Kaylin disagreed with this, but did it silently. “It’s considered civilized? That’s why they don’t throw them off cliffs anymore?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Civilized people could be incredibly cruel. Kaylin thought of the Barrani and their High Court. “Civilized,” she said, in a tone that was anything but, “would be leaving their wings alone.”
“Being outcaste isn’t a trivial matter—and before you attempt to bite my head off, I understand that the power can sometimes be abused. I could hardly fail to understand that; Lillias lost her wings because I’m still alive. But in theory, only traitors to our race are cast out from it.”
“So the wings are gone?”
“Yes.”
“They’re not removed—they disappear?”
“Yes.”
Kaylin deflated.
“Why are you asking this?”
She glanced at Teela, who shrugged, leaving it in Kaylin’s hands.
“...We were wondering—”
“The private was wondering,” Teela corrected her.
“Fine. I was wondering if the wings that were removed could be transferred.”
“Not apparently. The wings don’t survive.”
It was Teela who asked, “Are you certain?”
Moran started to answer, and stopped. “...No, actually. I know what I saw—but I’ve been a Hawk for years; appearances are often deceptive. I’m not certain. It’s believed that the wings are destroyed—the destruction being symbolic.”
“Which brings us back to the original question. Sort of.”
“And that?”
“By what? What’s the mechanism for the removal of wings?”
“The praevolo.”
“You didn’t remove her wings.”
“No. But the guidance of the Illumen praevolo is very like a deity, to the Aerians. The loss of the wings is deemed the judgment of the power that also bestows wings like mine on an Aerian.”
“This is going to get confusing.”
“Welcome to my life.”
* * *
“Aren’t you on a leave of absence?” Clint asked pointedly. He’d lowered his weapon to bar her entrance. This was going to cause him problems because the person behind her was Moran.
“A leave of absence was requested,” Kaylin replied. “I happen to think it’s unnecessary.”
Tanner whistled. “Wasn’t the leave ‘requested’ by the Hawklord?”
“Does it matter? It wasn’t an order.”
“You’re braver than you look.”
“Or more stupid,” Clint added. He glanced at Moran, and the weapon rose. His expression changed. So did Moran’s; hers instantly soured.
“If you call me praevolo in the Halls, I will break your arms.”
Tanner snickered. “He’s not technically in the Halls at the moment, Sergeant.”
Moran had chosen to fly to work. Bellusdeo was therefore sporting Dragon-scale armor. Teela and Tain had pulled up the rear on the ground, and the guards weren’t generally stupid enough to block the Barrani without heavy-duty orders from above. The Barrani idea of a passing resentment lasted longer than entire mortal lives, and they really resented obvious disrespect. They’d learned to live with most of it, but it wore on their nerves.
Teela—the only Barrani Hawk who was also a Lord of the High Court—was actually better about it than the rest. Tain only took exception to disrespect offered his partner, all other disrespect being beneath notice or contempt.
Clint let them in. Kaylin let them pass her. Only when she was certain Moran was beyond the range of hearing her—the Barrani would still catch it all, as would the Dragon—did she speak. “I need to talk to you.”
Clint met her gaze, his eyes a momentarily weary blue. “You just can’t keep your nose out of things, can you?”
“Not these things.”
“If it helps at all,” Tanner said, “it’s one of her most endearing traits.” As if Clint needed the reminder.
“Not finding it endearing at the moment.”
“Well, no. It’s also frequently highly inconvenient.”
“I’m still here, guys.”
“Of course you are,” Clint replied. “It’s been that kind of a day.”
* * *
Clint found a replacement; there were relief guards who gave them breaks for meals, among other things. He headed toward the mess hall, but Kaylin shook her head. “West room?”
“Fine.” He was in a bad mood, and made Kaylin touch the door ward. The room was only infrequently in use, and today it was empty. Kaylin entered, waiting until Clint had done the same, and then closed the door.
