“Let me remind you,” the Arkon said, although he hadn’t paused or turned back, “that I can hear every word you say. A whisper does not, in fact, render your words private.”
Bellusdeo snickered.
Kaylin rolled her eyes. His hearing was, of course, Draconic—but he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head.
Hope was draped across her shoulders, looking distinctly dissatisfied with life. There was no danger in Tiamaris. There was, however, a patrol—one that consisted of the fieflord and the Avatar of his Tower, plus two guards. Kaylin recognized one of them.
That guard stepped out from behind the fieflord when the Dragons started bowing at each other.
“What,” Morse said in her normal voice, which was always lower, “are you guys doing?”
“Escorting a Dragon.”
Morse’s eyes narrowed. “We got thrown into the streets via a large hole in the wall. The one he usually takes when he’s an actual Dragon. Apparently, one of your Dragons caused him alarm.”
“Concern,” Kaylin said. The Dragons had finished with the bowing bits and had entered the discussion phase. Luckily, they were speaking in Barrani, not their native tongue. “The old Dragon—well, the one that looks oldest—over there? He does leave his rooms in the palace, but not bloody often, and never just to visit. Almost never,” she added, to be fair. “Tiamaris was his student.”
“And he’s worried?”
“Well, offhand I can think of a few times that the Arkon has left the palace. The time before last it was because the High Halls were on fire, and the entire Dragon Court had taken to the skies to defend it.”
“...So if he’s here there’s likely to be fire.”
“That’s probably Tiamaris’s concern, yes.” She hesitated. “Did you hear that Tiamaris wants to let Hawks patrol his fief?”
Morse rolled her eyes. “Yes. Don’t look at me like that. I don’t care about the Hawks.”
“I’m a Hawk.”
“Repeat my words.” There was the hint of a grin on Morse’s face. “Personally, I hate the idea.”
Trying not to bristle, Kaylin said, “Why?”
“Because he expects me to be the liaison. And I’d just as soon punch things or kill things as talk to them.”
Kaylin laughed, partly because it was true. “It’d be less work for you.”
“Not punching or killing things will take all of my self-control. I won’t have time to deal with Hawks. Looks like they’re done.”
Kaylin, looking at the Arkon, lifted one hand—the free hand—to her ear. Morse, who had been watching Kaylin, instantly lifted both of hers.
The Arkon let loose a volley of Dragon that would terrify any fiefling who could hear it—which would probably be anyone who lived in Tiamaris.
Bellusdeo rolled her eyes; Emmerian did not seem to either hear the Arkon’s words or be concerned by them. Tiamaris, Lord of the fief, roared right back.
“Or not,” Morse shouted—into Kaylin’s uncovered ear.
Chapter 16
Sedarias, of the gathered company, was the only person present whose eyes had descended into a dark, dark blue as the Dragons spoke. Annarion’s expression was smooth, polished, and implied the resignation, beat for beat, that Emmerian’s contained. Sedarias, not so much.
Apparently, the ability to see and hear the entirety of Mandoran’s and Annarion’s lives from the remove of the West March didn’t compensate for actual, lived experience. She was rigid as Tiamaris and the Arkon continued the thunder of what appeared to be an actual argument.
Here, Tiamaris held sway. It was his fief.
Kaylin glanced at Tara’s Avatar; the Tower, like the other two Dragons, look resigned. Resigned and compassionate. As if Kaylin’s glance was a question, Tara moved away from Tiamaris toward Kaylin. He didn’t appear to notice. As she reached Kaylin, she offered the Hawk a hug, her clothing transforming, as she did, from the meet-with-dignitaries dress and robes into the more beloved gardening smock.
“My Lord is worried,” she said. Unlike Morse, it wasn’t necessary for Tara to shout. Not even here, near the border of the fief over which her Tower ruled.
