“I think there’s a...hatch. Up ahead.”
“I can’t see it.”
“Right. There’s obviously a basement here; let’s assume the invisible hatch and the basement are connected.”
“I think it’s time we paid a visit to the house where the murders took place.”
“Basement first.”
* * *
Teela and Tain had found nothing of importance upstairs. There were two obvious bedrooms and one sitting room; the sitting room was so pristine it was clear it wasn’t used for much. The bedrooms had small, shallow closets that were filled with clothing and linen, and dirty laundry had accumulated in the usual places—at least in Kaylin’s experience.
The basement, however, was different.
The moment Kaylin opened the door, her arms began to tingle. Teela, moving slowly and scanning carefully, sucked in air; when Kaylin glanced back at her, the Barrani’s eyes were a much darker shade of blue.
“Teela?”
“Be careful here.” She glanced once at the Dragon.
The Dragon nodded, and the tingling across Kaylin’s marked skin grew sharper, though it was not yet painful. “What do you see?”
“Magic” was Teela’s curt reply. She didn’t bother to draw a weapon; Kaylin drew a silent dagger. Severn had not let go of his blade.
“I’ll go winged,” Kaylin said, as the small dragon huffed.
“I’m not sure wingless wouldn’t be more useful at this point,” Teela said. She gestured and light appeared to her right, in about the position a lantern would hold if she’d been using one. The light bounced off the walls as they began their descent. Teela had once again taken point, and once again, Kaylin let her have it, choosing to take the rear instead.
There was no trail of shadow on the stairs by which they made their descent. The narrow, steeply inclined steps were whole, if more obviously worn than the stone that girded the front and back of the house. The width forced Bellusdeo and the Hawks to move in single file.
Kaylin nearly leaped out of her skin when she heard clanging bells. It was only when Teela cursed—in Leontine—that she remembered the portable mirror. “Are you going to answer that?”
“No,” Teela replied. “It’s Marcus.”
Kaylin hesitated.
Teela, accustomed to Kaylin’s hesitations, said, “Marcus doesn’t normally have the ability to communicate with us in the course of a regular investigation. The lack of snarling has not notably harmed us, and he remains in a mood that can only charitably be called foul.”
“But—”
“If I answer, he will ask for an update. If I give him an update that reflects reality, he will almost certainly order you—and Corporal Handred—from the building. Possibly from the district.”
“He sent us.”
“Yes. But you have the most valuable citizen in the Empire as your shadow today. Examining corpses for possible magical taint is unlikely to harm her. Examining a deserted building for possible Shadows, not so much.”
Kaylin wanted to slap herself, hard. She did not, however, continue to argue with Teela. Instead, she looked guiltily at Bellusdeo, who she could just see over Severn’s shoulder. Bellusdeo had chosen not to hear the exchange, and given that she was in the literal middle of it, that took deliberate effort.
“That citizen,” Teela continued, when interruption or argument failed to stop her, “has seen more Shadow war than we have. Her presence might be of value in this investigation.”
Kaylin was acutely aware of just how little that would matter to the Emperor, but held her peace, since she was also acutely aware of how much it would mean to Bellusdeo. Bellusdeo was the most important single individual in the Empire—in the opinion of the Emperor. As she was the only surviving female Dragon, a life of decadent luxury was hers for the taking. She didn’t need to work or take responsibility for anything that occurred within Elantra; she never needed to lift a finger again in her life, never mind actually risk it on anything.
And it was killing her.
“You win.” Kaylin continued down the stairs, but felt compelled to add, “But it’s me he’s going to be mad at.”
“In this, your rank will preserve most of your hide. You’re a private. I’m a corporal.”
“Don’t remind me.”
* * *
They didn’t make it all the way down the stairs; Bellusdeo stopped walking suddenly, and Severn stopped just before he ran into her back. Kaylin, worrying about Bellusdeo, stopped when she ran into Severn’s back.
“What is it?” she asked.
Bellusdeo said, “The door. The front door.”
Kaylin pivoted and ran up the basement stairs. The small dragon folded his wings, slimming the lines of his body; for once he didn’t drape himself across Kaylin’s shoulders like a spineless, translucent shawl.
Two people stood in the front vestibule. One was a tall, slender man whose skin was pale in a way that reminded Kaylin too much of corpses. His clothing was fine; if he appeared at the Imperial Palace, he was unlikely to be sent to the trade entrance, unlike Kaylin herself. His hair was darker than Kaylin’s, his eyes darker, as well. He was just a smidge taller than Severn.
The second person was a young girl of intermediate age—not enough of her was visible behind the man. Her hair seemed to be a tightly braided, pale brown without the highlights that often made paler hair stand out, and her skin was that mix of ruddy and pale that implied temporary ill health—at least in the young of Kaylin’s acquaintance. But she clearly got more sun than the man who stood between the Hawks and the girl like a shield.
“What,” he asked, in a tone that made ice seem warm, “are you doing in my home?”
The girl peered out from behind his back, then tugged on his sleeve.
He glanced down at her, his expression softening.
