Cast in Flame. Michelle Sagara

not—repeat not—your problem. Your problem at the moment is finding a place to live in the city. Focus on that, and keep your nose out of trouble while you do it. We’ll take care of Mandoran.” She broke off and looked to Bellusdeo, who was sitting completely still. “Kaylin knows most of the city reasonably well. She doesn’t have our memory, but she doesn’t need it.”

      “It’s not her knowledge that worries me.”

      “No. But if you’ve listened to Evanton’s horror story, you understand that she is capable of surviving much, much worse than a simple apartment hunt. Even with a Dragon or two in tow. She survived the loss of her home,” Teela added, coming to the point in a way that she seldom did with anyone but Tain or Kaylin. “And between us, had she not been there, I don’t think you would have survived.” Eyes narrowing, Teela paused. “You don’t think you would have survived, either.” It wasn’t a question.

      “No. I had time to speak with the Imperial mages in your absence. I had time to assess their reports. But Teela, it’s absolutely certain that the bomb would not have been thrown had I not been resident there.”

      Teela shrugged. “I didn’t say Kaylin was wise. She’s not. But in this case, accept her lack of wisdom as the gift it is. She means well—mostly—and sometimes you have to encourage that.”

      “Meaning well was not highly prized in the home of my childhood.”

      Teela chuckled. “It was actively discouraged, in mine. But mortal lives are so short; they believe, and they die before that belief is entirely lost. It makes them curiously compelling.”

      “Is that why you’re a Hawk?”

      “No.” Teela hesitated, which was unusual. “And possibly yes. I didn’t come to the Hawks looking for Kaylin Neya; I was surprised when I found her.”

      “Hello,” Kaylin said, raising a hand. “I’m actually sitting here.”

      They both looked at her. Teela opened her mouth, no doubt to say something cutting, when the small dragon flew out of the fire, squawking at the top of his little lungs. Just in case volume wasn’t attention-grabbing enough, he made a beeline for Kaylin’s shoulders, landed with fully extended claws, and whacked her face with a wing.

      “I don’t know why you never had cats,” Teela said, rising. “They couldn’t possibly be any worse.” Her eyes, however, had settled into Barrani danger blue.

      Bellusdeo’s were now orange.

      “Can you understand him?” Kaylin asked, vacating her own chair before the small dragon bit a hole through her ear lobe.

      “In this case, I don’t think it’s necessary.” Teela rose and headed toward the door. It was awkward to have three grown women converge on said door at the same time, but Kaylin had the sinking feeling that awkward wasn’t even on the list of their problems.

      * * *

      The door opened into torrential rain. The ceiling, such as it was—and the Garden was so elastic in shape and size, Kaylin didn’t put much faith in Evanton’s roof—was completely invisible; the skies were the gray-green of heavy cloud, and lightning illuminated the landscape in brief, bright flashes.

      She couldn’t see raging plumes of fire, and the ground just outside of the hut wasn’t shaking in a way that implied it was about to break beneath their feet. But the wind was howling.

      Literally.

      Kaylin turned to the small dragon. “Where,” she shouted, “is Evanton?”

      He lifted a wing and plastered it against her upper face. He’d done this before, in the outlands, where vision was so subjective it was the only way to see what was actually in front of her. The Garden, in theory, didn’t have that problem.

      But when the wing covered her eyes, she could see past the driving rain; she could see past the flying leaves and the debris that might once have been offerings to each of the elemental shrines. She could see the clouds, and froze for a moment.

      “Kitling!”

      The clouds wore the shape and form of a woman. She was not familiar to Kaylin; she was too large—far too large—and too angry; her eyes were the size of the moons, even narrowed as they were. More disturbing were her wings. Kaylin had always loved Aerians because of their wings; she knew that those wings were weapons; that they could break a man’s arm. But the wings of the storm—of the water—were like tidal waves; there was nothing beautiful about them, and the only freedom they implied was death.

      “Can you see the Keeper?” Bellusdeo shouted. Her voice felt like rumbling earth.

      “No—but the water is here, and it’s enraged!”

      “Only the water? Kaylin—can you see any of the other elementals?”

      She started to say air, and stopped. The storm was entirely a thing of the water. “No.”

      The ground shook beneath Kaylin’s feet. Leontine left her open mouth. But it wasn’t the elemental earth joining the rumble; it was Bellusdeo. Bellusdeo, in her golden, draconian form. “Don’t just stand their gawking—get on. That applies to you as well, Lord Teela.”

      “I am never,” Teela said, complying immediately, “going to live this down.”

      * * *

      Bellusdeo flew into the eye of the storm. Sadly, the eye was just above the jaws. The small dragon had wrapped his tail tightly around Kaylin’s neck, and was digging new runnels into her right collar bone; he’d fallen silent, which was the only blessing. His wing was plastered against her face, above her nose and lips, which made breathing possible, although she was willing to bet more water than air was actually entering her mouth.

      “Kitling—your arms!”

      She’d noticed. The runic marks that covered over half of her skin were glowing brightly enough they could be seen through her sleeves; they were the color of Bellusdeo’s eyes—and scales—as if only that part of her was now transparent. “Next time,” she shouted, “we are leaving Mandoran at home!” She had no doubt that something Mandoran had done was responsible for the storm, and no certainty at all that she could stop it.

      Which wasn’t technically her job; it was Evanton’s. Where in the hells was he?

      * * *

      Bellusdeo’s flight was not smooth; it inspired no confidence at all. Since Dragons, unlike carriages, didn’t come with built-in handholds, Kaylin’s legs were rigid with an attempt to somehow hold on. She’d never gotten the hang of horses, either. But the Dragon was looking at something Kaylin couldn’t see, and when she dove—through sheets of rain—for ground, Kaylin saw what: Grethan.

      Bellusdeo caught him in her claws and lifted him. “Where,” she demanded, “is out?”

      “We don’t get out without Evanton!” Kaylin shouted.

      “Grethan can’t stay here; he’s half-drowned!”

      “Can you land? Can he crawl up on your back?” She was already doing exactly that—but the ground here did not look promising; much of it was mud, and Dragons weighed enough she’d sink. Bellusdeo did, but she’d landed on her hind-legs and let them bear her weight while she set Grethan down.

      Teela reached out and yanked Grethan out of the mud he’d barely had time to settle into. He was a bedraggled mess, but then again, so was Kaylin; Dragons and Barrani were exempt. Teela seated the apprentice in front of her.

      “Grethan—where is Evanton? Can you reach him?”

      Grethan swallowed air; his eyes were wide enough the whites seemed to have taken over half the space. “He’s not answering!”

      “Fine—but can you tell Bellusdeo where he is?” Teela had that calm-down-or-I’ll-slap-you tone.

      “He’s—he’s by the pond.”