She reached out and touched Bellusdeo’s regulation sleeve. “I think we should have this conversation somewhere else.”
“Oh?” the Dragon replied—without looking away from the Barrani. “Where did you have in mind?”
“Someplace less instantly flammable.” Before Bellusdeo could answer, Kaylin stepped forward, and then in front of her. Bellusdeo was taller, but not by as much as Teela or Tain. The tabard of the Hawk was front and center, and it grounded Kaylin. She understood it was nothing to hide behind—not safely—but it had never been about hiding, to Kaylin.
“Private Kaylin Neya,” she said, to the man Severn had named fieflord. The familiar squawked. “And this is my familiar.” His eyes did widen again, and it took them longer to revert to their less surprised shape. “You aren’t a citizen of Elantra.”
“In as much as citizens of any power are required to swear allegiance to the Eternal Emperor?”
“Yes.”
“It may come as a surprise to you, officer, but yes. Yes, I am.”
Bellusdeo snorted. There was smoke in it, which wafted across the back of Kaylin’s neck without charring anything.
Candallar’s gaze was pure Barrani condescension. “You presuppose I am not a member of the Barrani Court, or possibly the Barrani race. The supposition is correct: I am not. But my vow of allegiance to the Emperor—forced on me many years ago, I might add—has never been broken. I believe that I would still be considered a citizen of Elantra. The discretion would, of course, be the Emperor’s. And given politics, it would be difficult were he to accept me as a citizen of his empire when my own people do not acknowledge my existence at all, except perhaps as a blood sport.” His smile was slender, cold, and very sharp.
Bellusdeo snorted again. This time, Kaylin heard irritation, not threat, in the sound. She moved.
“The Dragon, however,” the Barrani said, “is not technically a citizen of Elantra.”
Kaylin was aware that she’d started this line of reasoning. Marcus had often said she was too clever for her own good, and too lacking in wisdom for anyone else’s. “Neither are most mortals, if citizenship is defined by a literal oath of allegiance. Most of us can’t talk from birth, and even if we could, the Emperor wouldn’t consider an infant’s oath binding.” She remembered just how much she hated politics. It shouldn’t have been hard to forget.
“I’m an officer of the Emperor’s Law, and according to an officer of that law, the Dragon is a citizen.” She folded her arms. The familiar squawked.
“And the...familiar...as you call it, is now standard issue for an officer of the law?”
“The familiar is considered acceptable to the Emperor.”
“You’ve asked in person?”
“Yes, as it happens.”
Don’t let him goad you, Severn said, an urgency to the words.
She didn’t argue, because he was right. She was annoyed. She’d let annoyance speak.
“I see.” He smiled. “I mean no disrespect to the tabard, officer, and none to the Emperor to whom I swore my oath.”
“Why are you here?”
“I occasionally come across the Ablayne—or the wall—to meet with old friends. Surely that is not considered criminal.”
“Not in and of itself, no. Would those friends by chance be Hawks?”
“I have a great respect for Imperial Law.”
“Why are you even here?”
“As I said—”
“I heard what you said.” She was absolutely certain that his presence and the altercation that had grounded all Barrani Hawks were connected. He could have worn a sandwich board the size of Margot’s stupid sign declaring himself part of a conspiracy, and it wouldn’t have been more obvious.
To make it worse, the Barrani blue of his eyes had faded into blue-green, which was as casual a color as Barrani ever adopted when dealing with strangers. They darkened again as Bellusdeo snorted. Clearly, if a mortal Hawk was insignificant, a Dragon was not.
“I will take my leave, officer, unless you wish to abuse your power by attempting to—illegally—arrest me.”
For one long minute she entertained fantasies of doing exactly that. But if he resisted, it would be the Dragon who would bear the brunt of the fight. The Dragon and the buildings in the warrens, which, although run-down, still housed a lot of people.
And it wasn’t as if it wouldn’t be obvious who he’d come to meet, or who he’d been meeting. The duty roster was the Hawk version of public knowledge. She gave him a curt nod, and headed out of the alley, making certain not to turn her back on him.
He stopped her—with a word. Given Bellusdeo’s presence, he kept his distance. “Wait.”
Kaylin didn’t answer.
“You had another companion before I arrived.”
She thought of Severn, said nothing. Severn, however, said, He’s not asking about me. Mortal, remember. He still hadn’t moved, and the fieflord did not appear to have noticed him.
“You must be mistaken,” Kaylin said sweetly. “Without Imperial permission, Hawks don’t patrol with random people.”
His gaze narrowed instantly at the tone of her voice. “I warn you,” he began.
Bellusdeo exhaled a small stream of fire. It was focused on the road some three feet to his side. She said nothing, and did nothing else. Her eyes were red orange. His were now dark blue.
“Don’t bother with the sword,” Kaylin told him, her voice conversational and much more cheerful. “Unless it’s one of The Three, it’s going to do more damage to the weapon than it will to the Dragon—but it’ll probably make her angrier. And before you say anything else, I’ve seen two of the three, and I’m pretty sure I know who owns the third one.”
She could practically hear Severn smacking his forehead, and shut her mouth.
“Private Neya,” Candallar said. He surprised her; he swept her a bow. “Give my regards to your master.”
She frowned and then remembered the mark—the flower—that adorned her cheek.
Yes, a familiar voice said. He understands what it means. If he harms you—at all—I will destroy him.
The word “master” really rankled. She opened her mouth. Shut it. “I seldom have occasion to meet the Emperor in person, but if I do, I’ll pass it along.”
*
“What in the hells was all that about?” Kaylin demanded an hour later, when Severn extricated himself from the warrens. She’d wanted to wait—she knew that you didn’t patrol solo, and Severn would be solo. Severn, however, pointed out that he’d spent the greater part of his Halls of Law career as a Wolf, and that was the definition of solo unless really big crap was about to go down.
He also pointed out that she had Bellusdeo.
“You know as much as I do.”
“You knew he was a fieflord.”
His shrug was pure fief. “I’ve spent a few years dealing with fugitive Barrani. Fugitive Barrani, unlike fugitive mortals, are frequently exceptionally political when they have the personal power and influence. Candallar has some power. He isn’t Nightshade; Nightshade’s closest ties are at the heart of the High Court.”
“The Consort?”
“She is not considered political.”