Читать книгу Cast in Silence - Michelle Sagara - Страница 11

For the rest of the day—admittedly one shortened by two hours in the elemental garden—Kaylin didn’t bump into another offensive sandwich board. Severn assumed the street-side stretch of their patrol. He didn’t speak, and as Kaylin didn’t have much she wanted to say, the rest of their round was pretty damn quiet. By the end of it, she was mostly dry.

So was the letter she was carrying. She wanted to read it. At the same time, she wanted to burn it or toss it into the nearest garbage heap. Elani was fairly tidy, on the other hand, so the garbage heaps were not that close to their patrol route.

Morse, she thought. She glanced once at Severn, and remembered walking different streets, with an entirely different goal, beside Morse. Morse who could talk you deaf or cut you without blinking. She hadn’t been so scarred, back then. She hadn’t looked as old.

But she’d always looked as dangerous.

“Dinner?” Severn asked, as they headed back to the Halls.

“Will it come as much of a surprise if I say I’m not hungry?”

“Actually, it would.”

She grimaced, dredging a small smile out of somewhere. Where, given her mood, she honestly couldn’t say.

“Did you figure out what was bothering you?”

“Probably not. On the other hand, whatever it was couldn’t be as bad as what’s bothering me now.” She hesitated. Glanced at him as they reached the steps that lead into the building. “Severn—”

“We can talk over dinner. We can not talk over dinner, as well. You did a pretty good job of that on patrol.” His smile was slight, and it was shadowed, but he offered it anyway. “I told you, the past is the past. I don’t care to know what you don’t care to tell me.”

She nodded. She knew he meant it. But he didn’t know what she knew. She’d tried to tell him, but only once. Now, she had no desire to even try. Telling him about the past was one thing; telling him about the past when it had crept, unwelcome and unexpected, into the present was another.

What had she expected?

When she’d crossed the bridge over the Ablayne, when she’d stepped foot on the cobbled and patrolled streets of the Emperor’s city, she had never truly expected to stay here. She hadn’t come to escape.

“Kaylin?”

“Sorry, did you say something?”

He grimaced. “Not much. Lockers. We can file a non-report in the morning.”

She nodded and fell into step beside him; they’d managed to make it to the Aerie without any conscious awareness, on her part, of passing through the doors. She remembered the first time she’d come in through the front doors. She remembered the first time she’d arrived at the Halls of Law. They weren’t the same.

For a moment, the Halls of Law looked so insubstantial she could almost see the street through the stonework. But the streets she saw weren’t the streets of Nightshade; they weren’t the streets of the city whose laws she had vowed to give her life enforcing. They were darker, grayer, devoid of even the hope she’d felt in Nightshade at Severn’s side.

Barren.

“Okay,” Severn told her. “Stay here a minute.”

She shook her head and dredged up what she hoped was a smile. Judging from his grimace, it was a pretty pathetic one. “I’ll go get changed,” she told his retreating back.

She walked into the locker room, found her locker and leaned her forehead against its door for a minute.

“Hey.”

She jumped back from the locker door, wondering whether or not she’d fallen asleep standing up. Having done it on one or two occasions, she didn’t wonder if it were possible, but it was never anything like good sleep, and it usually ended abruptly with the unpleasant sensation of falling, and the even less pleasant sensation of landing.

“Teela?”

Teela grinned. Barrani didn’t smile or laugh much as a general rule, and when they did, it was usually at someone else’s expense. “You look like crap,” she told Kaylin. “Come on, get changed. We’re not going out if you’re dressed like that. Iron Jaw would have our hides pinned to the dartboard by morning. If he waited that long.”

Kaylin’s body started to obey; she stripped off her tabard and her armor, taking care to set Morse’s letter on the inside of her locker. But her brain caught up, and she stopped, tunic halfway over her upper body. “What do you mean, we’re going out?”

“Severn seems to think you need a drink.”

“I’m not going to get a drink if I go out with you!”

Teela’s shrug was lazy. “Tain’s been bored all day.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. I am not going out drinking with Tain. Not when he’s bored.”

