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“Yes, they’re mortal terms, but I’ve noted that absent big words, there are certain similarities.”
“If I chose to lie to you now, how would you categorize that decision? I am not afraid of you, Kaylin. There may come a time,” he added, his glance flicking off the small dragon on her shoulders, “when fear would be the appropriate response, but I cannot see it. Your judgment of me, should you choose one, is irrelevant. Your feelings—ah, that is a more complicated issue, but I will not lower myself to live in such a way as to assuage your fear or your guilt.
“Let me make this much clear: you are valuable to me. You. It is not because you are mortal; your mortality does not, by extension, make the residents of this fief valuable in the same way. Nor will it. I am not beholden to Imperial Law, and I do not choose to indulge in its outward appearance at this time; it serves no useful purpose.”
“And if it did?”
“I would acquiesce, as the High Court does. But it would not change in any material way what I feel, either for you or for the mortals you mistakenly assume are your kind. Such feelings, such…interactions…are a matter of necessity; if the weak congregate, they have some hope of survival.”
Kaylin was silent for a long moment. When she once again met his gaze, she held it. “Tell me why,” she said, her voice heavy but steady. “Why did they buy your people?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss that,” he replied. “And as there is no answer I can give you that will excuse the action in your eyes, I am not of a mind to do so, regardless.”
* * *
Kaylin’s walk back to the Ablayne was swift and silent.
Chapter 7
Marcus, seated behind a stack of paperwork that made him look smaller, looked up the minute she crossed the threshold that divided Hawks from Halls. His eyes were a pale orange, and given the past week, that was good. His ears flattened as she hesitated.
“Do not tell me that you’re handing me more work,” he said, wedging a growl between every other syllable.
“Not exactly. I went to Tiamaris.”
“The Missing Persons report?”
She nodded. “According to Tiamaris, Miccha Jannoson, reported missing today, crossed the Ablayne by bridge. He disappeared a few blocks from that bridge.”
“Disappeared?”
Kaylin hesitated, casting a meaningful glance at stacks of paperwork that weren’t in any danger of getting smaller in the near future.
Marcus growled. This caught the attention of the Barrani Hawks; as Sergeant sounds went, growling was generally quiet. The wrong kind of quiet. “What happened? According to the Hawklord, a request for Records access has arrived from the Imperial Palace.”
“The Palace doesn’t need permission.”
“In this case, it does; the request has been tendered by a member of the Dragon Court, but involves access outside Imperial boundaries.”
“We believe—and we have very little in the way of solid proof, Sergeant—that a Barrani Lord is responsible for the disappearance.”
Someone whistled. It wasn’t Marcus; it was Teela. She approached the sergeant’s desk with care. “What very little proof do you have?” She wasn’t particularly offended. Two decades of service with the Hawks made Kaylin’s claim reasonable on the surface; the Barrani were often peripherally involved in crimes investigated by the Hawks.
Very few of them were Lords. Kaylin turned to Teela. “I saw him.”
“You saw him grab the child?”
“Miccha wasn’t a child, strictly speaking.”
Teela generally considered most mortals children when she was in a mood. “Answer the question.”
“No. Not that one.”
This caused Marcus’s growl to deepen, and Kaylin surrendered. “Tiamaris has been monitoring his fief carefully this past week; Miccha isn’t the only person who’s disappeared—without an obvious trace—in the boundaries of his fief. The reason he noticed Miccha at all is because of the increased surveillance.
“While we were examining the fief’s internal Records, Tara caught something unusual; one of the citizens of Tiamaris appeared to be having a casual conversation with thin air as he approached the border between Tiamaris and Nightshade. The people who’ve disappeared have done so without struggle or obvious panic, and if someone’s going to voluntarily sneak across a fief border, it’s always going to be the one that’s between the fief and the rest of Elantra.”
Marcus’s brows rose. They lowered again without comment.
“The Barrani Lord,” Kaylin said, still watching Marcus, “appeared only when the citizen in question had crossed into the border zone. I didn’t recognize him,” she added. “But I would bet money he’s an Arcanist.”
That caused a different kind of quiet. “What,” Teela finally said, “did he do to cause that assumption?”
“The usual.”
“And that?”
“Tried to kill me.”
Teela’s eyes shifted to an instant midnight-blue. Kaylin found it both stressful and oddly comforting. “I didn’t recognize the spell, but—Arcanist.”
“How did it manifest?”
“Purple fire.”
Teela said nothing. When Marcus growled, the Barrani Hawk shrugged. “I concur.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s an Arcanist. There’s more, kitling.”
“No doubt the Hawks will hear about it from Sanabalis and the Imperial Order at some point: the Lord was involved in either the creation of, or the protection of, something that functions as a portal to—somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure it has a name. Tara referred to it as the outlands. Tiamaris has quarantined the building we found it in, and he’s calling in Imperial mages to ‘study’ it. We think the Barrani Arcanist used the portal to access the fief of Tiamaris.” She hesitated, given Teela’s eye color, and then said, “The door bore two sigils.”
“You recognized them,” was Teela’s flat reply.
She nodded. “They were the same as the sigils on the Arcane bomb.”
“You’ve been informed that the Imperial mages could only find one?”