“Did you know there’s an Aerian Arcanist?”
“Yes. I was aware of it.”
“We think—we’re not certain—that an Arcanist is probably responsible for the earlier assassination attempts.”
“And water is wet.”
“Work with me a bit here.”
“I’ve already explained why that’s a very bad idea for any Aerian.”
Kaylin nodded. “I wouldn’t have asked you—but in the past couple of days, the attitude toward Moran has shifted markedly among the Aerians in the Halls.”
Clint nodded. “She’s the praevolo.”
“She’s always been the praevolo.”
“Yes—but no one can argue with that fact now. She’s the praevolo. If there are further assassination attempts, they won’t come from Aerians.” He spoke this as a flat fact. Kaylin wasn’t nearly as certain. “She’s out of danger now. And the rest of us aren’t being pushed by the currents, either. But you’ve got that look that says this isn’t good enough—for you.”
“I’ve got that look,” Kaylin countered, “because I don’t believe it’s over. I don’t believe things are settled. This didn’t just start when Moran got injured in the battle over the High Halls. It’s been going on all her life. You know that they tried to have her killed when she was a child, right?”
Clint stiffened. That was a no. If the stiffness wasn’t enough, she could see the color of his eyes. She really hated Barrani blue when it settled in Aerian eyes. On Barrani, it was more natural.
“It didn’t just happen once, either.”
Clint’s jaw muscles were twitching.
“One woman was made outcaste because she saved Moran’s life. And don’t tell me that the power of the praevolo is sentient enough to decide that it made a mistake. Lillias was made outcaste because she thwarted the will of the Caste Court. It was political.”
“You’re certain?”
“Dead certain, Clint.”
“Kitling,” he said, in a very familiar tone. He almost never used the endearment anymore. “How far is this going to go?”
“I’ve got an appointment with the Hawklord in an hour. I’ll know then.” She hesitated. “I think the outcaste Dragon is involved.”
Clint’s wings rose, stiffening. It was a visceral reaction, and he got it under control again. “Why?”
“The Oracle. I don’t know if the Dragon will literally show up—but I do believe he’s involved.”
“Does the Emperor know?”
“The Emperor knows of the vision, yes.” She hesitated again. “I’ll be visiting at least one Aerian Arcanist sometime this afternoon.”
“When?”
“Whenever I get the mirror call. It’s being arranged by a Barrani Arcanist.”
“This gets worse and worse. Dragons? Barrani? Arcanists?”
“I didn’t start it, Clint.”
“Doesn’t matter who started it.” He ran his left hand through his very short hair. “Where are you meeting him?”
“The Aerie.” Before Clint could say anythin
g he’d regret—or, more honestly, that Kaylin would—she lifted a hand. “I’m going with Bellusdeo. She’s flying.”
“And Moran?”
“I’d like her to stay put.”
“Meaning she’s going with you.”
“Meaning exactly that. There’s a possibility the Hawklord will order her to remain in the Halls.”
“She won’t disobey a direct order.”
“Not while she’s on duty, no. She’ll just demand that the arranged meeting be moved.”
“What, exactly, do you want to ask the Arcanist? He’s dar Carafel, and he’s at the heart of the Caste Court.”
“I’d guessed, given events. I want to ask the Arcanist about the power of Shadow—and the power of the praevolo.”
“You are not suggesting they’re the same.”
Kaylin chose not to answer the actual question. “I think the Arcanist has actually been using the power of the praevolo in a limited fashion. He can’t use it now—Moran has the bracelet. People who have power are reluctant to let it go. He’s had power. I’m certain he considers that power his, by right of birth. He certainly doesn’t consider it the province of an unclaimed, unacknowledged bastard from the Aerian equivalent of the fiefs.”
“She has the wings. He doesn’t.”
“And I’m sure that matters to almost every Aerian alive who knows. I’m also sure it doesn’t matter to him.”
