Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra)

by Michelle Sagara

  “What exactly is the nature of these difficulties?” Kaylin demanded.

  Evanton, however, shook his head. “That, I cannot reveal to you at this time. However, I will, I fear, be spending more time in the Garden in the immediate future. My knowledge is inexact, but my function is not. I keep the world...real.”

  Scary thought.

  * * *

  Kaylin thought she could hear Marcus growling from two blocks away. The Halls of Law loomed like a gallows as they marched briskly toward them. Teela was tight-lipped and blue-eyed by the time they reached the doors. Tanner and Clint framed them, but one look at Teela’s expression made them instantly wary. Fair enough. Barrani blue was not a terribly safe look.

  Clint’s eyes, however, were already the wrong color for an Aerian: coal gray, which made them look hard. He lowered his weapon as they approached, but didn’t raise it to allow them passage, and given Teela’s mood, that was significant.

  “What’s wrong?” Kaylin asked.

  “I heard a rumor in the mess hall.”

  “Was it about me?” Kaylin asked.

  “Got it in one go.”

  “I can hear Ironjaw growling from here, Clint. He’s been waiting for us to arrive.”

  Clint had the grace to wince, but didn’t immediately grant them passage. “It’s about you and Moran.”

  Kaylin blinked. “Pardon?”

  Tanner held out a hand, palm up. Clint dropped a few coins into it, although he didn’t really look away from Kaylin. Tanner then said, “Caitlin said you’re going to offer Moran a place to stay while she recuperates.”

  “Caitlin told you this?” Kaylin demanded, feeling a bit of a pang.

  “Clint grilled her.”

  That was also highly unlike the Clint Kaylin knew. “It’s not a rumor. It’s true. I haven’t convinced Moran yet.”

  “Moran will say no.”

  “She’ll say no the first few times I try, yes.”

  “Don’t try a second time.”

  Kaylin stared at Clint as if he’d been replaced by a Shadow. “She can’t fly.”

  “No.”

  “She won’t let me heal her—and I offered that first.”

  “There are reasons for that. The Hawklord wouldn’t let you heal him, if he had any say. The Barrani don’t let you touch them. I don’t imagine the Dragon Lords would countenance it, either.”

  Bellusdeo allowed it, but Kaylin kept that to herself. This entire conversation had gone in a direction Kaylin would never have anticipated. “Clint—she’s living in the infirmary.”

  “She has been offered conveyance to, and from, the Aerie. She has chosen to decline the offer.”

  “I know that. But the infirmary is more of a jail than a home.” Kaylin had folded her arms at some point and was now tightening them.

  “To you, Moran is a sergeant. She rules the infirmary. To Moran’s family, she is not a Hawk. Her work here has never been treated with respect; it has, among the more considerate, been politely ignored. She was injured in her service to the Hawks.”

  Kaylin, confused, looked at Teela to see if she was having any better luck following this discussion. From the shuttered expression on the Barrani Hawk’s face, she was. The small dragon, however, didn’t consider it important enough to budge and lay across Kaylin’s shoulder like a slightly resentful shawl.

  “I’m aware of how she sustained the injuries, Clint.” She used his name like punctuation. “All I’m offering her is an actual home-away-from-home. She needs a place to stay. My place will actually have rooms that are designed for an Aerian, even an injured one. She won’t have to deal with landlords. She won’t have to deal with rent. She can walk to and from the Halls in relative safety. You’re acting as if this is some kind of political deal.”

  “It is. You’ve always thought Moran’s wings were different.”

  “Well, they are. All the rest of yours are single colors. Hers look like they’re speckled.”

  Clint nodded. After a few seconds, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many other speckled wings have you seen?”

  “I just told you—” Kaylin caught up. “You’re telling me they’re significant in the Aerie.”

  “I’m trying to tell you that, yes.” To Teela, he said, “Did you have these issues when you introduced Kaylin to the High Halls?”

  “Not these specific ones, no. The Barrani Halls are slightly simpler. Everyone you meet is going to try to kill you at one point or another; she only had to try to avoid the ones who were going to do so immediately.”

  Tanner chuckled.

  Kaylin didn’t. “The Hawks are politically neutral.”

  “Yes, kitling, they are. But none of us exist solely as Hawks. We have duties and responsibilities—and enemies—outside of the Halls. We have history. Some of us have a longer and more complex history simply because we’re older. Moran, clearly, has significance outside of the Halls, and you are somehow stepping in it.”

  “I will let Moran decide.”

  “Kaylin—” Clint started.

  She waited, glaring at him. He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “What he’s not saying,” Tanner said, when it was clear that Clint was conceding, “is that you will cause the Hawklord extreme political grief. It’s possible the Hawklord will be waiting to speak to you when you arrive in the office.”

  “Fine. At this point, it’s probably moot. Marcus is going to rip out my throat before I can try to convince Moran a room in my house is better than the infirmary.” She exhaled heavily and added, “I don’t want to cause the Hawklord any difficulty. I’d like to make corporal sometime in my life.”

  That claim apparently fooled no one.

  “Can you explain—later—what or who Moran is to the Aerie?”

