“No. I didn’t ask.”
“I am almost shocked. The prisoner, according to Nevoran, was approached by a friend.”
“A friend, or an acquaintance?”
“Let us say a former friend. He knew the man, and had known him for a number of years. The man in question often has odd jobs for him.”
“Legal jobs?”
“Not all of them. Most of them, however, are. Before you ask, this information was volunteered by the prisoner, not the interrogator.”
Kaylin looked slightly offended at this preemptive correction. “Nevoran isTha’alanari. He understands the laws involving disclosure better than almost anyone here.”
“Yes. Well. Hawks have been sent to question the friend. Regardless, the prisoner was offered the job for a sizeable sum of money. He was told that he was to do exactly what he did with Margot.”
“Was he supposed to kill her afterward?”
“No. That was not part of his original remit.”
Kaylin frowned thoughtfully at the tone of the Hawklord’s voice. “You think someone else was going to kill her and he was supposed to take the fall for it?”
“I think that likely.”
“Did he ever speak to an Aerian directly?”
“No. He spoke only to the go-between.” The Hawklord waited.
“You think an Aerian was present.”
“Yes. It would not be the first time some form of invisibility has been used. Nevoran is entirely caged by the man’s perceptions, and he perceived nothing. He was slightly confused—the amount of money seemed high for the job at hand. He was also slightly suspicious.
“But if our unknown adversaries could command Aerians to assassinate Moran dar Carafel, they could not command Aerians to steal the bracelet that the man held. It would be safer—by far—to command Aerians to steal the Emperor’s crown. While he’s wearing it.
“I have spoken with Master Sabrai of the Oracles. No one approached the Oracular Halls with a similar request—but to speak with the Oracles requires the tacit permission of the Emperor. Again, it is unlikely that permission would have been forthcoming.”
“Why do they care about Oracles at all?”
“That would be the question. At the moment, it is the only question worth asking.” At Kaylin’s expression, the Hawklord continued. “The facts as we know them are simple. Someone Aerian wants Moran dar Carafel dead. The reasons are less clear. On the surface of things, if Moran dies, the power of thepraevoloreturns to the race. But it is not a predictable return; I cannot see why or how her death would be of use.
“But clearly, it is of enough use that assassins have been sent against her.” His eyes lightened a touch, although they retained their base blue. “They will not find willing volunteers again while she lives. She has declared herself in a way that is undeniable.”
“How so?”
“She can wear the bracelet.”
“Pardon?”
“She can wear the bracelet. Did she not tell you?”
Kaylin frowned. “Are you telling me that no one else could wear it?”
“That is exactly what I’m telling you.”
“But—it didn’t feel likemagicto me.” Kaylin felt the ground give way beneath her feet. She had taken the bracelet—which was technically against the rules—andhandedit to Moran. “What—what does it do to Aerians who aren’tpraevolo?”
The Hawklord did not reply. But he didn’t glare her into stammers and eventual silence, either. “I am not of significant enough import in the Southern Reach to know that for fact. What I know is what the rest of the Hawks and Swords know; it is based in story and perhaps even myth, not fact. I dislike story and myth as the basis for an investigation.
“But I understand that, in some ways, they have a life of their own. In the stories I was told while a child in the Reaches, and in the stories that the rest of the Aerians here were also told, anyone presumptuous enough to claim it died. Thepraevolowas said to be incorruptible; he—or she—was the heart of all the flights. The rest of the Aerians were not.