Teela, stripping off her own gear, laughed. “We’re not going to cause too much trouble. Your Corporal is going with us.”

“You’ve gone drinking with officers and you’ve managed to wreck half a tavern!”

She shrugged, her lazy smile spreading across her full lips. “They weren’t conscious for most of it.”

“Teela—”

“And I’m guessing your Corporal can hold his drinks a tad better. Which, all things considered, would be a pity.”

“Teela, don’t even think it.”

“Last I heard, thinking wasn’t illegal. Come on, Kaylin. I’ve never gone drinking with Severn.”

“Obviously not, if this was his idea. I’m going to kill him.”

“Can you kill him after I’m finished?”

“No.”

Teela laughed as someone started hammering on the door. That would be Tain, Kaylin thought. “You get it,” she told Teela, as she belted her tunic. “I’ve had a bad enough day already.”

It had been several months since Kaylin had gone drinking with Teela and Tain. Several months, in fact, since she had appeared at work, slightly gray-faced, with dark circles under her eyes and a headache that she was certain at the time not even beheading would cure.

Teela had shrugged her way out of her regulation gear. Since Teela was tall and almost preternaturally beautiful—a characteristic she shared with all of her race—she would look stunning in sack-cloth; the change of clothing did not actually make that much of a difference. The same could be said of Tain, although Tain had a chipped tooth. That single flaw had made him the first of the Barrani that Kaylin could easily distinguish; they all looked very similar when she had first joined the Hawks.

Severn, however, wore black and gray, and he looked very different. He had set aside his obvious weapons, although he still wore his chains; they were wrapped around his waist like a fashion statement. It was not exactly cold in Elantra at this time of year, but Kaylin wore the usual long-sleeved shirt. The marks on her arms made her self-conscious, and she could live more easily with sweat.

They approached the front doors. Clint was on guard duty. When he saw Kaylin beside Teela, he grimaced. “Teela—”

“We’re off-duty,” she told him cheerfully.

He rolled his eyes. Kaylin privately thought he’d lost his mind if he expected responsibility from that quarter.

Severn, however, smiled at Clint. “I’ll stop them from trashing the tavern.”

Clint grimaced. “You’ve clearly never gone drinking with Teela and Tain.”

Severn’s idea of drinking was not Teela’s idea of drinking; he led them to the Spotted Pig. Kaylin glanced at Teela; she was betting they had about fifteen minutes before Teela decided to go somewhere else. Only on a very lucky day would her “go someplace else” not involve dragging Kaylin with her when she stormed out.

Barrani clientele was always a mixed blessing, because about a quarter of the time, something ugly happened. The definition of ugly was a real-life lesson in cultural paradigms, because nothing had ever happened that Teela did not find amusing.

The fact that neither Teela nor Tain said a word when they entered the quiet and rather unpretentious environs of the Spotted Pig was a bit suspicious. Given they were Barrani, suspicion was only natural; Kaylin took a seat—at a table—beside Severn. Teela and Tain occupied the bench across from them. They seldom ate much when they went anywhere; human food was not generally to their taste, although Kaylin, having eaten with the Barrani in no less a place than the High Court, didn’t really see why.

They ordered food and wine; the wine arrived before the food, and it arrived in mugs that were better suited to ale.

Kaylin looked at Severn.

“What exactly is going on here?”

“We’re having a bite to eat, and something to drink. Maybe,” Tain added, glancing around the quiet room. “I can’t imagine—”

Teela stepped on his foot. Kaylin couldn’t actually see this, of course, but she could hear it, and frankly, very little else would cut Tain off.

“Severn.”

“Oh, leave him alone, kitling.”

Kaylin’s eyes narrowed. It had been years—with a few exceptions—since anyone but Marcus had called her by that name. And most of those years had gone into living down the rank of Office Mascot. She stared at Teela, who smiled her slow, lazy, catlike grin. “What’s this about, Teela?”

“You tell me. Severn said you met an old acquaintance on your rounds in Elani.”

“No one you’d know.”

Tain, who had been mostly silent, started to drink. “This isn’t terrible,” he told Teela, mock surprise in every word.