  “Not easily. There’s more than one Aerie in the Southern Reach. Most of the Hawks come from one of three specific Aeries. Moran does not.”

  “Is this something I should have learned in racial integration classes?”

  “No. Racial integration classes are meant to be practical, and the only Hawks who are summoned to the Aerie are, by default, the ones who can fly.” He grimaced. “We’re all fond of Moran.” This wasn’t entirely true; it was, however, true of Kaylin. “Go on in.”

  * * *

  Marcus could be heard long before he could be seen—even by the merely mortal. “I suppose if I quit my job now and ran home, Helen wouldn’t let me starve to death.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it—at least not with my own money,” Teela replied, indulging in her usual encouragement.

  “Was your life like this before you joined the Hawks?” Kaylin asked, as they walked toward the growling against all base survival instinct.

  “Not nearly as frequently. Before you ask, my life in the Hawks wasn’t this unusual, either. Not until you joined as a mascot. When you joined the actual payroll...”

  “Thanks for the support, Teela.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Private, stop dawdling!” Marcus roared.

  Kaylin muttered a short Aerian curse under her breath; given the volume of Marcus’s voice, his sharper hearing wasn’t likely to catch it. She hoped. She also sprinted to reach his desk, bypassing the duty roster on the way. He was bristling, and the raised fur added inches in volume on all sides of his head, his visible arms, his face. His lips were a thin, barely visible line over much more prominent teeth, and his eyes were a decidedly unpleasant shade of orange.

  His desk would definitely need replacing.

  Kaylin lifted her chin, exposing her throat. Teela, standing beside her, did not, but her eyes were a wary blue. “We stopped by Evanton’s on the way back to the office,” Kaylin explained—not that explanations were always welcome unless he demanded them, not
when he was in this mood.

  “Corporal, where is Bellusdeo?”

  He’d asked Teela. When a lowly private was standing beside her.

  “Bellusdeo returned to the Palace in the company of Corporals Handred and Korrin. She was unharmed; she was never in any recognizable danger.”

  Marcus growled. At the moment, that was what passed for Leontine breathing. “I left orders with Gavin.”

  “Evanton, however, let it be known that he had news that he felt would be of interest to Private Neya,” Teela said smoothly. This did not move Marcus; he knew the Barrani had no particular qualms about lying. “He’s the Keeper, Sergeant. When he feels something is of interest, it generally implies an unspoken ‘if you wish the city to survive.’”

  Kaylin privately thought that the city was not in the most pressing danger at the moment, but said nothing. It was very seldom that Teela was willing to throw herself between Marcus’s foul mood and Kaylin, and she meant to appreciate it while it lasted. And it did, to Kaylin’s surprise, last. His fur began to settle.

  “Verbal report. Now.”

  “I’m not even sure where to start,” Teela began. Marcus was now watching them both with more heavily lidded—but still orange—eyes. “Did you review the mirror transmissions we sent from the Winding Path?”

  The Sergeant growled.

  “We’d like to see the reports sent to you by the Imperial mages.”

  “Come back in a week. We might have something then.”

  “Gavin implied—”

  “How long have you been working for me?”

  Technically, Teela was not working directly for Marcus. She didn’t correct him. “Long enough to know that you can light a fire under their beards and they’ll write more quickly.”

  “I think Bellusdeo will take care of that,” Kaylin said. “She was heading straight for the Arkon, and Severn and Tain don’t seem to have made it back to the office yet.”

  “Your report?”

  Kaylin dutifully repeated what she was almost certain was already in Records by this point.

  Marcus’s eyes had shaded to a regular bronze by the time she’d finished. “You don’t think the bodies should be moved.”

  “No.”

  “Corporal?”

  “Nothing about the corpses—aside from their arrangement and the lack of obvious cause of death—seemed out of the ordinary to me. None of our investigators would have noticed anything out of the ordinary, had it not been for Private Neya’s companion. Given that the familiar itself is arguably more unusual, I would nonetheless advise against moving the bodies. Send Red in person.”

  “You’re not finished there, are you?”

  Teela glanced at Kaylin.

  Kaylin, thinking of Gilbert, shook her head. “Not yet, no. Though I’m not certain we’re going to understand what happened, or why, no matter how much time we spend there.”

  Growl. Squawk.

  “Fine. I’ll give you a week. I’ll reassign the Elani beat for the duration.” He started to carve wood chips out of the surface of his desk, clearly already thinking about the next item on his list. His eyes became a deeper orange as he did.

  “Have you talked to Moran yet?”

  Chapter 7

  “No, sir,” Kaylin replied, already knowing where the conversation was headed.

  “I’m going to ask you not to.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ironjaw’s eyes narrowed. “‘Yes,’ you agree not to speak with Moran, or ‘Yes,’ you know I’m asking you not to?”

  “You’re asking me not to, sir. Offering her someplace other than the infirmary as a temporary home is not against any law on the books. It’s not against any departmental regulations.” Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t order me not to.”

  Marcus said nothing.

  Teela stepped on her foot.

  Kaylin frowned, thinking. “You’re not actually angry at the fact that I’m late.”

