Cast in Flight by Michelle Sagara
“So...they’ll just try to assassinate me.”
“I believe that is what I was implying, yes.”
* * *
Sergeant Kassan was having a bad hair day.
In Leontines, this was significant. His eyes were a steady orange, his face was an inch or two larger because his fur was standing on end, his claws had already started work on the new desk, and his fangs were prominent. He looked up as Kaylin entered the office from the Tower side, and nodded. She could practically hear the growl in the back of his throat from the stairs. It wasn’t a loud sound, in the volume sense, but it killed all petty office conversation dead.
She made her way, Severn by her side, to the sergeant’s desk. She didn’t bother to stand at attention; his clipped nod made it clear that he considered it irrelevant right now. That was the problem with Leontines. They lacked consistency, and it didn’t matter. If Kaylin lacked consistency in the same way, it was Kaylin who was likely to suffer.
“What did he want?”
You don’t know? She managed not to ask this question out loud, but it took effort. “He’s going to deny the remand.”
The growl that had killed small talk in an office-sized circle around the Leontine desk returned.
“Did you see Margot’s transmission?”
“I’m asking the questions, Private.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You heard Moran’s taking a leave of absence?”
Kaylin exhaled. “I’ve heard it’s been requested.”
“Consider doing the same.”
“My leave of absence is usually unpaid, sir.”
“Are you doing anything useful to me while you’re on leave?”
“...Sir. I’d rather not. Take the leave, I mean.”
“Go pick up the sergeant. You’re finished patrol for the day, and rumor has it you’ve got an important visitor for dinner tonight.”
“Tomorrow night.”
Marcus scratched the desktop. “Do you have any idea what the Aerians are up to?”
“They want Moran dead. They’re probably going to want me dead, to make certain this remains in the Caste Courts.”
“Why do they want Moran dead?”
“Don’t know, sir.”
“When you find out, tell no one but me.”
“Or you could just ask the Hawklord.” Her brain caught up with her mouth, and she reddened. Leontines were pretty frontal when they chose to attack. He’d probably already asked the Hawklord. Moran, however, was not under his command in any way, shape or form; the Hawklord could refuse to answer the question. And probably had. “What makes you think I’m going to find out?”
“You can’t keep your nose out of anything—and in this case, it’s your life on the line, as well.”
“Sir.”
“Now go get your sergeant and get out of here.”
* * *
Moran had clearly heard of—or perhaps even seen—Margot’s transmission. Kaylin had taken a detour on the way to the infirmary, stopping at her own small desk and office mirror, and had been denied permission to view the Records capture.
Given that she was responsible for its arrival, she thought this a tad unfair, and did her level best not to whine about it in the office. Marcus’s hearing was Leontine hearing, and he was not in the mood for whining. Not that he ever was, but on normal days he could at least muster a sense of resigned, growly humor. She had intended to ask Moran about it, but Moran’s eyes were the Aerian equivalent of Leontine orange. Her wings were rigid, and her lips were a tight line. Aerians, like the rest of humanity, didn’t possess canines that overhung lip real estate.
“Marcus kicked me out of the office,” Kaylin said. “I’m off duty.”
“What did you do this time?” Bellusdeo asked, from the chair nearest Moran’s very pristine desk.
“Nothing yet.”
“What does he expect you will be doing?”
“Almost, but not quite, dying.”
Bellusdeo rose. Her eyes were gold. The events of the day didn’t particularly trouble her. “Did he happen to say how?”
“Later.”
Small and squawky was draped across Kaylin’s shoulders. He lifted his head, tilted it at right angles to his neck and stared at Moran. He then lifted his wing and covered Kaylin’s eyes with it. She suddenly remembered that she had intended to look at Moran’s wings through the familiar’s. She wasn’t surprised to see wings—whole wings—rising in perfect formation. The Aerian assassins had had whole wings when viewed this way. She wasn’t surprised to see that Moran’s wings were pale and freckled—well, speckled—because Moran’s wings had always been like that.
She was very surprised to see that Moran didn’t have the usual two wings that characterized her race. She had four. Only three of them were functional; the fourth was bandaged and wrapped for support. But it was visible, in the winged view. Kaylin frowned.
“What are you looking for?” Bellusdeo asked, her tone flat and almost impenetrable.
“I wanted to see what her wings looked like through the familiar’s wing.”
“And?”
“The prisoners had whole wings. Like ideal wings, even if their own weren’t.”
“That’s not what I have?” Moran asked.
“Not exactly. You have whole wings, but you also have your regular ones. At the same time.”
“Why?”
Kaylin had hoped that Moran could answer that question rather than asking it.
“Hells if I know.” Kaylin decided that the entire conversation that was likely to happen when she presented Moran with both the gift and the question would best be had at home.
“You look awful,” Moran told her.
“Clearly you’ve been avoiding mirrors yourself,” Bellusdeo told Moran.
“I spent an hour with Margot,” Kaylin said, by way of explanation.