She cuffed the side of his head, although her fingers trailed sensuously through the length of his hair afterward, which ruined the gesture, in Kaylin’s opinion. “Kitling,” she said, resting her elbows on the scarred, old wood, “we were told not to ask you many questions.”

“And you listened about as well as you normally do.”

Teela shrugged. “It’s habit. When you first wandered into the office, Marcus made clear to everyone there—particularly the Barrani—that you were not to be too heavily discouraged. Or damaged,” she added.

“Too bad he didn’t make that clearer to the drillmaster.”

“If you’d blocked the way you said you could, he wouldn’t have broken your arm. And you didn’t, that I recall, lie about your abilities again after that. Don’t make that face. It healed quickly enough,” Teela pointed out. “You came to the Hawks as a fledgling. You’ve made this job your life.”

Kaylin tensed slightly, waiting for the rest. But she was surprised at where the conversation now went. She shouldn’t have been; she’d seen Teela drive, after all, and she knew what Teela’s steering was like. Unpredictable was probably the kindest thing she could call it.

“I came to the Hawks from the High Halls. It wasn’t considered upward mobility,” she added with a grimace, “and it wasn’t exactly peaceful.”

“You didn’t break any laws before you joined.”

“How would you know? You spent a couple of days in the High Halls, under the watchful eye of the Lord of the West March. I spent my life there. I underwent the test of Name. I lived in the Court.” She lifted her mug and drank wine as if it were water—and she was parched. “The Caste Laws apply in the High Court.”

“Teela—”

“Hush. Hear me out.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Teela glanced at Severn. Kaylin, who had always been curious about Teela’s life—about all of the Barrani Hawks, if it came to that—didn’t. But it took effort.

“Caste Law applies in the High Court,” Tain said. He waved at the barkeep, his mug empty. “Fief Law applies in the fiefs. The two are not entirely dissimilar.”

“They’re completely different.”

“No, they’re not.”

“You’ve never lived in the fiefs.”

“And you,” he said pointedly, “have never lived in the High Halls without the title Lord.”

She considered this quietly. Teela nudged her drink, and Kaylin said, “I’m not going to finish it, if you want it.” This earned her a brief grimace and a kick under the table.

“You’ve met my cousin,” Teela said, picking up the reins of the conversation again.

“As far as I can tell, half the High Court is related to you.”

“Not half.”

“Which cousin?” Kaylin asked. She wasn’t being disingenuous; she honestly had no idea.

“Evarrim.”

“Ugh.” Evarrim was an Arcanist. Arcanists, as far as Kaylin was concerned, were slightly lower on the decency scale than drug dealers. She didn’t understand why the Emperor tolerated them; he had his own mages, after all, and at least half of the Wolves’ hunts had been former Arcanists.

Tain waved the bartender over again.

“His mother was blessed with five children over the course of her marriage. Evarrim is the last one left standing. It was noted, of course.”

“What—he killed the others?” Kaylin grimaced. She’d meant it as a joke, but it had fallen flat even before Teela nodded.

“Teela—”

“If Evarrim hadn’t been the sole survivor, one of the others would have. He was canny enough, and powerful enough, to beat them at their own game. I played Court games,” she said quietly. “I also survived. Do you understand?”

After a moment of silence, Kaylin nodded.

“But even survival can become boring after a while.”

“You joined the Hawks because you were bored?”

Tain said, “No.”

“Then—then why?”

“Because she did not trust me,” he replied, “not to dare the Tower and take the test of Name.”

Kaylin stared at them both, and then turned to Severn. “If this is your idea of cheering me up, you need better ideas.”

He shrugged, but did grimace. “With the Barrani, you take whatever they offer.”

“No, with the Barrani, you don’t ask.” But she took a swig of the wine, and glanced at Tain.

“What she was trying to say,” he told Kaylin, “is that it doesn’t matter. What she did in pursuit of survival would probably give you ulcers, and she isn’t about to recount it all—it would take two months.”

“Three,” Teela drawled.

