Cast In Honour. Michelle Sagara

his first question was not directed to Kaylin.

      “An’Teela, have you seen the ruins just south of the West March?”

      Teela frowned. “No.”

      “They are not easily accessible; simple scholars have managed to lose themselves in the surrounding forest without reaching their place of study. They are, however, accessible if the scholar is an Arcanist.”

      “This is relevant?”

      “It may be. It is not clear who dwelled in those ruins; they are architecturally inconsistent with the West March and its environs. The ruins existed before the Barrani and the Dragons started any of their ill-advised wars. As ruins do, they attracted the attention of the curious.”

      Teela said nothing.

      “Entry to these buildings was often complicated—even after the buildings themselves were deserted. Kaylin, I believe you have some experience of this.”

      Kaylin bristled. “Helen is not a ruin.”

      “No. But her appearance—both internal and external—is under her own control. She cannot be easily invoked or altered against her wishes. I am not claiming that the basement of a nondescript building within the city is in any way equivalent to Helen—but there were always wards and protections cast upon buildings, and death does not always render them inactive.

      “From the sounds of your staircase, it is possible that the homes in that area were built upon the foundations of older works.”

      “But who would know enough about that to sneak into a basement with a member of the family? And what would they stand to gain by killing the three men?”

      “Investigation of this nature is what you’re paid to do.”

      “Meaning,” Teela said, “you don’t know.”

      Evanton raised a brow at her tone, but nodded. “I admit that the bodies—and their presence or absence—is new to me. But difficulties of this nature are, sadly, becoming more familiar.”

      “What exactly is the nature of these difficulties?” Kaylin demanded.

      Evanton, however, shook his head. “That, I cannot reveal to you at this time. However, I will, I fear, be spending more time in the Garden in the immediate future. My knowledge is inexact, but my function is not. I keep the world...real.”

      Scary thought.

      * * *

      Kaylin thought she could hear Marcus growling from two blocks away. The Halls of Law loomed like a gallows as they marched briskly toward them. Teela was tight-lipped and blue-eyed by the time they reached the doors. Tanner and Clint framed them, but one look at Teela’s expression made them instantly wary. Fair enough. Barrani blue was not a terribly safe look.

      Clint’s eyes, however, were already the wrong color for an Aerian: coal gray, which made them look hard. He lowered his weapon as they approached, but didn’t raise it to allow them passage, and given Teela’s mood, that was significant.

      “What’s wrong?” Kaylin asked.

      “I heard a rumor in the mess hall.”

      “Was it about me?” Kaylin asked.

      “Got it in one go.”

      “I can hear Ironjaw growling from here, Clint. He’s been waiting for us to arrive.”

      Clint had the grace to wince, but didn’t immediately grant them passage. “It’s about you and Moran.”

      Kaylin blinked. “Pardon?”

      Tanner held out a hand, palm up. Clint dropped a few coins into it, although he didn’t really look away from Kaylin. Tanner then said, “Caitlin said you’re going to offer Moran a place to stay while she recuperates.”

      “Caitlin told you this?” Kaylin demanded, feeling a bit of a pang.

      “Clint grilled her.”

      That was also highly unlike the Clint Kaylin knew. “It’s not a rumor. It’s true. I haven’t convinced Moran yet.”

      “Moran will say no.”

      “She’ll say no the first few times I try, yes.”

      “Don’t try a second time.”

      Kaylin stared at Clint as if he’d been replaced by a Shadow. “She can’t fly.”

      “No.”

      “She won’t let me heal her—and I offered that first.”

      “There are reasons for that. The Hawklord wouldn’t let you heal him, if he had any say. The Barrani don’t let you touch them. I don’t imagine the Dragon Lords would countenance it, either.”

      Bellusdeo allowed it, but Kaylin kept that to herself. This entire conversation had gone in a direction Kaylin would never have anticipated. “Clint—she’s living in the infirmary.”

      “She has been offered conveyance to, and from, the Aerie. She has chosen to decline the offer.”

      “I know that. But the infirmary is more of a jail than a home.” Kaylin had folded her arms at some point and was now tightening them.

      “To you, Moran is a sergeant. She rules the infirmary. To Moran’s family, she is not a Hawk. Her work here has never been treated with respect; it has, among the more considerate, been politely ignored. She was injured in her service to the Hawks.”

      Kaylin, confused, looked at Teela to see if she was having any better luck following this discussion. From the shuttered expression on the Barrani Hawk’s face, she was. The small dragon, however, didn’t consider it important enough to budge and lay across Kaylin’s shoulder like a slightly resentful shawl.

      “I’m aware of how she sustained the injuries, Clint.” She used his name like punctuation. “All I’m offering her is an actual home-away-from-home. She needs a place to stay. My place will actually have rooms that are designed for an Aerian, even an injured one. She won’t have to deal with landlords. She won’t have to deal with rent. She can walk to and from the Halls in relative safety. You’re acting as if this is some kind of political deal.”

      “It is. You’ve always thought Moran’s wings were different.”

      “Well, they are. All the rest of yours are single colors. Hers look like they’re speckled.”

      Clint nodded. After a few seconds, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many other speckled wings have you seen?”

      “I just told you—” Kaylin caught up. “You’re telling me they’re significant in the Aerie.”

      “I’m trying to tell you that, yes.” To Teela, he said, “Did you have these issues when you introduced Kaylin to the High Halls?”

      “Not these specific ones, no. The Barrani Halls are slightly simpler. Everyone you meet is going to try to kill you at one point or another; she only had to try to avoid the ones who were going to do so immediately.”

      Tanner chuckled.

      Kaylin didn’t. “The Hawks are politically neutral.”

      “Yes, kitling, they are. But none of us exist solely as Hawks. We have duties and responsibilities—and enemies—outside of the Halls. We have history. Some of us have a longer and more complex history simply because we’re older. Moran, clearly, has significance outside of the Halls, and you are somehow stepping in it.”

      “I will let Moran decide.”

      “Kaylin—” Clint started.

      She waited, glaring at him. He didn’t finish the sentence.

      “What he’s not saying,” Tanner said, when it was clear that Clint was conceding, “is that you will