Teela, who had come prepared for work, left immediately. Tain, also properly attired, went with her. Kaylin, who had stumbled from sleep into several arguments, wasn’t ready. She headed to her room to start a day that already felt too damn long.
Something political was happening in the High Court, and some of—if not all of—the cohort felt that Kaylin had actual political power there. Of course, one of them was Mandoran, a man not known for his wisdom or caution. She dressed quickly and competently, no longer being half-asleep, and headed out the door, Bellusdeo in tow.
“You’re thinking,” the gold Dragon, in her distinctly human form, said. “I approve.”
“Probably because you can’t actually hear most of it. Don’t eat that,” she added, to the familiar who was gnawing at the stick in her hair. She was lucky that most of the stick was invisible, because it looked distinctly like a puppy chew toy when examined.
The orange in the Dragon’s eyes faded to a more prominent gold. “It’s not Teela you need to worry about. Or,” she added, “me. Although I admit I don’t find it as offensive most of the time. I have some respect for Annarion. I daydream about breathing fire on Mandoran. And I actually like Teela. I’m not concerned about the cohort and its arrival. Helen will keep me safe. Helen,” she added, her lips twitching up at the corners, “will keep them safe if they happen to anger me.”
“I’d bet on you, if that happened.”
“With your own money?”
“You’re getting the hang of this.”
“And you’re not answering the question.” But Bellusdeo’s eyes were a warm gold. “You remind me of one of my sisters.”
“Given what the Arkon has said about them, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“We were children, then. And children are often both beloved and difficult. But it’s not me you should worry about.”
“It’s the Emperor.”
“It is,” Bellusdeo agreed, “the Emperor. At the moment, he and his Court are heavily preoccupied. He trusts your intent, but also credits your uncanny ability to find disaster. I believe he used the equivalent draconic word for ‘epic.’ He will not, of course, demand that you turn over your guests—or that you turn them away. He is cognizant of his own laws, and will not create new ones simply for his own immediate convenience.” She hesitated.
Kaylin understood why. With no intent whatsoever, Annarion had caught the attention of Shadows in the fiefs—and they had crossed the Ablayne to find him. In and of itself that wouldn’t have been a problem; Shadows were the reason the Towers in the fiefs existed. But he had also been somehow loud enough to wake things ancient and slumbering, and they had not been subject to the Tower’s will.
When she finally spoke, her words surprised Kaylin. “I am concerned about the cohort’s arrival.”
“We’re all concerned—”
“As in, I am uncertain that they will survive their travel here.”
Kaylin’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Of all of the possible future disasters she had expected or considered, this wasn’t one.
“I believe it is one of the handful of things Teela fears. Mandoran and Annarion do not, but they are young. Stay out of it. I mean it. I might survive entanglement in Barrani politics—I have before—but you’re not a Dragon. I’m sure it’s the biggest reason that Teela doesn’t want the cohort here. You stick your nose into everything, and these matters are not remotely safe for any of us.”
“I live here.”
“It might have escaped your notice, but so do I, and I fully intend to avoid the cohort as much as possible. And if you keep arguing, you’re going to be late.”
* * *
Clint and Tanner were on the door, which wasn’t strange. Tanner looked alert and Clint looked worried, which was. Neither appeared to be interested in the how-late-will-Kaylin-be betting pool, which was not a good sign. Kaylin slowed as she approached the stairs. “There’s bad news,” she told Bellusdeo.
The Dragon didn’t argue. “Do you think it’s personal bad news, or is there some difficulty in the Halls?”
“Not sure. I don’t think it’s me. I haven’t been late in days, I’m not working on a sensitive case and I also haven’t pissed Margot off, so Marcus isn’t wading through the mountains of paperwork she constantly requires.”
“You could just climb the stairs and enter the Halls. It’s probably faster than speculating, and likely to give you more accurate information.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Kaylin drew breath, heading resolutely toward the doors Clint and Tanner were guarding.
“You look,” Bellusdeo said, out of the corner of her mouth, “as if you’re heading to an execution. Probably your own.”
“It’s Tanner.”
“What about Tanner?”
“He expects real trouble.”
“And Clint?”
“He...expects trouble from or for me.” Kaylin had done nothing wrong—that she knew of—and she was certain Teela hadn’t brought her personal troubles to the Halls of Law.
