Cast In Deception

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“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, sounding genuinely apologetic, “but there have been...communication difficulties this morning.” Kaylin stiffened, and seeing this, Caitlin added, “On Moran’s strict orders, the infirmary is, at the moment, off limits. She will allow you through the door if you are bleeding or suffering from a broken limb, and made clear that toes and fingers don’t count.”

“There was a fight?”

Caitlin did not reply.

Marcus did, in a fashion. His low growl filled the office, which was otherwise unnaturally silent. Silence was never good, here. Kaylin glanced at Bellusdeo, whose eyes remained a remarkable gold as she inclined her chin in Kaylin’s direction.

Kaylin then went to stand at attention in front of the sergeant’s desk. Hardwoods, she decided, were good. They didn’t scratch as easily, and it was clear from the surface of the desk that Marcus had been working at making a few gouges.

“You are to meet your partner and head—immediately—to the East Warren.”

Kaylin, who had expected the word “Elani” to crawl out from between the folds of a growl, blinked. The East Warrens, as the area was colloquially called, was a Hawk beat; its boundary ended at the Ablayne, and the enterprising fool who chose to cross it ended up in one of the fiefs. Kaylin’s geography was sketchy at best; she mostly knew what she’d walked across. She hadn’t walked into that fief.

Bellusdeo, however, had a strong interest in the fiefs—or, more accurately, the Towers that stood at their centers. “The East Warrens?” Her eyes had lost their gold, but at least that made sense; Marcus’s eyes were red. His facial fur, however, hadn’t jumped up two inches; it had settled. He looked sleek, his upper fangs more exposed than they usually were, his claws extended.

He wanted to tell Bellusdeo to get lost, except with ruder words. And he wanted to tell Kaylin to go home. She felt some sympathy for this, because she wanted to tell Bellusdeo to go home. The East Warrens were not Elani street in any way; they were vastly more dangerous. It was not a beat given the groundhawks of the mortal variety. The Aerians could fly patrol over the streets, but at a safe enough height crossbows wouldn’t be an issue.

No, it was a Barrani beat.

Marcus, for whom low growling had replaced all sound of breath, waited, daring Kaylin to argue. She wasn’t stupid. In his current mood, she’d agree that black was the new pink if that’s what he demanded, and consider herself lucky. Enraged Leontine seemed far more dangerous than a strolling walk through some of the city’s poorer streets. A Dragon would certainly make that patrol safer.

Until the Emperor heard about it.

“May I ask,” Bellusdeo began.

“No.”

“—if this has something to do with the fief of Candallar?”

Marcus said nothing. He growled, but didn’t bother with words. Unfortunately, he was facing a Dragon—a Dragon who hadn’t been forced to swear an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, whose laws the Hawks served. And any attempt to rip out her throat or tear off her arm—or leg—was going to be unsuccessful, in the best case. In the worst case—and given Marcus’s mood, worst was a distinct possibility—the office would be reduced to charred wreckage. Charred, broken wreckage.

And that was above her pay grade.

Bellusdeo, however, folded her arms and looked down at the sergeant, her eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for three long, half-held breaths. It was, to Kaylin’s surprise, Marcus who looked away first—but by the time he did, his eyes had shaded to a much safer orange.

“Yes.”

“And does the fief of Candallar have something to do with the current mood of the office?”

“I don’t discuss rostering issues with anyone who doesn’t outrank me.”

Bellusdeo’s smile was gem-like: hard enough to cut, but bright anyway. Kaylin wanted to leave to find out what had happened, but knew better. She waited. Marcus finally dismissed her, although he didn’t bother to look in her direction. Bellusdeo, however, did not follow.

* * *

“What happened?” Kaylin asked, keeping her voice as low as she could. Marcus’s hearing was good, but he was unlikely to hear her when she was in Hanson’s office. Hanson was the choke-point for the Hawklord’s time; he was like, and unlike, Caitlin. This morning, the dissimilarities were stronger.

