Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra)

by Michelle Sagara

  “That’s going to be entirely their problem.”

  “When we’re here. But at the Halls, in the Aerie...” She trailed off, then asked, “Have you spoken with Lord Grammayre about this?”

  “No. I’m not offering the Hawklord a temporary place to stay.”

  “You’re not the only one who will be censured.”

  Kaylin froze and then set her fork down. “They’ll—whoever they are—take things out on the Hawklord?”

  “They will express their legitimate concerns, yes.” She smiled; it added no joy to her face. “Grammayre is an old friend. He is not a family friend. I joined the Hawks when he offered me the position; the offer came at a time when things were in a dangerous state of flux for me.

  “He received no thanks at all for it, of course. Being a Hawk is not an occupation that was ever considered suitable for me.”

  “This isn’t changing my mind any,” Kaylin pointed out.

  Moran’s smile deepened. “I loved the rooms. I know you were a bit shocked to see them; to you they must look like—like—”

  “Living in the wild, yes. But without the bugs.”

  “I feel as if I have returned, in part, to my youth. And some part of me wants to commit this extra act of defiance. Living in the infirmary already makes that point. Living with a mortal would...exacerbate it. I do not wish to use you in that fashion.”

  “And if that were the only consideration, I would never have offered, Moran. I’m happy to be part of that.”

  “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “I think I understand enough. I’m the type of undesirable you should never have made friends with—I mean, if you consider me a friend—”

  Moran chuckled. “A bit late for that, don’t you think? Yes. You are right. But the Hawklord is also considered unworthy. Clint. Mellian. Not a single one of the Aerians who have given their lives in defense of this grounded city would have been considered worthy. And I? I am worthy only by an accident of birth. I am—I have remained—a part of my flight, but I am, like my grandmother before me, an outsider. Do you know why I accepted the Hawklord’s offer?”

  Kaylin shook her head. She had known almost nothing of Moran’s life until now. No, that was wrong. She had known Moran as a sergeant and the ruler of the infirmary. She had been Moran’s patient; she had seen Marcus and many of her colleagues treated by her, as well. She glanced at Moran’s injured wings. Moran had flown when the Hawks had flown. Moran had been in the sky with the Dragons.

  The Hawks could not hope to face—and fight—what the Dragons fought. They couldn’t expect that they would all survive it. Kaylin knew what she had done in her youth in the name of survival; she would never have been among the Aerians, the Hawks, the Swords. She would have been as far from the fight as her legs could carry her. Farther.

  The Hawks had known.

  They had carried the chains and netting necessary for the Arkon’s complicated defenses. They had made themselves targets as the enemy shot down anything in the sky. When one fell, another took up both their duty and their burden.

  Moran had been there.

  “I accepted the Hawklord’s offer because I wanted the opportunity to do something with my life. Something that affected others. Something that I could respect. I didn’t start out in the infirmary,” she added. “And I had my share of run-ins with Marcus, in my time.”

  “How did you end up in the infirmary?”

  “The infirmary was contemptibly run. It was both inefficient and, in my opinion, dangerously unorganized. Why does that amuse you?”

  Kaylin shook her head. It was the first time since crossing Helen’s threshold that Moran had sounded like herself again; she couldn’t help but smile.

  “It was work. It was work that I had never before seen or done. I didn’t...fit in, immediately. The Aerians were not particularly kind.”

  “And they survived it?”

  Moran laughed then. “They weren’t wrong, Kaylin. I wanted to be of use, but I had no real idea how to interact with people. I expected to be treated with the respect due my flight. I didn’t think this consciously,” she added, “but it’s true. I expected the others to treat me as I had always been treated by those outside my flight.

  “They didn’t. I was a private. Many of them were corporals. They expected me to treat them with obsequious respect because they outranked me.” She shook her head. “I’m not at all sure you would have offered me shelter during my first two years with the Halls.

  “Most of the Hawks expected me to quit. They expected that I would flounce out of the office, wings rigid. But I’d fought so hard to be allowed the right to join the Halls of Law that it would have been humiliating. I was,” she added, still smiling, “torn between two different humiliations. Being humiliated by strangers was the less terrifying of the two. So I stayed.

  “It was six months before the Aerian Hawks would talk much to me, but the force is comprised of more than the Aerians. Caitlin took me under her wing. You’ll have some experience with that. I didn’t expect the rest of the mortals—or the Barrani—to treat me any differently, which is probably why they were comfortable with me. The rest of the Hawks eventually understood that I was in it for the long haul and that—birth aside—I could do my job.

  “They stopped seeing the spots on my wings. So, for the most part, did I. It was very liberating. My injuries,” she said, voice dropping, “reminded them. Reminded all of us. I am expected to quit the force. Reparations have been demanded from the Hawklord.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “They’ve been demanded through the Emperor; the castelord has spoken with him personally.”

  “And he’s not a pile of feathered ash?”

  Moran’s smile was grim. “The castelord and the Dragon Emperor both understand when a polite and perfectly civil request is a demand or a threat. The actual words are almost irrelevant, since neither will use open insults.

