Читать книгу Cast In Honour - Michelle Sagara - Страница 13

Chapter 7

“No, sir,” Kaylin replied, already knowing where the conversation was headed.

“I’m going to ask you not to.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ironjaw’s eyes narrowed. “‘Yes,’ you agree not to speak with Moran, or ‘Yes,’ you know I’m asking you not to?”

“You’re asking me not to, sir. Offering her someplace other than the infirmary as a temporary home is not against any law on the books. It’s not against any departmental regulations.” Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t order me not to.”

Marcus said nothing.

Teela stepped on her foot.

Kaylin frowned, thinking. “You’re not actually angry at the fact that I’m late.”

“You’re becoming more observant as you age,” Marcus replied. “It’s not an improvement.”

“What’s happening with Moran?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss Moran’s situation. She has special dispensation to use the infirmary as a base of operations while she recovers from her injuries.” The word while sounded an awful like if.

“Has the Hawklord spoken to you about this?”

Marcus growled. His eyes returned to their more prominent orange, but his fur remained mostly where it had settled.

“We need to check in with Hanson,” Teela said, pulling her away from Marcus before she dug herself in any deeper.

* * *

“Of course the Hawklord has spoken to Marcus. Marcus is enraged. Moran is technically one partial rank below Marcus in hierarchy, but Marcus thinks of Moran as part of his tribe. He is not happy with whatever the Hawklord said. Part of that must have included you—as in, keeping you under a tighter rein. Don’t make Marcus acknowledge that if you want to do anything useful.”

“Is that why he was so pissed off?”

“You being late probably didn’t help. Bellusdeo being absent didn’t help, either. You realize it’s his neck on the line if—”

“Yes. Mine happens to be on the line, as well.”

“He’s aware of that. You’ve slept by his hearth, kitling. You are not his child—but you might as well be. He is never going to trust the Dragons; having Bellusdeo hanging around the office gets under his skin. Having Bellusdeo in the office and outside of his jurisdiction is actively annoying. Having you responsible for her when the Dragon Court doesn’t appear to exercise much control makes him angry.”

“This has nothing to do with Moran.”

“No. Before you give me the side-eye, I’m not entirely familiar with Moran’s circumstances. I admit that I was surprised when I first met her, but she’s sergeant material—and Hawk material—through and through.”

“Tell me why you were surprised.”

Teela hedged. “You know that you are not sent on sensitive investigations.” Sensitive being code for crimes involving the rich and the powerful. “You are left out of investigations of the Caste Courts.”

Kaylin missed a step. “Please tell me Moran isn’t part of the Aerian Caste Court.”

“I know very, very little about the Aerian Caste Court,” Teela replied. This was not an answer, and they both knew it. “But Moran is the daughter of an influential flight. She is the daughter of possibly the influential flight. I don’t know her reasons for joining the Hawks. To be fair, she doesn’t know mine, either. The Hawks are, in theory, not politically or racially motivated.”

“In theory?”

“In practice, the Hawks are people. People are political. I don’t expect any group of people to be perfect, theoretical beings—for one, the pay isn’t nearly high enough. Some of the racial decisions made are purely pragmatic; the Barrani are preferentially sent into figurative war zones because we’re much more likely to survive them. There is no equality because we are not equal; we are different. I attempt to respect those differences.”

“Given your comments about mortals, I’d fail you if I were teaching.”

Teela chuckled. “Respect, among the Barrani, generally means something different. If, for instance, I say I respect your territory, what I mean is I will not attempt to conquer it. It does not mean that I find your sloping, creaking floors, your pathetically short ceilings, your warped doors and their insignificant hinges or your...windows...to be the equal of my own.”

Kaylin rolled her eyes.

“Moran is significant to the Aerians.”

“I hadn’t noticed her being treated with anything but the usual respect.”

“Indeed. You’ve assumed it’s because of her rank and her function.”

