It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. “How did Marcus receive the message to visit this—this friend?”
“By mirror.”
“Here?”
“No. At the office.”
“At the office.”
Kayala nodded.
“I wish you’d told me this while I was also at the office.”
“Why?”
“We can sometimes track mirror messages,” she replied. “We can tell where they originated, and if they’re keyed—which I highly doubt—we’ll know who sent them. If they’re not keyed, we’ll still have a good idea where they started. If they’re rerouted, it’ll be a bit harder, but that will tell us something, too.”
“What will it tell you?”
“That whoever wanted to talk to Marcus didn’t want to be immediately traceable. That he was taking precautions to remain hidden. Most people hide for a reason,” she said. “I still have a couple of hours before I have to be on duty. I’ll see what I can find out. Can I mirror?”
Kayala nodded. “The mirror is keyed.”
“To Marcus?”
“To all of us, yes. But I believe it is keyed to accept your messages as well. Marcus always worried.”
Severn was waiting and the carriage was waiting and the horses looked as if waiting was something they did only on the outer edge of panic; horses and Leontines were not the best combination, and there were a lot of Leontines. The driver looked decidedly relieved to see her. She waved at him as she opened the carriage door and wedged herself through the small entrance.
Severn’s arms were folded across his chest; he appeared to be napping. But he opened his eyes as she sat down. “Well?”
“Do you even know where the Caste Court building is?”
He nodded.
“Can we go there?”
“We can go anywhere,” he replied quietly. “However, we have no jurisdiction in the Caste Courts.”
“The Emperor made the laws, right?”
Severn shifted his weight toward the window of his carriage door, and he slid out of it with a good deal more grace than Kaylin had used going through a much larger opening. She heard his voice, and his instructions, before he returned to her.
“Yes, the Emperor created the laws.”
“So he created the Caste Court system.”
“Yes.”
“So in theory it’s sort of Imperial.”
“Theory and reality seldom have so little in common. The Caste Courts take a form and observe customs that are not Imperial Court customs. I am not certain you would recognize them as the same entity. The Caste Court is not the Imperial Court writ small—each Court is different. The human Caste Court, which is almost never used, is functionally similar to the Imperial one. The Tha’alani Caste Court exists entirely in theory—there are no jails, and no separate building, although matters that might concern a separate Tha’alani law are conducted in the longhouse. I do not believe the Barrani Caste Court exists outside of the High Halls.”
Kaylin, who was certain she’d been taught this before, and at greater length, nodded. “I always hated the Caste Court system,” she told him.
“You would. But it serves a purpose.”
“Which would be?”
“It allows each race to deal with the elements of its populace that it doesn’t wish to be held up as an example—a bad one—of racial behavior. It also allowed the laws and customs of each people to be respected, to have weight. People let go of old laws slowly, if at all. I imagine the Barrani will have a Caste Court for at least as long as their race exists.”
“I never understood why the Barrani were part of the Empire, either.”
“Given the Barrani-Dragon wars, I admit it’s a mystery to me—but it could have something to do with the location of the Empire’s capital. They can’t move the High Halls and, for reasons you are familiar with, they cannot abandon them. But they are not uneasy in the city.”
“No.”
“What do you think the Leontine Caste Court will look like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seldom been inside Leontine buildings, and before you ask, they have very few restaurants and very few bars.”
“But not none.”
“Not none, no. But they are not simply human establishments with fur—there are significant differences. And no, you don’t want to know what they are.”
She nodded. She didn’t.
To call anything a court when it existed as a flat, open space and a lot of stand-alone cages was not in any Elantran vocabulary. Kaylin’s vocabulary, already quite extensive, got a workout after she found her voice. The “court,” as it was called, appeared to be a series of descending concentric circles—large, arena-size, circles—which ended in one flat circle on the ground well below where she now stood. The circles were smooth; Kaylin imagined that people actually sat in them, side by side, looking down.
Most of the cages were empty. One of them was not.
She began to make a beeline for the one that wasn’t, and halfway down—when she’d reached the third of five circles—she was stopped by two Leontine men. One of the Leontines was golden, the most common color, the other a dusty gray.
As a rule, Leontines didn’t wear armor. As a rule, when it was warm, they didn’t wear much. Marcus, a Hawk, wore regulation uniform when he was in the office. He wore robes when he was at home—at least when Kaylin visited. These men obviously didn’t see the need for either. They did wear loincloths; they did wear bracers. They wore belts, across which hung small pouches and—of all things—truncheons.
Marcus was not required to carry a sword in service to the Hawks. His weapons were a bit more natural.
Severn was a few steps behind Kaylin, but he caught up quickly. He put a hand on Kaylin’s arm, which was probably a good thing, because her hand was resting on the pommel of a dagger. She hadn’t had the chance to go and get it enchanted in Elani street yet, but silence wasn’t required here.
But Severn came to stand by her side; he wanted—by the direction he attempted to push her in—to stand in front of her. She wasn’t biting. In a manner of speaking. Neither were the Leontines—yet.