  “I have not endorsed these demands. Nor have I tendered my resignation. The Hawklord has not relieved me of my duties. If I return home with the intent to continue to serve the Halls of Law, I will be forced to arrive at the Halls on my own.”

  “But you can’t fly.”

  “No. The Aerian Hawks have offered to aid me—but if I accept that offer, they will suffer. Not in the Halls, of course. But they don’t live in the Halls. They live in the Southern Reach.”

  “So you chose to stay in the infirmary.”

  “Yes. It’s my last act of defiance.” She exhaled. “Understand that if I stay here, I am Moran while I’m under this roof. I am only a sergeant while I’m in the Halls of Law.”

  Kaylin nodded.

  Teela, however, snorted. “Kaylin has never been particularly good at remembering to follow correct form. Don’t expect her to change; it’ll only lead to disappointment.”

  “Sergeant Kassan has never set a good example for her.”

  “Not really, no. I admit the Barrani have been somewhat lax about rank differentiation, as well. Kitling, don’t make that face.”

  The face in question was not her usual grimace, though. “I really, really want you to stay here.”

  “Did you not just say you would give me a few days to think it over?”

  “No. I said I could try. You’re going to leave, aren’t you? You’re planning to go back to the infirmary. Could you at least stay here for the night? You’re tired, you’ve just eaten and we have the room.”

  “Is she always like this?” Moran asked Helen.

  “I believe you already know the answer,” Helen replied. She was smiling. “Farther into your suite of rooms, you will find warmer water. Your wings are stiff.”

  Moran exhaled. “Yes, Kaylin. I will stay for tonight.”

  “Good.” Kaylin did not clap her
hands, because she was not four years old. But she had to remind herself of this fact. “You’re looking kind of green.” At Teela’s pointed side-eye, she added, “What? She is. I’m not making it up.”

  * * *

  When Moran left the room, Bellusdeo, who had been silent throughout their exchange, turned to Kaylin. “You don’t intend to enter the fiefs with Annarion, do you?”

  “There is no way you are going with us,” Kaylin replied. This had been her only lingering fear.

  Bellusdeo folded her arms.

  “That doesn’t work on me. I have a Leontine regularly threatening to rip out my throat, remember?”

  The gold Dragon exhaled smoke.

  “...And Helen won’t let you breathe on me, anyway.”

  “I try to stay out of personal matters,” Helen told her. “It never ends well when an outsider joins a family argument.”

  “We’re not going to war,” Kaylin gamely continued. “We don’t intend to fight Shadow. We’re not going to Ravellon.”

  “After what Gilbert said to you, I don’t believe you.”

  “The Emperor will have my head.” It was the wrong thing to say, but it was also true. “If I get lost in the Shadows, I’m one Hawk. The future of an entire race is not depending on me. If you get lost...”

  For a being that could naturally breathe fire, Bellusdeo had a lot of ice in her expression.

  “We will keep Kaylin safe,” Annarion said, entering the room. It seemed suspiciously like he’d heard the entire conversation. “The familiar will accompany us to the fiefs. He is more easily capable of living across planes and existing in some form on many of them simultaneously. I wouldn’t ask Kaylin to accompany us, but she is his anchor—and to keep the rest of the city safe, we need him.

  “I would not go at all if it were a choice between my brother and the Lady.”

  Kaylin was confused for a moment—the mention of the Lady made no sense.

  Bellusdeo didn’t have any problem making the connection. “I am not the Lady. I am not the Consort. I am—”

  “You represent exactly that to the Emperor and the Dragon Court. Under no circumstance would an attempt to save a Barrani Lord—any Barrani Lord—be worth risking your life. Just as it wouldn’t be worth risking the Barrani Consort’s.”

  “And it’s worth the danger to Kaylin?”

  “She is Chosen,” he replied. “She has responsibilities.”

  Kaylin frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think the marks that grant you power exist for no reason?”

  “I think they exist because the Ancients decided they should—but they didn’t exactly give me commands or training when they placed them on my skin. They didn’t ask my permission, either.”

  This appeared to confuse Annarion, who turned to Helen. “Perhaps I am not using the language correctly?”

  “You are using it correctly.”

  “Ah. Why does she speak of permission?”

  Bellusdeo snorted. “Mortals believe in choice.”

  “Even when they have so little of it?” Annarion frowned again. “We do not choose to be born. Do mortals?”

  “No.”

  “We do not choose the names which will govern our lives.”

  “No.”

  “We do not choose the families or lines into which we are born; we do not choose the language we speak; we do not choose the talents with which we are born.” He waited for Kaylin’s nod before he continued, “Why, then, does your permission matter? You are what you are.”

  “Fine. It matters because if they’d had to ask permission, they would have had to explain what the responsibilities of the position actually are.”

  Annarion looked to Teela then. “Have you not explained it?”

  Teela actually looked uncomfortable. “...No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t understand what you’re talking about when you speak of the Chosen. I can’t understand the words or the images. They make no sense.”