Kaylin snorted. “Have you ever tried to avoid her when you’re injured?”

“Frequently.”

“Has it worked?”

“Less frequently.”

“She had Marcus practically strapped to a bed. Last I looked, he didn’t have wings.”

“Fair enough. Marcus doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with your request. Neither does Caitlin. But don’t ask him for permission—either do it or decide on the better part of valor.” She headed up the stairs as she spoke, and Kaylin fell in behind her. “Let’s talk to Hanson and then head to the infirmary.”

* * *

The Hawklord ruled the Hawks, but the details of schedule, among other things, was decided by Hanson, his attaché. Unless the Hawklord personally summoned you, you didn’t see him without speaking to Hanson first.

Hanson’s office door was creaky and stiff. Nothing would induce him to change this; it was his early warning system, as far as Kaylin could tell. He was at his desk, his glasses hooked to his ears but resting on his graying head, rather than in front of his eyes.

He didn’t look particularly surprised to see Kaylin; he didn’t look entirely thrilled, either. Hanson wasn’t normally unfriendly—he wasn’t, like Mallory or a handful of other Hawks, disgusted at her inclusion on the force.

“You don’t look happy to see me.”

“I am delighted to see you,” he replied, looking anything but. His lips did twitch, though. He glanced at Teela, and the hint of a smile vanished. “You, on the other hand, look like you have no time to waste.”

“If you’re the roadblock, I’m perfectly happy to take a break.”

“Thanks, no. What do you need?”

“Sergeant Kassan requires a fire to be lit under the butts of the Imperial mages on duty in the Winding Path investigation.”

Hanson glanced at the mirror on the left of his desk. It was smaller than Marcus’s mirror, but it was significantly cleaner. People did not leave fingerprints on Hanson’s mirror. “How big is this going to get?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Teela replied.

This time Hanson grimaced. “Anything else?”

“That we know of? No.”

Hanson’s mirror flared white in the room. “Private,” a familiar Leontine voice barked. “Imperial Palace transmission. Your presence is requested—an hour ago—in the Imperial Library.”

“The message just came in, sir.”

“Don’t bother with logic,” Hanson said; he had clearly keyed the mirror to mute his voice. “Nothing you do is going to make the rabid Leontine sheathe his claws. Not today.”

* * *

“Is it too much to ask?” Kaylin muttered as she tromped down the stairs.

“Is what?”

“A normal day.”

“Be careful what you wish for. As far as I can tell, this is your new normal.” Teela’s grin was sharp and very Barrani.

“It’s not just the weirdness of the Winding Path. I could deal with that. Marcus is almost certainly going to insist we accompany Red when he goes—but that’s work. It’s Hawk work. But I also have to go home to Mandoran and Annarion—and can I just say that Annarion has been in a mood? He’s getting angrier by the day.”

“You are not telling me anything I have not fully experienced for myself. Are you going to tell him about Gilbert?”

“I’m going to talk to Helen first—because if I tell him about Gilbert, he’s going to demand to visit, and Helen hasn’t cleared him yet.”

“Ah.”

“We lost too many people the last time he walked our streets. Knowing what we know now, it would be consenting to murder just to let him out the door.” She exhaled. “And he knows that. I’m not being fair. I would just... I’d kind of like to be able to leave my work at the office once in a while.”

“You’re whining.”

“Yes. I’m whining where a grouchy Leontine won’t hear me and rip out my throat.” Kaylin exhaled. “Sorry. I kind of like them both. And I understand why Annarion is going crazy—if one of my foundlings was missing, I wouldn’t be able to sit still, practicing whatever it is he’s practicing. But Nightshade’s not anyone’s definition of helpless. If we somehow find out that he is in Ravellon—and I seriously doubt that he could be, because I’d hear him, I’m certain of it—it’s Nightshade who’s likely to survive it in one piece.”

“Annarion doesn’t want to take you with them.”