Moran grimaced. “I’m surprised you both survived it. You did both survive it, right?”
“Let’s head home.”
* * *
Helen was waiting for them at the door. Teela and Tain were pulling an extra duty shift guarding the holding cell, but Severn chose to join her for dinner. They had been more or less gloomily silent as they walked through the city streets.
Helen stood aside to let everyone enter. “There’s a message for you,” she told Kaylin.
“A message?”
“I’m not sure what you call information delivered by mirror network.”
“Who sent it?”
“Not the Foundling Halls and not the midwives,” Helen assured her. “The message is currently in containment.”
“Containment.”
“I told you, dear. The mirror network is not secure. I am not about to add information to my personal Records without first ascertaining the contents are not malicious or harmful.”
“Who does it say it’s from?”
“Pardon?”
“You let the messages from the Foundling Halls and the midwives’ guild through now.”
Helen nodded.
“You let Marcus through to shout at me.”
“He wasn’t shouting, dear. That’s the normal volume of a Leontine voice.”
“And you always let Teela through.”
“Ah. I see what you are trying to say. I cannot tell you who the message is from because I do not know the sender. I believe you do.”
Kaylin exhaled. “Margot?”
Chapter 10
“Margot. You don’t trust her. You don’t like her. You certainly disapprove of her choice of career.”
Since all of this was true, Kaylin held her peace. Defending Margot’s intentions while in her own home was not high on her list of lif
And Margot donated money to the Foundling Hall, and didn’t make a big, public deal out of it, the way she did with almost everything else. One of these days, Kaylin was going to have to admit that she was not an evil villain.
“Did you examine the message?”
“Of course.”
“So you know what it contains?”
“It appears to contain a conversation. Or several.”
“In an expensive room? I mean, a room with expensive things in it?”
This question caused Helen to fall silent, and Kaylin surrendered. “Let me see it.”
“Coming with you,” Bellusdeo said immediately.
“I don’t think that’s wise, dear,” Helen told the gold Dragon. “Kaylin will have to view it in the least secure area in the house—it’s the only area in which I am willing to be less self-contained, and it is therefore not completely defensible.”
“I spent all day in the Halls of Law, in the infirmary. I think your version of ‘not completely’ is worlds better than the Halls’ version of ‘completely.’”
Helen admitted that she had a point.
* * *
As it happened, Helen’s not-secure-enough-room was a very crowded room by the time she had cleared Margot’s message for viewing. Bellusdeo, of course, was present—but it wasn’t just the Dragon. Severn tagged along, and Mandoran and Annarion came up from the bowels of the training room, as well. Moran said, “I’ve seen it. I don’t need to see it again.” She was the only person who headed immediately to either the dining hall or her room.
“Don’t give us that look,” Mandoran said, clearly still unhappy about being merged with a random wall earlier in the day. “Teela made us come up. She wants to see it.” He winced. “And now she’s pissed off, too. You guys seriously have the worst jobs ever.” All of this was spoken in Elantran, which Mandoran now used more frequently than his mother tongue.
“The best jobs ever, you mean?”
“The worst. Back in the day, we wouldn’t have been tasked with keeping mortals alive. We’d let them squabble among themselves until things were sorted.” Catching Kaylin’s glare, he shrugged. “Mortals are easy to kill. You can practically do it by accident. Keeping them alive is a lot trickier than killing them.”
“Thanks.”
“You asked.”
“I didn’t, actually. I corrected you.”
Helen generally waited until there was a break in conversation. This time, she gestured, and the mirror on the wall immediately lost its reflective surface.
* * *
Because they now had people who hadn’t seen the earliest part of the transmission, Kaylin and Severn were forced to sit through—or, rather, stand through—a repeat. Mandoran asked questions. He clearly recognized Margot, and equally clearly still considered her striking or attractive, which did nothing to improve Kaylin’s mood. She personally found Bellusdeo vastly more attractive than Margot—but Bellusdeo was a Dragon, not a mortal, and Mandoran’s early life had been lived during the Draco-Barrani wars.
And to be fair to Mandoran—not that that held a lot of appeal at this very second—he wasn’t asking more questions than Kaylin had asked when Margot had started the Records playback the first time.
* * *
When Margot started to speak of the Dragon, Bellusdeo tensed. She was unsatisfied with the answers Margot gave in regards to the Dragon’s color.
“There’s a lone Aerian,” Margot was saying, lips thin. She looked as if she was struggling against the compulsion that had taken hold of her sight, and failing badly to gain any ground.
The man who was now gracing a holding cell leaned forward. “Describe the Aerian.”
“They’re too far away. Could be male, could be female. The only thing that’s clear from this distance are the wings.”
“What about the wings?” Sharper question.
“They’re white, or maybe pale gray. They’re spread for gliding, and they appear to be glowing.” Margot frowned. “Parts of the wings are glowing.” Her forehead creased. “I think there might be something written on the wings themselves, but I can’t read it. They’re too far away.”
