LITMIR.BIZ

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supposed to do.

      But today?

      Today she’d almost felt the warmth of fire; she’d grasped and visualized its name. It had taken the better part of an hour to accomplish that much, because it was a large name and parts of it kept sliding out of her grip. It didn’t matter; this was the first class she’d had with Sanabalis that hadn’t ended in total, frustrating failure.

      Lord Sanabalis rose, and Kaylin hesitated, losing a little of her bounce. “You didn’t do it, did you? It was me?”

      “It was you, Private Neya. And because you’ve succeeded—once—I will consider today’s lesson complete. If you will accompany me?”

      “Pardon?”

      “I believe Lord Grammayre and Sergeant Kassan would like a few words with you. They did want to speak with you earlier, but I felt the matter could wait until after your lesson.”

      Yes, because Lord Sanabalis was a Dragon and Lord Grammayre and Sergeant Kassan were only the men responsible for signing off on her pay chit.

      * * *

      Lord Grammayre and Marcus were waiting in the Hawklord’s Tower. Kaylin, torn between panic at the length of time they’d been made to wait and worry about the topic of discussion, went up the stairs at a brisk clip, as if rushing to her doom. Dragon knowledge of the effective chain of command in the Halls of Law was pretty simple: the Dragon Court’s desires took precedence over everything. It was hard to get that wrong. Their knowledge of the finer details, on the other hand—and in particular Kaylin’s place in the food chain as a private—left a lot to be desired, especially since their pay and their rank weren’t ever going to be at risk. She tried not to resent this as Sanabalis, curse him, practically crawled.

      The Tower doors were open, which was a small mercy. Kaylin approached them, the sound of her steps on stone drawing two pairs of distinctive eyes—Leontine and Aerian. Marcus’s facial fur was standing on end, and his eyes were orange. The Hawklord’s wings were slightly extended, and his eyes were a gray-blue. Had she been a flower, she’d’ve instantly wilted under that much dry heat. Angry Leontine Sergeant, angry Aerian Commander in Chief, slightly bored Dragon, and panicked human—you could practically call it a racial congress, with humans in their usual position.

      Marcus was in such a bad mood that he didn’t even mention how late she was; he wasn’t in a bad enough mood not to growl when she hesitated in the doorway. She crossed the threshold quickly and offered Lord Grammayre a salute. It was as perfect as she could make it—and if two weeks under the Draconic Lord Diarmat had given her nothing else, it had certainly improved the quality of necessary gestures of respect, not that she was required to salute a member of the Dragon Court.

      Lord Sanabalis, as a member of said court, wasn’t required to offer a salute to anyone in the Halls of Law. Kaylin wasn’t certain what formal gestures of respect he offered the Eternal Emperor, because thankfully she’d never seen the Eternal Emperor—at least not yet. She’d seen the rest of the Dragons interact with each other, and while they were polite and formal when nothing important was being discussed, they didn’t spend all day bowing, saluting, or speaking full titles. She now even knew what their full titles were.

      “At ease, Private.” If an order could be guaranteed to make her feel less at ease, she didn’t want to hear it. The Hawklord’s tone of voice had enough edge to draw blood. She nodded stiffly and dropped her arms to her sides.

      “Lord Sanabalis,” the Hawklord continued, “we have news of some import to relay to the Imperial Court.”

      “Good. Does it involve the current investigation into the Exchequer?”

      “It does. We have an unexpected lead. Our subsequent investigations have given us reason to believe it is extremely relevant.”

      Sanabalis raised a brow. “May I ask the source of that information?”

      “You may; it is the only reason Private Neya is currently present.”

      “I will assume that the lead did not come through the Private.”

      “No. Not directly. She has been involved as your attaché in the fief of Tiamaris for much of the investigation; as she has not yet been released from those duties, she has had no direct involvement in the Exchequer affair.”

      Lord Sanabalis nodded.

      “Even if she is no longer required as frequently in the fief, she appears to be the unofficial minder for the newly arrived Lady Bellusdeo.”

      Kaylin cringed.

      “Private?” Marcus growled.

      Kaylin cleared her throat. “She doesn’t like to be referred to as Lady Bellusdeo.”

      “And given her position at the moment, that is understandable. I will endeavor not to cause her the hardship of appropriate Elantran title in future,” Lord Grammayre said. “However.”

      Sanabalis’s eyes had shaded to a pale copper. Kaylin wasn’t certain what color her eyes would be if human eye color shifted at the whim of mood; given that she was standing near an angry Leontine, an annoyed Dragon, and an unhappy Aerian, it probably wouldn’t be good.

      “What is Private Neya’s involvement?”

      The Leontine glared at the Hawklord. The Hawklord pretended not to notice either the glare or the question. “The usual method of paying in Imperial currency for information was rejected; the information, however, was deemed necessary.”

      “And?”

      “The information offered to us came via Lord Nightshade of the fief of Nightshade.”

      Copper shaded toward orange in the Dragon Lord’s eyes. “He offered the information first?”

      “Of course not. But he offered some of the information to indicate the importance of the offer.”

      “And the information he did offer was not sufficient for our investigators?”

      “No; if we attempted to investigate thoroughly, we would almost certainly be detected, and any proof of criminal activity would vanish.”

      “What was the tidbit he dangled?”

      “The Office of the Exchequer has been working in conjunction with two highly placed Arcanists. Both,” he added, “are Barrani, and both might be in possession of some of the embezzled funds.”

      * * *

      Kaylin did not, through dint of will, whistle. She did sneak a glance at Sanabalis; his eyes hadn’t gotten any redder, which was a positive sign. On the other hand, Marcus’s hadn’t gotten any less orange, which was not, given that Marcus now turned the full force of his glare on her. She felt this a tad unfair, given that she’d already warned him what Nightshade would demand in return for the information; she was not, however, feeling suicidal enough to point this out.

      “Were you aware, Private, that the leave of absence requested in return for this information would be extensive?”

      “…How extensive?”

      “The fieflord is asking for a minimum of six weeks if we provide the transport, and a minimum of eight weeks if we do not.”

      She blinked. After a moment, she said, “Eight weeks?” thinking, as she did, of her rent.

      “Eight weeks.”

      “I can’t take eight weeks off!”

      For some reason, this seemed to improve Marcus’s mood. “When you agreed to Teela’s offer of aid during your leave of absence, did it ever occur to you to look up a map of the Empire?”

      “…No.”

      Sanabalis lifted a hand. “Why is a leave of eight weeks required?”

      “She’s to travel to the West March.”

      “A map wouldn’t have

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