This should have made Kaylin feel better, but it didn’t. It annoyed her.

“He will, though.”

Kaylin stopped at the base of the Tower steps. “You can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Actually, I can.”

“You’re not going to Ravellon, Teela. Even if we do go.”

Teela smiled her best “that’s nice, dear” smile and walked past Kaylin into the office.

* * *

The Arkon, Caitlin told them—both Hawks studiously avoiding Marcus’s desk—had requested their presence in the Imperial Library. Bellusdeo, Tain and Severn would meet them there.

That left only one item on Kaylin’s list of things to do in this location. She headed to the infirmary. Moran was significant to the Aerian Caste Court. Kaylin knew the Human Caste Court—and didn’t particularly care for it—but it seemed to be a type of figurehead organization of the rich and powerful. The Caste Court could, in theory, rescue mortals from Imperial Law by invoking the laws of exception—and it had, historically. None of those exceptions had been called for in Kaylin’s seven years with the force.

She understood the composition of the Barrani Caste Court; they had never invoked laws of exception. Anyone Barrani who might have benefited from them wound up dead—very obviously dead—in a public space. If the Barrani in question had thrown themselves on the mercy of the Imperial Courts, however, their desire or request took precedence, whether the racial Caste Court liked it or not.

But the Aerian Caste Court was entirely unfamiliar to Kaylin. Kaylin tried briefly to imagine Moran throwing herself on the mercy of anything, and came up blank. She stared, instead, at the very closed infirmary door. Aerians, as a general rule, weren’t fond of closed doors; this one was the equivalent of writing GET LOST in large, unfriendly letters.

Kaylin tried the door anyway. It wasn’t locked—during normal operating hours, it wouldn’t be. Moran was seated, back toward the door, displaying her injuries. “Unless you’re dying,” she said, without turning, “I’m busy.” Her tone also indicated that physical state could be changed.

The small dragon left Kaylin’s shoulder before she could stop him—and she did try. He flew straight to Moran, and landed, somewhat messily, on what appeared to be her paperwork. Kaylin cringed. Her familiar squawked.

Moran’s ill humor did not immediately descend on the small, winged creature—anyone else would have lost a hand. “Private,” she said, still refusing to turn around, “this is not a good time to have a discussion. The infirmary—absent usual emergencies—is closed.”

“I didn’t come here because I’m injured.” Or because she wanted to be, but Kaylin chose to leave that out. “I came because you’re living here.”

Moran exhaled heavily. “Come and get your pet.”

Squawk.

“Or whatever it is you call him.”

“I call him ‘small and squawky.’”

“Which has the advantage of being accurate, I suppose.” Moran finally turned on her stool. She looked bruised and haggard; her hair was flat and dull, and her eyes were gray—a dark gray, not the ash-gray that meant serenity. “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re living in the infirmary.” Moran opened her mouth and Kaylin lifted a hand. “The only so-called living quarters in the Halls of Law are the cells. I have this on the authority of the Hawklord—because when I appeared in his Tower years ago, that’s exactly what he told me.”

Moran’s brows rose.

“Marcus insists that we lead by example. You’re several ranks above me. You’re not—that I know of—living in a cell.”

Teela, who had entered the room behind Kaylin, said a resounding nothing.

“You would have hated my old apartment—you would have twisted a wing just getting through the door. But I have a new place. Maybe you’ve heard something about it?”

“Not a lot. Caitlin mentioned she’d be visiting sometime next week.”

Not to Kaylin, but that was irrelevant. There was never a day on which Kaylin wouldn’t be happy to allow Caitlin into her home—she had even given her keys to the first one. “When you say not a lot—”

“I know you’re living with Bellusdeo and two Barrani who are visiting the city.” Her eye color slid toward blue. Aerian blue wasn’t Barrani blue, but the color shift indicated pretty much the same thing. Which of course meant Moran had heard a lot more than she was letting on.