“Kaylin—”
“I think he’s trying to remove Moran’s wings somehow. I think he intends to wear them himself.”
* * *
Clint’s eyes were almost black. He couldn’t look more dangerous unless he were bristling with weapons.
“Moran said that when an Aerian is made outcaste, their wings dissolve.”
Clint’s nod was controlled. It had to be. She’d seen him annoyed and irritated in her time with the Hawks. She had never seen him angry. Not like this.
“I’m not sure that’s true.”
“It is true for the Aerian. The wings dissolve; they are no longer wings. They have no right to the power of flight, and it is taken from them,” Clint said.
“Is the bracelet used in this ceremony? Moran was a child the only time she saw it. I’m not sure she paid attention to the particulars; the horror of watching wings dissolve had all her attention.”
“The bracelet is used. It is not worn, unless the praevolo is present.”
Moran had been present. She hadn’t been wearing the bracelet. Kaylin said nothing. But she had her answer now. She frowned.
“You’re thinking.”
“I am. Someone gave the man who took control of Margot the bracelet. The bracelet, a feather, and a collar.”
Clint stiffened further, which shouldn’t have been possible. “A collar.”
“Yes. Is a collar part of the regalia? Moran didn’t seem to recognize it.”
“If it was taken to the Oracle, it’s significant. A collar is worn by the traitor during the ceremony. You kept the bracelet. You gave it to Moran. Did you keep the feather and the collar?”
“Technically, no.”
“Are they here?”
“In the evidence lockers, probably. The bracelet seemed important.”
“You’re going to think the collar’s important as well, if you’re investigating the ceremony of exclusion.” He headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“The lockers. The Hawklord is going to want the evidence in hand by the end of your meeting.”
* * *
The Hawklord was grim, dark-eyed and high-winged. Clint had apparently gone to the evidence lockers and circumvented Hanson; he was in the Tower when the doors opened.
But so was Moran. Since Moran was there, Bellusdeo was also there. She was still wearing scale armor. Severn and Kaylin were the late arrivals, and they interrupted what was only barely a conversation from the sound of raised voices. Those voices stopped abruptly as the doors rolled open and all eyes turned to the newcomers.
“Private. Corporal. Please join us,” the Hawklord said, voice heavy with sarcasm.
“We made an appointment, sir.”
“Yes. You were the only people considerate enough to do so, given the current political fracas. I have had to put off a mirror meeting with the Caste Court—the Aerian Caste Court. Until I have that meeting, I have had to put off a meeting with the leader of the human Caste Court. And until I have endured both, I am putting off a report to the Eternal Emperor.”
No one in the room except Clint and Kaylin seemed worried about either the Caste Courts or the Emperor.
The collar was not like the bracelet. It wasn’t obviously valuable in the same way. Kaylin had found it creepy and disgusting, and hadn’t bothered to evaluate either reaction. To Kaylin, collar implied one of two things: pet, which was the cheery one, and slave, which was not. And she had seen people in collars before, in her early life in the fiefs.
“Do you know what this is?”
She did, now. “I didn’t, at the time. I’m sorry. I don’t know a lot about Oracles—”
“You know more than most of the Hawks,” the Hawklord pointed out.
“Fine. I still don’t know a lot about Oracles. The Oracles in the Oracular Halls aren’t quite sane. They fall into visions. They’re obsessed by them. Until they express that vision somehow—painting, quilting, singing, shrieking—they remain caught in it. I don’t recall that we ever brought them things to touch. Maybe it would help—I don’t know. I think Sabrai—Master Sabrai,” she added, as the Hawklord cleared his throat, “would toss us out on our rear ends if we tried.
“But they didn’t go through the Oracular Halls. Master Sabrai would never have given them access to his Oracles. They went to Margot. They did think that handling these items would somehow control the flow of vision, or they’d never have sent the items out of the Aerie.”
“They want them back,” the Hawklord added.