Was it Moran? Although she was technically still employed as a sergeant, she had been winding down the duties she performed for the Halls and had been training her replacement. Or rather, had been interviewing and browbeating the possible applicants. Her excuse for this—besides her obvious desire to remain in the infirmary—was that the infirmary needed someone who was fully capable of glaring down a Leontine when the Leontine was in an almost murderously foul mood.
To give her credit, Moran was perfectly capable of that.
But most people, Kaylin included, wouldn’t be. Bellusdeo had suggested that Kaylin be considered for the position, pointing out that Kaylin’s ability to heal would be well suited to the job. Moran’s eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. “Absolutely not. The Hawks would walk all over her.” Kaylin attempted to protest, but in truth, she was a private, and when Marcus went all fang-faced, she had to control the visceral urge to dive under the nearest desk.
Moran had faced him down. And to be fair to Moran and her interview process, Kaylin couldn’t think of many people who could, Hawk or no. Bellusdeo could, but she was not seconded to the service. Serving the Halls implied serving the Emperor. And she hadn’t so much warmed to him as cooled enough that his title did not send her into red-eyed Dragon resentment.
“You’re thinking with your mouth open,” Tanner observed, while Kaylin tried to choose smart words.
She shrugged and gave up. “What’s happening inside?”
The two guards exchanged a glance. “It doesn’t concern you directly,” Clint said. Of course it was Clint.
“It’s not Moran, is it?”
“No—but even I’ve come to pity the possible candidates for replacement.”
“I don’t think she wants to leave.”
“Betting?”
Kaylin considered it. “No.”
“And now I know I’m actually dreaming.”
“She’ll go. The thing that made her a good sergeant won’t let her stay in the Halls. I just hope she beats the Aerian Caste Court into decent shape. It might be the first time in Aerian history that we have someone in high places on our side. But if it’s not Moran, what’s happened?”
“There’s been...a bit of a problem.”
“Tanner.”
“Fine. There’s been a lot of a problem.”
Kaylin wanted to shriek.
“We’re not allowed to discuss it,” Clint added. “But you’ll want to step carefully the moment you pass Caitlin’s desk.” He hesitated, his eyes a shade of blue that meant worry, fear. “It’s the Barrani. Ours.”
* * *
Kaylin was silent as she sped through the Halls. Bellusdeo kept easy pace with her, but her eyes had shaded to Dragon orange. Her facial expression hadn’t changed at all. She didn’t consider the Barrani a threat.
But she was worried.
The Barrani Hawks were a small force in and of themselves. Their partners were other Barrani, except on very rare occasion, and usually when a Barrani and a human were partnered, it was Kaylin and Teela. The Barrani could be sent in to break up a drug ring and be expected to both succeed and survive. Humans had a much higher mortality rate.
They had lost one member of the Barrani force during the difficulties with the Aerian Caste Court; one of the Barrani guards had carried an offer from a member of the High Court to one of the human prisoners. That he hadn’t murdered the prisoner was in his favor, and Kaylin, in the end, felt that booting him off the force was too harsh. But Teela considered it necessary. There’d been an argument or two about it, and it hadn’t been perfectly civil, either.
Even the West Room, with its magical silence, couldn’t entirely absorb Leontine cursing. As far as Kaylin was concerned, the Hawk hadn’t broken any laws, and hadn’t disgraced his oaths. He had, however, introduced new problems for the High Halls.
In the end, Teela called Kaylin softhearted, and Marcus called her softheaded. So, they were down another Barrani. They had already lost Barrani Hawks on the night the Barrani ancestors, for want of a better word, had attacked the High Halls. Kaylin had mourned—everyone had—at a distance. The Barrani considered public grief a besetting weakness, to use Caitlin’s words, and no one wanted to offend them. Not when they were so very blue-eyed and grim.
“You’re worried about Teela,” Kaylin said to the gold Dragon, as they jogged down the hall.
“You aren’t?”
“I am, but Teela will rip my throat out if she sees it.”
“Teela is not Leontine.”
“Fine. She’ll snap my neck. Better?”
“Marginally. There are days when I do not understand why the Emperor attempts to force all of his racially diverse population into one office. People are different.” She stopped, shook her head, and added, “And I’m being unfair.”
“You don’t usually worry about that.”
“No, but if you’re correct, it’s better than worrying about Teela.”
