Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra)

by Michelle Sagara

  But it was just a word; a mortal word.

  “When I say that,” she finally told Annarion, “I say what I said when I was—was much younger. It was true, then. I didn’t have as clear a concept that sometimes even our own truths can change, with time. I’m not the person I was when I believed that. I’m not the person I was when I first arrived in Elantra. But you’re right to question it. It’s not true now.” She hesitated. “Where I grew up, if you had something special, you kept it hidden. You kept it to yourself. If you didn’t, you were likely to lose it. It could be stolen or broken. You never wanted to stand out. You never wanted to attract too much attention, because some of that attention would be bad.

  “I think I say it now to protect myself. If I don’t acknowledge the things that are important out loud, where people can hear it, no one will take them away from me.”

  Annarion lifted a brow in Teela’s direction. “She’s young,” Teela replied, with a shrug. “She never felt she had power—and only the powerful can claim power openly as a way of defending themselves. She is not Barrani. She wasn’t raised as we were raised—the scions of the powerful and the ancient lineages. She did not know her father; only his absence shadowed her life—if it shadowed her life at all, given the fiefs.

  “We knew ours.” There was a curious, blue bitterness in Teela’s eyes and voice, and of course there would be: Teela’s father had killed her mother while Teela watched, helpless. The fact that her father had, in the end, died for that crime didn’t bring her mother back. Maybe it gave Teela a sense of peace or closure, but Barrani memory made that vastly more difficult.

  Annarion said softly, “Yes.” His voice matched Teela’s eyes, and silence descended.

  * * *

  “I once envied people like you,” Tain surprised Kaylin by saying. He spoke, significantly, in Elantran. “People who had taken—and passed—the test of the High Halls.”

  “Annarion hasn’t,” Kaylin reminded him, before she could bite off her tongue. What no one needed was an Annarion let loose in the High Halls. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

  “I’m aware of that. Had Annarion returned from the green, he would have. His father, his brothers, his cousins—all were Lords of the Court.”

  “Not all,” Teela replied. “Enough, Tain.”

  “My father made no attempt to court power and significance in the High Halls,” Tain continued. “And for some part of my youth, I resented him for it. You would not have liked my father,” he added, for Kaylin’s benefit. “But I believe you would have liked him a great deal more than you would have liked Teela’s.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Yes. But I remember him clearly. Mortal memory is fragile, but it is not always unkind, in the end.”

  Kaylin had never heard Tain talk about himself. Not like this. She tried to find something to say in return—something that might have the same weight and significance. She came up with nothing. “When did you meet Teela?”

  The two exchanged a glance. “If I answer that, she’ll kill me. Or try.”

  “She really will,” Teela added, looking even less amused, which, given her starting point, should have been impossible. “Go home. Annarion and Mandoran are not your responsibility—and before the words fall out of your mouth, neither am I.”

  Tain grinned. Teela didn’t. Kaylin wouldn’t have gotten away with that expression, given Teela’s current mood—but she wasn’t Tain. She wanted to know their history, but told herself that having the knowledge didn’t really matter. Tain trusted Teela. Or maybe he just accepted her. There was no point in worrying about Teela—unless you wanted angry Teela.

  Kaylin wasn’t Tain, but she understood that if she went into the fiefs with Annarion and Mandoran, Teela was going, too. She looked across the room to Severn, who had, as he so often did, remained neutral.

  “I notice you’re making no attempt to ditch Severn,” Tain said.

  Kaylin turned to stare at him. “He’s my partner.”

  “So you want to leave a Barrani corporal and a Dragon Lord behind because it might be dangerous, but you haven’t even stopped to think about the hazards to a mortal.”

  “He’s my partner, Tain.”

  “Just checking. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Moran did not come back to the dining room, or any of the spaces Kaylin privately thought of as public, that night. Teela closeted herself with the two Barrani; Severn left, not quite dragging Tain out by the collar; and Bellusdeo went upstairs to talk with Maggaron. If Severn was Kaylin’s partner, Maggaron was—in as much as she had one—hers.

