LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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