“Good. As you can imagine, I cannot snap my fingers and immediately produce Lillias. But if you will return to my store at closing time she will be here—if she is willing to meet you at all.” As Kaylin drew breath to speak, Evanton said, “Lillias accepts what was done to her, inasmuch as she can. She can pass for human if she is calm, and she has managed to do so. But she avoids Aerians; she wants neither their pity nor her own fear of being lesser, being mutilated.
“Your sergeant is the Aerian she most reveres; to appear before her when she herself is wingless will take a great deal of determination and courage—and I am not entirely certain she has either in her. She would consider it humiliating.”
Moran flinched over different words in Evanton’s sentence. “She shouldn’t,” was her flat reply at the end.
“No, she should not. But if a Hawk loses his or her right arm—or leg—they are no longer fit for active duty. Although they once shared the same responsibilities and risks as the rest of the Hawks, they might consider being with Hawks to be an emphasis of everything they have lost.” He was looking at Kaylin as he spoke. “Some people will see what they aren’t. They will pity them for it; they will see nothing but the loss.”
He meant Kaylin.
“And some people pretend that they’ve lost nothing,” the private countered.
“Indeed. And that is difficult in a different way. Why? Because neither of them involve seeing the actual person as he or she isnow. I am not saying that it is a simple problem; it should be, but people complicate everything they’re involved in. Lillias has lived a great deal of her life on the ground. She has not committed suicide. She has lost the use of her wings—as you yourself might, Moran, if you continue to be stubborn—and the loss was an experience that devastated her. She chose, as she could, to heal.
“I will not have you consider her as only the sum of her injuries. Do you both understand?”
Kaylin froze. Moran said nothing.
To Kaylin, Evanton continued, “Your mother died when you were five. Five years old in the fiefs, I believe?”
Kaylin nodded. She wasn’t certain where this was going, but could guess that she probably wouldn’t like it.
“If every single human you met looked at you with horror, called you a ‘poor dear’ and treated you like an orphaned child now, would you be fine with that?”
“No!” She stopped. “...No.”
“You will probably be more of a disaster in that meeting than your sergeant. Your sergeant’s sense of guilt and responsibility is too personal, true, but she is older. You have daydreamed of having wings—and flight—since I first met you. Understand that thesearedaydreams. You have also daydreamed of great wealth—but you do not pity those that are not greatly wealthy. Do not pity those who cannot fly, even if they once could. Flight did not make them safe. Flight is not, in and of itself, ennobling—as I am sure you are discovering in the current, somewhat charged political arena. And now, I am going back to bed.”
He put action to the words and left them all in the store without another word.
* * *
They made their way to the Halls of Law. Kaylin was silent as she considered Evanton’s words—and his particular example.
“What are you thinking?” Teela demanded, elbowing her in the ribs to get her attention.
“I’m thinking that you almost knocked me over.” Which was true. She righted herself as her familiar started to chew her hair. “And I’m thinking that Evanton was right. Or is right.”
“Oh?”
“This grown-up thing? It’s hard.” Teela looked both amused and slightly surprised. Kaylin latched on to the latter. “Is there something on my face?”
“No. It’s just the first time I’ve ever heard you imply that you’re not a grown-up. Tain?”
“There’s a first for everything.”
It was Moran who said, “You weren’t the only one he was disappointed in, and I don’t have half your excuses.” Her smile was wan. “I think he meant to imply that what I want from Lillias is absolution.” At Kaylin’s expression, she added, “Forgiveness. My mother died. My grandmother died. I thought Lillias had died. All of them, because I exist. My mother and grandmother have nothing left to give me, no matter how much I think I need it. Lillias might—but Evanton’s right.” She grimaced. “It’s been years since I’ve been lectured like that. I felt like I was four years old again.”
“Me, too.”
“So—it is hard, this grown-up thing, yes. But the alternative is not acceptable, either.”
* * *
The discussion of their relative immaturity stopped by unspoken agreement well before they reached the Halls of Law, but Kaylin looked up frequently. The Aerian Hawks were on the move; they were flying in tight formations, practicing aerial drills. They didn’t appear to notice the people passing beneath them, but Kaylin figured there’d be a test at the end of the day. They couldn’t be Hawks and fail to note the significant things.
Then again, she’d never been directly under an Aerian corporal or sergeant. Moran’s infirmary was staffed by Hawks, which made it part of the Hawks—in theory. In practice, the Swords used it, as well.
Clint and Tanner were on duty at the door. Clint said something inaudible—at least to the mortals present—to Tanner, set his polearm against the nearest stretch of wall and then leapt down the stairs in a bound that used wings.
