Cast in Flame. Michelle Sagara
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were, of course, always smarter and wiser than hers, in the estimation of said Dragons—this was unusual. It wasn’t that Emmerian looked friendly. He didn’t. But he seemed content to be largely invisible, at least in comparison to the rest of the Dragons present.
This continued in the carriage as Kaylin sorted through addresses. Bellusdeo had, in the weeks Kaylin had been absent, studied Records-provided maps of Elantra; she probably knew the overall layout of the city as well as Kaylin did. The particulars were something she was willing to experience in person; she didn’t expect crime statistics to tell her much about living in the various jurisdictions.
She did, however, seem to find the laws and their minutiae fascinating. Kaylin could understand this if she didn’t think about it too hard; Kaylin sometimes found them fascinating. But Kaylin was pretty much paid to find them fascinating. Or to find reasonable ways to get around them in situations where the laws looked good on paper but were life-threatening in practice.
Bellusdeo now asked questions about the minutiae of said laws and their practical—or impractical—application. Kaylin, feeling self-conscious in the presence of a new Dragon Lord, answered as diplomatically as she could. Given that it was her job and the Halls of Law, this probably didn’t say much.
Emmerian, however, listened politely; Kaylin noted that he spent most of his time gazing out the windows at the passing street. There was just enough focus in the gaze that it implied attention rather than boredom, although his eyes did narrow as the Imperial carriage left the wider, grander avenues that surrounded the Palace, rolling past the streets that lead to the High Halls.
Bellusdeo was watching said streets at least as closely as Emmerian, but Kaylin wasn’t worried; the small dragon who served as a primary alarm system was practically snoring in her ear.
When the streets narrowed, Emmerian said nothing. More loudly. Kaylin was glad that they weren’t attempting to navigate by carriage during market day; carriage was probably the slowest way to get anywhere, although Imperial Crests reduced the waiting time by a fair margin. The streets were by no means dangerous by the time the carriage turned onto them, but Emmerian’s silence had developed a hint of distaste.
Kaylin, who should have expected this, forced herself to remain quiet. Emmerian was used to a palace. He didn’t have to live like a normal, working person. She exhaled. Bellusdeo didn’t have to live like a normal, working person either—but she wanted to. Hells, given Bellusdeo, Kaylin didn’t have to live like a normal working person. She was fairly certain most of the Hawks in the office would be appalled by her decision to move out.
But it was different, for Kaylin. Kaylin didn’t fit in there. She didn’t belong in rooms that made her feel dirty and clumsy and grungy just by existing. She didn’t have the right clothing to walk the halls without attracting the disdainful glances of the pages, people who probably made less a week than even she did.
It was free accommodation, yes. But in every way except money, it was costly. She would have jumped for joy at the chance to stand in the Palace’s shadow, as a child. She was a working, responsible adult, now.
Squawk.
Okay, a working, more-or-less responsible adult. Her job was the enforcement of the Emperor’s Law; she didn’t want home to essentially belong to that job. At the moment, it did.
“We’re almost at the first place,” Kaylin told the occupants of the carriage.
Bellusdeo had lived in Kaylin’s old place, and didn’t so much as raise a golden eyebrow. Emmerian hadn’t, and raised a blue-black one as the carriage clopped to a smooth stop.
“You don’t think the Emperor is going to like the place,” Kaylin said, as a footman opened the carriage door and deposited a fancy stool before it.
Bellusdeo snorted as Kaylin stepped down. Emmerian followed Kaylin, and scanned the street before he nodded to a visibly impatient Bellusdeo. She disembarked last, by unspoken mutual consent.
“I am certain,” the Dragon Lord finally said, “that he won’t.” He approached the doors to the four story building and frowned. “Is it possible that there’s no door ward here?”
“It’s not only possible,” Bellusdeo replied, before Kaylin could. “But extremely likely. Our Kaylin doesn’t care for door wards.”
“‘Our’ is it?” Emmerian examined the door without touching it. He did not, however, use magic to do so—or at least not magic that made Kaylin’s skin break out. “Private Neya, are the interior doors likewise without wards?”
“Which part of ‘Kaylin doesn’t care for door wards’ was unclear?”
Emmerian stiffened. Bellusdeo had drawn herself up to her full height, and her eyes were now tinted orange. Emmerian’s were likewise shading to bronze. The small dragon lifted his head and surveyed the situation—while yawning. His teeth were solid ivory, although the rest of his mouth suggested the same translucence as his body.
Both Dragons immediately turned toward him. He squawked. Given Bellusdeo’s expression, Kaylin wasn’t surprised she didn’t squawk back. Contrary to Diarmat’s constant criticism, Bellusdeo did have some sense of personal dignity; squawking at a winged lizard in the city streets was beneath it.
Emmerian was likewise silent, although he now looked mildly surprised. Kaylin, aware that she was the pedestal on which the interesting person was standing, nonetheless ducked between them and opened the door. The hall, at least on this floor, was lit; steep stairs the width of one person climbed up on the left of the door. The landlord’s office—which was a fancy word, in Kaylin’s opinion, for apartment—was down the hall to the right.
She was surprised at how nervous she felt. She couldn’t remember feeling nervous when she’d gone apartment hunting with Caitlin the first time. Suspicious, yes. Bewildered. Not nervous. She mentally kicked herself.
What was the worst thing that could happen here? Besides Bellusdeo descending into full-bellow Dragon fury. The apartment could be terrible. The landlord might want too much for extras he hadn’t bothered to mention to Caitlin. Bellusdeo might actually hate the place. None of these things was deadly; some might be minor humiliations, but Kaylin expected that from life.
She straightened both shoulders and knocked on the closed, residential door marked as an office. The floors on the other side of the door creaked. So did the floors on this side, but more ominously; Dragons were dense, and two of them were occupying pretty much the same square yard of flooring. The building was in decent repair, given Kaylin’s admittedly slight experience; it was by no means new or modern.
The door opened on a man of middling age and similar height; he suited his building. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a tone of voice that implied he meant the answer to be no.
“Yes. I’m Private Kaylin Neya. I have an appointment to view 3B.”
The man relaxed slightly; he glanced at Bellusdeo and Emmerian, his eyes narrowing. Neither of the two looked like they lived in this part of town. Ever. “Marten Anders. These your friends?” he asked, stepping into the hall with a very obvious ring of keys in his left hand.
“Yes. This is Bellusdeo. She’ll be sharing the space with me for the time being.” Kaylin failed to introduce Emmerian. Mr. Anders noticed, of course.
“She’ll be marking the lease?”
“No.”
The man shrugged. “We don’t want trouble here,” he told them both. “I run a respectable, quiet place.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Kaylin replied—quickly. Bellusdeo looked as if she was about to speak.
The small dragon squawked instead. The man’s eyes rounded instantly as the transparent troublemaker sat up on Kaylin’s shoulders.
“He’s house-trained, and he doesn’t bite. He doesn’t make much noise.” She resisted the urge to clamp a hand around his mouth, because she was fairly certain ‘doesn’t bite’