* * *
Teela was not at her desk, which wasn’t unusual. Given the absence of Teela, Tain wasn’t at his, either.
But Caitlin was sallow. Not white, because that wasn’t a color she often adopted, but a kind of pale yellow that implied nausea. Since she was human, her eyes were their usual brown, but they seem to have adopted new creases. She did smile when she caught sight of Private Neya and her Dragon friend—the only civilian, for want of a better word, allowed to accompany Kaylin on actual police work.
“Bellusdeo,” Caitlin said. She didn’t rise, and she didn’t address her by stuffy title. “I should warn you—”
“Red-eyed, long-fanged Leontine?”
This added welcome color to Caitlin’s cheeks. “That isn’t the way I would have worded it. But at the moment, I’d suggest Kaylin note the duty roster.”
“Was it changed?”
“No, dear.”
“Then I know where I’m supposed to be.”
“I think she’s implying—heavily—that you would like to be there instead of here. Or possibly that the office would appreciate if I were there, instead of here.”
“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, sounding genuinely apologetic, “but there have been...communication difficulties this morning.” Kaylin stiffened, and seeing this, Caitlin added, “On Moran’s strict orders, the infirmary is, at the moment, off limits. She will allow you through the door if you are bleeding or suffering from a broken limb, and made clear that toes and fingers don’t count.”
“There was a fight?”
Caitlin did not reply.
Marcus did, in a fashion. His low growl filled the office, which was otherwise unnaturally silent. Silence was never good, here. Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo, whose eyes remained a remarkable gold as she inclined her chin in Kaylin’s direction.
Kaylin then went to stand at attention in front of the sergeant’s desk. Hardwoods, she decided, were good. They didn’t scratch as easily, and it was clear from the surface of the desk that Marcus had been working at making a few gouges.
“You are to meet your partner and head—immediately—to the East Warren.”
Kaylin, who had expected the word “Elani” to crawl out from between the folds of a growl, blinked. The East Warrens, as the area was colloquially called, was a Hawk beat; its boundary ended at the Ablayne, and the enterprising fool who chose to cross it ended up in one of the fiefs. Kaylin’s geography was sketchy at best; she mostly knew what she’d walked across. She hadn’t walked into that fief.
Bellusdeo, however, had a strong interest in the fiefs—or, more accurately, the Towers that stood at their centers. “The East Warrens?” Her eyes had lost their gold, but at least that made sense; Marcus’s eyes were red. His facial fur, however, hadn’t jumped up two inches; it had settled. He looked sleek, his upper fangs more exposed than they usually were, his claws extended.
He wanted to tell Bellusdeo to get lost, except with ruder words. And he wanted to tell Kaylin to go home. She felt some sympathy for this, because she wanted to tell Bellusdeo to go home. The East Warrens were not Elani street in any way; they were vastly more dangerous. It was not a beat given the groundhawks of the mortal variety. The Aerians could fly patrol over the streets, but at a safe enough height crossbows wouldn’t be an issue.
No, it was a Barrani beat.
Marcus, for whom low growling had replaced all sound of breath, waited, daring Kaylin to argue. She wasn’t stupid. In his current mood, she’d agree that black was the new pink if that’s what he demanded, and consider herself lucky. Enraged Leontine seemed far more dangerous than a strolling walk through some of the city’s poorer streets. A Dragon would certainly make that patrol safer.
Until the Emperor heard about it.
“May I ask,” Bellusdeo began.
“No.”
“—if this has something to do with the fief of Candallar?”
Marcus said nothing. He growled, but didn’t bother with words. Unfortunately, he was facing a Dragon—a Dragon who hadn’t been forced to swear an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, whose laws the Hawks served. And any attempt to rip out her throat or tear off her arm—or leg—was going to be unsuccessful, in the best case. In the worst case—and given Marcus’s mood, worst was a distinct possibility—the office would be reduced to charred wreckage. Charred, broken wreckage.
And that was above her pay grade.
Bellusdeo, however, folded her arms and looked down at the sergeant, her eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for three long, half-held breaths. It was, to Kaylin’s surprise, Marcus who looked away first—but by the time he did, his eyes had shaded to a much safer orange.
“Yes.”
“And does the fief of Candallar have something to do with the current mood of the office?”
“I don’t discuss rostering issues with anyone who doesn’t outrank me.”
