“Why do you ask?”
“Because two of the Aerians—the ones we caught—couldn’t, in theory, fly on their own. Their wings aren’t properly formed.”
“You think they were deliberately crippled?”
“No. It’s not like being outcaste. Theyhavewings—but the wings wouldn’t support their full weight. They could manage to hit the literal street without going splat. But they couldn’t manage to lift off that same street.”
“You’re certain.”
“Yes. Evanton?”
“Yes, Kaylin. That is exactly what the blessing of air does.” He rose. “Do you think that the client you met is involved?”
“I wish I could say that hadn’t occurred to me,” was her stony reply. “But, in fairness, she wanted thebletsianfor Moran. Who can’t fly. I didn’t press her for more information; I trustedyounot to create something that would harm Moran. Now I have to ask—as a Hawk—how manyotherclients you’ve created thesebletsianthings for. And when.”
“I am not the only person who can craft them,” he replied, which wasn’t much of an answer. “Grethan, tea.”
* * *
Tea came twenty minutes later. Evanton frowned as Kaylin, in his words, entirely spoiled any appetite for lunch by eating her way through half of the cookie tin. She did, in her own defense, offer cookies to Severn, who took one.
“Aerian mages do not join the Imperial Order. I believe, in the history of the Southern Reach, there was exactly one. It is not,” he added, “recent history. The Tha’alani have an affinity for the element of water. It will not surprise you to know that the Aerians have a similar affinity.”
“Air?”
He nodded. “Air and fire. The abilities of the Aerians are similar to those of the Imperial mages.”
“Have any Aerians ever been Arcanists?”
“Funny that you should ask that question now.”
There were whole days when Kaylin regretted getting out of bed. She was torn, though. It was natural to hate and despise Arcanists; you practically lost your badge if you didn’t. She wanted to hate and despise something that wasn’t...her own people.
And that was one step too far. She struggled with it, and won, but only barely. On the other hand, barely still passed muster. “Sorry,” she told the older man. “I’m right out of humor for funny at the moment.”
“I can see that. There have historically been more Aerian Arcanists than there have been Imperial mages.”
“Why?”
“Because the Imperium, such as it is, is a largely human endeavor. The Aerians are not at home in halls that were not designed with wings in mind. They can—and do—work within them, but being a mage is not just, or even, office work. They dislike the cramped confines of both space and attitude.
“Arcanists are more racially diverse.”
“Most of them are Barrani!”
“Yes. Barrani have a general contempt for anyone who happens to be mortal. They are not Aerians; they are mortals, as far as the Barrani are concerned. But as is the case with the Barrani in other avenues of interaction, power—and money—speak. It is easier to feel at home in the Arcanum than in the Imperium. The Arcanum does not revere Imperial Law.”
“No kidding.” She exhaled. “Is there an Aerian Arcanist now?”
“What do you think?”
Kaylin’s Leontine, mixed liberally with borrowed words from two other languages, filled the small kitchen space.
* * *
“You are certain you saw whole wings?” Evanton asked when Kaylin at last stopped swearing and told him, in less colorful language, about the events of the day.
“Yes.”