“You forgot the Norannir. I’ve got a Norannir in residence, as well.”

“You’ve got one of the giants in your home?”

Kaylin nodded.

“Does he fit?”

“The common ceilings are pretty high. I’ve got a tower—much like the Hawklord’s Tower—as well, although that won’t be as useful to you right now.”

Moran folded her arms.

“You probably don’t want to live with me, and I get that. You’ve probably never lived anywhere where someone could just lob an Arcane bomb if they wanted you dead.”

“Not recently, no.”

Kaylin stopped. Moran’s expression was deadly serious. “You’ve had someone lob an Arcane bomb into your home?”

“Not recently,” Moran repeated. “And that is an entirely personal matter; it has nothing to do with the Hawks.”

Kaylin lost track of most of her words and attempted to gather them again. “Please don’t tell me you’re staying in the Halls of Law because their base protections are so strong.”

“Fine.”

“Moran—”

“I can’t get to and from the Aerie in my current state. I won’t abandon my responsibilities here while I laze about waiting to heal. I will not,” she added, in the same dire tone, “allow you to heal me—we’ve had this discussion before.” She exhaled. “And no, I’m not comfortable accepting hospitality in another’s home at the present time.”

“The Emperor is willing to let Bellusdeo stay with me.”

“Good for him.”

“He even said he’d enjoy seeing the Barrani attempt to assassinate her again. He doesn’t think they’d survive even the attempt.”

Moran stilled. “You’re paraphrasing.”

“I’m not Barrani—I don’t remember his exact words.”

“Wait. You’re claiming that you heard the Emperor say this directly?”

Kaylin snapped her jaw shut. Teela had, apparently, forgotten to breathe. Which was unfortunate, because Moran turned to the Barrani Hawk for the first time since they’d entered the room. “When did you let Private Neya speak with the Emperor? It was agreed—” She stopped abruptly, shaking her head. “Apparently the private isn’t the only one who’s forgetting herself. I’m going to pretend I never heard you say that—and you’re going to pretend you never said it. Records,” she added, speaking to the flat and nascent mirror, “note. Personal Records: infirmary.”

“My current home is Helen. She’s like the Tower in Tiamaris. She’s not as strong, and she’s not as aware of events that occur outside of her grounds—or walls, I’m not entirely certain. Inside her walls, she’s got the same control over architecture that Tara has: she can make and change whole rooms, stairs, ceilings, floors—you name it. I wasn’t lying about the aperture in the tower—we used it to join the battle outside the High Halls.

“I don’t want you to live in the infirmary. One: I was told it was almost illegal, and I want to believe that everyone has to live by the same rules. Two: it’s not a home. You never get to leave your place of work. Everything frustrating about it—and having seen some of your patients, I can’t believe there’s no frustration—is around you all the time.

“If you’re here because you won’t take a leave of absence—and I get that because I couldn’t afford to lose more than a week’s pay myself—”

Teela cleared her throat.

Kaylin forged ahead. “—then the Hawks are grateful. You’re scary—but anyone who wasn’t couldn’t be in charge here. People obey you instinctively. They obey you when you give orders.”

“Or when I tell them to get the hell out of my infirmary?”

Kaylin reddened, but plunged on. “I know Aerians don’t live in normal houses. I know the Aerie is nothing like any of the rooms we’ve seen in Helen so far. But Helen can make quarters that will at least be comfortable for you. It’s not far from the Halls, and there’s nothing wrong with your legs. If you’re likely to face assassins while walking to work, it’s not more of a risk than you probably faced while flying in.”

“Kaylin—no.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want—”

“I’m not at risk, Moran!” Kaylin was almost surprised at the strength of her emotional response—an emotion she was trying very hard to name.

