Cast In Fury (9 page)

He surprised her. “I see you’ve managed to hold on to the surcoat for a day. Color me surprised.” He bent below the counter and came up with two daggers, in reg sheaths, in his hand. “Put them on. Don’t lose them.”

She was almost speechless.

“I don’t like your attitude,” he told her. “I never have.”

She nodded. The fact that she felt the same about him was not something the conversation needed at the moment. It seemed to be—miraculously—going well on its own.

“But you’ve earned your rank, such as it is. And you’ve got keen sight. Maybe in ten years, experience will grind the edges off you. Maybe it won’t. But if you want to get yourself cashiered, it’ll have to be for a better reason than losing armor and weapons while saving the City. I’ve marked the loss as in the line of duty. If he asks, lie.” He paused and added, “If you repeat that, I’ll have a sudden change of heart. Is that understood, Private?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Go away. I’m busy.”

“Yes, sir.” She made it about four steps from the desk when he said, quietly, “Good luck, girl.”

Severn said, much more quietly, “If nothing good comes of Mallory, at least you’ve made peace with the Quartermaster.
Try
to make it last.”

Even before they made it to the heart of the office, Kaylin noted one change: the duty roster. It had been rewritten on a pristine roll of paper, in a fastidiously tidy hand, and the only holes in it were the ones beneath the pins. She saw that she was still marked for Imperial Palace duty, as was Severn. If she’d hated the idea when she’d first seen it, she was grateful for it now—it meant time away from the office.

To one side of the roster, in an equally neat hand, was a smaller piece of paper. On it, under a prominent heading that said Code of Conduct were a bunch of lines with numbers beside it. Usually, this was exactly the type of document the Hawks ignored, if they noted it at all. Kaylin, aware of how much she would have to change in order to remain a Hawk, grimaced and read.

• All official documentation is to be written in Court Barrani.
  

• For investigations in process: All reports are to be tendered no more than forty-eight hours after the relevant investigation takes place.
  

• For arrests: All reports are to be tendered no more than twenty-four hours after the relevant arrest takes place.
  

• There will be no betting or drinking on the premises. There will be no betting or drinking while on duty anywhere.
  

• The Official City languages are not to be used to promulgate obscenities.
  

• Before beginning your rounds, you will clock in. There are no exceptions to this rule. When finished, you will clock out.
  

• Regulation dress and grooming is mandatory while on duty.
  

Kaylin said nothing while she read. She said nothing after she finished, taking a moment to school her expression. When she was certain she looked calm, she turned to face the rest of the office. The first thing she should have noticed was Marcus’s absence. But the first thing she did notice was that Caitlin was missing. At the desk beside the mirror from which most general office business was done, an older man sat. He was trim and fit in build, with a very well-groomed beard; his hair had grayed enough to be salt-and-pepper, but not enough to be white.

She hesitated for a moment, and managed to stop herself from running up to the desk and demanding to know where Caitlin was. But it was hard. Had Severn not been at her side, it might well have been impossible.

The rest of the office seemed to have taken the change in stride, if you didn’t notice the silence that hovered above a group of people famed for their gossip and chatter. One or two of them met her eyes in silence.

“Who is he?” she asked Severn, her voice a muted whisper.

“Caitlin’s replacement. Sergeant Mallory wished to work with a man who’s accustomed to him. It comes with the job,” he added, before she could speak. “His name is Kevan Smithson.”

“He worked in Missing Persons?”

“For eight years. Before that, he was part of the office pool here. Let’s get this over with,” he said, and began to walk toward the desk that Mallory now occupied.

She’d burn in hell before she called it his desk.

“Corporal Handred,” Sergeant Mallory said, looking up from his paperwork. Kaylin was barely willing to give him this: it was half the size of the stack she’d last seen, and it was a good deal more tidy. “Private Neya.” He rose as he said her name. She stood at attention. She wasn’t particularly good at standing at attention on most days, but on most days, it wasn’t demanded.

He didn’t, however, seem to notice. “You are both on call at the Imperial Palace.”

“Sir,” Severn replied.

“I have attempted to ascertain the duration of your work at the Palace, but the Imperial Court could not be precise.” He turned, then, to look at Kaylin. “You are
not
the Hawk I would have chosen for that duty,” he said, reaching behind him to pick up a folder. There was no immediately visible writing on it, but Kaylin had a pretty good idea of what it contained. “And I have spoken with the Hawklord about this matter. Apparently, you were specifically requested.”