“It is not a going to be a good day,” he told Kaylin. “The Hawklord hasn’t demanded your attendance—which is about as much luck as you’re likely to have in the near future. If I were you, I’d remember that you’re a private. Whatever is happening, it is not your problem.”

“Did I mention that Teela and Tain are coming to live with me?”

“Fine. It is your problem. Your problems, however, are not my problem.”

“East Warrens is a Barrani beat.”

“You don’t say.”

“Bellusdeo is coming with me, wherever I happen to be assigned.”

Hanson grimaced; she could practically hear the lines around his mouth crack. “Emperor’s problem,” he finally said. But he knew that if something happened to Bellusdeo, it would be everyone’s problem. And in this case “everyone’s” problem was a matter for the Hawklord. Which, of course, would become Hanson’s problem. “There was an altercation this morning between two of the Barrani Hawks.”

“Go on.”

“In general, Corporal Danelle handles difficulties between the Barrani Hawks. She is not the only corporal among their number, but her word carries weight with the Barrani for entirely extralegal reasons. The altercation occurred before her arrival; it was considered severe enough that she booked the West Room in which to resolve the difficulties.”

Kaylin nodded. In and of itself, this was business as usual, although Barrani altercations were on the wrong side of “intense.”

“The altercation was between Corporals Tagraine and Canatel.”

She frowned. They were partners. While altercations between Barrani could be intense, in general they had greater respect for—or at least care for—their beat partners. “What set them off?”

“The office was largely empty when the altercation occurred. Barrani don’t need sleep; they usually arrive early. Today, they arrived early. Teela did not.” He raised a brow, as if expecting that Teela’s tardiness—for a Barrani—was somehow Kaylin’s fault. “She entered the office as the altercation was in progress, broke it up and booked the West Room.”

Kaylin had heard nothing that would justify removal of Barrani Hawks from the duty roster. “She couldn’t stop the altercation.” It wasn’t a question.

Hanson bowed his head for a long minute. When he raised it again, he looked exhausted. “It appears that the altercation between Tagraine and Canatel was a fabrication. The purpose of the altercation was to separate the rest of the office from the Barrani.”

She froze then. The only good reason to do that was the laws of exemption: if only Barrani were involved, the Imperial Laws took a back seat to the caste court laws. A Barrani confrontation in the normal office could not be guaranteed not to cause extraracial collateral damage—and that would void the laws of exemption entirely. The implications of that...were not good.

She thought of the morning’s events, the morning’s arguments, the fact that the cohort were coming to stay with Helen, and Tain’s comment—cut off angrily by Teela—that Teela had already been under “pressure.” The Barrani definition of pressure.

“Something happened to Teela.”

“Something,” Hanson said, exhaling, “almost happened to Teela. She survived. One of the two would-be assassins did not.”

“Tagraine and Canatel?”

Hanson nodded.

“The survivor is in the infirmary that we’re not allowed to visit by order of Moran, unless we want to join him.”

He nodded again. “The High Court has been on the mirror network, demanding an explanation. The East Warrens may, or may not, have been involved with the altercation in some subtle way. Therefore the Barrani are off that beat.” He exhaled. “They are off their beats until some of the issues are resolved.”

“Meaning investigations are ongoing.” It was a catch phrase used in place of hells if I know.

“Meaning exactly that.”

“How, exactly, did the High Court even know?”

“Apparently they were informed.”

“By who?”

“Oddly enough, no one in the office even thought of asking that question. I’m sure if someone had, we’d have that information in our hands by now and everything would be resolved.” The sarcasm in Hanson’s voice should have been lethal; it was embarrassing instead.

“The Emperor’s going to reduce me to ash if anything happens in the warrens.”

“Figure out a way to survive a lot of fire then,” Hanson replied. It was the warrens; if was not precisely the right word. It was simply the hopeful one.

* * *

“The warrens are okay,” Kaylin told Bellusdeo on the way to said warrens. Severn said nothing. “They’re nowhere near as bad as the fiefs. They’re more crowded than the rest of the city, and more run-down. But: no Ferals.”

