Cast in Flame. Michelle Sagara
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too many tall people between them for her to even see him, seated as he was at his desk, and behind the perpetual stacks of paper that girded it. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but the tone of her rank pretty much gave it away. The Imperial Guard moved to allow her through.
She stood at attention in front of his desk and—as expected—his very orange eyes. She saw that he had reflexively gouged a few new runnels in the surface of that desk. Clearly, it hadn’t been a pleasant interview, whatever its subject.
“Your services are apparently being seconded by the Dragon Court.”
Standing at attention didn’t allow for the usual facial tics or gestures that indicated dismay. It was the only good thing she could say about it.
“You are apparently not content living at the Palace.”
It also didn’t allow for nuanced commentary, which was fine; surrounded by Imperial Guards, she didn’t feel particularly nuanced.
“Well?”
“No, sir.”
“And you intend to find other accommodations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“With a Lord of the Dragon Court.”
She didn’t hesitate; not with Marcus in his current mood. “Yes, sir.”
“The Dragon Court feels that such a search should not be an after-hours affair. Cognizant of the difficulties Lord Bellusdeo encountered the last time she chose to live outside of the Palace, they’ve taken it upon themselves to assure that your search for a new domicile is secure. You are therefore relieved of your regular duties until that search is completed. To Imperial satisfaction.”
“That is not,” Bellusdeo said, speaking for the first time since Kaylin had entered an otherwise raptly silent office, “what was said.” She stepped forward, until she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Kaylin, who, at attention, couldn’t otherwise turn to look at her. “Private Neya’s sense of responsibility to the Halls is quite strong; she understands the city far better than I, a recent refugee.” She used the Elantran word for refugee. Kaylin almost cringed to hear it. “If, in Private Neya’s considered opinion, such a search can be effectively conducted outside of her working hours, that is acceptable to all concerned.” The swish sound her hair made clearly indicated that Bellusdeo was pinning someone—or several someones—with a glare.
Sanabalis cleared his throat. In the silence of the office, it sounded like a distant earthquake. “Bellusdeo wishes to accompany Private Neya on her rounds, as she did before the private was sent out of the city to the West March.”
Great.
“Private,” Marcus barked. “At ease.”
As if. She did, however, relax her posture slightly. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Her Sergeant snorted. In general, there was nothing but free speech in the office.
“I’m not going on my rounds with a half dozen Imperial Guards as escort. Members of the Hawks don’t require babysitters, and we don’t want to imply they do; it’ll hurt the force. If the guards come with Bellusdeo and can’t be separated, I’ll take the time to find a new apartment. If they can be detached, I can find us a place to live on my own time.”
For some reason, this answer didn’t appear to please Marcus, although he clearly agreed with it.
“Is Lord Bellusdeo a Hawk?” a familiar voice asked. Kaylin couldn’t see the speaker, but cringed anyway. It was a Barrani voice. Mandoran’s. She hadn’t even seen him in the office, which answered her question about the day getting worse; clearly it could. A Barrani from the West March, frozen in time in the Barrani version of puberty, was now in the Halls of Law. She hoped Teela was standing on his feet.
“I am not,” was the frosty, Draconian reply.
“I was under the impression,” Mandoran continued, moving around the back side of Marcus’s desk with care to avoid the now-bristling Leontine that occupied it, “that tourists were not allowed to accompany on-duty Hawks.”
Marcus was either breathing heavily or trying to stifle a growl. Kaylin put money on the latter, and would have refused to bet on his chances of continued success.
“Lord Bellusdeo,” Sanabalis said, “is a member of the Dragon Court—the governing body that advises the Eternal Emperor. It is well within her purview to ask for—and receive—permission to inspect the forces assembled within the Halls in light of those duties.”
“Whereas I am merely a Barrani Lord visiting your fair city, and therefore have no responsibilities and no duties?”
Kaylin risked a glance at Sanabalis’s eyes. He was annoyed, but not yet angry.
Mandoran, having navigated the desk, came to stand beside Kaylin. He was grinning, and his eyes were almost green. Certainly greener than Barrani eyes generally were in this office. He winked at her. This did not make the Leontine Sergeant any less bristly.
“I see Teela hasn’t strangled you, yet,” she said, in as quiet a voice as she could.
“Why would she want to do that? At the moment, she’s not bored.”
“She is,” Teela said, “considering the concept of boredom with more deliberate care.”
Mandoran’s grin didn’t falter.
“Where is Corporal Handred?” Kaylin asked, hoping to stem the tide of this particular conversation.
She’d’ve had better luck with a tidal wave. “He’s closeted with the Wolflord,” Teela replied. “The duty roster hasn’t been updated, but apparently you and I are now covering Elani street.” She turned and offered a correct bow to Sanabalis. Unfortunately, Kaylin now recognized it as a correct bow for the Barrani High Court. “I ask that you overlook any impertinence from my guest. He is in a situation very similar to Lord Bellusdeo’s; the Empire—and the Eternal Emperor—did not exist when last he walked these lands.”
Bellusdeo frowned. “I was not aware that the Barrani could voluntarily enter the long sleep.”
“I’m certain there are many things that would surprise you about the Barrani,” Mandoran replied. His voice, however, had taken on both edge and chill, and his eyes had darkened to blue.
This predictably caused unrest among the Imperial Guard, subtle though it was; it caused Sanabalis’s eyes to shade toward a brighter orange, and it caused Teela’s eyes—Teela, who had made her way to the other side of Mandoran—to narrow. They were, on the other hand, already as blue as they could safely get.
Bellusdeo, however, lifted a brow; her eyes were no longer slightly orange. They were gold. She was amused.
Mandoran wasn’t.
Bellusdeo then turned to Teela. “If you have now had cause to reconsider your attitude toward boredom, I have not been so fortunate. Even for the Immortal, time can pass incredibly slowly. I believe I will find the patrol of great interest on this particular day.” She turned to Mandoran and added, “as a visitor to the city that is my current home, I bid you welcome. I am certain you will do nothing to disgrace yourself or your Court should you be forced to accept the company of a Dragon for an afternoon, and I am certain the Sergeant will relax his rules enough that you may join us.”
Although Bellusdeo had the last word, there were several hundred other words—thankfully none of them in native Dragon—before it. Kaylin thought it unfair when Sanabalis asked for a private word with her before she could leave the office.
The lack of justice didn’t notably ease when he marched her to the West Room in which her magic lessons were taught, and practically shut the door on her shoulder blades—without bothering