Tain rolled his very attractive eyes. Although he was serious—which seldom happened—those eyes were a shade of deep green; what he said was fact, not dirty secret. “What we did in the High Courts, we don’t do in the Imperial City. We uphold the Emperor’s law. We generally find it amusing,” he added, with a nod in Teela’s direction. “It’s certainly less formal; it’s usually less dangerous.” He said the last with a tinge of regret. “The laws that defined our lives there, and that define Teela’s life when she is called to Court, aren’t the same.

“Although we have better drink,” he added.

It was true. Kaylin looked up as food joined drink on the pocked table. It was some sort of cubed chicken with rice, potatoes and—ugh—little peas.

“I do not understand your people’s obsession with potatoes,” Teela said, her nose wrinkling in mild—for Teela—distaste. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last, but it was oddly comforting.

“The High Court is no longer my home. And the fiefs,” she added pointedly, “are no longer yours. Understood?”

“You think I’d go back there? Do I look stupid?”

“Generally,” Tain said helpfully. “Look, if they try to blackmail you, ignore it.” At Kaylin’s sudden tightening of expression, he rolled his eyes. “It’s completely obvious that’s what you’re afraid of. You can read it in your face a mile off. And you’re probably right,” he added with a shrug. “They’ll try, if they know where you are.”

They did, and that fact had bothered Kaylin almost as much as seeing Morse again. They had known where she would be, and with enough notice that they could find Billington, pay him to stir up a bit of trouble, break a window and time both things so that they’d catch her attention. If someone in the office was feeding information to the fieflord of Barren, it was more than simple trouble. If someone wasn’t feeding information to Barren, it was worse: it meant Barren had some way of looking into the Halls of Law that no one had yet noticed. Neither of these things were good.

But she hadn’t gone back to the office to talk with Marcus; she hadn’t even tried to point it out. It was what she damn well should have done. But had she, she’d have to answer questions. She wasn’t quite up to that, tonight.

“You can laugh in their face if it helps. I generally find breaking things attached to them more helpful, but you’ve been known to be squeamish, on occasion. On the other hand—”

“Shut up, Tain.”

“—you’ve also been known to—”

Teela elbowed him, hard. He did stop talking, but he turned a blue-eyed and murderous glare on his partner; her own eyes had shaded dark, but she was smiling.

“All right,” Severn whispered. “You win. This was ill-advised.”

And that did make Kaylin feel a bit better.

They did not, as it turned out, end up dead drunk. An attempt to insult the barkeeper fell so totally flat Kaylin wondered if he was deaf. On the other hand, neither Teela nor Tain had worked themselves into that dangerous state the Barrani called boredom. They were, Kaylin realized, genuinely worried about her.

And given that they were Barrani, they might continue to do so when they knew what she’d done. If they ever knew.

“I was in Barren for six months,” she told them. She hadn’t intended to say it; it had just fallen out of her mouth. She set her cup aside.

“You were in Nightshade,” Teela pointed out, “for thirteen years.”

“Barren was different,” she said quietly.

“Why?”

“It was—it was just different.”

“Find out what they want, Kaylin,” Tain told her quietly. “Or we will.” He nodded in Teela’s direction.

“You can’t just walk into Barren and demand answers.”

“We can try. I’ve never been into the fiefs,” he added, “but Teela used to head there when she was bored.”

“She went to Barren when she was bored?” Kaylin could have sounded more appalled if she’d really worked at it—but not by much.

“Not just Barren,” Teela added, grinning broadly. The grin faded. “But the fiefs aren’t what they were when I was young. Find out what they want. Do not do anything stupid.”

Kaylin hesitated, and then reached into the folds of her tunic. When she withdrew her hand, it held the letter that Morse had given her. Funny, how it didn’t burn; it should have. “I wanted to keep this to myself,” she told them all: Severn, who hadn’t spoken a word, Teela, Tain. She especially did not want to talk to Marcus or Caitlin. She didn’t want to hear a word that someone out of department, like, say, Mallory, had to say. She just didn’t want to see the looks on their faces.

Teela shrugged. “Yes, that was obvious. And clearly your Corporal is willing to let you do that—but we’re not.”

Kaylin set the letter on the table, and picked up her mug. “You didn’t leave Tain behind,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“You came to the Hawks—you brought him with you. You didn’t leave him behind in the High Courts.”