“Look more closely,” the man demanded.
Margot said, in a distinct and chilly voice, “That is not the way visions work.”
“Visions can be invoked.”
“Clearly. But they can’t be controlled. The vision itself is given without comment. It’s not like a Records capture. I can’t enlarge what’s there. I can watch it. I can try to remember it. I can’t magically tell it to become clearer or easier to understand.”
The man was clearly annoyed. He wasn’t certain if he believed Margot, and that showed.
Margot was insulted. That was definitely genuine. “Are we finished?”
“No. What is the lone Aerian doing? Are they even in the same sky as the others you first saw?”
“I’m not certain.” Margot closed her eyes.
“What are you doing?” her customer asked, ice and outrage weighting the words.
“I don’t need the ball,” was her curt response. “The ball is a toy. It doesn’t have a use, except as a focus. It’s an aid. A crutch.” She didn’t open her eyes. “If you’d rather do this yourself, please feel free. You can stare at the crystal ball.
“The Aerians in the sky are growing in number. Some of them are armed. I don’t recognize what they’re carrying. The Dragon is definitely with them. I think he’s in command.”
“Impossible.”
“It might have escaped your notice, but the Eternal Emperor to whom we all owe loyalty is a Dragon.”
“Is the Dragon the Emperor?”
“He’s not wearing a crown. How should I know which Dragon he is?”
“Is. His. Color. Any. Clearer?”
Margot frowned, her eyelids flickering although they remained mostly closed. “Indigo or possibly black. It hasn’t changed. His wing span is huge.” Her jaw dropped then.
“What?” the man demanded.
“I think he just ate two of the Aerians. The others don’t seem to be worried about it, either. Wait, they’re carrying...nets. Nets, and maybe spears.” She stiffened. “The skies—they’re in the skies over Ravellon, and they’re coming here.”
Bellusdeo was red-eyed and frozen when Kaylin spared her a glance.
“There are people in the streets. Hawks in the sky.”
“Hawks?”
“Aerian Hawks.”
“Where?”
“Over the city streets. Not Elani. Closer to the fiefs—I think I can see the Ablayne. Swords are out, some on horseback. People are panicking. I think—I think the Dragon has just destroyed a bridge.”
“Bridge?”
“It’s not a familiar bridge. It’s a vision.”
“Where in the city is this unfamiliar bridge?”
Margot was frowning. “Not over the Ablayne. Actually, it’s a bridge that makes no sense. It’s not connecting anything I can see. Someone was standing on it.”
“Who?”
“A Hawk.”
“Which Hawk?”
Margot said, focused now, “Private Kaylin Neya.”
Kaylin said something rude. In two languages.
“You are certain?”
“She knocks my sign down every other day. She harasses me whenever she gets the opportunity. She thinks my clients are either pitiable or deluded.”
“They are,” the man said, shrugging.
“She makes herself as unpleasant as possible, proving that the law doesn’t have to be reasonable to still be lawful. Yes, I’m certain. You kn
“We know of her, yes.”
“She’s getting in your way?”
“Yes. I do not believe that will be the case for much longer.” And that, Kaylin thought, was the reason for her “leave of absence.” Marcus and the Hawklord actually believed Kaylin would be safe if she remained within her home.
“They are correct,” Helen said. “While you are here, you are safe. So is the sergeant.”
“Yes, but we can’t do anything from here.”
“You can survive. For your sergeant, I believe that is of considerable import.”
“We don’t kill Hawks around these parts,” Margot was saying. “It’s not considered smart.”
“We are not, of course, bound by the same laws you are, and we are not nearly so powerless.” And that, Kaylin thought, was the reason for Margot’s cooperation. There was no way Margot had expected this man to walk away without leaving one dead redhead in his wake.
“If you agree to let me go, I’ll help you with the Hawk.”
“Pardon?”
“She patrols Elani. This is her current beat. If you want a clean shot at her, this is your best chance.”
“She patrols here.” The man’s smile was slow, his eyes bright. “You’ve implied she is not your friend.”
“I can get her in here.” Her tone made it very clear that she was certain, and that she was the only certainty he had.
“Very well.”
* * *
“I suppose a small and accidental fire is out of the question?” Bellusdeo asked Kaylin.
“Small and accidental by angry Dragon standards?”
“By annoyed Dragon standards, yes.”
“The Emperor might forgive you. I wouldn’t bet on it, though. Look—I’m not annoyed by it. What she did made sense.”
“She offered to help him kill you.”
“She had just about outlived any usefulness she had. He was going to kill her. She was just trying to extend her life.”
“By helping him kill you.”
“She’s not as stupid as she looks. Her best chance of surviving this involved us. We don’t patrol as singletons. If I did die, she’d follow. I expect she hoped to run for it the minute the actual fighting started. He’d asked too many questions, and spoken too freely, for her life to be worth much.”