Bellusdeo’s smile was gem-like: hard enough to cut, but bright anyway. Kaylin wanted to leave to find out what had happened, but knew better. She waited. Marcus finally dismissed her, although he didn’t bother to look in her direction. Bellusdeo, however, did not follow.
* * *
“What happened?” Kaylin asked, keeping her voice as low as she could. Marcus’s hearing was good, but he was unlikely to hear her when she was in Hanson’s office. Hanson was the choke-point for the Hawklord’s time; he was like, and unlike, Caitlin. This morning, the dissimilarities were stronger.
“It is not a going to be a good day,” he told Kaylin. “The Hawklord hasn’t demanded your attendance—which is about as much luck as you’re likely to have in the near future. If I were you, I’d remember that you’re a private. Whatever is happening, it is not your problem.”
“Did I mention that Teela and Tain are coming to live with me?”
“Fine. It is your problem. Your problems, however, are not my problem.”
“East Warrens is a Barrani beat.”
“You don’t say.”
“Bellusdeo is coming with me, wherever I happen to be assigned.”
Hanson grimaced; she could practically hear the lines around his mouth crack. “Emperor’s problem,” he finally said. But he knew that if something happened to Bellusdeo, it would be everyone’s problem. And in this case “everyone’s” problem was a matter for the Hawklord. Which, of course, would become Hanson’s problem. “There was an altercation this morning between two of the Barrani Hawks.”
“Go on.”
“In general, Corporal Danelle handles difficulties between the Barrani Hawks. She is not the only corporal among their number, but her word carries weight with the Barrani for entirely extralegal reasons. The altercation occurred before her arrival; it was considered severe enough that she booked the West Room in which to resolve the difficulties.”
Kaylin nodded. In and of itself, this was business as usual, although Barrani altercations were on the wrong side of “intense.”
“The altercation was between Corporals Tagraine and Canatel.”
She frowned. They were partners. While altercations between Barrani could be intense, in general they had greater respect for—or at least care for—their beat partners. “What set them off?”
“The office was largely empty when the altercation occurred. Barrani don’t need sleep; they usually arrive early. Today, they arrived early. Teela did not.” He raised a brow, as if expecting that Teela’s tardiness—for a Barrani—was somehow Kaylin’s fault. “She entered the office as the altercation was in progress, broke it up and booked the West Room.”
Kaylin had heard nothing that would justify removal of Barrani Hawks from the duty roster. “She couldn’t stop the altercation.” It wasn’t a question.
Hanson bowed his head for a long minute. When he raised it again, he looked exhausted. “It appears that the altercation between Tagraine and Canatel was a fabrication. The purpose of the altercation was to separate the rest of the office from the Barrani.”
She froze then. The only good reason to do that was the laws of exemption: if only Barrani were involved, the Imperial Laws took a back seat to the caste court laws. A Barrani confrontation in the normal office could not be guaranteed not to cause extraracial collateral damage—and that would void the laws of exemption entirely. The implications of that...were not good.
She thought of the morning’s events, the morning’s arguments, the fact that the cohort were coming to stay with Helen, and Tain’s comment—cut off angrily by Teela—that Teela had already been under “pressure.” The Barrani definition of pressure.
“Something happened to Teela.”
“Something,” Hanson said, exhaling, “almost happened to Teela. She survived. One of the two would-be assassins did not.”
“Tagraine and Canatel?”
Hanson nodded.
“The survivor is in the infirmary that we’re not allowed to visit by order of Moran, unless we want to join him.”
He nodded again. “The High Court has been on the mirror network, demanding an explanation. The East Warrens may, or may not, have been involved with the altercation in some subtle way. Therefore the Barrani are off that beat.” He exhaled. “They are off their beats until some of the issues are resolved.”
“Meaning investigations are ongoing.” It was a catch phrase used in place of hells if I know.
“Meaning exactly that.”
“How, exactly, did the High Court even know?”
“Apparently they were informed.”
“By who?”
“Oddly enough, no one in the office even thought of asking that question. I’m sure if someone had, we’d have that information in our hands by now and everything would be resolved.” The sarcasm in Hanson’s voice should have been lethal; it was embarrassing instead.
“The Emperor’s going to reduce me to ash if anything happens in the warrens.”
“Figure out a way to survive a lot of fire then,” Hanson replied. It was the warrens; if was not precisely the right word. It was simply the hopeful one.