“They can bite me. Us. The Emperor.”
He seemed amused by this, and amusement had been very absent in the Tower of late.
“Have they asked?”
“Yes.”
“They want the praevolo to return what’s rightfully hers?”
“They contest the ‘rightfully hers’ part, but yes.”
Clint looked like thunder. Or like thunderclouds.
“And the collar?”
“They want the collar, they want the feather, they want the bracelet. They have evinced a willingness to accept the praevolo as part of the condition of the return of these items.”
Kaylin uttered a string of inappropriate but heartfelt Leontine.
“The Emperor has refused to even entertain the petition. He has asked for legal advice from Aerians, and the Aerian advisors—not, of course, part of the Caste Court—have made clear that the bracelet belongs to the praevolo. Period. The collar and the feather are more contentious—one expert believes that while there is a living praevolo, the collar belongs entirely to her. One expert believes there is legal standing in the demand of the collar’s return. The collar functions when there is no praevolo, as it happens.
“The Emperor is considering the ramifications of this legal advice. He has not, therefore, made a decision. The two items in question will remain in our evidence lockers until a decision has been reached.”
Clint was not a legal advisor. He was a Hawk. But it was absolutely clear that he felt it all belonged to the praevolo, commands from the Emperor notwithstanding.
“We, uh, have an appointment to meet with an Aerian Arcanist,” Kaylin said.
“So I have heard.”
One look at both the Hawklord’s and Moran’s faces made clear what they’d been arguing about. Kaylin understood the Hawklord’s concern
—she felt it herself. But she hated to be cozened, to be treated like a child, a liability. She was damned if she was going to do it to Moran—who was, coincidentally, a sergeant to her private.
“Lord Grammayre,” Bellusdeo said softly, “Moran is praevolo. It has meaning to the Aerians. This concerns the use of the power of the praevolo—”
“It concerns the misuse of that power,” Moran corrected her.
“—and it is both natural and possibly necessary that the praevolo be present.”
The Hawklord’s wings rose and stiffened. “There’s a risk—”
“Yes. There is always a risk. But she is the natural leader, the natural ruler, of the Aeries.”
He started to argue. Stopped, glancing at the other Aerian in the room. Clint’s entire posture and attitude made clear that, on some level, Bellusdeo’s claim was true.
Clint, however, was not the Hawklord. “If anything happens to her—”
“I wouldn’t worry much about that. I’ll be there.”
“And if anything happens to you?”
“At that point, it won’t be my problem.” Bellusdeo smiled; it was an almost Leontine smile.
Kaylin, however, wilted, because it would be her problem. The Emperor would completely lose it. And it didn’t matter. Bellusdeo was going. Moran was going. Kaylin privately thought they’d be stuck with Clint as well—but if Moran rejected him, he’d probably stay put.
Moran, however, said, “It is not necessary for the private to accompany us.”
And that touched off an entirely different argument—one over which Kaylin had some control.
Chapter 25
Kaylin was given permission to go to the Aerie—probably because she intended to go anyway. Bellusdeo pointed out that Evarrim had arranged the meeting between Lord Kaylin and the Arcanist; Kaylin was, in the Dragon’s opinion, essential.
Moran believed that her position as praevolo—a position she had ignored and all but denied for the entirety of her life—made Kaylin’s inclusion unnecessary, but the Hawklord surprised Kaylin by agreeing with the Dragon. Clint did not demand to be included at all, which surprised Kaylin.
She was vastly less surprised when they made their way to the carriage courtyard and Bellusdeo transformed. Moran was not riding the Dragon to the Aerie—an Aerie she had not visited since she’d been injured. It was apparently beneath her dignity. Kaylin was, and if Kaylin was, Severn was, as well. Teela and Tain came along—but Bellusdeo could carry the four of them without any apparent effort. She aimed a grimace over Kaylin’s shoulder and Kaylin turned to see what had earned it.