“That’s not the direction I expected the politics to travel. I have limited access to fieflords. In theory, so does the rest of the Court—but the rest of the Court does not serve as Hawks, with the legal boundaries necessitated by that office. I was...unprepared for that avenue of pressure. Did you attempt to engage him?”
“She threatened to arrest him, if that helps,” Bellusdeo offered.
Teela covered her forehead with her left hand. “Of course she did.”
“He seemed surprisingly conscious of Imperial Law,” the Dragon continued, “and entirely unintimidated by it. He did not ask Kaylin for either information or concession; I believe he was distracted.”
“By the presence of a Dragon?”
“By the confirmation of the presence of a Dragon within the Halls of Law.”
That was not the same thing, and Teela knew it.
“On the other hand, if his contacts were Hawks, it is not entirely surprising he would have that information. Nor are the Hawks the only way that information might reach him; the Hawks themselves might speak with members of the High Court, and the High Court is, of course, very aware of my existence.”
“You are much more likely to survive involvement in my life than Kaylin is,” Teela said. “But the arcane bomb that would have ended your life was thrown well away from both the Halls and the High Court.”
“I would not be certain that my involvement in your affairs would be the cause of another assassination attempt. Nor,” she added, as Teela opened her mouth, “could the Emperor be. How much of a concern is Candallar?”
“He’s a concern. Whatever pressure he put on Tagraine—and I won’t know until Canatel wakes—he’s just a lever.”
“Do you have any idea who might be pushing that lever?”
“Some vague suspicion. I know Canatel’s family. Candallar was made outcaste for purely political reasons; he did not attempt to harm the Consort. Nor did he engage in illegal activities involving other races—at least not until he was forced to flee and found himself at home in the fiefs.”
“And he wants?”
“I would guess he wants to be repatriated. He wants to be forgiven.”
“But—”
Both the Dragon and the corporal turned toward Kaylin. “But?” Teela asked.
“But it’s the High Lord who decides, isn’t it?”
“In theory, yes. In practice? No. I do not believe the High Lord is behind Candallar’s movements.”
“You say that like you have some idea who is.”
“No, kitling, I don’t. I have some idea of who isn’t.”
“Why would they do this?”
“Tagraine? Canatel?”
Kaylin nodded. At heart, this was the only question she needed answered. The politics and malice of Barrani who were not Hawks was like rain or heat; it existed outside of the Halls.
“I can’t speak for Tagraine. I can’t speak for Canatel—he cannot speak for himself at the moment. And I should not tell you even this much. But Canatel has a sister. She is older, and she is a Lord. She is, however, a very, very minor lord whom most feel survived the Test of Name because the sheer terror of it drove her to mindless—but ultimately pragmatic—flight. She is surrounded by Lords of greater age and far greater power, be it economic, political, or as is generally the case, both. Had she never taken the Test, she would not now be in danger.”
Kaylin raised a brow, and Teela exhaled. “They would have to find her. Many of the Barrani who are of the High Court do not make their homes in the city.”
“And the ones who aren’t do?” This made no sense to Kaylin.
“It is frequently where the landless poor among the mortals dwell.”
“Teela, if rumor has any truth to it, Canatel tried to kill you.”
Teela said nothing; her eyes were a shade of gray blue.
Bellusdeo exhaled smoke with a bit of actual heat in it. “Kaylin,” she said, to make clear that her target of annoyance was not Teela, “you can be forgiven your ignorance; it is remedial. It can be alleviated. Teela, however, has enough to deal with. Corporal, Sergeant, my apologies for intruding while you are so clearly busy. We will take our leave now, as Kaylin is expected to begin her interrupted patrol on Elani.”
Teela actually chuckled. “I feel almost sorry for Margot today.”
5
“What am I missing?” Kaylin demanded, when they were safely quit of the halls and halfway to Elani. The word “ignorance” still stung; there were better ways to point to lack of knowledge, but given Kaylin wasn’t terribly diplomatic on the best of days, even thinking that was kind of hypocritical.
“Teela feels that the failure lies with her.”
“What?”
Severn, Kaylin’s actual partner, was silent and steady. Small and squawky actually left her shoulder to sit on his for half the march, glaring balefully at Kaylin as he did.
“I have not discussed this with Teela; I doubt she’s discussed this with anyone. I am therefore guessing, based on some minor observation.”
“Skip the part where you imply that I’m stupid.”
“I did not imply that; I implied that you are not observant.”
“Bellusdeo—”
“You focus on your job. You focus on your home. Where it is necessary, you will focus on other things as they effect the former or the latter. Beyond that, however, you still feel that the world is somehow other, or foreign.” She exhaled at Kaylin’s expression, and added, “You know nothing about knitting.”
Kaylin blinked.
“I do not expect that you will know anything about knitting. But when you are wearing a sweater of some intricacy, I will unconsciously assume that you know something of what went into its making. Let us say I know something about knitting. Don’t make that face, I chose this example for a reason. I have seen the same sweater you have seen, but I have marked the intricacies of stitch and design. I know that the sweater could not be made by, well, you. But I understand that it could not be made by me without painstaking effort. I assume, at times, that you will also see what I see.
“You have been given such a sweater. Your concern is the cold, or laws of public decency. You don’t care that it’s oversized. You don’t care that it might be inappropriately heavy given the weather. You understand that it is clothing, and some clothing is better than none. You don’t appreciate the quality of the sweater itself. It seems almost irrelevant to its function. I occasionally forget this. When someone wears such a sweater, it is, like most expensive fashion, meant to be a statement. No, it is a statement. Most people who make such statements are pretentious—but not all, and regardless, even the pretentious understand what they think they are trying to say. You don’t.
“Were knitting, however, integral to your job, you would. You would see the stitches, the wool used, the dyes used on that wool; you would know what size the needles were, and whether or not different sizes were required to knit the whole. You are not stupid. You are, however, too narrowly focused. Better?”
“I’m not sure.”