Her efforts, as they often were when she felt too strongly about something, were apparently wasted. Moran’s eyes shifted back to gray, though. “Kitling,” she said—a word she seldom used with Kaylin, “—it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”

“I’ve never had much,” Kaylin said, in a lower tone. “When I came here—when the Hawklord chose not to—” She swallowed. “I had the clothing on my back and the gear I’d used to scale the Tower. I had my weapons. I didn’t have a coin in my pocket. I didn’t have a home of my own.

“Not everyone loved me. Not everyone liked me. One or two people were offended by my very presence. But most of the Hawks were at least neutral, and some of them were even friendly. Caitlin helped me find a place of my own. I didn’t have the money to pay for it, so the Hawks did.”

“That came out of a very specific budget, I recall.”

“Yes. The mascot budget. Which was embarrassing, but—people helped me. When I needed help, they gave it.”

“I do not need help.”

“No?” Kaylin forced her hands to relax, because she had balled them into fists. “I know you won’t die without it. But you know what? I wouldn’t have died, either. I knew how to survive. This is the first time in my life I’ve been able to offer to help. To pay back to the Hawks what was given to me.”

“Kitling.” Teela’s use of the word was so common it might have been Kaylin’s actual name. She slid an arm around Kaylin’s shoulders. “Your age is showing.” When Kaylin failed to reply, Teela added, “No one helped you out because we wanted to humiliate you—if I recall the early days, you did that quite effectively on your own.”

“Thanks a lot, Teela.”

“No one helped you with the expectation that you would owe us, or be obligated to us, in future. Any kindness done to you in the past is not an obligation you must carry with you until you can—somewhat forcefully, I feel—discharge it.”

“It’s not really that,” Kaylin said, looking at her feet. “It’s just—I never had much. I have things now. The Hawks are the only family I have. Moran, you’re a Hawk.” She lifted her chin. “You’re like a terrifying aunt or older sister. Not Barrani-scary—if you’re angry at me, I know I deserve it.”

Teela cleared her throat.

“But I feel like—I feel—” She stopped. “I know this is not really about me.”

“But?” Moran unexpectedly prompted.

“I feel like somehow, still, after years of being a Hawk, and working hard, and becoming an adult—I feel like I’m not grown-up enough, or not good enough, to be allowed to help you.”

“Ugh,” Moran replied. “It has nothing to do with that. It’s not about you, you’re right. I just don’t want to involve you in my personal affairs.”

“And if Teela had offered?”

“I don’t want to involve me in Teela’s personal affairs.”

Kaylin laughed. “I don’t have much choice.”

“You really don’t,” Teela agreed. “The perils of joining the force as a minor, even as a mascot.”

“We can drop the mascot bit anytime now.”

“Kids,” Moran said. “You can have the rest of that particular discussion in the hall. I’ve heard it enough to know there’s nothing new for an audience in it.” They remained silent, and she looked down at the desk, where the familiar was still expectantly perched. “This is irresponsible,” she continued.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Kaylin told her. “But—come with me when you’re off shift? You can meet Helen. You can see where I live—and where everyone else lives, if they’re okay with that. You can decide then.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll visit.”

Kaylin wanted to cheer. “Now?”

Moran sighed. “I suppose we might as well get it over with.”

* * *

“You’re expected at the library,” Teela reminded her quietly as they exited the infirmary.

“I know,” Kaylin replied.

“Kitling—”

“She’ll change her mind. If we don’t get her home, she’ll change her mind. I can talk to the Arkon tomorrow.”

“Your funeral.”

* * *

“You live in this neighborhood?” Moran asked as they walked toward Kaylin’s home. Trees—well-groomed and towering—covered the street as if they were nature’s fences.

“I know, right? But it’s where Helen was built.”

“I’m still having difficulty with that.”

“With what?”

“With thinking of a building as a person. It’s not that it has a name—buildings frequently do. So do rooms. They don’t generally have people names, though.”

“Or personalities,” Kaylin agreed. “You’ll understand it better when you meet her.”

Out of the corner of her mouth, Moran asked Teela, “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“You didn’t, that I recall. You just weren’t willing to accept the cost of refusing to consider it.”

