Cast in Peril. Michelle Sagara

using traditional mirrors, Tara did not; she had a shallow, wide pool, sunk in stone, whose still surface served that function. She stood by the curve of the pool farthest from the door; her eyes were closed. She nonetheless greeted Kaylin and Severn as they entered. She had folded wings, and Kaylin marked the absence of her familiar gardening clothes.

      The pool by her feet had become the ancient version of a modern mirror, although the images in the water were not the ones Kaylin had expected. Where Tiamaris had maps of the fief in every possible view, Tara’s was focused on a set of buildings, as seen from the street. Kaylin frowned. She didn’t know Tiamaris’s fief as well as she once had—the catastrophic encroachment of Shadows had destroyed several buildings, and Tiamaris’s crews were working on replacing them—but these buildings weren’t fief buildings, to her eye. They were too finely kept, too obviously well repaired, and in the fiefs of her youth, that indicated danger.

      “They are not, as you suspect, within Tiamaris.” Tara turned to Kaylin, opening her eyes. They were the color of dull obsidian. “Hello,” she said softly. It took Kaylin a few seconds to realize she was speaking to the small dragon. The dragon lifted his head, stretching his delicate neck. “You are clearly here with Kaylin.”

      He squawked.

      “Can you understand him?” Kaylin asked.

      “Yes. He is not, however, very talkative.” The Avatar frowned. “Can you not understand him?”

      “No. To me, it sounds like he’s squawking.” The dragon batted the side of her cheek with the top of his head. “Sorry,” she told him. “It does.”

      “You are certain you are with Kaylin?” Tara asked him.

      He snorted, a dragon in miniature, and flopped down around the back of Kaylin’s neck. Kaylin reached up to rearrange his claws, frowning at the mirror’s surface. “Do you know what he is?” She asked Tara.

      “No, not entirely. Creatures such as this one were considered auspicious at one time.”

      “You’ve seen familiars before?”

      “I? No. Not directly. There are some fragmentary histories within my records, but they are not firsthand accounts.” She hesitated, which was unusual for Tara. “Perhaps this is not the time to discuss it. I do not judge you to be in danger at present; there are people within the fief, however, who are.” Her eyes once again darkened and hardened, literally.

      “You’re attempting to look outside of the fief’s boundaries?” Kaylin hesitated and then said, “Tiamaris can probably get Halls of Law’s records access as a member of the Dragon Court. I think you’ll find the buildings faster.”

      Severn, however, had come to stand in silence beside Kaylin. “Why are these residences of relevance in this investigation?” He slid into effortless High Barrani. Kaylin marked it; she wasn’t certain Tara did at this point. Spoken language wasn’t an impediment to understanding thoughts—why, Kaylin didn’t know. Tara had tried to explain it before, but Kaylin was pretty certain she thought in words.

      “Yes,” Tara told Severn. “They are significant for that reason.”

      If the concept of mind reading didn’t horrify Kaylin the way it once had, she still hated to be left out of the conversation. She turned to Severn. “Why do you know them?”

      “It was relevant to my former duties,” he replied after a long pause.

      Kaylin tensed. It took effort to keep her hands by her side. “You’re not a Wolf now.”

      “No. But it is just possible that it is also relevant to the Hawks’ current investigation.”

      “The one that caused the Imperial raid?”

      Severn nodded.

      “Arcanists,” was Kaylin’s flat reply.

      “Yes. The property is interesting because it’s owned by Barrani; the deed is registered to a Barrani Lord.”

      “Please don’t tell me it’s registered to Evarrim.”

      Severn’s silence was not a comfort.

      “Severn?”

      “You asked him not to tell you.” Tara’s last word tailed up as if it were a question.

      “That’s not what that phrase means.” To Kaylin’s surprise, Tara didn’t ask her for the precise meaning, or rather, didn’t ask her to explain why the difference existed.

      Severn’s gaze had fallen to the mirror. “You didn’t see this yourself,” he finally said to the Avatar.

      “No,” she replied. “One of the men who crosses the bridge did. He is not a citizen of Tiamaris, but he is responsible for the disposition of building materials.”

      “A merchant?” Kaylin asked.

      “That is what my Lord hopes to ascertain.”

      “Are you reading the minds of every person who crosses the bridge?”

      “Yes. All. It is interesting and challenging, but tedious. It is also very difficult, and the readings may not be fully reliable. Listening to conversations is a much simpler affair. My Lord feels that the disappearances in the fief are not related to the fief itself; he is looking outward.”

      “You know about the raid on the Arcanum.” It wasn’t a question.

      “Yes. My Lord was informed by the Emperor. It is not,” she added with a frown, “information that is to be shared. I’m sorry.”

      “I’m not. I’ll probably regret saying that, later.”

      “Oh. Why?”

      “Because with our luck, it’ll be relevant. Who, exactly, did you take those images from?”

      Tara gestured and the mirror’s image shifted. A man in nondescript clothing appeared in the pool’s center. He was an older man; his hairline had seen better decades, but he seemed fit. She thought him in his mid-fifties, although he might have been younger. His eyes were dark, and his brows gathered across the bridge of a prominent nose, but there was a brightness to them, a focus, that implied lively intelligence.

      “You are absolutely certain that this is the man?” Severn asked softly. It was the wrong kind of soft.

      “Not absolutely,” Tara replied. “As I mentioned, it is difficult to read at this distance.” Before Severn could speak again, she added, “But he is the only man—or woman—present who is quite so difficult to read.”

      “And the rest take more effort but produce more certain results?”

      She frowned. After a long pause, she said, “There is one person I cannot read or follow.”

      “You’ve deployed Morse and her crew?”

      Tara nodded. “Morse doesn’t like it,” she added. “She appears to think I need protection. I am unclear as to why.”

      “Morse isn’t concerned about your physical safety; she’s not stupid. Can’t you just read her mind?”

      “I have. I do not understand much of what she thinks. She is concerned that the people in the fief will somehow take advantage of me.”

      “I can’t imagine why. Can you mirror that image to the Halls?”

      “Which?”

      “Both.”

      Tara nodded.

      “Be very careful,” Severn told her. “Lock it down to a specific person—the Hawklord would be best.”

      “Why?” Kaylin asked sharply.

      “The man in the mirror is influential; he is not considered a friend of the Imperial Halls. He is cautious but political.”

      “Meaning he might be able to access