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“It appears to understand what we are saying.”
“Yes. He doesn’t speak, though. He was hatched during the explosion of the Arcane bomb that destroyed a quarter of the building. Given what’s left of my apartment, we should have gone down with it. We didn’t. Bellusdeo thinks it’s because the— He protected us.”
Kaylin turned to Severn, who was examining the map with a frown. “The Arkon is doing research as we speak. None of which is relevant at the moment. The red is the last known location?”
The fieflord shook his head. “I will never understand mortals. Yes.”
She counted. There were a lot more than one missing boy.
“What did the Sergeant tell you?”
“He handed me a report,” she replied. “Miccha Jannoson crossed the bridge from the City and didn’t return. Are any of these lines relevant to that report?”
Tiamaris lifted a hand, and Kaylin followed its movement. One thread. It started three yards from the bridge, on the fief side of the Ablayne. It was notable for its length: it was short, much shorter than the streets.
“I don’t understand.”
“Tara spent much time constructing these overlays,” he replied, as if that would explain things.
It didn’t. “Miccha wasn’t a citizen of the fief.”
“No.”
“The Tower, any Tower, is in theory capable of tracking its citizens.”
“That,” he replied, “is a statement only partially based in truth. What she can track, should she so choose, is the approximate activity of people within my domain, if she has enough information to work with. Her records of the Barren years are notably scant, but the information she’s processed since I accepted the mantle of fieflord are of necessity more complete.”
“She couldn’t find Bellusdeo,” Kaylin pointed out, her gaze moving to the other tracks of red, some much longer.
“She couldn’t, no,” he agreed. “But there are probable reasons for that, chief among them being she had only a corpse with which to work.”
“She has even less in the case of Miccha.”
Tiamaris turned to regard her. “She is watching the bridge closely,” he finally said.
“What are the purple points?”
“The purple points—and they are not markedly purple to my eye—are unknowns.”
“Unknowns?” She glanced at the Dragon Lord. Miccha was an unknown, but Tara had clearly tagged him. “What exactly do you mean by ‘unknown’?”
“The fieflord, through the auspices of his or her Tower’s defenses, can see anything that occurs within the fief should they be paying attention. It is not, however, a trivial affair on our part. It is less difficult when the Tower is sentient, awake, and watchful, but even Tara has her limits. In the case of Miccha, she noted him precisely because he crossed the bridge and appeared to have very little reason to do so.”
“He did it on a dare.”
Tiamaris raised a brow. “It was an expensive dare,” he finally said.
“You think he’s dead.”
“I think he will not return to his family.” He hesitated and then added, “He is not the only person within my fief’s borders to disappear abruptly; he is the only citizen of the Empire to do so and therefore the only person who is directly relevant to your duties.”
“A lot of missing-persons reports are filed, Tiamaris. You know that.”
“Yes.”
“What distinguishes this one from those?”
“There is no obvious commonality among those who are missing. They are variously youthful, elderly, male, female.”
“They were reported missing?”
“Two were, directly to Tara. Those are the burnt-orange lines. Relatives of the missing women came to Tara for help a day after their parents disappeared. The orange lines are their known paths and destinations for the day prior to the reported disappearance. She was not, then, at full alert.”
“Now?”
He indicated four red lines. “These occurred after the first requests for aid. Those,” he added, pointing at lines that were a paler orange, “are possible similar disappearances. Morse has her people out in the streets in an attempt to discern whether or not the disappearances are real.”
Morse wouldn’t get that information directly, but she had Tara as backup. She asked the questions no one in their right mind—for a fief value—would answer; Tara eavesdropped on the conversations that occurred after Morse left the vicinity of possible witnesses. The citizens of the fief, if they thought about it for a few minutes, could figure out what was going on, but years of survival-based behaviors didn’t disappear in a month or two, and Morse caused terror in anyone sane, regardless. Tara didn’t.
The fact that the disappearances had been reported at all was an almost shocking display of trust. “That’s a dozen in total.”
“Including your citizen, yes.”
“What do you suspect?” It was clear he suspected something out of the ordinary, and fief crimes encompassed a lot of ordinary on any given day.
“There are ways of remaining hidden; not all of them are one-hundred-percent effective if someone is watching with care. If those reported as missing were dead within this fief, we would know by this point. We have discovered no bodies. Given twelve possible disappearances in total, with no word and very little in the way of clues…”
Kaylin grimaced. “Magic,” she said with the curt disgust only found in the Halls of Law.
“Magic,” he agreed in about the same tone.
“I think I need to talk to Tara.”
* * *
Tara was, as Morse had indicated, in the mirror room. If Tiamaris chose to scan fief records using traditional mirrors, Tara did not; she had a shallow, wide pool, sunk in stone, whose still surface served that function. She stood by the curve of the pool farthest from the door; her eyes were closed. She nonetheless greeted Kaylin and Severn as they entered. She had folded wings, and Kaylin marked the absence of her familiar gardening clothes.
The pool by her feet had become the ancient version of a modern mirror, although the images in the water were not the ones Kaylin had expected. Where Tiamaris had maps of the fief in every possible view, Tara’s was focused on a set of buildings, as seen from the street. Kaylin frowned. She didn’t know Tiamaris’s fief as well as she once had—the catastrophic encroachment of Shadows had destroyed several buildings, and Tiamaris’s crews were working on replacing them—but these buildings weren’t fief buildings, to her eye. They were too finely kept, too obviously well repaired, and in the fiefs of her youth, that indicated danger.
