshade. Give it a few days—maybe five? When Bellusdeo puts on her war hat, she’s pretty focused. She takes Shadow personally.”
“I am aware of that.”
“If you want to strategize—without insulting or minimizing her advice or experience—that would probably be the best thing you could offer her. But not if you’re going to end up having another deafening ‘discussion’ about her safety.”
“Perhaps I will do exactly that,” he surprised Kaylin by saying. “It will give us something to talk about that is less awkward.”
“What do you normally talk about?”
“You and Lord Diarmat. And yes, the importance of her safety. I will attempt to avoid all three subjects.”
* * *
Living in a sentient building was almost heaven. There were one or two drawbacks, however.
Helen insisted that Kaylin eat breakfast. Kaylin didn’t usually have time, given her early-morning routine—which involved falling out of bed, shoving herself into the nearest clothing and heading for the door at a run.
Helen blamed this familiar routine on Kaylin’s irregular hours and her inability to wake up on time. Since she couldn’t change Kaylin’s working hours, she’d settled for waking Kaylin in time to eat. Today, for the first time since she had changed Kaylin’s familiar routine, Kaylin had company.
Moran was seated on the left side of the table when Kaylin entered the room. She was dressed for work and appeared to be far more awake than Kaylin felt.
She smiled, and her face didn’t crack. “Not in the Halls, remember?”
Kaylin nodded and took a seat, looking at Moran. The Aerian’s color was better. The tight slope of her shoulders had eased. She looked comfortable at this table. “Did you sleep?”
“Yes. I slept well.”
“And she woke well,” Helen added.
“Where are you?” Kaylin asked.
“With Annarion. He is in a much better mood than he was yesterday. He spent some time speaking with Hope—and I think you named him well, even if you find the name too sentimental to actually use. He’s looking forward to your outing. We’ll be joining you shortly.”
Bellusdeo entered the dining room before Helen and Annarion reached it. She nodded at Moran and took the seat across from the Aerian. “Have you decided to join us?”
That was the only question on Kaylin’s mind, but she hadn’t had the guts to ask it.
Moran pushed food around her plate as if it took effort. When she lifted her head, she looked to Kaylin. “You understand that this might cause difficulty for you?”
Kaylin shrugged. “What doesn’t?”
“It might cause difficulty for the Hawklord, too—and I owe Grammayre more than trouble.”
“Has he told you not to stay?”
“I don’t think he considered the possibility, or it’s likely he would have.”
Kaylin’s expression made clear that she didn’t believe it.
“It might cause difficulty for the Emperor, as well.”
“The Emperor doesn’t get involved in difficulties with the Caste Courts.” She hesitated. Everyone in the room—and one person who wasn’t, yet—marked it. “And frankly, the Emperor would probably be pleased if you accepted our offer.”
“Oh?” Bellusdeo said, in a distinctly chillier voice. “What makes you say that?”
“She’s spoken with the Emperor,” Helen replied, when Kaylin didn’t.
Bellusdeo’s eyes drifted, predictably, toward orange. “When?”
Kaylin’s food appeared, along with Helen and their two Barrani housemates. “Last evening, I believe. I didn’t hear the conversation, though; the Emperor did not stay.”
“The Emperor came here,” Bellusdeo said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, dear.”
“Why, exactly?” She asked the question of Kaylin, who was now looking at breakfast with an amazing lack of appetite.
“He’s worried, of course,” Helen replied again—coming, in the worst way possible, to Kaylin’s rescue.
Annarion and Mandoran made a wide, wide circle around Helen and came to the table. They chose seats as far from Bellusdeo as the table stretched.
“If it’s any comfort,” Mandoran said, “we get this from Teela all the time. It’s like she thinks we’re children.”
This was clearly no comfort to Bellusdeo.
“And if that isn’t,” Annarion added, “Teela—and several of our other friends—are telling Mandoran to shut up.”
The Dragon’s lips twitched at the corners, and the color of her eyes lightened.
“You worry for the Arkon, dear,” Helen pointed out softly. “He does not find this insulting or condescending.”
“No. But I don’t tell him what to do. I can’t give him orders. Had he come to me with his plan to face the ancient, I would never have attempted to forbid it.”
“Do you place no value on your own life?”
“I don’t need to” was Bellusdeo’s bitter reply. “Everyone else is always telling me what I’m worth.”
Moran cleared her throat.