  “You’re becoming more observant as you age,” Marcus replied. “It’s not an improvement.”

  “What’s happening with Moran?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss Moran’s situation. She has special dispensation to use the infirmary as a base of operations while she recovers from her injuries.” The word while sounded an awful like if.

  “Has the Hawklord spoken to you about this?”

  Marcus growled. His eyes returned to their more prominent orange, but his fur remained mostly where it had settled.

  “We need to check in with Hanson,” Teela said, pulling her away from Marcus before she dug herself in any deeper.

  * * *

  “Of course the Hawklord has spoken to Marcus. Marcus is enraged. Moran is technically one partial rank below Marcus in hierarchy, but Marcus thinks of Moran as part of his tribe. He is not happy with whatever the Hawklord said. Part of that must have included you—as in, keeping you under a tighter rein. Don’t make Marcus acknowledge that if you want to do anything useful.”

  “Is that why he was so pissed off?”

  “You being late probably didn’t help. Bellusdeo being absent didn’t help, either. You realize it’s his neck on the line if—”

  “Yes. Mine happens to be on the line, as well.”

  “He’s aware of that. You’ve slept by his hearth, kitling. You are not his child—but you might as well be. He is never going to trust the Dragons; having Bellusdeo hanging around the office gets under his skin. Having Bellusdeo in the office and outside of his jurisdiction is actively annoying. Having you responsible for her when the Dragon Court doesn’t appear to exercise much control makes him angry.”

  “This has nothing to do with Moran.”

  “No. Before you give me the side-eye, I’m not entirely familiar with Moran’s circumstances. I admit that I was surprised when I first met her, but she’s sergeant material—and Hawk material—through and through.”

  “Tell me why you were surprised.”

  Teela hedged. “You know that you are not sent on sensitive investigations.” Sensitive being code for crimes involving the rich and the powerful. “You are left out of investigations of the Caste Courts.”

  Kaylin missed a step. “Please tell me Moran isn’t part of the Aerian Caste Court.”

  “I know very, very little about the Aerian Caste Court,” Teela replied. This was not an answer, and they both knew it. “But Moran is the daughter of an influential flight. She is the daughter of possibly the influential flight. I don’t know her reasons for joining the Hawks. To be fair, she doesn’t know mine, either. The Hawks are, in theory, not politically or racially motivated.”

  “In theory?”

  “In practice, the Hawks are people. People are political. I don’t expect any group of people to be perfect, theoretical beings—for one, the pay isn’t nearly high enough. Some of the racial decisions made are purely pragmatic; the Barrani are preferentially sent into figurative war zones because we’re much more likely to survive them. There is no equality because we are not equal; we are different. I attempt to respect those differences.”

  “Given your comments about mortals, I’d fail you if I were teaching.”

  Teela chuckled. “Respect, among the Barrani, generally means something different. If, for instance, I say I respect your territory, what I mean is I will not attempt to conquer it. It does not mean that I find your sloping, creaking floors, your pathetically short ceilings, your warped doors and their insignificant hinges or your...windows...to be the equal of my own.”

  Kaylin rolled her eyes.

  “Moran is significant to the Aerians.”

  “I hadn’t noticed her being treated with anything but the usual respect.”

  “Indeed. You’ve assumed it’s because of her rank and her funct
ion.”

  Kaylin snorted. “Have you ever tried to avoid her when you’re injured?”

  “Frequently.”

  “Has it worked?”

  “Less frequently.”

  “She had Marcus practically strapped to a bed. Last I looked, he didn’t have wings.”

  “Fair enough. Marcus doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with your request. Neither does Caitlin. But don’t ask him for permission—either do it or decide on the better part of valor.” She headed up the stairs as she spoke, and Kaylin fell in behind her. “Let’s talk to Hanson and then head to the infirmary.”

  * * *

  The Hawklord ruled the Hawks, but the details of schedule, among other things, was decided by Hanson, his attaché. Unless the Hawklord personally summoned you, you didn’t see him without speaking to Hanson first.

  Hanson’s office door was creaky and stiff. Nothing would induce him to change this; it was his early warning system, as far as Kaylin could tell. He was at his desk, his glasses hooked to his ears but resting on his graying head, rather than in front of his eyes.

  He didn’t look particularly surprised to see Kaylin; he didn’t look entirely thrilled, either. Hanson wasn’t normally unfriendly—he wasn’t, like Mallory or a handful of other Hawks, disgusted at her inclusion on the force.

  “You don’t look happy to see me.”

  “I am delighted to see you,” he replied, looking anything but. His lips did twitch, though. He glanced at Teela, and the hint of a smile vanished. “You, on the other hand, look like you have no time to waste.”

  “If you’re the roadblock, I’m perfectly happy to take a break.”

  “Thanks, no. What do you need?”

  “Sergeant Kassan requires a fire to be lit under the butts of the Imperial mages on duty in the Winding Path investigation.”

  Hanson glanced at the mirror on the left of his desk. It was smaller than Marcus’s mirror, but it was significantly cleaner. People did not leave fingerprints on Hanson’s mirror. “How big is this going to get?”