“It’s not only possible,” Bellusdeo replied, before Kaylin could. “But extremely likely. Our Kaylin doesn’t care for door wards.”
“‘Our’ is it?” Emmerian examined the door without touching it. He did not, however, use magic to do so—or at least not magic that made Kaylin’s skin break out. “Private Neya, are the interior doors likewise without wards?”
“Which part of ‘Kaylin doesn’t care for door wards’ was unclear?”
Emmerian stiffened. Bellusdeo had drawn herself up to her full height, and her eyes were now tinted orange. Emmerian’s were likewise shading to bronze. The small dragon lifted his head and surveyed the situation—while yawning. His teeth were solid ivory, although the rest of his mouth suggested the same translucence as his body.
Both Dragons immediately turned toward him. He squawked. Given Bellusdeo’s expression, Kaylin wasn’t surprised she didn’t squawk back. Contrary to Diarmat’s constant criticism, Bellusdeo did have some sense of personal dignity; squawking at a winged lizard in the city streets was beneath it.
Emmerian was likewise silent, although he now looked mildly surprised. Kaylin, aware that she was the pedestal on which the interesting person was standing, nonetheless ducked between them and opened the door. The hall, at least on this floor, was lit; steep stairs the width of one person climbed up on the left of the door. The landlord’s office—which was a fancy word, in Kaylin’s opinion, for apartment—was down the hall to the right.
She was surprised at how nervous she felt. She couldn’t remember feeling nervous when she’d gone apartment hunting with Caitlin the first time. Suspicious, yes. Bewildered. Not nervous. She mentally kicked herself.
What was the worst thing that could happen here? Besides Bellusdeo descending into full-bellow Dragon fury. The apartment could be terrible. The landlord might want too much for extras he hadn’t bothered to mention to Caitlin. Bellusdeo might actually hate the place. None of these things was deadly; some might be minor humiliations, but Kaylin expected that from life.
She straightened both shoulders and knocked on the closed, residential door marked as an office. The floors on the other side of the door creaked. So did the floors on this side, but more ominously; Dragons were dense, and two of them were occupying pretty much the same square yard of flooring. The building was in decent repair, given Kaylin’s admittedly slight experience; it was by no means new or modern.
The door opened on a man of middling age and similar height; he suited his building. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a tone of voice that implied he meant the answer to be no.
“Yes. I’m Private Kaylin Neya. I have an appointment to view 3B.”
The man relaxed slightly; he glanced at Bellusdeo and Emmerian, his eyes narrowing. Neither of the two looked like they lived in this part of town. Ever. “Marten Anders. These your friends?” he asked, stepping into the hall with a very obvious ring of keys in his left hand.
“Yes. This is Bellusdeo. She’ll be sharing the space with me for the time being.” Kaylin failed to introduce Emmerian. Mr. Anders noticed, of course.
“She’ll be marking the lease?”
“No.”
The man shrugged. “We don’t want trouble here,” he told them both. “I run a respectable, quiet place.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Kaylin replied—quickly. Bellusdeo looked as if she was about to speak.
The small dragon squawked instead. The man’s eyes rounded instantly as the transparent troublemaker sat up on Kaylin’s shoulders.
“He’s house-trained, and he doesn’t bite. He doesn’t make much noise.” She resisted the urge to clamp a hand around his mouth, because she was fairly certain ‘doesn’t bite’ would be instantly disproved.
“What is he?”
“A lizard.”
The small dragon squawked.
“You know how there are albinos? He’s like that, but with even less color.”
Mr. Anders nodded slowly. Since Bellusdeo and Emmerian kept glacially stiff expressions plastered to their faces, he accepted the off-the-cuff lie and headed up the stairs.
* * *
There were actually two rooms, although the bedroom was about the size of the smallest of Bellusdeo’s closets in the Palace. The floors were covered by a rug that had seen better decades, and the boards made a lot of noise. To Kaylin, this was familiar and almost comforting. There were windows; they were glassless, but shuttered—and barred.
“Are the bars necessary?” Bellusdeo asked.
“They’re decorative, ma’am,” the landlord replied.
“Good. You won’t mind if we remove them, then. I don’t particularly like the idea of living in a cage.”
Emmerian turned to the landlord before he could reply. “Would it be permissible to make alterations to these rooms and the hallways themselves?”
This was not a question to ask a landlord who was looking less eager by the passing second. If Emmerian had been anything other than a Dragon, Kaylin would have stepped, hard, on his foot.
“What kind of alterations?” was the entirely reasonable response.
“They would be both physical and magical in nature. You clearly have rudimentary mirror grids within the building, but we would require something with a little more power. The windows would have to be changed; we would install glass—at our expense, of course. Are the rooms above this one currently occupied?”
“Yes.”
“If we take this room, we would require it. For the sake of safety, we would also require the room directly below.” Emmerian held up a hand before the man—whose mouth had compressed into a line that sort of matched his narrowed eyes—could interrupt. “We would, of course, be willing to double your current rents. Or possibly triple.” It was the only thing the Dragon Lord had said that might possibly appeal to a landlord, but given the pinched expression on this one’s face, it didn’t appeal enough.