It was a familiar sound; had Kaylin been speaking, she would have shut up instantly.
“Helen, is it always this noisy first thing in the morning?”
“Sadly, no. The house hasn’t been this lively in a while.”
“Lively.”
“There is goodwill beneath the frustration and anger,” Helen replied, her smile serene. “And affection. I have missed it. Understand, Moran,” she continued, as she drifted around the table, “that all living things yearn for purpose. Mine is—and always has been—to become a home. But a home is defined entirely by the people who live in it.
“If you will allow it, I would be honored to make a home for you until you can once again return to the Southern Reach.”
Moran settled her hands in her lap. “What will it cost me?”
“That, dear, is for you to decide. Obligation and a sense of personal debt are too delicate and too complex for a simple building to navigate.”
Bellusdeo’s snort had smoke in it.
“But regardless, that decision is not in my hands. This is Kaylin’s home. I imagine that the entire cost will be written in pride. Yours,” she added softly.
Moran glanced at Kaylin and then at Bellusdeo. To the Dragon, she said, “The Emperor is merely worried. He is Emperor. He has not forbidden you freedom of action.”
“He has made the attempt.”
“Perhaps you do not understand our Emperor,” the Hawk continued. Kaylin’s jaw dropped. “He is not, historically, incompetent enough to make unsuccessful attempts. If he has attempted to move you by discussion, debate or even argument—”
“A lot of argument,” Kaylin said.
Moran ignored this. “He has not commanded.”
Bellusdeo said nothing for a long beat, but when she exhaled, she lost two stiff inches of rigid height.
“I understand the formal protocols of the Empire are foreign to you; I understand that Lord Diarmat is...problematic. But even a private in the Hawks can see that the Emperor is trying to accommodate you. It is not something he is generally accused of being—accommodating, that is. He will probably get it wrong more often than right. Frankly, were you Aerian, you would not be allowed to fly outside of the Aerie. You would not be allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied.”
Bellusdeo could have pointed out that she wasn’t unaccompanied. She didn’t. Instead, she exhaled more air than she could have possibly inhaled and folded her arms. “What did he come here for?” she asked.
Seeing an opportunity, Kaylin said, “He wanted to join us for dinner.”
“Join us.”
Some opportunities were disasters. “He doesn’t want to be your enemy. Inasmuch as Emperors have friends, I think he’d like to be one of yours.” When Bellusdeo failed to reply, she continued, “You understand the burdens of a ruler. You were one. Dragons are not known for their ability
to gracefully accept advice or criticism—but I think you have more in common with the Emperor than you think. Except for your sense of humor.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t think he has one.”
Mandoran snickered. So did Bellusdeo.
“Did he say when?”
“I think that’s going to be up to you. Look, I can’t tell you how to behave around the Emperor. I wouldn’t be stuck in Diarmat’s hell class if I was qualified to do that. But...he’d be here without his stuck-up, wooden guards, and he wouldn’t be sitting on a throne. It probably wouldn’t be boring.”
“Are we invited?” Mandoran asked.
“Absolutely not,” Bellusdeo replied.
They devolved into bickering, and Kaylin looked back to Moran. To her surprise, the formidable sergeant was smiling.
“You’ll probably regret it,” she told Kaylin. “But...yes. If the offer is still open, I’d like to stay here until my wing is healed.”
“About the wing—”
“On its own.”
Chapter 11
Ditching Annarion and Mandoran proved to be much, much more of a problem than Kaylin had anticipated. Helen was willing to allow them to leave if they accompanied Kaylin, as her familiar could more or less keep them hidden from the non-mortal Shadows who seemed to hear them so clearly.
Teela didn’t particularly care for either the Arkon or the Imperial Palace; she could tolerate them, but she never sought them out willingly. She hadn’t, therefore, insisted on accompanying Kaylin. Severn had shown up at the front door as a reminder of the appointment she’d already managed to miss once.
Annarion was willing to follow Teela’s lead. Mandoran was not, and Annarion wasn’t willing to let Mandoran be the only Barrani representative from their collective crew. But Severn considered the visit less risky than Kaylin did, and in the end, Kaylin had agreed to let them accompany her. She was fairly certain Marcus’s fur—all of it—would be standing on end if he knew, but it was easier to grovel and beg forgiveness than to ask permission.
The Arkon had wanted to meet them, anyway.
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