“Have some tea,” she told Kaylin. It wasn’t a request. When Kaylin stared vacantly into the cup, Keira added, “You look terrible.”
“I look better than I feel.”
“Probably true. Have some tea.” She turned to Moran, extended a hand and said, “I’m Keira. Thanks for dealing with the father. Normally someone would help with that—”
“You were occupied.”
“He’ll be okay?”
“He clearly has a very thick skull. Yes, he’ll be okay. I’m going to take Kaylin home. We both have work in—two hours? Maybe three.” To Kaylin, she said, “I better understand why our superiors tolerate your tardiness.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you do this often?”
“Probably not often enough. They only call me in when they know for certain things are going to get ugly—and sometimes, the call comes too late. I can’t get there in time. I try,” she added. “But—I don’t normally have Aerians on hand.”
“But you do.”
“I’ve been called while at work maybe three times. And yes, I did get a ride, but in one of those cases, I actually needed it.”
“You went to the Aeries?”
Kaylin nodded. Hesitating, she said, “How do your wings feel?”
“The injured one hurts—but it made no difference. I could fly. I flew.” She spoke the last two words with a kind of bemused wonder.
* * *
She flew them back, as well. Kaylin was too exhausted to argue with her, but healing always had that effect on her when the injuries were severe. There had been no assassins, no magical attacks. It had been stupid to let Moran fly her out to the emergency—but Moran had been awake and ready. And if Kaylin had legged it the old-fashioned way, she wouldn’t have made it on time.
Even a carriage driven by Teela wouldn’t have made it on time.
Moran clearly wanted to stay outside in the night air, testing her wings. Using them. But Moran knew what the risks were and chose not to take them. From her expression, it was a close thing.
Moran, bright-eyed, was conversing with Helen when Kaylin dragged her butt up the stairs and deposited it heavily on her bed. The Aerian sergeant wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep tonight, one way or the other.
Kaylin, on the other hand, couldn’t keep her eyes open. Sleep mugged her, and she let it.
* * *
In the morning, Moran was once again colorfully dressed. She wore the bracelet. She spoke with Bellusdeo, who disappeared into the mirror room, which, in Kaylin’s opinion, most resembled the holding cells in the Halls, and returned. Kaylin’s face was an inch away from her plate, her eyes were circled so darkly she looked hungover, and she could barely force food into her mouth.
“I really think you should stay home,” Moran told her.
“I’m awake. I’ll work.”
“Fine.” Fine did not mean that Moran was content to let it go, which Kaylin discovered when Teela and Tain showed up at the front door.
“Kitling,” Teela said, with obvious disapproval. “You went out drinking without us?”
“I went on a call for the midwives’ guild.” At Teela’s shift in expression, Kaylin added, “We made it on time.”
“We?”
Moran said, “I flew her out.”
Discussion stopped—not that there was much of it—as the Barrani turned to Moran. “Did you, now?”
Moran nodded.
“Courtesy of the Keeper?”
“Indirectly, yes. But if you mean courtesy of his power or the blessing of the elements he both jails and serves, no.”
“The meeting went well, then?”
Moran exhaled. “It went well.” She flexed her wing—her injured wing—and grimaced.
“I’m surprised the wing could carry you both.”
“You’re surprised the wing could carry me,” Moran said, voice dry as summer grass.
Teela shrugged. “It doesn’t look like it’s up to the task, and you certainly haven’t been trying. If you could fly, we wouldn’t be in this political tangle.”
“I was thinking that, myself,” Moran replied, grinning. It was a very, very martial expression.
Teela, whose eyes were mostly green, returned it, nuance for nuance. “We’re not going to make great guards today—we can’t keep up.”
Bellusdeo muttered a single word that sounded a lot like derogatory Elantran.
“Pardon?”
“Tain might not be able to keep up; you certainly could.”
Teela didn’t deny it. “Let’s go, shall we?” She frowned. “Mandoran’s coming.”
Kaylin wilted; Bellusdeo frowned.
“He’s bored,” Teela continued, “and Annarion is expecting Nightshade. Why, I don’t know. If I were Nightshade at this point, I’d give his brother some space.”
Kaylin had never had siblings, and had no comment, which was generally safest. “Tell him to hurry—we’re going to be late.”
“He says you’re often late.”
“Me? Yes. Moran? Never.”
“He’s hurrying.”
* * *
Moran flew to work.
Bellusdeo joined her—in full Dragon glory. Kaylin assumed that the trip to the mirror cell had been to get permission, but didn’t ask—it was better not to know.
The streets were therefore full of people who had momentarily forgotten their own business in favor of the aerial maneuvers of a large golden Dragon and her smaller Aerian companion. And they were maneuvers. There was nothing businesslike about Moran’s flight paths, and nothing straightforward and simple, either.
Mandoran was making a face.
“What is it now?” Kaylin said, although her eyes were drawn to the sky again.