“Stay out of this,” he told her. She started to speak, and he moved, his kick—aimed at a region that would have been considered unsporting in a practice bout—signaling an end to conversation.
She stood her ground, although it was difficult. One on one against Leontine claws was considered poor odds for a human. Two on one would be considered astronomically worse. But Kayala’s words had made it clear that women didn’t interfere in the affairs of men—which affairs, apparently, involved a lot of fighting for dominant space. She understood what Severn was doing. She even understood why it was necessary.
Neither of the guards raised an alarm; neither shouted for help. Their breathing, short and sharp as they moved to counter Severn, was quiet. It wasn’t feral; they weren’t enraged.
They didn’t even seem to be surprised, although the first kick had landed pretty much exactly where Severn had intended to place it.
But they didn’t unsheathe their claws; they pulled their truncheons. Severn had not drawn a weapon either. He was fast, she’d give him that. Fast, and much stronger than he looked when compared to the Leontine bulk. The Leontines were steady on their feet, much like the cats that were their namesake. They jumped to either side of Severn, and he rolled through them, continuing the motion down to the next circle, the second above the cages. Which was smart; they’d already leaped to intercept him. They missed.
He didn’t.
None of his blows were fatal; none of them were slight. He favored kicks, for reach, and he could snap them, pulling back, keeping his body in motion so that no part of him could be easily grabbed. They tried. One Leontine leaped a little too close, and Severn pivoted sideways, avoiding, by the sudden appearance of an unexpected profile, the collision with a much heavier body. The Leontine missed and fell.
Two minutes, three minute
s, four minutes—Kaylin was counting seconds. Severn couldn’t keep this up forever. Two against one? You went for broke as fast as you could; you tried to even the odds.
He wasn’t quite doing that. The golden-furred Leontine that he’d kicked was definitely slower, but not so slow that it was an advantage for Severn, given the presence of the gray one.
She forced herself to be silent when the second cat clipped Severn’s jaw, sending him out of his stance. She forced herself to be still, which was harder. Her hand itched, hovering above the dagger she wore. She couldn’t fight the Leontines without drawing the dagger. She didn’t have the mass to play this game, and the game she had the skill for involved attrition through blood loss, hopefully none of it hers.
Severn took a blow to the ribs, and managed to avoid a second one—how, she wasn’t certain. He caught the gray Leontine in the knee, kicked him in the chest as he faltered. In all this, he said nothing, and they said nothing; the only noise was impact.
Six minutes, she thought. Too long.
And then someone did roar, and she turned in an instant at the sound of the voice, the hair on the back of her neck rising.
The two Leontines froze almost instantly, and Severn himself took a single step back before he put up his hands.
From the arena floor, from a chair nestled within the cages, a white-furred Leontine strode out toward them.
He glanced at the two guards and nodded. Then he turned his gaze on Severn, and his eyes were the most remarkable color for a Leontine—they were blue. Kaylin had never seen blue Leontine eyes before, and she wondered what they meant.
Humans were the only race whose eyes did not reflect their moods. They had words for that, and their skin tones changed, but the eyes only shifted color when the light shifted in strength or focus.
As he approached them, the two Leontines lifted their chins, exposing their throats slightly. It was, Kaylin thought, a gesture of respect, but not of subservience. The white Leontine nodded and they fell back. He approached Severn.
Severn stood his ground.
“You are armed,” the Leontine said, his Elantran distinctly more growly than Marcus’s. “But you did not draw weapons.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was introducing myself, no more.”
The large Leontine hissed—amused, Kaylin thought. “You understand some of our ways, human.”
Severn said quietly, “I served the Emperor as a Wolf for many years, before I donned the Hawk.”
The blue eyes narrowed. “You have been given no leave to hunt here.”
“No leave is required to hunt in the Empire. The Wolves operate under the jurisdiction of Imperial Writ.”
“And if I say permission is required here?”
“You will say it when the skies darken and the Emperor lands,” Severn replied.
Again the hiss, and again Kaylin thought it a chuckle. The face fur that surrounded those shocking blue eyes was flat.
“It is said there are no fools called upon to hunt in the Empire,” the Leontine replied. “I have yet to see an exception to this rule. I am Adar.”
“I am Severn.”
“And your rank?”
“Corporal. Which you recognize.”
A third chuckle. “Indeed. It is a good introduction. You lasted far longer than the previous human who came to Court.”
“He was not a Wolf.”
“No. He was not a man.” He shrugged, and turned his gaze upon Kaylin. “And you, you also bear the Hawk.”
“Private Neya,” she said stiffly.
“Adar,” he replied, “of the Claw.”
She knew Severn well enough to notice the very slight tightening of his expression, but she couldn’t quite tell what had caused it. He said nothing else.
“You are the denwarden, here?”
“I am. There is no other.”
“And you are, by Imperial Law, the castelord?” Kaylin knew Severn asked the last question for her benefit.
Adar nodded quietly. “I am that, in Elantran.”
“I have come to speak with Marcus.”
