“...Where Moran said no one who was not half dying was allowed to be.”
“She is not, as you put it, half dying, dear. But she is not, strictly speaking, very happy at the moment. I haven’t seen her this upset since—” Caitlin stopped, reddening slightly. “And that’s neither here nor there, and I shouldn’t be gossiping. If you’ve got things to report, you should report them. Don’t mind me.”
* * *
Marcus was already in a foul mood. Kaylin approached his desk and was left standing at attention while he regained control of his seemingly permanent growl. He couldn’t, however, keep Bellusdeo standing at attention, not that she actually bothered. She wasn’t part of the office hierarchy, wasn’t beholden to it, and had been given permission by the Emperor to disrupt that hierarchy as she saw fit.
For some reason, this didn’t bother Kaylin. Possibly it was because Bellusdeo was a Dragon. Possibly it was because she didn’t particularly consider life tobefair. Dragon female trumped almost everything, as far as the Emperor was concerned.
But no, a little voice said, that wasn’t true. The empire trumped everything. Bellusdeo was considered important to therace, but that race didn’t really care about the empire, except in the abstract. It was the Emperor’s hoard. You disturbed it at your ultimate peril.
It was Bellusdeo who cut through rank and file behavior to tell Marcus that they had met the fieflord of Candallar in the East Warrens.
Marcus’s eyes couldn’t get any redder without spilling into the Leontine Frenzy color. Bellusdeo failed to mention either Mandoran or Teela. She spoke respectfully, but spoke as if to an equal. In the end, Marcus mirrored Hanson. He had a direct line to the Hawklord, but hadn’t chosen to use it, which meant that this wasn’t considered an emergency.
“There was no difficulty with the fieflord?”
“If you mean did he attempt to harm me, no.”
“Did he attempt to harm the officers?”
“No. Had he, what was left of him would be in the holding cells.”
“The Hawks would not—”
“Yes, I realize their hands are tied. But I’m not a Hawk, Sergeant Kassan. I’m a displaced person. A Dragon.”
Some of the red bled out of Marcus’s eyes then. “It was easier,” he said, “in the old country.”
“For you, too?”
“Yes. We could rip out the throats of our enemies—and our enemies seldom pretended to be our friends before we did.”
“I’ll suggest it to the Emperor,” Bellusdeo replied, with a sunny smile.
Marcus growled.
“I’ll suggest it on my own behalf; I shall utterly fail to mention your comment. You see, we also—in the old country—could rip out the throats of our enemies. Or their wings.”
Kaylin coughed. “I lived in a place where you could—if you had the power—kill your enemies with zero consequences. It was an awful place, and I don’t recommend it. The Emperor created the laws for areason, and I think the reasons are good.”
“You would, though,” Bellusdeo said. “You’ve thrown your life into them, and no one wants to waste their life.”
Dragons.
* * *
Hanson’s reply came about fifteen minutes later. Or rather, the reply to the message Marcus had sent to Hanson did. The respondent in the mirror, however, was the Hawklord. Marcus didn’t seem to be surprised. He did seem disgusted. “You’re wanted upstairs,” he told Kaylin.
Given the part the fiefs had played in Kaylin’s childhood, she wasn’t surprised, either; the surprise would have been no response, or a rote one.
“He wants the Dragon as well,” Marcus added.
“The Dragon,” Bellusdeo said, unfazed, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” At Marcus’s lowered browline, she added, “He has no right of command where I’m concerned, no. But I’m not so petty that I would deprive myself of something interesting simply to spite him.”
Marcus said nothing. Loudly.
* * *