“Teela says I can’t join them.”
“Could you, if she weren’t sitting on you?”
“I’m not certain—but yes, I think I could. You know, I haven’t tried at all since I’ve been back?”
That wasn’t remotely comforting. “Don’t start now.”
“I think it would be like swimming—but in air.”
“We’ve got enough attention for the day. Don’t add to it.”
“You know, you shouldn’t let Teela suck the fun out of your life.”
“I haven’t. I can’t fly.”
“Fine. You shouldn’t let Teela suck the fun out of my life.” He did, however, keep both of his feet on the ground as they made their way to the Halls of Law. “She’s going to be late. You said she’s never late.”
“She’s never been late in all my years at the Halls.”
“And she’s going to start now?”
“Probably.”
Mandoran whistled at Moran’s maneuver. “She really can fly circles around the Dragon.”
“She can probably fly circles around the rest of the Aerians, too. I’m sure the ones who are watching her are pathetically grateful she’s not in charge of their practice drills right about now.”
“You think they’re watching?”
“I’d bet all of last month’s pay on it.”
“No one here would be stupid enough to take that bet,” Teela said. “We’d better get moving. The Dragon can handle anything stupid enough to take Moran on in these skies, and the Hawklord is going to want to speak to us.”
Kaylin wilted. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“No, we haven’t. And before you try to bite me, neither has Moran. But the Hawklord’s the one who’s been sitting in political debris since Moran was injured.”
* * *
“You know, you should quit the late-night drinking binges,” Clint said. He was speaking loudly, with the happy malevolence the very sober sometimes showed the very h
ungover.
“I wasn’t out drinking. I was out carousing with the midwives.”
His grin vanished.
“I made it in time, but only because—” She stopped.
Clint had never been particularly stupid. “The sergeant flew you out.”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve been watching her in the skies since she took wing.” His voice was almost a hush, which didn’t suit his size or his general demeanor. “The Hawklord wants to see you.”
* * *
Severn was at his desk when Kaylin entered the office and headed toward the Tower stairs.
“You’re back.”
Since it wasn’t a question, he said nothing.
“What did the Wolflord want?”
He said more nothing, and Kaylin exhaled. “Sorry. That was a stupid question.” If the Halls of Law could be said to be clandestine, it was entirely due to the Wolves.
She’d never been entirely comfortable with Severn as a Wolf. And he was a Hawk now. She opened her mouth again, but Severn shook his head.
“The Hawklord,” he said, “is waiting.”
* * *
“I want to know exactly what happened last night.”
Kaylin was standing more or less at attention beside her partner, whose posture was perfect.
“You look like you haven’t slept for a week. Did you go out drinking with Teela and Tain?”
Kaylin sighed. “No, sir.”
“What did you do to Moran?”
She really resented the question, and was too exhausted to hide it. Being exhausted pushed her into one of two states, but since sleep wasn’t an option, she settled into prickly and irritable instead. “I didn’t do anything to the sergeant,” she replied, using Moran’s rank for emphasis, because hers was so junior in comparison.
The Hawklord frowned.
Kaylin attempted to straighten up shoulders that were probably sagging. Attention was not a natural posture. The small dragon was slumped across her shoulders as if he were absorbing her exhaustion. “We went to see Evanton, sir.”
“And she returned, able to fly.”
“We met Lillias.”
He stiffened; he obviously recognized the name.
“He left Lillias in the garden with Moran, and Lillias told Moran that Evanton lets her fly there—in secret, in the folds of the elemental air. Moran was invited to join her—and did. Except she didn’t need the elemental air. The injuries she sustained, which would cripple any other Aerian, apparently don’t affect her ability to fly. Once she realized this...” Kaylin shrugged.
“She flew to work.”
Kaylin nodded.
“Which means she could fly to the Southern Reach.”
Kaylin stiffened, then. She was too tired to think, and hadn’t been. She started to now. The Hawklord was right. If Moran could fly—and demonstrably, publicly, she could—there was no reason she needed to stay in Kaylin’s house. No reason she had to live where the rest of the ground dwellers were forced to live.
“She thought her flying would remove most of the political stress you’ve been under.”
“I highly doubt that.” He lifted a hand before more words could follow. “I do not doubt that you both believe that. I find that view entirely too optimistic at this point. Moran can fly. Her duty to the Hawks, her service to the Imperial Halls of Law, has therefore not done irreparable harm to the Aerians, as was first claimed.” His expression made clear what he thought of that claim.
“But the assassination attempts, and the coercion of Margot, occurred regardless. They are crimes. If Moran can be pressured—mistakenly believing it is for my sake—into recanting all accusation, the assassination attempts would be removed from our remit. They would become a matter of the Caste Court.
“The events in Elani Street cannot be so remanded. They were perpetuated by a human, not an Aerian.”
“Could our prisoner attempt to have the case remanded to the human Caste Court?”