Moran glared at Kaylin. “Teela doesn’t live with you, correct?”

“No. Two of her friends do, and she’s coming with me to check up on them.”

“So...I’d be living with Barrani.”

“Not technically. You might hear them, but at least one of them has been practically invisible for weeks. They’re not like normal Barrani—I think you’d actually like them.”

Teela coughed, but Moran smiled. When the Aerian smiled, she looked vastly more vulnerable—maybe that was why she did it so seldom. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Not really. Helen likes flowers.”

Moran blinked.

“...And I’m shutting up now. You’ll see.”

* * *

Helen was waiting in the foyer by the time Kaylin entered the house. Like Tara, Helen understood Kaylin’s visceral dislike of door wards; she even considered it sensible, as no one liked pain. She smiled brightly at the sight of Teela.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she told the Barrani. “I’m not certain I can talk any more sense into Annarion; he is very, very worried. Mandoran’s been trying, but Annarion has shut him out completely.”

“Yes, I’d heard,” Teela replied. “Are they in the basement?”

“Mandoran is in his room. Annarion is downstairs.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll go talk to Annarion.”

“Of course, dear. I’m very worried about that boy.” Teela walked past her, but Helen had already moved on—though Helen could accompany Teela and simultaneously greet a guest without even blinking.

“Helen, this is Moran. She’s a Hawk, and she’s in charge of the infirmary. As a sergeant. Moran, this is Helen.”

“If it’s easier,” Helen said, extending a hand, “think of me as a particularly concerned landlord.”

“Kaylin talks about you a lot in the office,” Moran replied, offering her the smile she seldom offered anyone in the Halls, except Caitlin. Her wings folded more naturally across her back, losing some of their height; her eyes settled into a comfortable dark gray. “This is a very impressive foyer.”

“Do the Aeries have foyers?”

“Not like this, but yes, there are areas that would serve the same function. The oldest of ours features more weaponry, though.” She seemed hesitant to elaborate further.

“I was hoping,” Kaylin said, rightly guessing the reason for the hesitation, “that Moran could stay with us. Her wings were injured when the Barrani ancestors came to visit, and she can’t fly properly, so she either has to take a leave of absence—”

“—or find a place to stay while she heals?” Helen was looking at Moran’s wings. Kaylin guessed that she was assessing them from a different vantage point—from the front, very little of the actual injuries could be examined.

“Yes, that. And at the moment, she’s living in the—”

Moran cleared her throat. Loudly.

“Yes, I see. That won’t do. I do have rooms that I think might suit you, if you would care to look at them. I don’t, unfortunately, have a working connection to the mirror network yet. Kaylin has been quite vocal about the necessity. Would you also require it?”

Moran’s smile in response was almost feline. “No, actually, having no mirror connection would be a godsend.”

* * *

Kaylin followed her guest and Helen, trailing behind. She wasn’t certain what she should be doing. Moran’s rooms would be her rooms; they weren’t part of Kaylin’s living space unless Moran specifically invited her in. But Helen was Kaylin’s home, and in theory, it was Kaylin offering hospitality. Would it be bad manners to tag along? Bad manners to hang back?

Etiquette gave Kaylin a headache, in part because good etiquette demanded entirely different behaviors in almost exactly the same situations. And also because it was Diarmat who was teaching.

She lagged behind, small and squawky across her shoulders like a wet blanket. He didn’t even lift his head when Moran opened the door Helen indicated. Her room was nestled between everyone else’s in the hall of doors; the door was adorned by a very simple, but obviously winged, person in silhouette.

Kaylin wasn’t certain what to expect. She’d seen the Aerie in which Clint and his flight lived—or rather, she’d seen the large, public spaces the entire Aerie shared. It had looked like a giant cave, though with smoother walls and adornments. She didn’t recall windows, but didn’t remember the darkness of natural caves, either. She had no idea what Aerians did for kitchens; she knew they didn’t eat sitting in normal chairs, because their wings made it impossible.

