That was why she watched. She told herself that. She even believed it. The part of her that saw the Aerians and thought themyesbeautiful? It stayed silent. But it had been there. It was still there nowbut not even the Aerians tried to fly up these stairs. They couldnt fully extend their wings here. When they came to the Tower by ground, they climbed like the rest of the wingless, gravity-bound Hawks.
She remembered, as she climbed, the way shed watched the Aerians in flight. The way they seemed to rise above life and its ugly concerns, and soar on thermals, weapons gleaming sharply and sporadically as they caught sunlight. There were, as far as she knew, no Aerians in Nightshade or Barren. If there had been, their wings would have been clipped adornments, no more; nothing but small birds flew in that sky.
Small birds, she thought, remembering the Outcaste Dragon Lord, and Dragons. Of the two, she had a strong preference for the birds. But her preference in Nightshade mattered about as much as it always had. And in Barren?
She hadnt cared. Not about birds. Not about Dragons. Not about anything, really. Strange that it was Barren, in the end, that had brought her here. Here, where the stairs were familiar, and the routine, familiar, as well. Where she had enough to eaton most daysand a roof over her head. She had a family in the Hawks, and in their fanged Sergeant. She had a job that she could actually take pride in.
Shed had no stairs, the first time. And no invitation, either, if you could consider Marcuss curt and growly command an invitation. But then again, if you timed things right, the dome had no hand-wards to pass through, and no hand-wards to set off an alarm.
Today, however, she was out of luck. The doors were closed. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her palm and placed it firmly against the magical ward. She felt the usual brief explosion beneath her hand; it left no mark, but it was very, very unpleasant. The Hawks had told her, in her early days here, that most people didnt even notice the magical effect of the doorwards. It had taken her two weeks to believe that they werent having a good laugh at her expense.
The doors rolled open.
The Hawklord and Lord Sanabalis stood in the center of the chamber; they were both watching the doors. Sanabaliss eyes were an unfortunate shade of bronze. She couldnt quite see the color of the Hawklords.
Private Neya, the Hawklord said, inclining his head. His wings, she noted, were mostly folded at his back. Which probably meant they were an ounce of irritation from spreading. This was an indication that good behavior was required.
She saluted sharply, and then stood at attention. For some reason, this seemed to irk Sanabalis; the Hawklord, however, accepted it as his due.
Lord Sanabalis has voiced some concerns over an incident that occurred during your patrol yesterday.
Sir, she replied.
I would like to know if you feel his concern is unfounded.
She always hated the trick questions. Which would be any question which clearly had a right answerone that wasnt immediately obvious to her. On the other hand, not answering was not an option. She glanced at Sanabalis, which was helpful only in the sense that it was clear that her answer was bound to annoy one of them.
No, sir.
He held her gaze for a few seconds too long. Unfortunate, he finally said. This was said in the tone of voice that was generally followed with a dismissal. He did not, however, dismiss her. Instead, as if she werent in the room, he turned back to Sanabalis.
Your point is taken, the Hawklord said. However, at present, Private Neya is not the ideal candidate for your investigation. I would suggest, he added, in a tone of voice that made clear to Kaylin that this was not the first time in their discussion he had done so, that you approach the Wolflord.
If you feel that it is wise to partner Private Neya with a Wolf, Sanabalis replied.
Kaylin, standing at attention, wanted to turn and crawl out of the doors.
Out of the question.
Or the windows. It would probably be less painful, in the end.
Forty minutesand a lot of verbal fencinglater, Sanabalis left. Dragons were heavy, and as Sanabalis was not perhaps entirely satisfied with the conclusion of the discussion, he didnt bother to pick up his feet; she could feel his passage across the floor. She was not, however, dismissed; the Hawklord stood in perfect silence until the Tower doors closedloudlyon the retreating Dragon Lord.
Only then did Lord Grammayre relax. If that was the right word for it.
He wants me to go to the fiefs, doesnt he? Since that much was obvious, the Hawklord failed to reply. The question would be filed under wasting his time, which was never the smartest thing to do.
In spite of herself, Kaylin continued. It wouldnt be the first time Ive been sent to the fiefs. But she remembered the first time, because it was also the first time shed laid eyes on Severn in seven years. In this Tower, in the presence of this man.
