Cast In Flight

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“Fine.” Kaylin folded. “What do you know about the attempt?”

“Very little. It was carried out by magic. The mage responsible will not be catalogued in the Imperial investigative archives, so there is no point at all in bringing in Imperial mages, even if the case were remanded to the regular system.”

“Do you know why?”

Evanton looked to his guest, who stiffened, her hands tightening around the bowl of the teacup as if to draw strength from it. She looked across the table at Kaylin. “If Moran dar Carafel is dead, the wings will pass on.”

“The wings?”

The woman’s lips tightened; this was followed by a downward shift of shoulders as she bowed her head. She was silent for long enough that Kaylin thought she wasn’t going to answer.

Evanton said nothing; he waited, as if he were patience personified. Given the way he generally treated both Grethan and Kaylin, this was unusual. “I was reluctant to involve you,” he said—to Kaylin. “I am still reluctant. You have a way of causing snarls and snags in the cleanest and simplest of tasks—most of which are not predictable and therefore not controllable. But in this case, there is no other option. Lillias, if you will not speak, I must allow the Hawks to go back to their duties.”

Lillias. It was not a familiar name. Kaylin waited while the woman struggled in the silence left by Evanton.

When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were a deep blue.