She had no idea how they slept. The fledglings slept in traditional bassinets, though with more padding. Other creatures with wings slept sitting upright—or hanging upside down, in the case of bats. She’d never been stupid enough to ask the Aerians whether they did the same thing. Or perhaps she’d just been too self-conscious about sounding stupid.

Kaylin started forward and almost ran into Moran’s back. The Aerian was standing in the doorway, her right hand on the frame; her knuckles were white.

“Moran?” Kaylin asked.

Moran didn’t appear to hear her, which might have been because of the raucous noise of birds. Kaylin couldn’t tell if they were angry birds or not; she could only tell that there were a lot of them.

Moran turned in the doorway to face Helen, who waited in silence. She then looked at Kaylin. “Did you know?” she asked, her voice entirely unlike the harsh bark the infirmary required.

Kaylin shook her head. “I still don’t.”

Moran stepped into the room, indicating by gesture that Kaylin should follow.

* * *

This was not a room in the traditional sense of the word; it only had three walls, for one. The floor was harder than the one in Kaylin’s room; it was stone. Flat stone, mind, that had obviously been worked—but still, stone. Kaylin’s habit of falling out of bed when nightmares were bad or the mirror barked did not lend itself to hard stone floors.

The walls appeared to be made of stone, too—and the stone wasn’t cut stone or block; it was all of a piece. Arches had been worked into the walls, and Kaylin could see light from rooms to the left and right of this one. But this room was enormous. It was also not one in which Kaylin thought she could ever sleep, because it was missing a wall.

There were buildings so decrepit in the fiefs that walls had come down. Tiamaris was fixing those, usually by destroying the rotting ruins and rebuilding from scratch, but Nightshade had never cared enough about the fief and its citizens to do the same—and having a shelter without walls was the same as having no shelter at all, when night fell.

She said nothing. She knew Moran’s life in the Aerie was not her own life in Nightshade. Hells, it wasn’t her life in Elantra. But it shadowed her; it was so much a part of where she’d come from.

Moran left Kaylin at the door and walked, wings lifting, toward the open sky that faced the rest of the room. The sky was city sky: it was dappled with clouds, but blue and bright, sun setting in the distance. Moran turned away from that sky to face Helen. Kaylin had never seen the expression her face now wore. It was almost uncomfortable to look at; Kaylin felt as if she was intruding on something incredibly private.

Moran opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked much, much younger than she did in the Halls. Without a word, she turned and left the entry room, walking to the right of where Kaylin stood looking out.

When she’d left, Kaylin said quietly, “She has to stay here. She has to stay here.”

“I am not a jail,” Helen said. Her voice was gentle. “I understand what you want to offer, and Kaylin, I am—as I have said before—happy to do so. Your Moran means you no harm; she is afraid that her presence here will cause it. I can’t convince her to shed that fear, because her presence will cause you no harm here. But it isn’t what happens here that she’s afraid of. It’s what happens outside of these walls.

“She trusts your safety to me while you are here. I’m not entirely certain what you told her, but I don’t need to be. I cannot promise your safety while you are not within my walls—and you will not always be here. I accept that, or I could not have become your home. If she can live with the guilt, she will, I think, remain.”

Moran came back. She looked frail, which again was discomfiting. She didn’t speak; instead, she walked directly through the arch opposite the one she’d just exited. She paused this time and said, “Kaylin, come with me.” She held out a hand. It wasn’t a command, but it also wasn’t the sarcastic barking that generally passed for requests in the Halls of Law from anyone who wasn’t Caitlin.

Kaylin, almost mute, followed, thinking at Helen before she realized that Helen might actually respond to the thoughts—which would just humiliate a Hawk and an Aerian who were both accustomed to more privacy. Helen was mercifully silent.