Cast in Peril. Michelle Sagara
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“The trees contained in the heart of that forest are not considered…entirely safe.”
“What does that mean? They don’t burn when you breathe on them?”
Sanabalis’s answering silence was glacial.
“Given Teela’s offer, she will also be missing for eight weeks. It’s a good damn thing Nightshade specifically demanded that you go without any other Hawks, or we’d probably have to do without Corporal Handred, as well.”
Kaylin was still stuck on the eight weeks. “Minimum?” she finally managed to say.
“Minimum. There is the possibility of poor weather and impassable roads, and Lord Nightshade wished to make clear that eight weeks might not suffice.”
She shook herself. “The information was useful?”
“The information,” Lord Grammayre replied, before Marcus could, “may finally crack the case for us. It is more than simply useful, but we wasted some time in negotiations for your release, and we are only now in dialogue with the Lord of Wolves.”
The Wolves.
“How bad is this going to be?”
No one answered, which was answer enough.
“You agreed to the leave of absence?”
The Hawklord nodded. Kaylin desperately wanted to ask if this absence involved pay, because she’d have nowhere to live if it didn’t. On the other hand, the right person to ask was Caitlin, not Marcus, and certainly not Marcus in this mood.
“When does this leave start?”
“Teela will be able to better inform you of the actual dates of import; I suggest you speak with her, because she’ll also be able to inform you of expected dress, weather, and, apparently, colorful wildlife. Lord Nightshade, however, is likely to be in touch with you shortly; you are to leave in five days if we are not to provide the transport he’s asking for.”
“And if you do?”
“We’re not.”
“But—”
“Yes?”
“The midwives. And the Foundling Hall. And the—the etiquette lessons—”
“Lord Sanabalis will, of course, evaluate the information once you’ve left, and discuss it with the Imperial Court. In a strict currency evaluation, eight weeks of your time is far less than we might be expected to pay for information of this
nature; it will save money at a time when finances are—”
Sanabalis coughed loudly.
“Now,” Marcus growled, “get lost.”
* * *
Teela was loitering at the bottom of the stairs, her hands behind her back, her shoulders at a slant against the slight curve of the wall. She glanced up when she heard Kaylin’s steps. Given that Kaylin wasn’t exactly attempting to move silently, this wasn’t hard.
“You’ve heard the news?” she said as Kaylin took the last step and drew level with her, in a manner of speaking. Teela, like all Barrani, was tall; she probably had seven inches on Kaylin when Kaylin was standing at her straightest. Teela wasn’t even trying at the moment.
“Yes.”
“Don’t look so glum. Have you ever been outside the City?”
“No.”
Teela whistled. “Well, this will be an adventure for you, then. It’s a useful experience; you can’t stay cooped up behind the City walls for all your life.”
“Why exactly not?”
“In this case? Because Nightshade had a very important piece of information and you happened to mention his offer to Marcus.”
“I didn’t think I’d be gone for eight weeks!”
“Eight is, in my opinion, optimistic.”
Kaylin’s jaw momentarily unhinged. Teela reached out and pushed it shut. “Don’t fret. It’ll be fun.”
“That’s not making me feel a whole lot better, Teela. I know what your definition of fun is.”
* * *
Severn was waiting for Kaylin in the office when she at last reached her desk; she knew this because he was sitting in her chair. He looked up when she tapped his shoulder.
“Bad news?” he asked as he moved to let her sit. He reached into the pack at his feet and pulled out the bracer that prevented her from using magic. She’d thrown it over her shoulder on the run, because she knew it would return to Severn. It always did. “Midwives?”
She took the bracer, slid it over her wrist, and closed it. “Two in the morning.”
“And I heard that I should offer congratulations on the candle.”
The triumph of a lit candle had evaporated. She sat and folded her arms across her desk in a type of lean that implied her spine was melting. “They took Nightshade up on his offer,” she said, speaking to the wood grain and the interior of her elbows.
“Did you expect them to do anything else?”
“…No.”
“Then?”
“…I’ll be absent for eight weeks. Teela thinks it’ll actually be longer.” She lifted her head and turned to look at Severn. “You’re not coming, either.”
He shrugged; it was a fief shrug, and it was a tense one.
“So you’ll be out patrolling with some other Hawk, not me, and gods know if they won’t decide that you’re more effective working with someone else. Marcus might give my beat away.”
“Marcus won’t—”
“And the midwives won’t be able to call me. They’ve had four emergencies in the last two weeks. If those had been part of the eight, at least four people would have died.”
“At least?”
“I think they could have saved two of the babies.”
“But Nightshade’s information may well crack the Exchequer case.”
“May well? It had better tie it up in expensive cloth with bows on top.” She lowered her chin to the desk again. “But putting the Exchequer in prison—or under the ground—wouldn’t save the lives of those mothers. I’m hard put to see which lives it would save. Besides the Hawks.”
Severn tactfully steered the topic away from her visions of mortality. “Teela’s going with you?”
“Yeah. She’s a Lord of the Barrani Court, and apparently whatever this jaunt to the West March is about, it’s ceremonial. She’s got an invitation to go.”
“Well, keep an eye on her.”
Kaylin almost laughed. “Me and what army? You know Teela.”
Severn didn’t have a chance to answer. Bellusdeo appeared at his elbow. “They’ve finally let me out,” she said in accented but reasonable Elantran. She frowned. “You don’t look very happy. The magic lesson didn’t go well?”
“No, the lesson went very well.”
“This is how you react to a good lesson?”
Kaylin snorted but pushed herself off her desk and out of the chair. “No. It’s how I react to bad news.”
When Bellusdeo’s brows rose, Kaylin could almost hear them snap. “What bad news?” she asked in almost entirely the wrong tone of voice.
“The Barrani have some sort of ceremony out in the West March, and I’m obliged to attend it.”