  At this rate, they wouldn’t be investigating anything—they’d be launching a full-scale invasion. Small and squawky remained invisible. His negligible weight no longer adorned Kaylin’s shoulders, and he didn’t bite or chew her hair. She could hear him—silence was not in his character—but that was it. She was surprised to find that she missed him.

  But Moran had chosen to stay at least one night.

  Bellusdeo had not turned carpets—or Kaylin—to ash, and Mandoran hadn’t insulted Dragons once in her hearing. Some positive things had happened today. Kaylin mirrored the Imperial Palace—or tried to. The mirrors remained stubbornly reflective, and she remembered that Helen was still working on a “safe” connection—which meant, of course, that one didn’t exist yet.

  She would arrange to speak with the Arkon tomorrow. She didn’t need to speak with Evanton again.

  Anything else?

  “I believe so, dear,” Helen, disembodied, said. “You have a visitor.”

  “An emergency visitor?” Kaylin asked, thinking immediately of the midwives.

  “You are likely to consider it an emergency, but no, dear. It’s only the Emperor.”

  * * *

  “You need to work on your Elantran,” Kaylin said, as she sprinted for the door. “Is Bellusdeo still awake?”

  “She is in Maggaron’s room. Dragons,” she added, “don’t require sleep, as you may recall. You would like her to remain ignorant of the Emperor’s visit?”

  “If that’s at all possible, yes” was Kaylin’s guilty reply.

  “In general, I wouldn’t recommend it, given how sensitive she is about the Dragon Court—but I imagine you know best.”

  Well, at least one of us does, Kaylin thought. She answered the door. The Emperor, absent guards or Imperial Library pages, waited on the steps. Although he wasn’t pacing—wasn’t, in fact, moving much at all—everything about his rigid, perfect posture implied impatience.

  She opened her mouth to invite him in.

  “It is a lovely evening,” he said, before she could speak—and even if he was here informally, she knew far better than to interrupt or speak over him. “Shall we walk?”

  * * *

  “I did not intend to arrive without warning,” he told her, as the house faded into the distance. “But the usual methods of communication do not appear to be available.”

  Kaylin grimaced. “Sorry. For the mirrors to reach us, we apparently require some sort of connection, and Helen doesn’t trust it. We’re trying to come up with a secure workaround.”

  “I...see.”

  “Strange things have happened with the mirrors before,” Kaylin felt obliged to point out. “It’s not a groundless fear.”

  “I had hoped to speak with you more frequently, but I seldom have the leisure to visit. There are some difficulties—perhaps you are aware of one of them.”

  Since it wasn’t a question, Kaylin waited.

  “The Aerian Caste Court has petitioned the Emperor for willful and flagrant mistreatment of one of its citizens.”

  Kaylin stiffened.

  “Ah. You are, indeed, aware.”

  “I’m not aware of what was said.” Moran was not
nearly as shaky a topic as Bellusdeo. She hoped.

  “They wish to have the sergeant removed from her duties.”

  “The sergeant doesn’t wish to be removed.”

  “Ah. I am to speak with Lord Grammayre on the morrow. Is this what he will tell me?”

  “I don’t know what he’ll tell you. But I know that Moran doesn’t want to abandon her duties.”

  “You are aware that she cannot fly?”

  “Yes. I’ve offered to fix that, and she’s refused. It’s like she’s Barrani.”

  “Her inability to fly is at the heart of the complaint.”

  “She’s perfectly capable of running the infirmary without wings. The ceilings are too low for actual flight there, and she’s not a Sword; she’s not required to patrol. There’s nothing she can’t do—”

  “Except return home at the end of the day.”

  “...Except that, yes.”

  The Emperor exhaled smoke. In that, he was much like Bellusdeo. “I assume, given your reaction, that you have already interfered.”

