LITMIR.BIZ

       4

      Caitlin seemed relieved when Kaylin entered the office and stopped at the choke-point of her desk. “I’m glad to see you’re safe,” she said. She didn’t bother to pitch her words in a whisper, which was the only way Kaylin knew she was not happy with Marcus’s decision to send them to the East Warrens.

      “I’m not sure we’re done yet,” Kaylin replied. “But we’re fine. Nothing, aside from the legally questionable use of invisibility—not on our part—happened. But we’ve got some news to report in. Is Teela in?”

      “Teela is in the infirmary.”

      “...Where Moran said no one who was not half dying was allowed to be.”

      “She is not, as you put it, half dying, dear. But she is not, strictly speaking, very happy at the moment. I haven’t seen her this upset since—” Caitlin stopped, reddening slightly. “And that’s neither here nor there, and I shouldn’t be gossiping. If you’ve got things to report, you should report them. Don’t mind me.”

      * * *

      Marcus was already in a foul mood. Kaylin approached his desk and was left standing at attention while he regained control of his seemingly permanent growl. He couldn’t, however, keep Bellusdeo standing at attention, not that she actually bothered. She wasn’t part of the office hierarchy, wasn’t beholden to it, and had been given permission by the Emperor to disrupt that hierarchy as she saw fit.

      For some reason, this didn’t bother Kaylin. Possibly it was because Bellusdeo was a Dragon. Possibly it was because she didn’t particularly consider life to be fair. Dragon female trumped almost everything, as far as the Emperor was concerned.

      But no, a little voice said, that wasn’t true. The empire trumped everything. Bellusdeo was considered important to the race, but that race didn’t really care about the empire, except in the abstract. It was the Emperor’s hoard. You disturbed it at your ultimate peril.

      It was Bellusdeo who cut through rank and file behavior to tell Marcus that they had met the fieflord of Candallar in the East Warrens.

      Marcus’s eyes couldn’t get any redder without spilling into the Leontine Frenzy color. Bellusdeo failed to mention either Mandoran or Teela. She spoke respectfully, but spoke as if to an equal. In the end, Marcus mirrored Hanson. He had a direct line to the Hawklord, but hadn’t chosen to use it, which meant that this wasn’t considered an emergency.

      “There was no difficulty with the fieflord?”

      “If you mean did he attempt to harm me, no.”

      “Did he attempt to harm the officers?”

      “No. Had he, what was left of him would be in the holding cells.”

      “The Hawks would not—”

      “Yes, I realize their hands are tied. But I’m not a Hawk, Sergeant Kassan. I’m a displaced person. A Dragon.”

      Some of the red bled out of Marcus’s eyes then. “It was easier,” he said, “in the old country.”

      “For you, too?”

      “Yes. We could rip out the throats of our enemies—and our enemies seldom pretended to be our friends before we did.”

      “I’ll suggest it to the Emperor,” Bellusdeo replied, with a sunny smile.

      Marcus growled.

      “I’ll suggest it on my own behalf; I shall utterly fail to mention your comment. You see, we also—in the old country—could rip out the throats of our enemies. Or their wings.”

      Kaylin coughed. “I lived in a place where you could—if you had the power—kill your enemies with zero consequences. It was an awful place, and I don’t recommend it. The Emperor created the laws for a reason, and I think the reasons are good.”

      “You would, though,” Bellusdeo said. “You’ve thrown your life into them, and no one wants to waste their life.”

      Dragons.

      * * *

      Hanson’s reply came about fifteen minutes later. Or rather, the reply to the message Marcus had sent to Hanson did. The respondent in the mirror, however, was the Hawklord. Marcus didn’t seem to be surprised. He did seem disgusted. “You’re wanted upstairs,” he told Kaylin.

      Given the part the fiefs had played in Kaylin’s childhood, she wasn’t surprised, either; the surprise would have been no response, or a rote one.

      “He wants the Dragon as well,” Marcus added.

      “The Dragon,” Bellusdeo said, unfazed, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” At Marcus’s lowered browline, she added, “He has no right of command where I’m concerned, no. But I’m not so petty that I would deprive myself of something interesting simply to spite him.”

      Marcus said nothing. Loudly.

      * * *

      When they hit the middle of the tower steps on their way to obey the Hawklord’s command, Kaylin said, “Could you maybe try not to antagonize him?”

      Severn was silent, and almost invisible; it was a neat trick. Kaylin wondered if he’d learned it while training with the Wolves. Or if he’d always had it. He’d survived the fiefs for a lot longer than she had, after all—and had it not been for Severn, she was uneasily certain she wouldn’t have survived at all.

      “Your sergeant makes no effort not to antagonize me.” Bellusdeo snorted. “He dislikes the Dragon Court.”

      “You’re not part of the court.”

      “Fine. He dislikes Dragons.”

      “Because it was the Dragon Court that pretty much decided I should be put down. As in executed. I was thirteen.” Bellusdeo stopped speaking, although she continued to walk. Kaylin, aware that she was being petty, said, “I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. He’s got a long memory when you threaten his kits.”

      “And he considers you one of them.”

      “Well, his first wife does. You want a terrifying Leontine—it’s her. He’s never going to forgive

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