“Sir.”
His brows rose very slightly. “Is that a ‘yes, sir,’ or a ‘no, sir’?”
“It’s a sir.”
“I see. You are no doubt aware,” he continued, turning away from Kaylin and toward the Tower’s central mirror, “that my morning has become vastly more eventful as a result of yours?” He gestured the mirror to life, and its silver, reflective surface absorbed his reflection, scattering it to the edges of the frame. What remained was a kind of pale, ash-gray sheen. Or at least that’s what Kaylin could see.
“How is Moran adjusting to life with you?”
It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t promising.
“Shouldn’t you be asking Moran that?”
“She is not currently present. You are.” His tone made clear that his tolerance for insubordination was quickly reaching an all-time low.
“She’s doing well. She likes Helen.”
“The...Avatar of your home?”
“Yes. Helen likes her. She has her own rooms in the house—everyone does.” She hesitated; the Hawklord was expressionless. “Helen makes rooms for people who are going to be permanent guests. She made rooms suitable for an Aerian. She’s got furniture suitable for an Aerian, and the ceilings are tall.”
“Moran is not flying.”
“No. She won’t let me heal her.”
“Yes. I forbade it.”
Kaylin stared at him in outrage. She managed to shut her mouth before words fell out.
“I did not expect you would become involved with the sergeant. She is in the infirmary; you are a street Hawk. You have a sergeant, and if he growls incessantly about the difficulty of having you in his ranks, he is capable of containing any damage you cause.” The Hawklord exhaled. “I did not expect that you would come to work with a Dragon in tow. I have been told very, very quietly that the Dragon is worth more to the Emperor than the rest of the Hawks combined—including myself.”
“...By the Emperor?”
“Yes. Lord Bellusdeo has occupied much of my time. I would ask you to leave her at home, but it hasalsobeen made clear that the choice is to be Lord Bellusdeo’s. I did not expect to add Moran dar Carafel to the list of things with which I must deal. What are you trying not to say?”
“...The Emperor is fine with Moran living with me.”
The Hawklord closed his eyes briefly. “Is it too much to hope that you did not hear this directly from the Emperor himself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Emperor may change his opinion soon. It is his prerogative.”
Kaylin said a lot of nothing for a long time.
“I wish to know two things. First: tell me what happened this morning. Records, map.” The mirror finally surrendered an image that Kaylin could see. She obligingly approached it, scanning the lines that were supposed to represent streets and buildings. She lifted a finger, and a point appeared—in bright, scarlet red—beneath it.
“Here.” Kaylin then recounted the events of the morning, leaving out the general snark that passed for conversation between Bellusdeo and Mandoran. In fact, she tried to leave Mandoran out of the discussion altogether. The Hawklord wasn’t buying it, and she surrendered and answered his pointed questions.
“Have you examined the site?”
“No—we came straight to the Halls. Moran was the target, and we couldn’t see the assassins; we wanted to get her to safety. The Halls have some of the most impressive protections against illegal magic in the city. Only the palace has better. Are the Imperial mages at the site?”
“That would be one of the many, many difficulties this morning has caused.”
“What difficulty?”
“The nature of the assassin is unknown, yes?”