The Leontine nodded. “If he will speak with you, you have earned that right. But if you are familiar with some of our ways, you are not familiar with all of them—you brought your female with you.”
“She is not mine,” he replied. “She is a Hawk, in her own right, as you no doubt noticed.”
“The Hawks are Marcus’s dominion in the city.”
“They are.”
“And you both serve Marcus.”
“We serve the Empire, as Marcus is also sworn to do,” Severn told Adar.
“Very well. Follow.”
The cage was about two inches taller than Marcus at full height, if that. Kaylin knew this because he was, in fact, standing as they approached, his arms folded across his bare chest, his equally bare legs planted slightly apart. His eyes were gold tinged with orange, and his golden fur was flat and dull. He looked exhausted.
“Marcus Kassan,” Adar said quietly, “these two have come to speak with you. Will you allow it?”
“I will.”
“I will leave you, then, to discuss whatever matters you wish to discuss. I will not lock the cage behind your visitors.”
Marcus nodded, as if this were perfectly natural. He waited until the white Leontine had retreated, and then stood there, looking at Kaylin and Severn, his fingers flexing.
“I spoke with Kayala before I came,” Kaylin told him.
“I see.”
“Marcus—what happened?”
“I met a friend outside of the Quarter at his request. The request was privately keyed,” he added, “and arrived at my office before lunch yesterday.”
“He died.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I killed him.”
CHAPTER 7
Right up until that moment, Kaylin had been hoping that he would proclaim his innocence. That he would tell her it had all been a mistake. That he would tell her he’d been anywhere else in the city. Disappointment and shock kept her quiet for another minute before she rallied.
“Marcus—why? What did he do?”
At that, the Leontine seemed to deflate. “Kaylin—”
“No, don’t Kaylin me. Mallory is in charge of the office. He’s the acting sergeant while you’re away. And damn it, you’d better be coming back.”
“Kitling, it has nothing to do with you. Or with the Hawks. It is a private affair.”
“I know about Sarabe’s sister.”
He was silent for a moment. “You would,” he said at last, and heavily. “Her sister called you.”
“Yes.”
“Kaylin, if I ask, as a favor, that you leave this alone, will it do any good at all?”
“No.” She paused. “Maybe. If I understood why—” She paused again. “It’s the child, isn’t it? Your nephew?”
He turned his head away, but not before she could see the change in the color of his eyes. Gold was tinged with something that might be blue on fire.
“Sergeant Kassan.” Severn spoke for the first time, his hands at his sides.
“I am not your Sergeant.”
“As you wish. Kaylin is present,” he added, “and she dislikes the rules of authority if they deprive her of her family.”
Kaylin had no argument to offer; it was true. He was the only Sergeant the Hawks had, and the only one they wanted.
“For Kaylin’s sake, then,” Marcus said, his voice on the edge of a wild growl. “Take her out of the Quarter. Keep her out of the Quarter.”
Severn lifted a brow. “I could only make the attempt once, and if I succeeded, she would return to the Quarter without me.”
The growl deepened, and Kaylin saw claws flexing in their furbeds. She’d seen them before, but there was no desk on which to dull their edge. She wanted to be careful on a bone-deep, visceral level. “Kaylin doesn’t understand the tribe,” Marcus told Severn. “And that i
s my fault and my failing. I saw, in her, an orphan cub. Not a boy, not a girl—a human. I wanted to give her some sense of family, of the Pridlea that she had never had.”
“She wanted that,” Severn said quietly. “But like all humans, she isn’t good at letting go.”
“No,” Marcus said. “She is not, at that. You have some experience with it.”
“I do.”
Marcus growled and straightened out to his full height; the cage hit the fur on his head, flattening it. “How did your first day at the Imperial Palace go?” he asked Kaylin.
“It was interesting.”
“Ah. And interesting means?”
“We’re babysitting an Imperial Playwright so he can fabricate a story that will make humans in Elantra feel safe around the Tha’alani.”
Marcus nodded. “A worthy endeavor.”
“The man is an ass.”
“Agreed.”
“And he—wait, what do you mean agreed?”
“I had the privilege of making his acquaintance.”
“And you sent me there anyway?”
“He doesn’t appear to love rules, and he appears to have survived this dislike intact. I felt you would be safe there. I don’t think it’s possible to offend him.”
“Wrong.”
“I don’t think it’s possible to offend him and be thrown in jail—or worse—for the offense.”
“Oh.”
“However he seems to have offended you—and he is likewise not in jail. What happened?”
She hesitated.
“Kaylin. Private.”
“We took him to the Tha’alani Quarter.”
Surprise and shock were difficult to distinguish when plastered across Leontine facial fur. “You took Richard Rennick to the Tha’alani Quarter?”
“He’d written this pile of crap, Marcus. It was just…crap. Everything about it was wrong. We thought it would be better if he could see the Tha’alani for himself. If he could talk to them. And Ybelline sent a message to Sanabalis—Lord Sanabalis,” she added, seeing the slightly orange tinge to his golden eyes. “She wanted to see me.”
“You took a man that makes you look tactful to the Tha’alani Quarter.”