“You are to meet your partner and head—immediately—to the East Warren.”
Kaylin, who had expected the word “Elani” to crawl out from between the folds of a growl, blinked. The East Warrens, as the area was colloquially called, was a Hawk beat; its boundary ended at the Ablayne, and the enterprising fool who chose to cross it ended up in one of the fiefs. Kaylin’s geography was sketchy at best; she mostly knew what she’d walked across. She hadn’t walked into that fief.
Bellusdeo, however, had a strong interest in the fiefs—or, more accurately, the Towers that stood at their centers. “The East Warrens?” Her eyes had lost their gold, but at least that made sense; Marcus’s eyes were red. His facial fur, however, hadn’t jumped up two inches; it had settled. He looked sleek, his upper fangs more exposed than they usually were, his claws extended.
He wanted to tell Bellusdeo to get lost, except with ruder words. And he wanted to tell Kaylin to go home. She felt some sympathy for this, because she wanted to tell Bellusdeo to go home. The East Warrens were not Elani street in any way; they were vastly more dangerous. It was not a beat given the groundhawks of the mortal variety. The Aerians could fly patrol over the streets, but at a safe enough height crossbows wouldn’t be an issue.
No, it was a Barrani beat.
Marcus, for whom low growling had replaced all sound of breath, waited, daring Kaylin to argue. She wasn’t stupid. In his current mood, she’d agree that black was the new pink if that’s what he demanded, and consider herself lucky. Enraged Leontine seemed far more dangerous than a strolling walk through some of the city’s poorer streets. A Dragon would certainly make that patrol safer.
Until the Emperor heard about it.
“May I ask,” Bellusdeo began.
“No.”
“—if this has something to do with the fief of Candallar?”
Marcus said nothing. He growled, but didn’t bother with words. Unfortunately, he was facing a Dragon—a Dragon who hadn’t been forced to swear an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, whose laws the Hawks served. And any attempt to rip out her throat or tear off her arm—or leg—was going to be unsuccessful, in the best case. In the worst case—and given Marcus’s mood, worst was a distinct possibility—the office would be reduced to charred wreckage. Charred, broken wreckage.
And that was above her pay grade.
Bellusdeo, however, folded her arms and looked down at the sergeant, her eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for three long, half-held breaths. It was, to Kaylin’s surprise, Marcus who looked away first—but by the time he did, his eyes had shaded to a much safer orange.
“Yes.”
“And does the fief of Candallar have something to do with the current mood of the office?”
“I don’t discuss rostering issues with anyone who doesn’t outrank me.”
Bellusdeo’s smile was gem-like: hard enough to cut, but bright anyway. Kaylin wanted to leave to find out what had happened, but knew better. She waited. Marcus finally dismissed her, although he didn’t bother to look in her direction. Bellusdeo, however, did not follow.
*
“What happened?” Kaylin asked, keeping her voice as low as she could. Marcus’s hearing was good, but he was unlikely to hear her when she was in Hanson’s office. Hanson was the choke-point for the Hawklord’s time; he was like, and unlike, Caitlin. This morning, the dissimilarities were stronger.
“It is not a going to be a good day,” he told Kaylin. “The Hawklord hasn’t demanded your attendance—which is about as much luck as you’re likely to have in the near future. If I were you, I’d remember that you’re a private. Whatever is happening, it is not your problem.”
“Did I mention that Teela and Tain are coming to live with me?”
“Fine. It is your problem. Your problems, however, are not my problem.”
“East Warrens is a Barrani beat.”
“You don’t say.”
“Bellusdeo is coming with me, wherever I happen to be assigned.”
Hanson grimaced; she could practically hear the lines around his mouth crack. “Emperor’s problem,” he finally said. But he knew that if something happened to Bellusdeo, it would be everyone’s problem. And in this case “everyone’s” problem was a matter for the Hawklord. Which, of course, would become Hanson’s problem. “There was an altercation this morning between two of the Barrani Hawks.”
“Go on.”
“In general, Corporal Danelle handles difficulties between the Barrani Hawks. She is not the only corporal among their number, but her word carries weight with the Barrani for entirely extralegal reasons. The altercation occurred before her arrival; it was considered severe enough that she booked the West Room in which to resolve the difficulties.”
Kaylin nodded. In and of itself, this was business as usual, although Barrani altercations were on the wrong side of “intense.”
“The altercation was between Corporals Tagraine and Canatel.”
She frowned. They were partners. While altercations between Barrani could be intense, in general they had greater respect for—or at least care for—their beat partners. “What set them off?”
“The office was largely empty when the altercation occurred. Barrani don’t need sleep; they usually arrive early. Today, they arrived early. Teela did not.” He raised a brow, as if expecting that Teela’s tardiness—for a Barrani—was somehow Kaylin’s fault. “She entered the office as the altercation was in progress, broke it up and booked the West Room.”
Kaylin had heard nothing that would justify removal of Barrani Hawks from the duty roster. “She couldn’t stop the altercation.” It wasn’t a question.
Hanson bowed his head for a long minute. When he raised it again, he looked exhausted. “It appears that the altercation between Tagraine and Canatel was a fabrication. The purpose of the altercation was to separate the rest of the office from the Barrani.”
She froze then. The only good reason to do that was the laws of exemption: if only Barrani were involved, the Imperial Laws took a back seat to the caste court laws. A Barrani confrontation in the normal office could not be guaranteed not to cause extraracial collateral damage—and that would void the laws of exemption entirely. The implications of that...were not good.
She thought of the morning’s events, the morning’s arguments, the fact that the cohort were coming to stay with Helen, and Tain’s comment—cut off angrily by Teela—that Teela had already been under “pressure.” The Barrani definition of pressure.
“Something happened to Teela.”
“Something,” Hanson said, exhaling, “almost happened to Teela. She survived. One of the two would-be assassins did not.”
“Tagraine and Canatel?”
Hanson nodded.