“They are not, as you suspect, within Tiamaris.” Tara turned to Kaylin, opening her eyes. They were the color of dull obsidian. “Hello,” she said softly. It took Kaylin a few seconds to realize she was speaking to the small dragon. The dragon lifted his head, stretching his delicate neck. “You are clearly here with Kaylin.”
He squawked.
“Can you understand him?” Kaylin asked.
“Yes. He is not, however, very talkative.” The Avatar frowned. “Can you not understand him?”
“No. To me, it sounds like he’s squawking.” The dragon batted the side of her cheek with the top of his head. “Sorry,” she told him. “It does.”
“You are certain you are with Kaylin?” Tara asked him.
He snorted, a dragon in miniature, and flopped down around the back of Kaylin’s neck. Kaylin reached up to rearrange his claws, frowning at the mirror’s surface. “Do you know what he is?” She asked Tara.
“No, not entirely. Creatures such as this one were considered auspicious at one time.”
“You’ve seen familiars before?”
“I? No. Not directly. There are some fragmentary histories within my records, but they are not firsthand accounts.” She hesitated, which was unusual for Tara. “Perhaps this is not the time to discuss it. I do not judge you to be in danger at present; there are people within the fief, however, who are.” Her eyes once again darkened and hardened, literally.
“You’re attempting to look outside of the fief’s boundaries?” Kaylin hesitated and then said, “Tiamaris can probably get Halls of Law’s records access as a member of the Dragon Court. I think you’ll find the buildings faster.”
Severn, however, had come to stand in silence beside Kaylin. “Why are these residences of relevance in this investigation?” He slid into effortless High Barrani. Kaylin marked it; she wasn’t certain Tara did at this point. Spoken language wasn’t an impediment to understanding thoughts—why, Kaylin didn’t know. Tara had tried to explain it before, but Kaylin was pretty certain she thought in words.
“Yes,” Tara told Severn. “They are significant for that reason.”
If the concept of mind reading didn’t horrify Kaylin the way it once had, she still hated to be left out of the conversation. She turned to Severn. “Why do you know them?”
“It was relevant to my former duties,” he replied after a long pause.
Kaylin tensed. It took effort to keep her hands by her side. “You’re not a Wolf now.”
“No. But it is just possible that it is also relevant to the Hawks’ current investigation.”
“The one that caused the Imperial raid?”
Severn nodded.
“Arcanists,” was Kaylin’s flat reply.
“Yes. The property is interesting because it’s owned by Barrani; the deed is registered to a Barrani Lord.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s registered to Evarrim.”
Severn’s silence was not a comfort.
“Severn?”
“You asked him not to tell you.” Tara’s last word tailed up as if it were a question.
“That’s not what that phrase means.” To Kaylin’s surprise, Tara didn’t ask her for the precise meaning, or rather, didn’t ask her to explain why the difference existed.
Severn’s gaze had fallen to the mirror. “You didn’t see this yourself,” he finally said to the Avatar.
“No,” she replied. “One of the men who crosses the bridge did. He is not a citizen of Tiamaris, but he is responsible for the disposition of building materials.”
“A merchant?” Kaylin asked.
“That is what my Lord hopes to ascertain.”
“Are you reading the minds of every person who crosses the bridge?”
“Yes. All. It is interesting and challenging, but tedious. It is also very difficult, and the readings may not be fully reliable. Listening to conversations is a much simpler affair. My Lord feels that the disappearances in the fief are not related to the fief itself; he is looking outward.”
“You know about the raid on the Arcanum.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. My Lord was informed by the Emperor. It is not,” she added with a frown, “information that is to be shared. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’ll probably regret saying that, later.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Because with our luck, it’ll be relevant. Who, exactly, did you take those images from?”
Tara gestured and the mirror’s image shifted. A man in nondescript clothing appeared in the pool’s center. He was an older man; his hairline had seen better decades, but he seemed fit. She thought him in his mid-fifties, although he might have been younger. His eyes were dark, and his brows gathered across the bridge of a prominent nose, but there was a brightness to them, a focus, that implied lively intelligence.
“You are absolutely certain that this is the man?” Severn asked softly. It was the wrong kind of soft.
“Not absolutely,” Tara replied. “As I mentioned, it is difficult to read at this distance.” Before Severn could speak again, she added, “But he is the only man—or woman—present who is quite so difficult to read.”
“And the rest take more effort but produce more certain results?”
She frowned. After a long pause, she said, “There is one person I cannot read or follow.”
“You’ve deployed Morse and her crew?”
Tara nodded. “Morse doesn’t like it,” she added. “She appears to think I need protection. I am unclear as to why.”
“Morse isn’t concerned about your physical safety; she’s not stupid. Can’t you just read her mind?”
“I have. I do not understand much of what she thinks. She is concerned that the people in the fief will somehow take advantage of me.”
“I can’t imagine why. Can you mirror that image to the Halls?”
“Which?”
“Both.”
Tara nodded.
“Be very careful,” Severn told her. “Lock it down to a specific person—the Hawklord would be best.”
“Why?” Kaylin asked sharply.
“The man in the mirror is influential; he is not considered a friend of the Imperial Halls. He is cautious but political.”
“Meaning he might be able to access some of our records?”
“Meaning exactly that.”
