“And the others were citizens of a fief over which a different Dragon claims ownership.”
“A Dragon who is in the unheard-of position of also owing loyalty to the Eternal Emperor. I do not envy him the loss of an Imperial citizen within the boundaries of his fief; he will almost certainly be called upon to explain it.”
“An explanation has presented itself.”
She felt him stiffen, although nothing about his expression or posture changed at all.
“And that?”
“A Barrani Lord of some power appears to have been involved.”
“Ah. You call him a Lord?”
“The Barrani who have power aren’t generally content to let it remain unrecognized.”
His smile was slender, sharp, and laced with an odd approval. “True. Why do you believe a Barrani Lord to be involved?”
“Because you do,” she replied, the words as tight and sharp as his smile.
“Perhaps that is merely the arrogance of my kind.” He rose. “If events are of significance, of consequence, we assume our own to have a hand in them.”
“So do we. Your own.” She could find no warmth with which to smile. “I saw him.”
Once again he stilled. “You…saw him? The Barrani you accuse?”
“I saw him,” she repeated, “in the border zone.”
* * *
After a significant pause, Nightshade spoke. “You are so certain, Kaylin, that the individual you saw in the border zone was Barrani?”
In response, she folded her arms. “I am.”
“The border areas are often…amorphous. What is seen—”
“I don’t want to play this game.”
“Ah.” A brief smile. “Which game, then, would you indulge in, in its stead?”
“You’re aware that I’m currently resident in the Imperial Palace?”
The smile vanished. “I was not.”
“You are aware that the only home I’ve ever had I could truly call my own was destroyed yesterday?”
Silence. It was not an awkward silence—but it was. Nightshade resumed his seat, the table dividing them. “I was not.” He glanced at the small dragon. “How was it destroyed?”
“An Arcane bomb.” Her throat was inexplicably tight; it was hard to force words out. The small dragon rubbed the underside of her jaw with the top of his head.
He asked nothing, watching her.
“The magical signature left in the wake of the bomb is not currently in the records of the Imperial Order.”
He nodded, as if the information were irrelevant.
“But that same magical signature can be found in the fief of Tiamaris, near the border, where I saw the Barrani we believe to be involved in the disappearances.”
“And your question?”
“People have been disappearing from the fief of Tiamaris for the past week—that we’re aware of. How long have people gone missing from your streets?”
“If I say they have not?”
“I’ll redefine the word ‘missing.’” She pushed herself to her feet, feeling too confined by the stillness enforced by sitting. “Was the unnamed Barrani Lord buying people from your fief?”
“It is not, in the fief of Nightshade, an illegal activity. Imperial Laws have no jurisdiction here. Nor do they in any other fief; Lord Tiamaris may style himself after Imperial rule, but it is choice, not dictate.”
“Is Imperial gold currently in what passes for your coffers?”
“We use the resources we have, Kaylin, and we sacrifice the things of lesser import to us.”
She swallowed.
“You have done the same in your short past. Perhaps you comfort yourself by telling yourself you had no choice. If it will comfort you in a like fashion, pretend that I, likewise, felt I had no choice.”
“How?”
“Pardon?”
“How am I supposed to pretend that? You’re the fieflord here. If someone came to threaten you—in any way—the Castle would probably eat them. They wouldn’t make it out alive unless it also suited your purpose. You won’t—you probably can’t—starve. You won’t freeze. All-out magical assault probably couldn’t destroy these walls.
“Given all that, how am I supposed to pretend you had no choice?”
He raised a brow. “I am almost surprised that you’ve considered making that effort. Very well. Some two or three dozen of the people who live in the fief have been extracted from its streets, with my permission. I received compensation for their loss.”
“Where were they sent?”
“Why do you suppose they were sent anywhere?”
“Because there’s a door in Tiamaris that opens into the outlands.”
Nightshade’s eyes were indigo. “Do not go near that door,” he said, all pretense of civility lost. “Do not touch it.”
“It’s not in your fief, and yes, Tiamaris is well aware of its existence. He protects his citizens.”
“As the shepherd protects his sheep.”
Stung, she said, “No. As a decent ruler protects his people.”
“Is there no difficulty within this city that will not, eventually, entangle you? I ask it, Kaylin, if I cannot command it. You do not understand the danger.”
“I understand it better than any of the people who were lost to it!”
“Kaylin.” He rose, and the way he stood made her conscious of the difference in their height, their weight, and their reach. She stiffened, bending at the knees as if she would, at any minute, have to throw herself bodily out of harm’s reach. The small dragon reared once again, spreading his wings just behind her head, like a slender, glass fan.
Nightshade ignored him this time.
The small dragon had ways of making himself heard, at least when he wanted Kaylin’s attention; Nightshade, however, was not the kind of man one bit on the ear or chin. Instead of maintaining his rigid posture on her left shoulder, the familiar launched himself into the closing space between the fieflord and the Hawk, buoying himself up with the silent motion of delicate, translucent wings.
He looked, to Kaylin’s eye, tiny and fragile in his defiance, and she almost reached out to grab him and pull him back, but she didn’t want to injure those wings.
What Nightshade saw must have been different; he froze in place, lifting a hand as if to indicate harmlessness. Kaylin didn’t buy it. The small dragon wasn’t buying it, either. He lifted his neck and looked down at the fieflord before opening his jaws to exhale. The motion was that of a dragon in miniature, but what he exhaled, along with his high-pitched, barely audible roar, was not a gout of flame; it was smoke.
Opalescent, swirling gray spread like a dense cloud before Nightshade; it was amorphous enough—barely—that Kaylin could see the rise of the fieflord’s brows, the widening of his eyes. He moved—he leapt—to the left, rolling across the floor and coming to his feet as if he were an acrobat.
The dense smoke didn’t follow him, but it didn’t really dissipate, either; it hung in the air like a small cloud. A small, glittering cloud. They both stared at the small dragon, who pirouetted in the air, which was the only time he took his eyes off the fieflord.
Nightshade spoke three sharp words; the hair on the back of Kaylin’s neck instantly stood on end, and the skin across her forearms and legs went numb. The small dragon yawned and returned to his customary perch, which would be her rigid shoulders. He rubbed her cheek with the side of his face.
Three lines appeared beneath the cloud, pulsing as if they were exposed golden veins. Nightshade spread his hands; his fingers were taut but steady. His eyes were a blue that was so close to black Kaylin couldn’t tell the difference. All her anger—her visceral, instinctive rage—guttered. The whole of his attention was focused on the cloud, and as he moved his hands, the lines that enclosed it shifted in place, until they touched its outer edge. When they did, their color began to change. It was a slow shift from gold to something that resembled the heart of a hearth fire.
Nigh
tshade spoke softly in Barrani; the words were so low Kaylin couldn’t catch them. The magical lines engraved in air brightened, losing their red-orange tint.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice almost as low as his. Barrani had better hearing.
“Step away from the containment,” he told her. “If you do not know what it is, I have some suspicion. It is not safe, not even in the Castle.” Although he spoke to her, he didn’t take his eyes off the cloud. Not even when the small dragon squawked. “You are mortal,” he continued. “Mortals walk the edge of hope; it is a sharp edge.
“The question you came to ask has only one answer—an answer you knew before you arrived. Would it truly have offered any comfort were I to lie? Or would your hope blind you so badly you might choose to believe?”
She was silent.
As if he were Sanabalis, he said, “What purpose would such a lie serve?”
“I don’t know. Reputation. Community standing. Tact—the desire not to hurt someone else’s feelings.”
He frowned.
“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.”
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