“Yes. The second—at least on the door—was subtle; it was pervasive, but strangely amorphous. I’m to speak to Sanabalis about it, but he’s so busy that I might be able to put it off for six weeks.”
“Private.”
“Sergeant?”
“When the alleged Arcanist tried to kill you a second time, was it because he recognized you?”
“No, sir. In my opinion it was because we’d seen him, and we’d interfered with whatever it was he intended. We no longer ditch our tabards when we enter Tiamaris at the request of Lord Tiamaris; it’s likely that the Barrani saw only the Hawk.” She exhaled. “If there’s any way to investigate the financial activities of the fieflords, I think you’ll find that a large portion of the embezzled treasury funds are now in the fiefs.”
“The…fiefs.”
“It’s possible that the money was funneled to the Arcanists—or an Arcanist—who then used it to pay fieflords for a few dozen of their citizens. There would be no reports filed and no objections to the disappearances.”
“The fiefs are not our jurisdiction,” Marcus growled.
“The disposition of the Imperial funds is, though.”
“You think the Exchequer was indirectly involved in slave trafficking?”
“No.” Pause. “Technically, yes.”
“If this is your idea of not adding to our workload, you fail.”
“Can I keep the job anyway?”
“Out. I believe you have an appointment at the High Halls. But first visit Records. The Arkon has sent word about needing another full scan of your marks.”
“Given the events of the afternoon, I was really hoping to give that a pass.”
“Given the importance of your pilgrimage, and your ignorance of same, that is not considered an option. Don’t give me that look—if you have a problem with the decision, take it up with the Hawklord and Lord Sanabalis. Corporal.”
Teela nodded.
“I’ve been extremely appreciative of your duty detail for the past three weeks.” That detail had involved hours that would have driven the mortals in the department literally insane; the Barrani worked around the clock with breaks for meals. They didn’t need something as petty as sleep, and lack of sleep didn’t slow them down at all.
“Not so appreciative that you’re offering a raise.”
“No. I’m following what I’m told is a time-honored tradition.”
“Which would that be?”
“If you want something done, give it to the person who’s always busy.”
Teela chuckled drily. “You want me to make certain Kaylin survives.”
“More or less.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Teela was not in good enough humor that she insisted on driving the carriage after their detour to Records, which was a mixed blessing; driving placed her on the outside of the cabin.
“You are certain about what you saw in the border zone?”
“Given that Yvander was convinced he was walking with a friend in an entirely different part of the fief? Possibly not. But that kind of illusion usually makes my skin break out in hives.”
Teela nodded in the absent way that implied she wasn’t listening to the answer. Long experience had taught Kaylin that this didn’t actually mean she didn’t hear it. “Refrain from mentioning this in the High Halls,” she finally said. “The Barrani Court expects a certain amount of political fallout from the failed assassination attempt. The Emperor was not pleased.” Gaze firmly fixed on the exterior landscape, she added, “What else happened? Before you attempt to tell me that there was nothing, remember what I’ve said about lying.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Teela, however, did. “You visited Nightshade. Oh, don’t give me that look.” Given that Teela’s gaze hadn’t shifted, this said something. “Kitling, I don’t know what hopes you have for Lord Nightshade, but hope, among our kin, is not a double-edged blade. It is single edged, and the edge always wounds. Always. He is not mortal. He does not value what you value.”
“Does he value what you do?”
“You don’t understand what I value. You assume because I’m a Hawk, I share yours. This is not a safe assumption,” she added in case it was necessary.
“Why did you come to the Hawks?”
“For reasons of my own. They are not particularly relevant. They were reasons,” she added drily, “you would possibly approve of; your own…were not.”
“But the reason I stayed—”
“Oh, hush, kitling. Not all of our heartless plans work as we intend; nor do all of our good intentions. We are where we are, and we can rarely predict where we will go, no matter how firm our beliefs.”
After a longer pause, Kaylin said, “I can’t tell whether or not you’re warning me off Nightshade or telling me not to judge him.”
“Can I not do both?” Teela turned to her then. “It has never been safe to know him or to keep his company. That much is true. But this is less about Nightshade, to me.”
“How so?”
“He is what he is, Kaylin. Accept that; you will find the Barrani less daunting. He is not mortal, and his concerns are not mortal concerns.”
“He sold mortals to the Arcanist,” was her flat reply.
Teela’s eyes darkened. “That is unfortunate,” she finally replied. “You are certain?”
“Yes.”
“The same Arcanist—”
“Who was responsible for a portal that led to what Tara called the outlands, yes. And who destroyed my home.”
“What is he doing?” Teela said, but she didn’t ask it of Kaylin; she spoke to herself. Realizing that she had a rapt audience anyway, she shook herself. “We are almost at the High Halls. I should warn you that the High Halls are in slight disarray at the moment.”
“…What do you mean by ‘slight’?”
“I did mention that our raid was not entirely conclusive. The Eternal Emperor paid a visit to the High Halls—in person—this afternoon.”
“He went Dragon?”
“Ah, no, you misunderstand me.” Teela hesitated and then added, “Or perhaps not. He did not, however, arrive at the High Halls in Dragon form. He did arrive at the head of the Palace guard, companioned by the worthy Lord Diarmat.”
“And he was let into the Halls?”