A thought struck Kaylin in the deepening gloom. “I’m not willing to pay triple the rent for these rooms—I can’t afford it, given what I’m paid.”
“No, of course not. We have agreed that we will not interfere materially with your living quarters.”
“And glass windows that practically scream out to enterprising thieves aren’t materially interfering?”
“No. They serve several functions, they increase security, and they add value to the building itself in the event that you choose to leave. The modifications will,” he added, turning once again to the landlord, “remain your property when Private Neya chooses to vacate these premises.”
When. Not if.
Kaylin could feel herself losing inches of height as Emmerian continued. This was possibly the most she’d heard him speak in one sitting, and she regretted the absence of his silence. The only thing worse was the shifting color of Bellusdeo’s eyes. They weren’t full-on red, but they were orange, and she’d dropped the inner membrane that muted their color.
And that, she thought, as she glanced at the pale man who was in theory a possible future landlord, was that. If he hadn’t recognized Bellusdeo for a Dragon upon introduction, he recognized her as something non-mortal, now. Kaylin exhaled. It was the sound of total defeat. “Could you two wait outside?”
When neither Dragon moved, she added, “Now?”
The landlord did not insist on seeing them out. He did fold his notably burly arms across his chest when they were quit of the empty rooms.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry they were so insulting,” Kaylin told him.
“Dragons, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re a Hawk.” He shrugged. “It’s a job. They always like that?”
“Normally? No. Worse. They don’t intend to be insulting—”
“But they think all mortals are money-grubbing
merchants at heart.”
She had the grace to look guilty. “In Bellusdeo’s defense, she’s spent a couple of weeks with us on patrol in the Elani district.”
“So...fraudulent, money-grubbing merchants?” His lips twitched up at the corners. It was slight, but it was better than the frown that had taken up residence while Emmerian was talking.
“Caitlin wouldn’t have recommended the apartment if you were—if you weren’t... Can we just pretend I didn’t start that sentence?”
His grin spread. “It’s a bit of a pity,” he said. “I think I could live with you. I think I could live with...new-fangled enhancements. They’d probably have to do something about the floors.”
“But you can’t throw people out of their homes, even for three times the money.”
“No. Money’s tempting, and I wouldn’t get legal hassle for it—but, no.”
“I like you better for it,” Kaylin replied; it was true.
“Aye, well. If you’re looking to make a home, it’s a good trait—for you—in a landlord. Tell you what—if you lose the roommate, and the apartment’s still here, come back and we’ll talk.”
* * *
Emmerian and Bellusdeo were waiting in the carriage. The doors were closed. The windows, however, were slightly open, and Kaylin could hear Bellusdeo’s voice the moment she opened the external door. She guessed that orange eyes were now deeply orange, and had Severn been with her, she’d’ve bet on it.
He wasn’t, so she didn’t make money. Then again, he might not have taken the bet, because he had ears in his head.
Since she wasn’t feeling particularly charitable, she took her time walking to the carriage. She hoped Bellusdeo was figuratively chewing Emmerian’s head off—but she didn’t want the conversation to slide into native Dragon—not in the city streets. It would cause a panic, and she’d be at the center of it. Given the way things generally worked, Marcus would blame her.
If Marcus didn’t, the Lord of Swords probably would— because when people panicked in any number, it increased the workload of the Swords. The footman jumped off the little shelf at the back of the carriage as she approached the doors. She let him open them, and climbed into a carriage that fell immediately silent.
The small dragon whiffled.
“He didn’t mind a Dragon roommate,” Kaylin said, first up. “It was the crap that came with the roommate that he found objectionable. What were you thinking?”
Emmerian looked momentarily disconcerted.
“You can’t just demand that a landlord kick out two apartments full of people because you think you want rooms for your own purposes.”
“I made no demands.”
“They weren’t exactly requests, Emmerian.”
“They were. If the landlord did not wish to accommodate them, he was free to refuse to let the apartment.”
“Which he did.”
The Dragon implied a shrug without going through the down-market motion. “The modifications are not required should Bellusdeo choose to remain within the safety of the Imperial Palace. The measures are a compromise.”
Kaylin turned to Bellusdeo. “You agreed to this compromise?”
“Hardly. I agreed to live with some surveillance. Given your current life, I expected that it would be subtle.”
“My current life?”
“You are, as you well know, under Imperial Surveillance. I assumed that the security I would be offered would be of a similar variety.” Her eyes were getting redder by the syllable.
“I think,” Kaylin said quietly, “we’re done for the evening. I’ll mirror from the Palace and make my groveling apologies to the other two landlords.”
CHAPTER FIVE
If Kaylin was done for the evening, Bellusdeo was not. Kaylin attempted to use the mirror in their Palace rooms—twice. She managed to more or less explain to Caitlin the outcome of the interview with Marten Anders, but the sound of Dragon fury meant Caitlin was reduced to lip-reading for half the call. Calling to grovel about missed appointments was out of the question. Caitlin offered to do it for her.
Apparently, sleep was out of the question, as well.
