Cast in Flight, Page 2

  “They are not obvious to Moran, dear,” Helen replied, although Kaylin hadn’t spoken that part out loud. It didn’t matter. Helen could read the thoughts of almost anyone who crossed her borders. This bothered some of the immortals; it didn’t bother Kaylin. Helen was not judgmental about anything. “You understand that she is older, of a higher rank, and has handled far larger responsibilities than you currently officially have?”

  “Yes.”

  “She did not come here to put you in danger.”

  “I know all that, Helen.”

  “She does not wish you to worry. And, Kaylin? While this is your home, Moran is a guest here. Her privacy and her concerns are important to me. Had she no privacy, this would not be a home to her; it would be a prison. An imposition. That is not what you wished for her when you invited her to stay.”

  “But Moran’s worried about her physical safety!”

  “Yes. But she is not in danger while she is here.”

  “She’s not staying here, Helen. She’s going to the Halls of Law.”

  “Yes. That is also her choice.”

  The small dragon squawked in Kaylin’s ear. When she’d ignored enough of this, he started to chew on the stick that kept her hair out of her way. “Fine.”

  “Are you coming?” Mandoran shouted.

  “Yes, yes, I’m coming.” Kaylin was at the front door of the foyer before the implication of his question sank in. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Nightshade’s supposed to visit today. I’m going to the Halls with the rest of you.”

  “Mandoran—”

  “I don’t have trouble masking my presence. Annarion still does. But he’s going to spend another several hours shouting at his brother. Or being coldly disappointed in him. I’m not sure which one is worse. Being here while he’s doing either, however, sucks.” He grinned, his eyes almost green. “And it sounds like you’re going to be having far more fun today than I would if I stayed here. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Kaylin sent Teela a mute glance.

  “Don’t labor under the misapprehension that I can tell Mandoran what to do.”

  “She’s already tried,” Mandoran added cheerfully. “I’ve been using some of your favorite phrases in private.”

  Given what Kaylin’s favorite phrases were, the private part was probably for the best. She offered Moran a very, very apologetic glance. “It’s not always like this,” she told the sergeant.

  “No,” Moran replied, her eyes a steady blue. “It’s frequently worse.”

  * * *

  Stepping outside the open gates that formed the demarcation of Helen’s territory, she felt her skin begin to tingle. Kaylin had what she called an allergy to magic, at least when she was trying to be polite. It made her skin ache. The stronger the magic, the greater the ache; in the worst cases, she felt as if her skin had been sanded off the rest of her body.

  She looked down at her arm; the marks that covered two-thirds of her body weren’t glowing through the long sleeves she always wore. When they did, they took on a particular color—usually blue or gold, sometimes gray. It was never precisely a good sign.

  Teela noticed her glance immediately, and her eyes lost their green, the Barrani happy shade.

  Bellusdeo’s eyes were orange. Mandoran had annoyed her enough—or had reminded her of how annoyed she should be. The Dragon glanced at Moran, who was silent, her eyes a blue that almost matched Teela’s.

  Mandoran’s, on the other hand, remained green. “Once you get used to the smell,” he said to no one in particular, “the city’s not so bad.” They had turned onto the more crowded streets; people multiplied, and carts, wagons and carriages began to demand room. Or at least their ill-tempered drivers did.

  No one appeared to hear him.

  “Kitling?” Teela said.

  Kaylin nodded. “It’s getting worse.” And it was. Her arms now ached. Magic sensitivity wasn’t exactly directional, but Kaylin looked up. The sky—absent a few patrolling Aerians—was crisp, clear and empty.

  The small dragon jerked to a full sitting position. He opened his mouth on a very, very loud squawk.

  Teela cursed, drawing her sword.

  “Corporal?” Moran said quietly.

  “We have visitors.”

  Kaylin reached out and grabbed Moran by the arm. In the Halls of Law, it would have been safer to cut off her own hand—and probably ultimately less painful. The marks on her arms flared; she could see the dim glow of their outlines through her sleeves. That cloth rubbing against her skin was hideously painful.