  “If offering her a place to stay is interfering, then yes, I have. I’m well acquainted with the laws of Elantra, and the offer hasn’t broken any of them. She’s free to say no.”

  “Given the tone of the envoy I received, she is only legally free to do so. Much of society is not governed by strict legality. You have offered her rooms in your manse?”

  “Helen was fine with it, so yes, I did. She was living in the infirmary. I get that she doesn’t want to go home—I’m not sure I would, either, if I were her. But she deserves way better than a cot in the infirmary.”

  “Ah. In that opinion, at least, you are of a mind with the envoy.” He smiled. It reminded Kaylin of how seldom he did so. “I confess that you seem to have had a...full...day.”

  Kaylin didn’t miss a step, but it was a near thing. “I’ve had a day, yes,” she replied carefully.

  “And Bellusdeo?”

  “Bellusdeo reminded me once again that she’s a fully functional adult with a great deal more physical prowess and political know-how than I have.” She glanced at the Emperor, who appeared to be watching the street, aware that she wasn’t in her Dragon-proof home at the moment. “I’m sure you’re aware that she’s been observing the Hawks.”

  He nodded.

  “We were called in on an investigation on the Winding Path; she came with us.”

  “Yes. So the Arkon said.”

  Which answered Kaylin’s carefully unasked question. “Did he give you the details?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he consider the situation to be dangerous?”

  “I would say, in different circumstances, that he was merely curious.”

  “But Bellusdeo’s involved.”

  “Ah, no, you misunderstand. Certainly I would consider the risk of the unknown a danger if Bellusdeo is involved. The Arkon is not me. What do you intend to do?”

  There were no Imperial Guards, no other Hawks, no Dragon Lords. The Emperor approached Kaylin this way because he intended to let her be herself. It was like a test, and she took the risk. She tried not to think of what failure would mean.

  “I intend to twist Moran’s arm so she stays in my house. I intend to visit the Palace to speak with the Arkon. And I intend to continue the investigation into the murder.”

  Chapter 10

  “Please do so in exactly that order.”

  Kaylin did miss a step then.

  The Emperor didn’t smile; his expression made stone seem yielding and warm. But his eyes were almost gold, although the warmth was muted by raised inner membranes. “You are surprised.”

  Kaylin nodded.

  “I am slightly amused by your current predicament. Private, when I ask for advice, I listen. I admit that I was dubious at first about the usefulness—or the quality—of your advice. I am less dubious now. Bellusdeo has not lived in my Empire for as long as even you. She does not understand it. She understands its ruler to the same extent that she understands the city.

  “You were right. She was both helpful and necessary in the fight against the Barrani ancestor. I did not hesitate to lead the rest of the Dragon Court into battle, excepting only Bellusdeo. Were we to be faced with the same difficulty again, I would make different choices. I cannot, however, undo what was done; it is in the past. The past, of course, is a different country; it is occupied, frequently, by regret, and it is ruled by tyrants. They cannot be moved.

  “I would not make the same error again. I wished to protect Bellusdeo from certain danger. To protect her from uncertain danger would be, in her view, more of a crime, would it not?”

  “I think so. She doesn’t get mad at me if I try to stop her from doing things. I can tell her whatever I’m thinking, and she might be annoyed, but...”

  “Not enraged.”

  “Not usually, no. It’s different. I can’t physically stop her from doing something. Even if I was intent on it, she’s a Dragon. I’m not. Maggaron fusses over her as if she were a foundling—but in the end, he doesn’t try to stop her from doing what she feels she should be doing. I try to learn from him. It’s not easy; he’s...not me.”

  “No more am I.”

  “No, but you’re both not me in different ways.” She exhaled. “Yes, I was afraid you’d turn me to ash if I let Bellusdeo follow me—not, as I mentioned, that I could stop her. But... I’m also really worried about Moran.”

  “This would be Sergeant Carafel? Moran dar Carafel?”

  “Yes. I know you don’t like dealing with the Caste Courts—” Kaylin stopped herself. If she could have bitten off her tongue, she would have done it.