“I have no fear of Ferals,” Bellusdeo replied. “And before you warn me of all the other dangers, please remember I’m a Dragon. A prickly Dragon.”

“If it helps, this is considered a Barrani beat.”

“Because no one is stupid enough to think a few underfed thugs present a danger to the Barrani, of course.” Her chilly tone was a warning. She considered Dragons to be stronger than Barrani, and any implication to the contrary was not going to be well received. “Do yourself a rather large favor and worry about your own survival.”

She wasn’t worried about Bellusdeo; she was worried about the Emperor. She couldn’t point this out if she didn’t want to add to the hostility between the two Dragons. Since the Emperor had come to dinner at Kaylin’s house, there’d been something close to peace between them—but it was a peace between previously warring nations. It was fragile.

“Besides, I think your assignment in the warrens was a deliberate choice.”

“Oh?”

“I go where you go, with Imperial permission.”

“You think they’re expecting real trouble? No wonder Marcus was in a mood.”

“Oh, I think your sergeant’s mood had a lot to do with the Barrani unrest. He’s a sergeant. He expects everyone under him to operate under the same rules.” Bellusdeo smiled fondly. “It’s almost nostalgic.”

“You had to deal with sergeants?”

“Or their equivalents, yes. But never from beneath them.” She shook herself. “He is fond of you, of course, which is why you come in for more of his public displeasure than the average new recruit. He can’t afford to show favoritism. It bleeds solidarity from the ranks. If he’s fond of you—and he is, no one could miss that—and he treats you the way he does, it means no one is safe.” She wrinkled her nose. “I take it this is also where the tanneries are.”

* * *

Kaylin did not detest the warren. She didn’t feel the need to make excuses for the people who lived here; life had already done that. But she knew theft from the inside out. Knew that she’d been good enough not to get caught often. She needed to eat, same as anyone, and if there was no way to do that legitimately, she’d made other choices. She wasn’t proud of them, but she wasn’t humiliated by them, either.

She understood that once you started, crime became another tool, another way to survive. That you could want a better life, dream of it, of being a better person, and it didn’t matter. Dreams didn’t fill a stomach. But the warrens were on this side of the Ablayne. They were subject to the Emperor’s Law. The worst excess of human behaviors was curbed here. It wasn’t like the fiefs.

She knew that the tabard she wore put a wall between her and the warren’s residents. But at least it was the East Warrens, not the south.

“Power,” Bellusdeo said, “is always interesting. It is not an absolute, with few exceptions.”

“Exceptions?”

“The Eternal Emperor would be one of them. But he is considered out of reach. His position is not visibly contested in any way. People gather. It’s what people do.”

“Dragons don’t.”

“No. But Dragons have hoards, and hoards can make a Dragon dangerously unstable if they are not prepared for it. We do not make friends the way mortals do.”

“Or the way Barrani do?”

“Or the way Barrani do, no. We have not found there is strength in numbers, except perhaps in the case of war. And even then, it is questionable. I ruled. In any gathering of mortals, at any station of life, there is always a question of power. Or perhaps hierarchy. Even in the fiefs, where one could arguably say there is little true power, people struggle for position. People kill for it, one way or the other.”

“That doesn’t make humanity sound all that appealing.”

The Dragon smiled. “If that was all that humanity contained, perhaps it would be unappealing. The power games of most mortals makes no material difference to my life. But no, power itself is inert. People want it for different reasons. In the warrens—as in your fiefs—they want power because it is tied to survival. But so, too, family, kin, clan. To belong to a group is to gain a negotiable safety from it. It is why gangs clash. It is why reprisals exist.

“I would imagine the warrens are no different from the fiefs. Tell me, have you lost many Hawks to the warrens?”

Kaylin glanced at Severn. It was Severn who answered. “Yes. Not, however, since Barrani joined the force. Aerian patrols were also successful in preserving lives, but they were not considered as effective at deterring crime.”

“And the Barrani themselves are trusted not to add to the crime?”

“They have been,” Severn replied. “Teela, however, has been crucial to their performance.”

“And someone tried to kill her this morning.”