Staying in the Palace, however, had less than zero appeal; Kaylin didn’t want to hide in the library with a sarcastic, cranky Arkon, although she did consider asking him if he had a spare bed in one of his maze of treasure rooms. She paced for a bit while the small dragon warbled in the breaks between Dragon “conversation.” There weren’t that many of them.
When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she mirrored Teela. She almost cut the call when she saw the color of Teela’s eyes: very, very blue.
“Unless Bellusdeo has burned down a city block or two, this is not a good time,” the Barrani Hawk said.
“I think she’s trying to burn down the Emperor, if that counts.”
“It doesn’t, unless she manages to succeed.” Teela frowned as Kaylin lost sound. When it returned—or rather, when outrage receded between the long, long breaths Dragons could draw, Teela’s brows had risen. “You’re not half wrong,” she said, in Elantran. “How long have they been going at it?”
“An hour. Maybe more. I have no idea how long they’ll be at it either— Oh, I think that one’s Diarmat.”
Teela started to speak, rolled her eyes, and stopped. “Lord Diarmat. Honestly, kitling, when in the Palace, try to observe proper form.”
“I’m heading out of the Palace because at this point, I can’t. Try, I mean.” She frowned. “Teela, where exactly are you right now?”
The Barrani Hawk grinned. It was a cat’s grin. “You finally recognize the room?”
Kaylin was silent for a long moment. “Where’s Severn?”
Teela glanced to the side of the mirror and held out her right hand, still grinning. “I win,” she said.
Severn came into the mirror’s view. He looked about as pleased to lose a bet as Kaylin would have, which wasn’t her biggest concern. “Why is Teela at your place?”
“Teela,” Teela replied before Severn could, “was bored.”
“I mean it, Teela. I know what you do when you’re bored.”
“If you’re not going to play with him, I don’t see why you should be so proprietary; he’s a big boy.”
Severn raised a brow in Teela’s direction. “I’m the substitute Tain for the evening.”
“Why does she need a substitute?”
“The one she has is currently babysitting. I hear Mandoran caused a bit of excitement on Elani street.”
“Where he wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t been in session with the Wolves.” Kaylin’s frown deepened. She was certain Severn had heard maybe three words of the last sentence, but wasn’t willing to bet on it; the Dragons weren’t pausing for much. “What does she need Tain for?”
“She’s not an idiot.”
“Why, thank you,” Teela drawled.
Severn didn’t blink or otherwise indicate he’d heard her. “Tain’s about the best backup she has.”
“Why does she need backup? What’s going down?” The small dragon sat up and leaned forward, adding his version of inner membranes to the mirror’s surface.
Severn didn’t reply. But he did glance—pointedly—at the Barrani Hawk. It was no answer, but it was answer enough for Kaylin. “Don’t leave without me,” she said abruptly.
Teela’s eyes were already dark enough they didn’t change color. “You are not—”
Kaylin cut the communication. The mirror was already doing a lightning jig as she grabbed her boots and daggers, putting them both on. It wasn’t safe to ignore Teela when she was in this mood, but Kaylin was done, for the moment, with caution. Teela didn’t need backup to go to a bar. She didn’t need muscle. Nothing that could happen in a bar could threaten her life in any real way.
> And there weren’t a lot of places she could go that made Severn the ideal replacement backup. In fact, Kaylin thought, as she laced up her boots, there was really only one.
Nightshade.
* * *
Kaylin decided to accept the Imperial carriage offered as a matter of course to guests of any note living within the Palace. For perhaps the first time, she was grateful for the screaming fury of Dragon debate; it meant Bellusdeo wouldn’t be able to follow her.
She wasn’t expecting to be stopped by anything other than stiff, formal, condescending guards. These could be safely ignored. The person who met her in the halls as she all but raced toward the stable yards, not so much: no one ignored the Arkon if he didn’t want to be ignored.
Teela wasn’t going to wait forever. Severn could only stall her for so long. Damn it. She skidded to a halt; the only other option was running into the ancient Dragon.
“I can’t talk,” she told him, before he’d opened his mouth.
“Demonstrably untrue.”
“I’m heading out for the evening.”
“I had guessed you might, given the tenor of the unfortunate conversation.”
“Is this something that can wait until I get back?”
He was looking, pointedly, at her daggers. “No. It might have escaped your notice, Private, but I am not currently in my library.”
Kaylin bit back sarcasm with extreme difficulty. “Apologies, Arkon.” A white brow rose as she slid into High Barrani.
“Accepted. There were apparently some difficulties this afternoon.”
“Yes—we explained them to Sanabalis. Er... Lord Sanabalis.”
“Indeed. I think the Emperor was not entirely sanguine about those difficulties; it is certain to come up in the conversation.”
“It hasn’t, yet?”
“No. Bellusdeo is extremely unamused.”
“Diarmat—Lord Diarmat—doesn’t sound all that happy either.” It was the tiny silver lining on the gigantic storm cloud.
“He is not, but he is not a man who generally radiates either happiness or contentment. He is also not enough incentive for an old man to leave his library.”