LITMIR.BIZ

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Court is comprised of different men, different women. Until she was injured, she lived in the Upper Reaches, but she spoke with no one. She has never forgiven the Aerie for her mother’s death.”

      “Or her grandmother’s?”

      Lillias said nothing.

      “Why do you want to help her?”

      “Is that what you think I am doing?” the old woman replied. Before Kaylin could answer, the woman closed blue eyes. “Do you believe in her?” she asked softly.

      It wasn’t the question Kaylin had been expecting. Then again, she wasn’t certain that she’d expected any of the conversation Evanton had forced on both of them.

      “How can I not believe in her?” Kaylin replied, although it took time. “I’m a Hawk. She’s a Hawk. She got her injury fighting something that was powerful enough to take down Dragons. Plural. She got that injury doing her duty—doing what the Aerians could do that the rest of us, wingless, couldn’t.”

      “And her duty to her own people?”

      Kaylin struggled with this for longer. The Aerians had murdered her mother and her grandmother. She owed them nothing. There were racial tensions among Hawks. But there were personal tensions, as well. They were all people. And they were all people who’d decided, despite race or even because of it, to serve the Imperial Law that protected those who didn’t have a lot of money or power. Were they perfect? Hells no. But they were trying. It was more than the fieflord of Nightshade had ever done. It was more than any fieflord, with the exception of Tiamaris, had ever been rumored to do.

      Kaylin felt no particular attachment to her own race. She had daydreams of being born to a different one—Aerian, usually. She hadn’t ever considered what she owed the human race. Then again, she hadn’t really considered what she owed anyone who wasn’t a Hawk.

      She was Chosen. That was special. But Chosen, or rather, being Chosen, didn’t depend on race. Kaylin wasn’t certain what it did depend on. She wasn’t even certain what it meant on most days.

      Had it been dependent on being human, had humanity somehow required it, would she have changed her entire life to fulfill the debts and obligations she’d never asked for? Would she do it if that debt and obligation had indirectly killed her mother?

      “I’m sorry, Lillias,” she finally said. “I don’t know. I admire her. She’s always been slightly terrifying—especially if you’re already injured and she decides you need to be strapped to a bed for a week—but she’s a Hawk. I don’t see her the way you see her.”

      “Do you even know how I see her?”

      “No. You haven’t said. I’m willing to listen, if you want to talk about it.”

      Lillias nodded. She turned to Evanton instead of speaking.

      Evanton turned to Kaylin. “I will do as Lillias has asked. But, Kaylin—stay out of this. Everything you can safely do, you’ve done. And I do not think you are ready to pay the cost for more.” He rose. “I will see you out.” To Lillias, he added, “I will be but a moment.”

      * * *

      Kaylin hit the street in an internal fog of confusion and anger. She had retrieved her familiar from Grethan’s shoulders, and he had immediately wrapped himself around hers, squawking in soft complaint as he did. She barely noticed, he was so much a part of her life. “Did he do that on purpose?” she asked her partner. Mandoran, retrieved from the bowels of the oldest shelves in the building, glanced at both of them.

      It was Mandoran who answered. “Of course he did.”

      “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

      “Introducing you to the Aerian woman. The wingless one.” Mandoran stared at Kaylin, his eyes an odd shade: not green, but not blue, and not the usual blend of both, which was almost the Barrani resting state. “You like Aerians. You like Hawks. You like Aerian Hawks better than you like most of the rest of the Hawks, with some obvious exceptions. She lost her wings. She’s outcaste.

      “If you push this, some of your Hawks are likely to end up the way she did. He wants you to understand that as more than theory.” Mandoran stopped in front of Margot’s sandwich board. “Did you?”

      “Did I what?” she asked, irritable and restless.

      “Did you understand it? Could you imagine Clint without wings?” He froze for a moment, his eyes going flat. “Teela tells me I should apologize for that.”

      “Don’t bother unless you mean it.”

      “That’s what I told her.”

      * * *

      The rest of the day was uneventful. The Hawklord did not demand to see her again, and Marcus, while growly, was content to snarl at everyone and not Kaylin in particular. Teela and Tain had not returned from their own beat when Kaylin checked out; Severn remained with her instead of heading to his place.

      She stopped at the infirmary to pick up Bellusdeo and Moran and discovered that there had been trouble on the banks of the Ablayne—no surprise there. If there was trouble anywhere in the city, odds were it had occurred on or near the Ablayne’s many bridges. The bridges that fed into the fiefs, with the growing exception of Tiamaris, were in low-rent areas.

      But this trouble was only a mundane knife fight, and the Hawks had come out on top, although they’d pulled in a couple of Swords; it was the Swords who required medical attention, and they received it with their usual stiff upper lips. The Hawks, Kaylin reflected, cursed more. And in better languages.

      They were late heading home, and by the time Moran was ready to leave, Teela and Tain had returned. They were waiting, lounging really, outside the infirmary doors. The infirmary was strictly for mortals, as far as the Barrani on the force were concerned. Moran contested this from time to time, but the Barrani, accustomed to kin who were just as likely to kill them as come to their aid, weren’t bothered by the sergeant’s demeanor.

      Moran’s lips tightened as she caught sight of the Barrani, but she said nothing. She locked the office with the touch of a palm and a three-word command, and headed out of the building.

      The guards had changed shifts, and happened to be human, not Aerian, which made passage between them less awkward. And it was going to be awkward, because Mandoran’s question still cut her when Kaylin returned to it.

      She wanted to help Moran.

      Was she willing to risk Clint losing his wings, if she made a mistake?

      Was she willing to risk Lord Grammayre losing his?

      * * *

      Helen was waiting for them at the door, and as Kaylin stepped into the front foyer, she felt her jaw unclench. There had been no further problems on the way home. No invisible assassins, for one. Helen gently draped an arm around Kaylin’s shoulder, taking care not to crush the familiar, who lifted a lazy eyelid to look at her before he shut it again.

      “Why is he so exhausted?” Helen asked.

      “Who knows? All he’s done today is complain and sit on people’s shoulders.” Except for saving Moran’s life. Kaylin glanced apologetically at the familiar, who failed to notice.

      The small dragon squawked without opening his eyes.

      “You visited the Keeper?” Helen asked Kaylin.

      Moran stiffened. “I’m going to take a bath,” she told Helen. “I’m not sure I’ll be down for dinner.”

      “That’s fine, dear. I’ll have food sent up if you aren’t.” She watched Moran mount the large staircase, but waited until she had disappeared before speaking again. “She’s worried about you,” she told Kaylin.

      “I’m beginning to understand why people hate worry so much,” Kaylin replied. “You guys eating here?”

      Teela

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