  Annarion looked at his feet. After a long, awkward silence, he said, “Kaylin’s used the power of the Chosen multiple times now. It doesn’t matter if she completely understands it—it’s clear that she understands it well enough to use it, if it comes to that.”

  Mandoran entered the dining room, as well. “No,” he told everyone, “I am not staying behind.” He looked at Kaylin as he spoke.

  She held up both hands. “Don’t look at me like that—I wasn’t even going to suggest it.”

  “Teela did.”

  “Then glare at Teela. I don’t even like the fiefs. The only one I willingly visit is Tiamaris. Teela has a better chance of survival in the fiefs than I do. She always has.”

  “Teela suggested,” Teela said, “that she would stay behind if Mandoran chose to do so.”

  Kaylin rolled her eyes. “Like that was ever going to happen. Can we get back to—”

  “The important person?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Kaylin exhaled. She did not want to drag Bellusdeo into the fiefs. She didn’t want her anywhere near any fief that wasn’t Tiamaris. She especially didn’t want to have to explain any of this to the Emperor.

  The Emperor.

  What had she said to the Emperor? What was she doing now? Bellusdeo was a Dragon. Kaylin, marks all over her body, was mortal. She wanted to insist that Bellusdeo stay where it was safe because why? Because the Emperor would be mad at her?

  Didn’t that mean she was making the same mistake that the Emperor was making? That she was diminishing Bellusdeo because she was afraid? No, it was worse. Kaylin was afraid of the Emperor’s reaction. She wasn’t afraid for Bellusdeo.

  She looked up and met the gold Dragon’s eyes. “Can we just pretend that everything I’ve said in the last half an hour never left my mouth?”

  Bellusdeo smiled. The expression made her look younger. Younger and at the same time, more confident. “I think you’re forgetting immortal memory.”

  “Because mine is mortal,” Kaylin countered. She turned to Annarion. “I can’t do this during working hours.”

  He looked as if he was about to speak, but didn’t. “Does Helen charge you...rent?”

  “Actually,” Helen replied, “yes, I do. I do not demand more than Kaylin can currently afford—but rent, such as it is, is a basic responsibility. It is not my intent to turn Kaylin into a walking child who is free from all material consequences.”

  Bellusdeo’s smile inverted. “I do not believe you are—”

  “You are a guest” was Helen’s serene reply. “Kaylin did not attempt to charge you rent when you lived with her before she moved here. While you were beneath her roof, you were her responsibility.”

  Kaylin started to wave her hands in the air to get Helen’s attention.

  “You always have my attention.”

  “Bellusdeo’s never been my responsibility.”

  “She is your friend,” Helen said, her tone making the statement a counter to Kaylin’s.

  “Exactly.”

  “Friends feel a certain responsibility for each other. Is that not why you are going to Nightshade?”

  “I don’t think Annarion considers me a friend, exactly.”

  Helen frowned.

  “Annarion is Teela’s friend. Teela is my friend. I’m helping because—”

  “I consider you a friend,” Annarion said in Elantran. “Even if you are not like Mandoran or Teela. I personally think you could be, but Teela has forbidden it, on pain of death. She’s only partially joking.”

  Kaylin blinked. She felt oddly self-conscious.

  “You’ve surprised her,” Teela told him.

  “I don’t have a lot of friends,” Kaylin explained, feeling even more self-c
onscious.

  Annarion frowned.

  “Don’t ask me—ask Kaylin. Who can’t hear you if you don’t actually speak, remember?” Teela said. She folded her arms and leaned against the table. Tain joined her, speaking to her in a low enough tone that Kaylin couldn’t catch what he said.

  “Perhaps Teela’s understanding of your tongue is better than my own,” Annarion said quietly. “But it seems to me that this statement is flawed. It is clear to me that you do not think you are lying; you must therefore be interpreting facts in a way that I cannot. What do you mean when you use the word friend?” All of the question was asked in Barrani except the one word. “If I say that I have few friends, among the Barrani, it would be inaccurate. In my life, I have given eleven people the whole of my name. I was not coerced. I was not threatened.

  “Among my kin, eleven is a vast number. If by friend, you speak of that—the gifting of the name as a sign of absolute and unwavering trust, both now and in the future—then perhaps I am being presumptuous. But Teela has long considered you kyuthe, and you do not have her name. I have seen very little of your life, but Mandoran has seen more—and what he has seen, I have also seen.

  “You have Corporal Handred. You have the Hawks. You have Bellusdeo. You have Helen. You love almost unconditionally—and that is reflected in those around you. When you say you don’t have many friends—”

  Kaylin lifted both hands in surrender, hoping it would stop his words. She had never really attempted to enumerate her life in the way Annarion was clearly doing. When she looked at it from his point of view, she could see he was right. She hadn’t had many friends in the fiefs. She hadn’t lived there for more than seven years, but clearly her perception of who she was hadn’t shifted much.

  Severn had often said she was too trusting. But the truth was—she desperately wanted to find people she could trust. She wanted to believe that people could be trusted. No one had ever specifically asked her what friendship, as a concept, meant to her. When she used the word, when she heard the word used, she assumed that it had meaning, like true words did.