The Hawklord’s answering grin was so devoid of warmth or humor Kaylin almost took a step back.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I have not said a thing, but were I to do so, I would most assuredly find no humor in it.” His wings unfolded slightly, but his eyes remained blue. “Have you ever seen her fly like that?”
Kaylin had watched flying Aerians all her life, and had seen precisely none who could fly the way Moran had been flying.
“Very well. I will not caution you. Moran seems to have done well living with you; if she wishes to continue—”
“She’s not going back to the Southern Reach.” Kaylin folded her arms. Severn recognized her mutinous glare, but said nothing, content to let the Hawklord shoulder the brunt of the work.
“That must,” the Hawklord said gently, “be her choice, surely?”
“Yes. But she likes living with us.”
“She is praevolo,” the Hawklord replied.
“So what? She’s a person, not a symbol. And she wasn’t happy living in the Reaches.”
“Ah. No. No, she was not. Dismissed.”
* * *
“We need to find out who made the motion to have the case against Margot’s attacker remanded to the human Caste Court.” Kaylin’s steps echoed heavily down the Tower stairs; Severn’s, in theory heavier, did not.
“It’s political.”
“Obviously. But we need to follow the money here. And you know as well as I do that remand means ‘dismiss entirely.’ There’s not going to be a lot of justice.”
“Margot is human. If Margot refused to endorse a remand, the request would have gone nowhere.”
“Exactly. We’re going to have a chat with Margot. What? It’s our beat today anyway.”
* * *
Margot was not in her store. She was not one of nature’s early risers, but the meeting with the Hawklord, the subsequent meeting with Marcus and the less-than-gentle aside from Clint, who had abandoned his post at the door to make it, had taken enough time from their daily schedule that Margot should have had more than enough time to put out her shingle.
Her doors were locked.
In and of itself, this wasn’t unusual; if Margot was popular—and she was—she had her share of angry former customers, some of whom wanted more than simple words with her.
But current customers—at least two—were waiting almost forlornly on the doorstep. They gave the Hawks the side-eye, but also gave them room. Margot had not been in yet.
Kaylin generally found Margot a safe target for venting spleen. She was almost certainly bilking the stupid and the hopeful out of their money, and she couldn’t stand Kaylin. She practically wore a target saying Hate Me.
But this?
“She hasn’t been in at all? She’s not in lockup because someone theoretically more important is in there with her?” she demanded of a slender elderly man.
“No, Officer.”
Severn was speaking to the other man, and when he was done, he met Kaylin’s eyes. “She’s not at home.”
“She lives above the store.”
“Yes. And she’s not at home.”
Kaylin didn’t ask him how he knew, because they were pretty much thinking the same thing. Margot had asked that the case be remanded to the human Caste Court; Margot was not at home. The prisoner in the holding cells had asked—or demanded, as it turned out—that his case be remanded to the human Caste Court, as well. They knew where he was.
In theory, he was still alive.
* * *
“You want me to what, exactly?” Teela demanded. Evanton’s mirror was small, and he disliked its use, but Kaylin had convinced Grethan that it was an emergency.
“I want you to go and talk to the prison
er. And I want you to get me permission to break into Margot’s store.”
“You’ve done it without permission before.”
“I didn’t break in,” Kaylin pointed out. “The store was open at the time.”
“Ah. Surely that’s just a trifling detail?”
“Caste Court remand, Teela.”
“Fine. What exactly do you want me to say to the prisoner?”
“His guards have been Barrani. Without exception. But suddenly he’s demanding that his case be tried by the human Caste Court. I want to know who his visitors have been.”
Teela’s eyes were now very, very blue. “He hasn’t had visitors.”
“He must have.”
“He hasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the Barrani contingent has been in charge of his safety; it has been made perfectly clear that if he does not survive his captivity, it will reflect very, very poorly on us.”
“You’re not in charge of that detail.”
“Not technically, no.”
“But—”
“I’ll talk to the prisoner. Marcus says you can go ahead and investigate.”
“You haven’t asked him.”
“Fine. You want a bristling Leontine filling your mirror, you can have him.”
Marcus did say yes, eventually. There was a whole lot of Leontine that happened between his first appearance and his permission, most of which was not repeatable, almost literally.
“This is not the day to be in the office,” Kaylin said when the mirror image once again receded and she was staring at her own face. She did look hungover. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 21
Kaylin didn’t break the window—or the door. Given the day, it wasn’t even tempting. Margot’s outer doors weren’t warded. They were locked the old-fashioned way.
The windows on the side of the building weren’t barred; they were magically protected. Ugh. Severn took out his chained weapons and managed to open the window without breaking the glass.
“It’s not just spinning the chains that offers protection from magic?” she asked as he worked.
“No. It’s more reliable that way, but no.” He offered her both of his hands; she stepped into them with her left foot and worked her way into the building, feeling oddly like the criminal she had once been. She then headed to lift the impressive bars that had made the front doors impassable.