  Moran didn’t fight her. That’s what she would remember with wonder later. Moran let herself be drawn—instantly—into the tight circle of Kaylin’s arms. Kaylin barely had time to close her eyes as the world directly in front of them exploded.

  Chapter 2

  Stone shattered as if it were brittle glass, fanning out from the spot where Moran had been standing. None of the resulting shards hit Kaylin or Moran; they were protected by a bubble of shimmering gold, courtesy of Kaylin’s familiar. But Darrow Lane wasn’t empty at this time of day; the shards hit pedestrians, wagons and fences. It was the pedestrians who screamed. Other voices picked up the sound as fear turned to panic and people began to flee, often into other people.

  Kaylin looked up, scanning the windows of the buildings to either side of the road. Some were open. An old woman and a young child peered down at the street. While it was possible they were responsible for the magical attack, Kaylin doubted it.

  “Private.”

  Kaylin immediately loosened her grip on Moran. She didn’t completely release her. “Don’t move from here,” she told the sergeant. “We have no idea if that was the only attack.”

  Moran looked at the broken stone inches from her feet. “I need to clear the area.”

  “You don’t need to clear the area. You’re the target. If you attempt crowd control here and they’re not done yet, you’ll just get people killed.” It was a small miracle that no civilians had died, and Kaylin knew better than to bank on another one.

  “You need the streets cleared?” Bellusdeo asked. She turned toward Kaylin. The front of her very practical clothing was smoldering. There were more holes in it than there was cloth. Bellusdeo had not been within the bubble’s radius. The Dragon’s eyes were very, very orange. If eyes were windows into the soul, Bellusdeo’s was on fire.

  Kaylin nodded.

  “Good.”

  * * *

  Bellusdeo roared.

  In the middle of the crowded Darrow Lane road, this caused even more panic, which was probably why Dragons were technically forbidden to speak their mother tongue in public places. But the roar, unlike the explosion, continued for enough time that people could identify its source and get the hells away from it.

  Kaylin then looked for the rest of her companions.

  Mandoran was untouched; Tain wasn’t in immediate sight. Teela was. In her left hand, she carried a naked, runed blade; it was glowing brightly. Something about the metal of that blade reminded Kaylin of Severn’s weapon chain, which could combat magic if wielded properly.

  “Mandoran,” Bellusdeo said, “you’ve been picking up Elantran at an astonishing rate. You’ve perhaps heard some of their colloquial phrases?”

  “Far, far too many. Why?”

  “I’m wondering if you’ve encountered this one: ‘it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’”

  Mandoran looked at Bellusdeo, his perfect brow rippling in minor confusion. “I don’t think either of our peoples are much given to begging for anything. Why do you ask?”

  Bellusdeo roared again. The first roar had pretty much cleared the street around them for a good ten yards, although it had also panicked horses. Her smile wa
s almost feline. She didn’t bother to shed her ruined clothing; there was no salvaging it. She dropped to her hands and knees and began to shed her human appearance, as well.

  Kaylin found the transformation between two solid shapes disturbing; she always did. Flesh wasn’t supposed to be liquid; it wasn’t supposed to twist and expand, changing in both color and texture. Bellusdeo grew golden scales, the largest of which could have served as a very good shield had it been detached; she gained both height and length. And wings.

  * * *

  “Kitling?” Teela shouted, not bothering to glance back.

  “We’re good,” Kaylin replied.

  “Moran?”

  “I’m fine. The road isn’t,” the sergeant added, looking down at the blistered, cracked and shattered stones at their feet. “If you let go of me, will I still be safe?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether or not Teela’s going to do something with that sword other than pose.”

  Mandoran laughed. He was the only one who did. “She’s going to have to move fast,” he said.

  “Mandoran, don’t—”

  “I won’t hurt your precious citizens. Well, not all of them, at any rate.”

