Cast in Peril. Michelle Sagara

This wasn’t entirely true; it was willing to sit on the top of her head or be gathered in the palms of her hands, but neither of these were as convenient.

      “You’re going to have to come up with a name for it sometime; if I hear it referred to as the ‘small dragon’ or ‘glass dragon’ again, I’ll scream.”

      “That’s what the Arkon—”

      “He’s ancient and probably half-blind.”

      “Dragons don’t go blind with age.”

      For some reason, this completely factual statement didn’t meet with Bellusdeo’s approval.

      * * *

      When she exited the Palace, Severn was waiting. He fell in beside her in a stiffer-than-usual silence.

      “I’m sorry,” she said without looking at him. “I—”

      “I heard about it this morning.”

      “How?”

      “Teela mirrored me; she thought I’d like to know before I hit the office.”

      “I—”

      “You had better things to worry about.”

      “You’re angry anyway.”

      “I’m angry, yes, but I’m not angry at you.” He stopped walking. “I should have been there.”

      “You didn’t know.”

      “Why didn’t you mirror when you hit the office?”

      “Everyone was so pissed off, I didn’t think about it.” She hesitated and then added, “I’m still not thinking about it very clearly. At all. I know what happened—I was there—but part of me still thinks I can take the normal route home.”

      “You could stay with me.”

      She hesitated. “I would,” she said, because it was true. “But I can’t leave Bellusdeo. The Emperor won’t give permission for her to live with you—not that you’d enjoy it—and I’m betting he won’t give his blessing if I move out on my own, unless she requests it.”

      He glanced at the small dragon on her shoulder but made no comment; Kaylin guessed that Teela had also mentioned its appearance, and didn’t ask. Mention of her home had dampened a mood that hadn’t been that cheery to begin with.

      * * *

      Kaylin made it to the Halls with a few minutes to spare and found Tanner and Kelmar on the doors. Getting into the Halls took a little longer than usual, because both of the Hawks wanted to take a look at the glass dragon, and the glass dragon seemed lazily inclined to allow their inspection. While they looked, Kaylin asked if they’d had any word, and their nonanswer was incentive enough to jog through the Halls to the office.

      There, she headed straight to the duty board. She read it with care, grinding her teeth as she noticed the address of her apartment and the fact that it wasn’t anywhere near her name.

      She then headed straight for Caitlin. “Why am I not being pulled in on the investigation into my own apartment?”

      “Think about what you just said, dear.”

      “But it’s my—”

      “Exactly. Your judgment would not be considered impartial or objective enough.” Caitlin frowned slightly. “I realize you’re upset—”

      “I think I’m allowed!”

      “—but you shouldn’t be so upset that you forget one of the more significant rules governing investigative assignments. If it helps, the Imperial Order has been working since—”

      “Have they found anything?”

      “Not conclusively.”

      Kaylin perked up. “What was inconclusive?”

      “There was, as far as the mages could tell, only one signature left at the site.”

      “That’s unusual.” Kaylin hesitated and then added, “It’s also inaccurate.”

      Caitlin winced. “I think you should talk to Marcus, dear. But he’s been dealing with Dragons and mages, so he’s not in the best of moods.”

      * * *

      “This had better be important,” Marcus said as she approached his desk. He didn’t even bother to look up. He was elbow deep in reports. This would have been unusual, but as it was not the most unusual thing about Marcus at this very moment, Kaylin barely noticed. His left arm—or the fur on it—had been either seared or singed off. “What are you staring at, Private?”

      “Nothing. Sir.”

      “Good. Why are you gaping at nothing in front of my desk?”

      She took a deep breath and lifted her chin slightly. “It’s about my apartment.”

      “No.”

      “It’s not about the investigation,” she said quickly. “But the Imperial mages apparently only found one magical signature at the detonation site. I saw two.”

      Marcus dug a runnel into the desk. “When exactly did you see these?”

      “Just after the bomb destroyed my home.”

      “Good. I’d hate to have to demote or discipline the Hawks on duty there today; you are not supposed to be on-site. At all.” He gave up on the report he was writing—for a value of write that involved reading and a signature that was shaky to begin with—and lifted his head to stare at her. After a significant pause, he pulled a report from one of the piles. “Here.”

      Kaylin had learned love of reports from Marcus but took it anyway.

      “I’m up to my armpits in Imperial Concern,” he continued before she could ask about its contents. “The Imperial Order will be interested in what you have to say about a second signature. They’re also likely to feel insulted. I suggest you go directly to Lord Sanabalis; I’ve come this close to relieving one mage of his throat this morning already.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Read that report. You can give me a précis of what it actually says later. And, Private, I mean it: you go anywhere near our investigators at your former address, and you’ll be suspended without pay until you leave the City.”

      * * *

      Reading reports wasn’t nearly as onerous as writing them—unless you happened to be the Sergeant. Kaylin retired to her cramped, small desk, discovered that someone had commandeered her chair, and sat on the desk’s nearly pristine surface instead of going to find it. Bellusdeo was not in the office, and her mood was not Kaylin’s problem, but she felt guilty enjoying the Dragon’s absence. The report helped with that, but not in a good way.

      She was uncertain as to why the report was even on Marcus’s desk, because in theory, it involved the fiefs. The Hawks kept an eye on the bridges between the fiefs and the rest of the City, but it was cursory; they couldn’t stop traffic from entering the fiefs, and they couldn’t stop traffic from leaving them, either, although admittedly questions were asked in either case. There was, with the exception of Tiamaris, very little of either.

      Oh, wait. There it was: the small tendril that led to the large, omnipresent web. A boy, Miccha Jannoson, had, on a dare from his friends—Kaylin snorted at the word—crossed the bridge from the City into the fiefs. He was lucky, in that the fief in question was Tiamaris; there was enough traffic over that bridge, and most of it seemed to return in the other direction at the end of the day.

      He was unlucky, in that he didn’t appear to be one of the returnees. His grandmother had filed a report with Missing Persons the following morning. Which would be yesterday.

      Tiamaris was both fieflord and Dragon Lord, and he was willing to cooperate with the Halls of Law in their search.