  The Dragon’s eyes shaded to orange.

  “No one complains about it,” she said quickly—and inaccurately. “But...the Empire is yours. Having to make exceptions so that the Barrani—mostly—can skirt Imperial Law is never going to be something we appreciate.”

  One brow rose; the scar across his face had whitened. “Your Sergeant doesn’t care for it.”

  This was the real reason why talking to the Emperor at all was so dangerous. Kaylin had once assumed that no one could relax in the Imperial Presence—but the upside to that was no one else could open their mouth so wide they could fit both feet in, and still have room for leg.

  “Have you met Sergeant Kassan?” she asked.

  “Yes. Not often. He is Leontine, and the Leontines are not notably formal. While he has adapted to the Barrani language and laws, its general customs have escaped him almost entirely. I will not hold the Sergeant responsible for anything you say.”

  “Thank you. No, really—thank you. Marcus is—Leontines are—more like me than the Barrani or the Dragons. They’re sometimes more like me than the rest of the humans in the office. It’s probably why we only have one Leontine. Marcus doesn’t tell us secrets. Most people don’t think he has any.”

  “I am well aware of the Hawks’ view on Caste Court exemptions. If the Hawklord, the Wolflord and the Swordlord are more circumspect—and, Private, they are vastly more circumspect—they are nonetheless forthright. Do you know why I encourage racial integration among the Hawks, no matter how difficult it might otherwise be? It is precisely because I wish people to understand that there are costs to exemptions, and a diminishing respect for Imperial Law.

  “If it is not clear to you, the decision involving Caste Courts and single-race crimes was a pragmatic one, and it was created almost in its entirety because of the Barrani. I did not wish my city to turn into a war zone. The Dragons would survive. The Barrani would survive.”

  “But not the rest of us.”

  “What do you think?”

  “The Aerians might survive it.”

  “You have never seen the flights at war, if you believe that. I have. I am n
ot fond of the exemptions. I am not fond of dealing with the representatives of the Caste Courts. I find it difficult not to reduce them to ash.”

  Kaylin remembered to close her mouth, because it was kind of hanging open, as if she’d forgotten it was attached to the rest of her face.

  “Surely, given your own feelings, that cannot surprise you? I understand the concerns of the Aerian Caste Court—they were made quite clear. I am not, however, Aerian.” His smile was sharp and cold. “And as I am not, matters which the Aerian Caste Court consider of import are not matters to which I must personally attend. It pleases me to note that they are stymied. If you fear censure from me, you will have to look elsewhere.

  “For instance, if Bellusdeo is harmed in the fiefs, I will be...very angry.”

  This was what Kaylin had expected.

  “But she would be quick to point out that were it not for your interference—in the fiefs, no less—she would not even be here. She would, of course, take longer to express the sentiment, and she would speak our native tongue. I do not propose to do so in the streets of my city.” He slowed his pace. “I find this entire interaction taxing. But it is enlightening. Having made the decision to respect Bellusdeo, you still worry.”

  “Yes. But I think...I think that’s natural. I mean, for mortals, it’s natural. We kind of worry more about the people we know and care about.”

  “And you do not worry about yourself? Given the differences in power between a mortal and a Dragon, does this not strike you as ridiculous?”

  “...No.”

  “You are about to enlighten me as to the reason.”

  “I don’t really have a good reason. I live inside my mortal body. I know what I’ve survived. I know how much some of it hurt, and how much some of it terrified me. My own death, when it happens, isn’t likely to upset me, because I won’t be here. If someone else dies on me, I’ll still be here for the rest of my life, and I’ll be looking at a big, bleeding hole where they used to be.

  “So... I guess it’s still about me. And having had to make that clear to you, I can’t let that fear and that—that selfishness, govern what I do. But for me, it’s hard. I have no idea what’s going on in today’s investigation yet, but it smells. I know breaking the law is always bad. I’m paid to know it. There are some things I hold my nose and just enforce. Sorry.