  Bellusdeo spoke in a lower and fuller voice that was nevertheless distinctly her own. “I’ll leave the corporals in charge of apprehending the would-be assassins. Sergeant?”

  Moran looked at the golden Dragon. And she was a golden Dragon now—a very large, very imposing one with jaws that were the size of Kaylin.

  “I assume you haven’t ridden bareback Dragon before,” Bellusdeo said to the sergeant.

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “A last time, too,” Kaylin muttered. She was still holding on to Moran.

  Bellusdeo’s orange eyes paused over her worried expression—which was clearly reflected in them. “Magic?”

  Kaylin nodded. “I don’t think they’ve finished yet.”

  “Then get on—and don’t let go of Moran until you’re seated.”

  Mounting a Dragon wasn’t exactly a no-handed operation, but Kaylin kept this to herself. She understood exactly why she was going to try her best to obey the command: if it weren’t for Kaylin’s alert and bristling familiar, Moran would be dead. Kaylin would probably be dead as well, if it had come to that.

  “Has anyone ever tried to assassinate you before?” Bellusdeo asked the Aerian.

  To Kaylin’s surprise, Moran answered, “Yes.”

  “Often?”

  “No. And before you continue the interrogation,” she added, struggling her way into a seated position between spinal ridges along the Dragon’s back, “never with magic.”

  “I thought the damn Caste Court wanted you back,” Kaylin said, trying not to sound as outraged as she felt.

  “Some of them do. Some, clearly, don’t.”

  “And both factions are going to cause boatloads of trouble at the office.”

  “Yes. I did warn you.”

  Kaylin snorted. As Bellusdeo pushed off the ground and lifted her wings against the pull of gravity, Kaylin shouted, “You’ve got nothing on Bellusdeo!”

  “Don’t,” the Dragon rumbled in response, “make me drop you. You might deserve it, but the sergeant doesn’t.”

  * * *

  The streets directly in front of the main entrance to the Halls of Law were crowded; they often were. Bellusdeo could have landed in them anyway—the approaching shadow of a very large Dragon was more efficient at clearing the streets than a full squad of mounted Swords. She chose instead to land in the stable yards, which had the advantage of fewer civilians. There were more horses, and the horses weren’t thrilled, but that would quickly become someone else’s problem.

  Kaylin slid off Bellusdeo’s back; Moran followed. She was a lot shakier on her legs than Kaylin, but then again, she’d never ridden on something the size of a Dragon before. Or possibly on anything else, either.

  The small dragon, flopped across Kaylin’s shoulder, lifted his head and squawked.

  “We’re good to go,” Kaylin said.

  Bellusdeo was reassuming her mortal shape. Given her lack of clothing, she instead donned Dragon armor, scales becoming plates that girded the whole of her body. Kaylin knew this included a helm, but Bellusdeo wasn’t fond of helms. Her hair was a glorious spill down her back; it matched and softened the rest of the armor.

  “The Emperor is going to kill me,” Kaylin told the Dragon glumly.

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Bellusdeo said with a quirky smile. “This one wasn’t aimed at me.”

  Before Moran could speak, Kaylin turned to her and said, “Don’t even think it.”

  “Think what?”

  “Helen is the safest place for you to live in Elantra. You’re not moving out. There’s a reason the Emperor is willing to let Bellusdeo live with us.”

  “I hadn’t even considered it,” Moran replied. When she saw Kaylin’s expression, she added, “It’s the truth. I’m busy considering who might feel desperate enough to kill me today. And why.”

  “How many candidates are there?” Bellusdeo asked as they headed into the building.

  “More than one.” The sergeant’s eyes were a steady, darkening blue. “I’d ask you not to mention this,” she added, “but given our method of arrival—and escape—it’s impossible to keep it secret.”

  “From who?” Kaylin demanded.

  “Lord Grammayre.” She closed her eyes. “And the rest of the Aerians.”