Teela was silent for a moment, and the silence wasn’t punctuated by her slow grin. It was almost human. “No,” Teela said at last, “I didn’t. This person you met in Elani was a friend?”

“Maybe. A lot can change in seven years.”

“Remember that.”

Kaylin nodded, swallowing wine and something more bitter as she did. She picked up the letter, unfolded the paper and cringed before she’d read the first word. It was Barren’s handwriting. Maybe some things never changed.

Elianne,

I’ve been following your progress as I can—I admit it’s surprised me. You didn’t fall from the Tower, although the Hawklord’s still in it. You landed on your feet; he probably has no idea why you made your way out of the fiefs in the first place.

I know you didn’t like working for me; no one does. Doesn’t matter. You like working for the Hawklord, and I’m fine with that—everyone has to eat. But you probably want to keep on working across the river.

Working for the Law has its drawbacks. I don’t care what you are or what you’ve done—but the Law does. You know that.

The way I look at it, girl, you owe your life to me. You wouldn’t be where you are if I hadn’t sent you. And you probably can’t stay where you are, if they know why. I’ve got the information, and I can make your life very, very difficult without ever crossing a bridge.

But I’m not a malicious man. I’m a fieflord, and I aim to stay that way.

You’re going to help me, if the rumors are true. I’ll be generous. You’ve got three days before a small packet crosses the bridge in the hands of one of your old friends. In three days time, you can head it off at the bridge; if she sees you, she’ll bring you home, and the package will travel with you.

—Barren

She lifted the mug, drained it, choked enough to bring tears to her eyes. Then she handed the letter to Severn, in silence. Her hands were shaking.

He took it and set it down without reading it. “Kaylin—”

She picked it up again, and shoved it into his hands. This time, she met and held his gaze. “I tried to tell you,” she whispered.

“Yes. And I told you I didn’t care.”

“Care now. Just read the gods-cursed thing.”

A brief pause. Severn’s brief pause, in which she could imagine almost any thought, any concern and any anger. He ended it with a nod, and he turned his attention to the letter—but she felt it anyway. It didn’t take him long to read it, and when he’d finished, he set it down in the exact same place on the table.

“He was clever enough not to say anything at all.”

“Three days,” she replied.

“Are you two going to share that?” Teela asked, holding a hand out across the table.

“No.” Kaylin picked up the letter and folded it. “Teela, Tain—I’m almost grateful for tonight. But I don’t want you involved with Barren.”

The silence that followed this statement was exactly the wrong type of silence, coming as it did from Teela. When she broke it, her tone could have frozen water. Or blood. “And we’re somehow at more risk than a human Corporal?”

Severn’s brow rose, but he was smart enough not to answer.

“Severn trusts me enough that he’ll let me do what I feel I have to do,” was Kaylin’s very—very—careful reply. “You both think of me as if I’m still a thirteen-year-old mascot, trailing around under Marcus’s claws.”

“And that’s inaccurate how?”

“My point. You don’t trust me.”

“I trusted you,” Teela pointed out, each word sharp and staccato, “with the life of the Lord of the West March.”

“Yes—but he was as good as dead. You had nothing to lose.”

Severn caught Kaylin’s wrist. She met his stare dead-on, and after a moment, she grimaced. Without another word, she handed the letter to Teela, whose hand had conveniently not moved an inch.

“Honestly, Kaylin,” Teela said, taking it, “you make the biggest fuss about the littlest things. It’s such a human trait.”

“We don’t consider them little.”

“Because you’ve only got a handful of years in which to attempt to truly screw things up. Try living a millennia or more. It’ll give you perspective.”

“I bet when you were young, you had to personally dig your own wells just to get water, too,” Kaylin said, under her breath.

Teela, who appeared to be reading the letter, said, “I heard that.” She looked up, handed the letter to Tain, and said, “So, why exactly did Barren send you out of his fief?”

She looked across the table; she could not look at Severn. But even not looking at him, she felt his presence as strongly as she had ever felt his absence. “He sent me,” she said quietly, “to kill the Hawklord.”