His wings now did unfold, until they were at half height, but full extension.
For the moment, I would prefer that you do not enter the fiefs. His gaze grazed her cheek and Nightshades mark.
She frowned. Why?
And he raised a pale, graying brow. I spoke, briefly, with Corporal Handred this morning. He seemed to suspect that a request of this nature would be forthcoming, and he seemed to feel it exceptionally unwise.
She didnt ask him why. But she understood now why the conversation with Sanabalis had gone the way it had. She was torn between anger at Severn and a bitter gratitude and, as usual, couldnt decide on the spot which to choose. But she had nothing, in the end, to hide from the Hawklord.
He seemed to expect her to say something.
Marcus looked pissed off, was what she managed.
I imagine that Sergeant Kassan is not greatly pleased. He walked over to the long, oval mirror that stood a few feet from the wall. As mirrors went, it was definitely more cramped than the mirrors in the rooms the Hawks used for real work, but it was taller and wider than any reflective surface in the office downstairs. He lifted a hand and touched its surface.
Records could generally be called up by voice; hand activation was rare, and only partly because it left fingerprints which some poor sod then had to clean up.
But Kaylin had some idea of why he used touch, here. Some of the records were keyed not to voice, which was relatively easy to mimic, but to physical artifacts and aura, which were not. The reflective surface stirred and rippled, distorting the view it held of the domed Tower and the man who ruled the Hawks in the Emperors name.
When the image reformed, it was still the same view of the Tower, but it contained, instead of the reflection of the Hawklord, a reflection of Kaylin Neya.
Kaylin at thirteen.
She wore dark clothing, a wide strip of cloth across her forehead and another across her lower jaw; her arms carried yards of thin, strong chain links, looped as if they were rope. Metal pitons dangled from the ends; she could hear them hit one another so clearly she might still have been wearing them.
What do you see? he asked her softly. When you look at this girl?
She stopped herself from cringing, which was hard, and from squinting, which was easy; the latter could be accomplished by simply stepping toward the mirror itself. Someone stupid enough to climb the Tower walls, she finally said, making the effort to keep her voice even. This close to the mirror, she examined the girl as if she were a stranger. Youve never showed me this before.
No.
She wasnt much taller now than shed been then. She wasnt as scrawny. But what struck her, looking at herself, were the eyes. Sheshe doesnt look like she has a lot to live for.
He nodded quietly.
You never told me why, Kaylin said, as the Hawklord touched the mirror again, and the image broke and vanished, her younger self trapped in permanent, private records, and hidden from all external view.
The Hawklord said nothing. But it was a quiet nothing, and it radiated no irritation or disapproval.
Why didnt you send mesend me away?
One day, Kaylin, if the answer is not obvious, I will tell you. But not today. Lord Sanabalis has offered to attemptand attempt is the correct wordto delay your etiquette lessons. I am not entirely certain, however, that he will succeed.
She grimaced.
And I do not feel that a delay of any kind is in your best interests.
She felt her brows rise, and tried to pull them down.
The Emperor is aware of you, he continued, as you well know. It is only a matter of time before you are called to Council. The matter of time, he added softly, is unfortunately not dependent on those lessons; it is coming. Ravellon. He shook his head, and his wings did rise. What you did in Nightshade was necessary. What you did for the Leontines saved Sergeant Kassan, and possibly his wife.
But what you saw there means that I will not be able to keep you from Court, and if the Keeper is correct, you will be needed. Sanabalis has spoken on your behalf in Court before, but you are progressing beyond his understandingand the Arkon does not leave the palace. Sooner or laterand I think sooner likelyyou will be asked to report to the Dragon Courts council.
Without those lessons, it will not, I feel, go well. Even with Lord Sanabaliss intervention.
Will you be able to keep me out of the fiefs?
After a long pause, the Hawklord said, Dismissed.
She met Marcus, who was on the way up, when she was on the way down. His eyes had not lost their orange tint, but he didnt ask her what had been discussed; instead he told her to go wait downstairsquietly, if she even understood what that meantand he headed up past her.
When she reached the office, she was surprised to see Sanabalis seated to one side of Marcuss desk. She was not surprised, on the other hand, to see that Marcus was a few weeks closer to needing a new desk. As buying a new desk for Marcus generally meant she was allowed to haggle as fiercely as she wanted, she didnt mind the latter so much.