  “The rest of the Aerians are Hawks, Moran. There’s only one way to take this.”

  Moran’s expression made her look older and frailer. “The rest of the Aerians are people, kitling.” She almost never used the Barrani-coined diminutive. “They have lives outside of the Halls of Law, and most of those lives take place in the Aerie. It’s not as simple as you’d like it to be.”

  “No, of course not,” Kaylin replied. “Nothing ever is.”

  * * *

  The first argument occurred within the Halls, rather than outside the main doors. Kaylin didn’t want to let Moran go to the infirmary on her own. Moran pointed out—correctly—that Kaylin’s job depended on a different sergeant, and he was probably orange-eyed and long-clawed by this point.

  “He needed a new desk anyway,” Kaylin replied. “I don’t expect mages to show up in the infirmary to kill you. But it doesn’t take a mage.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “You could, before. But you can’t even use one of your wings.” Those wings were not just for flight; they could be used to devastating effect in close physical combat. Although Kaylin had never seen Moran fight that way, she had seen Clint at work. It wasn’t pretty. “Let me heal it, Moran.”

  “No.”

  “Let me heal it, or I’m not going.”

  Bellusdeo silently lifted Kaylin off her feet. “If it’s acceptable to you, Sergeant,” the Dragon said, “I would like to remain in the infirmary with you. The private, of course, has other duties.”

  “The Emperor isn’t going to like that,” Moran said, but her lips were quirked in an odd smile as she met the Dragon’s gaze.

  “No, he isn’t, is he?” Bellusdeo’s eyes lost a lot of their orange then.

  Moran’s lost a lot of their blue.

  Kaylin’s gaze bounced between them while her feet dangled off the ground.

  “Yes, it’s acceptable to me. Please see Private Neya out.”

  * * *

  “Don’t even think it,” Bellusdeo said as she deposited Kaylin on her feet. “I am tired of being treated with condescension.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I am a Dragon. You are a mortal. The sergeant is willing to have me play bodyguard in th
e infirmary. Push the issue, and she will have neither of us. Is that what you want?” Before Kaylin could reply, she added, “I am endeavoring not to feel insulted. Your hesitation implies that you think you would be more effective.”

  Insulting Dragons was the definition of career-limiting. And Bellusdeo was right. Mostly. “What if there’s an Arcane bomb?”

  “Fine. If it makes you feel better, you can leave your familiar here, as well.”

  The small dragon squawked.

  Bellusdeo rolled her eyes. “Yes, I realize that. But they’re not going to get an Arcane bomb through the front doors, the side doors or the back doors. And anything else is just going to annoy me, not kill me.” She walked back into the infirmary and shut the door, loudly, in Kaylin’s face. The familiar stayed where he was, but complained more.

  * * *

  Moran was right.

  As Kaylin approached the office space designated for the Hawks and their much-hated paperwork, she could practically hear Leontine growling. Marcus was seated at what remained of his desk.

  He did, however, have paperwork, and it seemed to be more or less in stable piles.

  His eyes were orange, his bristling fur made his face look 50 percent larger, and his fangs were prominent. Clearly, he’d already gotten the news.

  “Private!”

  She scurried over to the safe side of his desk, which at this point meant the side that was farthest from his unsheathed claws.

  “Where’s the Dragon?”

  “...In the infirmary.” Marcus’s eyes went from orange to near red. Bellusdeo was the only female Dragon in existence. Her survival and safety meant more than almost anything else to the Emperor; having her tangled up in magical assassination attempts—even if they weren’t aimed at her—was going to cause what was politely referred to as “politics.”

  “Bellusdeo wasn’t injured. At all. She’s there to help Moran.” This reassurance smoothed some of the Leontine’s fur. Marcus’s eyes remained orange, however.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not entirely certain.” This was apparently the wrong answer, but Marcus held on to patience. Barely. “Someone attempted to kill Sergeant Carafel. With magic. While we were on the way to the Halls.”