“They’re Hawks,” she whispered. It seemed to Kaylin that she was attempting to either comfort or encourage him.
“There was some trouble in the neighborhood late last night or early this morning,” Teela told him, taking over the conversation as she pushed herself to the front of their five-person group; the hall had become quite crowded. “We’re here to investigate that.”
“I assure you that there was no difficulty in this house.”
The small dragon squawked softly.
He was not, however, inaudible, and the sound immediately drew two stares. The man’s was frozen and unblinking; he seemed to become a motionless, breathless statue. But the girl came out from behind him, her eyes wide and bright with curiosity. They were lighter in color than they’d first appeared. She took two quick steps, but the man caught her by the shoulder, pulling her back.
Kaylin understood his cautious gesture and immediately crossed the hall toward her; no one followed.
“Is it alive?” the girl asked in a hushed voice.
The small dragon leaned down and squawked more emphatically, which was answer enough.
“Look at it! Look at it!”
The man was doing exactly that; he seemed to shake immobility off with great effort. The smile he offered the girl was, however, genuine. “I am. Where did you come by that creature?”
“Long story,” Kaylin replied. To the girl, she added, “I think he’s one of a kind.”
“Can I hold him?”
Kaylin glanced at the small dragon, who appeared to be sighing in resignation. He opened his wings, hit Kaylin in the face with the left one and hopped off her shoulder. The girl held out her hands; he hovered above them dubiously.
“Don’t grab him, and don’t squeeze—he hates that.” She actually had no idea if that was true, but it was a safe assumption.
The girl’s nod was energetic as the small dragon did, finally, land in her hands. He lifted his hea
d and sniffed her hair, and then her cheeks, while she giggled. “It tickles!”
Kaylin was much closer to the man now and revised her estimate of his height. “I’m Private Kaylin Neya,” she said, extending her hand.
“I am Gilbert Rayelle,” he replied. He made no attempt to take the offered hand, and after a few increasingly awkward seconds, Kaylin lowered hers.
“We have a few questions we’d like to ask you,” Teela said, picking up where she’d left off.
“This is not the best time.”
“And we regret the inconvenience,” she replied. Her tone contained no regret at all. It contained no anger, either. Her eyes, however, were dark blue. So were Tain’s. Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo, whose eyes were almost red. She’d bypassed the shades of orange that usually served as a warning.
“Kattea,” Gilbert said, “why don’t you go upstairs. It’s not yet time for lunch, and I must answer their questions.”
“Can I take him with me?” Kattea asked Kaylin.
Kaylin shook her head. “He’s my partner. One of them, anyway,” she added, catching Severn’s eye.
“Kattea.”
The girl very carefully handed the small dragon back to its owner. “I’m staying,” she said.
Gilbert looked ill-pleased, but to Kaylin’s surprise, he didn’t argue.
“They’re Hawks,” she continued. “They’re not going to hurt me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” When Gilbert failed to answer, she continued, “They’re not going to hurt you, either—you haven’t done anything wrong.” She spoke the second statement with as much conviction as the first.
Kaylin, observing the reactions of the immortals surrounding her, wasn’t nearly as confident.
“Won’t you come in?” Kattea invited. “And sit?”
This was so clearly not what Gilbert intended that Kaylin wanted to laugh. She suppressed the urge as the small dragon returned to her shoulder, where he drew breath and squawked, this time loudly. He appeared to be talking to Bellusdeo. The Dragon’s brows rose, but her eyes didn’t get any redder, which was a small mercy. Before she could reply, the small dragon swiveled to face Gilbert and screeched at him, as well.
“I think he’s talking,” Kattea said. To Kaylin, she added, “Can you understand him?”
“Not really.”
“Me, neither.” She turned to Gilbert, clearly hoping that he could. “What did he say to you?”
“He said ‘hello.’”
Kattea looked dubious. “All that was ‘hello’?”
“Hello, in the old country, is long and involved,” Gilbert replied. “It involves a statement of intent, a statement of limitations and a statement of the rules the guest is offering to follow.”
“That’s not hello, Gilbert.”
“Not in Elantra, no.”
“What did he say to the lady?”
Gilbert hesitated.
Kattea, showing the patience of ten-year-olds everywhere, turned immediately to Bellusdeo. She started to repeat her question, stopped and asked, “Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?”
“No,” the Dragon replied.
“What did he say to you?”
“He said that Gilbert is not, at the moment, my enemy, and reminds me that my people are not all of one mind, and in like fashion, Gilbert may not be what I have...come to expect.”
“So...not hello.”
“No.” She exhaled, her eyes shading ever-so-slightly toward orange. “The small creature had better be right.” She exhaled again, which was a good trick, because Kaylin would have bet she hadn’t inhaled in between. “I apologize for my poor temper, Kattea. Your manners have been much better than mine. We would be delighted to accept your offer of hospitality.”
* * *
Kattea was a bustling whirlwind of energy and concentration for the next twenty minutes. The house was modest in size and it was clear that they had no servants—and that Kattea did not mind, or even recognize, the absence. She chattered politely but enthusiastically, she beamed and she reproached Gilbert for his heavy silence—without once sounding anything less than familial.