* * *
“The warrens are okay,” Kaylin told Bellusdeo on the way to said warrens. Severn said nothing. “They’re nowhere near as bad as the fiefs. They’re more crowded than the rest of the city, and more run-down. But: no Ferals.”
“I have no fear of Ferals,” Bellusdeo replied. “And before you warn me of all the other dangers, please remember I’m a Dragon. A prickly Dragon.”
“If it helps, this is considered a Barrani beat.”
“Because no one is stupid enough to think a few underfed thugs present a danger to the Barrani, of course.” Her chilly tone was a warning. She considered Dragons to be stronger than Barrani, and any implication to the contrary was not going to be well received. “Do yourself a rather large favor and worry about your own survival.”
She wasn’t worried about Bellusdeo; she was worried about the Emperor. She couldn’t point this out if she didn’t want to add to the hostility between the two Dragons. Since the Emperor had come to dinner at Kaylin’s house, there’d been something close to peace between them—but it was a peace between previously warring nations. It was fragile.
“Besides, I think your assignment in the warrens was a deliberate choice.”
“Oh?”
“I go where you go, with Imperial permission.”
“You think they’re expecting real trouble? No wonder Marcus was in a mood.”
“Oh, I think your sergeant’s mood had a lot to do with the Barrani unrest. He’s a sergeant. He expects everyone under him to operate under the same rules.” Bellusdeo smiled fondly. “It’s almost nostalgic.”
“You had to deal with sergeants?”
“Or their equivalents, yes. But never from beneath them.” She shook herself. “He is fond of you, of course, which is why you come in for more of his public displeasure than the average new recruit. He can’t afford to show favoritism. It bleeds solidarity from the ranks. If he’s fond of you—and he is, no one could miss that—and he treats you the way he does, it means no one is safe.” She wrinkled her nose. “I take it this is also where the tanneries are.”
* * *
Kaylin did not detest the warren. She didn’t feel the need to make excuses for the people who lived here; life had already done that. But she knew theft from the inside out. Knew that she’d been good enough not to get caught often. She needed to eat, same as anyone, and if there was no way to do that legitimately, she’d made other choices. She wasn’t proud of them, but she wasn’t humiliated by them, either.
She understood that once you started, crime became another tool, another way to survive. That you could want a better life, dream of it, of being a better person, and it didn’t matter. Dreams didn’t fill a stomach. But the warrens were on this side of the Ablayne. They were subject to the Emperor’s Law. The worst excess of human behaviors was curbed here. It wasn’t like the fiefs.
She knew that the tabard she wore put a wall between her and the warren’s residents. But at least it was the East Warrens, not the south.
“Power,” Bellusdeo said, “is always interesting. It is not an absolute, with few exceptions.”
“Exceptions?”
“The Eternal Emperor would be one of them. But he is considered out of reach. His position is not visibly contested in any way. People gather. It’s what people do.”
“Dragons don’t.”
“No. But Dragons have hoards, and hoards can make a Dragon dangerously unstable if they are not prepared for it. We do not make friends the way mortals do.”
“Or the way Barrani do?”
“Or the way Barrani do, no. We have not found there is strength in numbers, except perhaps in the case of war. And even then, it is questionable. I ruled. In any gathering of mortals, at any station of life, there is always a question of power. Or perhaps hierarchy. Even in the fiefs, where one could arguably say there is little true power, people struggle for position. People kill for it, one way or the other.”
“That doesn’t make humanity sound all that appealing.”
The Dragon smiled. “If that was all that humanity contained, perhaps it would be unappealing. The power games of most mortals makes no material difference to my life. But no, power itself is inert. People want it for different reasons. In the warrens—as in your fiefs—they want power because it is tied to survival. But so, too, family, kin, clan. To belong to a group is to gain a negotiable safety from it. It is why gangs clash. It is why reprisals exist.
“I would imagine the warrens are no different from the fiefs. Tell me, have you lost many Hawks to the warrens?”
Kaylin glanced at Severn. It was Severn who answered. “Yes. Not, however, since Barrani joined the force. Aerian patrols were also successful in preserving lives, but they were not considered as effective at deterring crime.”
“And the Barrani themselves are trusted not to add to the crime?”
“They have been,” Severn replied. “Teela, however, has been crucial to their performance.”
“And someone tried to kill her this morning.”