But Sanabalis inclined his head toward the second, empty, chair. She stood beside it. His eyes were almost the exact same shade Marcuss had been. Lord Grammayre feels that, for some reason, it is inadvisable for you to enter the fiefs at this time.
Since that had been about forty minutes worth of their discussion, he wasnt telling Kaylin anything she hadnt already heard. He did, on the other hand, say it more quietly.
Is it true?
She hesitated. She knew that the Emperor knew about her past. She would not be surprised if Sanabalis did. But the rest of the office didnt know, and she didnt particularly feel like sharing. Ever. She met the eyes of her teacher.
I dont know.
This didnt appear to irritate him. On the other hand, his eyes didnt shift color.
Very well, he said instead. It appears that I will have to fall back somewhat on contingencies.
The afternoon was spent patrolling with Severn. Marcus, in a foul mood, played switch-the-shifts-around; it was a game that was bound to give him someone to growl at. It was also a great unifier on the force: everyone complained. Everyone hated it. Marcus tended to spread a foul mood as far as it would go; hed had a lot of practice, so it was pretty damn far.
The switch in shifts put Kaylin squarely in the market district, where troubleif it camewould be in the form of petty thieves and annoyed merchants. It was about as far away from magic as she could geographically get in the city, although the market, like Elani, had its share of fraud.
Shed taken the time to check the schedule, and she knew that Teela and Tain were out on the streets, as well; it would keep them out of trouble. In particular, it would keep them out of her trouble. She tried not to dwell on Morse and Barren.
She mostly succeeded because she was hungry, and because Severn didnt ask her any questions. He didnt speak much at all.
But when they arrived back at the Halls at the end of the day, Kaylin ran into Sanabaliss contingency plan. Almost literally.
Lord Tiamaris of the Dragon Court was standing just around the corner, near Caitlins desk. He was wearing the Hawks tunic.
He nodded to Severn; Severn had taken the corner at a slow walk.
Private, he added, turning to Kaylin.
She said nothing for a long minute, looking across Caitlins desk. Caitlin winced. Lord Tiamaris was sent, Caitlin told her quietly, by the Eternal Emperor. Which meant no help would be forthcoming from any quarter.
Tiamaris nodded; he did not look terribly pleased about it, either.
Why are you here? Kaylin asked, coming to the immediate point.
I think youll find, if you check your duty roster, that I am to accompany you on your patrols for the next several days.
Severn stiffened, but said nothing.
She glanced across the office at Marcus, who was not looking at her.
I dont suppose those patrols are bordering the fiefs?
Not bordering, no.
She cursed Sanabalis roundly in all of the languages in which it was possible. Tiamaris made no comment, which for Tiamaris meant about the same thing.
Morning, never Kaylins friend, landed through the window in her face. She rose, started to reflexively close the shutters, and then groaned and opened them wider instead. This hurt her eyes, but her eyes could just suffer; she had a winning streak of on-time days she didnt want to break. Money was, of course, riding on it. Although the betting did concern her, shed been allowed in. It had taken some whining. But whining about money was beginning to come naturally.
Tiamaris was waiting for her when she reached the office. He was seated primly in one of Marcuss chairs. Marcus was seated, far less primly, across from him, his increasingly untidy desk the bastion between them. The Hawks Sergeant was never going to be friendly to Tiamaris. Tiamaris, himself not Mr. Personality, seemed to take this in stride.
Kaylin understood why Marcus was so frosty; Tiamaris had voted, in Court Council, to have her killed outright. But that had been years ago, and it had occurred well before Tiamaris had actually met her; if she was willing to let bygones be bygones, Marcus should be able to do the same. She was not, however, foolhardy enough to tell Marcus this. Not today.
She approached his desk as if she were a timid tax collector who had the misfortune to leave her burly guards outside. He glanced at her as if she were the same thing. Reporting for duty, she told him.
He grimaced, gritted his teeth, and waited for the windows mellifluous hourly phrase. She could hear his claws grinding desktop as the window told the office what the hour was, and demanded that they be polite, friendly, and collegial at the start of this busy, busy day.
Tiamaris raised a dark brow. That, he told them both, could be irritating.