For his part, Gilbert was stiff as dry wood and about as expressive. He laid his arms on the armrest of his large, curve-backed chair and left them there as if he was clinging to it for dear life.
The small dragon sat on Kaylin’s shoulder, perched as if to lunge. Bellusdeo sat to Kaylin’s right, with about as much warmth and friendliness as Gilbert himself showed. In that, she was more extreme than either Teela or Tain; the Barrani had made an art of friendly, polite, charming death.
Kaylin wondered, as Kattea brought both water and wine, where she’d learned to entertain guests. Perhaps she had a mother who was also out of the house. Kaylin hesitated to ask; she found answering the question hard to handle gracefully herself, and she was no longer a child.
Everyone present, however, was aware that Kattea was a child, and one who clearly looked up to Gilbert. Gilbert had again asked that Kattea go to her room, but Kattea ignored the request. After it was gently made a third time, Gilbert surrendered.
“So,” Kattea began brightly as she sat down in front of a tray of breads and baked biscuits, her own glass full of water instead of the darker wine, “what are you investigating?”
Teela said, without preamble, “A murder.”
Years ago, that might have shocked Kaylin. The Barrani concept of “child” was not the mortal one. Bellusdeo, however, frowned at Teela. She said nothing, but said it neatly and loudly.
The child’s eyes widened. “A murder?” Her voice squeaked with, sadly, excitement, and Kaylin revised her approximate age down. “Where?”
“Across the street,” Teela replied. “We’re not actually supposed to talk much about the investigation to anyone but Hawks.”
The girl nodded, as if this made sense to her. She looked up at Gilbert and then away. Interesting.
“Why are you here, though?” she asked.
Gilbert said, at almost the same time, “Kattea, I really feel you should go to your room.”
“I didn’t like them,” Kattea said, instead of leaving. “The neighbors, I mean.”
“Kattea.”
“I think,” Teela said, “you should listen to Gilbert.”
Kattea immediately turned to Kaylin, as if seeking solidarity with the human woman present. “Why do you think we know anything about it?” The question seemed both honest and straightforward.
“We don’t necessarily assume that you do,” Kaylin replied, choosing her words with care. “But we normally try to talk to the neighbors; they might have seen or heard something unusual that would give us leads.”
“Leads?”
Ugh. “Information that might help us find the killers.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she offered. “Gilbert, did you?”
“No,” he replied.
“Gilbert doesn’t sleep, you know. He doesn’t need sleep.” This was spoken to Kaylin, but of course everyone else in the room heard it, as well. Kaylin almost told the girl to be quiet—for her own sake, not for Gilbert’s. If, in the end, it was necessary to arrest Gilbert, it would also probably be necessary to kill or destroy him—and Kattea would discover, sooner or later, that her naive comments had somehow helped to betray him.
Gilbert, however, looked resigned. He lifted his hands from the armrests and turned them, slowly, palm out as he rose from the chair. “I will ask you all,” he said quietly, “to take care that your actions do not harm the child.” Turning to Kattea, he said, “I have told you before that it is unwise to tell people about me.”
“But they’re Hawks. And you haven’t done anything wrong,” Kattea insisted once again.
The small dragon squawked. Loudly. Everyone turned toward him, except
Severn, who continued to watch Gilbert and Kattea.
“Barrani and Dragons don’t need sleep, either,” Kaylin said to break the awkward silence.
“You’ve met Dragons?”
“Yes, I have. We have one here.”
The child’s eyes alighted on the familiar, which caused Bellusdeo to snort. “Not that,” the Dragon said. “Private Neya refers to me.”
“Oh.” Pause. “You don’t look like a Dragon.”
“Not at the moment, no. But remember when you asked me why my eyes were red?”
The girl nodded.
“Dragon eyes—unlike yours—change color in different situations.”
“Is red bad?”
“It is very, very bad,” Kaylin answered, before Bellusdeo could.
Kattea fell silent. It didn’t last. “Can you turn into a real Dragon?”
“Yes. I won’t do it here, though—I don’t think your house would survive it.”
Gilbert looked wearier by the passing second.
Kattea surprised them all. Rising, she walked to the curtains and shut them. Gilbert did not resume his seat. None of the Hawks stood, but it didn’t matter; Teela and Tain could be out of their seats, armed and deadly by the time Kaylin had blinked twice. Gilbert was obviously aware of this.
“We did not see anything out of the ordinary,” he said. “Nor did we hear anything out of the ordinary. When did you say this took place?”
“Late last night or very early this morning,” Kaylin replied.
“Ah. Kattea—”
“No, I’m not leaving,” she told him, folding her arms and suddenly looking older. “I don’t think they’ll hurt you while I’m here.”
Chapter 4
Gilbert smiled. It was a drawn, but affectionate, expression. “Kattea believes many things with absolute confidence.” His smile was pained, but again, laced with resigned affection. “She does not always understand the world in which you live.”
“She’s not wrong in theory,” Kaylin countered. “But we do have a few questions.”
“I will answer, as I may, but first, I must ask: What brought you to our home?”
Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) Page 5