“Sir,” she said, hoping she sounded as curt—and as correct—as Severn.

“You will report to the office before you leave for the Palace while you have duties there.”

“Sir.”

“And you will tender a report of your activities to Mr. Smithson at the end of each day.”

“It’s neither an investigation nor an arrest,” she told him.

“Yes. I’m aware of that. But given the delicate nature of relations with the Palace, and given the probability that I will be called upon to explain your behavior while there, I require a report.

“Ah, and I wish you to lift your right arm.”

She did as he ordered.

He walked over to her and rolled up her sleeve. The golden surface of the bracer caught the ambient light, reflecting it perfectly. “I will also require you to show proof of your compliance with the Hawklord’s orders when you report.

“You are aware, perhaps, that the former Sergeant and I did not see eye to eye on many things. I have spent some time perusing your file,” he said, lifting and waving it as if it were a red flag and Kaylin were a bull, “and while I better understand some of his decisions with regards to your behavior, I feel that he placed too much emphasis on your possible import.

“I will be watching you, Private Neya. Do
one
thing to embarrass this department, and you will no longer be part of it. Is that understood?”

“Sir.”

“Yes or no, Private.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Dismissed.”

Kaylin took a breath and walked away from his desk.

“Private! That is not the way to the carriage yards.”

She turned on heel. “No, sir. I’m reporting to the Hawklord.”

“No, Private, you are not. I report to the Hawklord. You report to
me.
Is that clear?”

She was almost speechless. Having to walk past Mallory—and be interrogated by him—was one thing. Being told that all communication between the Hawklord and herself was forbidden was another. Her hands slid up to her hips.

Severn stepped on her foot. She met his gaze and saw the warning in it.

Was about to ignore it entirely when Severn said, “If you’re cashiered, you can’t help Marcus.”

“Sir,” she said, in a slightly strangled tone of voice.

“Good. Do not be late for your assignment.” He went back to the desk that, damn it all, he shouldn’t be behind, and took the chair. “I look forward to your report this evening.”

“Kaylin, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Severn told her quietly. “There’s every chance that Mallory will keep an eye on you for the first couple of weeks.”

Kaylin said nothing. Instead of making her way to the carriage yards, she had made her way to the Aerie. In it, high above her head, and just below the vaulted ceilings, the Aerians were flying. She knew most of them by name. Certainly all of them on sight.

“I know what I’m doing,” she told him, each word a little bolt of fury.

“I know what you intend to do as well,” he replied. “I just don’t think it’s wise.”

“I’m not asking you to come.”

“No. You are not, however, on your way to the Palace.”

“Rennick won’t even be
awake.
”

“True.”

“So there’s no point in going there now.”

“Less true,” Severn said.

“You didn’t tell Mallory that we’re not required until well past lunch?”

“No. I thought we might make use of the time.”

“I am.”

“In less obvious disregard of your superior officer’s orders.”

She made her way to the middle of the Aerie and waited. In about five minutes, three of the flying Aerians began to circle lower, and eventually they landed. Two of them were Hawks; one was a Wolf. The Wolf nodded carefully at Severn, who returned the nod.

“If the change of leadership doesn’t suit you, Corporal Handred, the Wolves are waiting.”

“It’s an internal matter,” Severn replied, with care. “But I’ll remember what you’ve said.”

The two Hawks watched Severn for a moment, weighing him. Severn had been a Hawk for a couple of months—at most—and most of his duties didn’t bring him in contact with the Aerians. Most of Kaylin’s didn’t, either, but that hadn’t always been the case, and with the Aerians, history counted for something.

“Kaylin,” one of the two said. He was a younger man, Severn’s age, and his skin was the same deep brown that Clint’s was.

“Perenne,” she replied. “Will you come outside with me for a second?”

He said something suggestive, and she smacked his chest with her open palm. “Very funny. I’m serious.”

“If I can be excused from my drill practice, yes.” He turned to the older Hawk.

“It’s heading to break anyway. Do
not
do anything stupid.” That said, the older Hawk launched himself into the air.

Perenne was not as stocky as the older Hawks, and he was taller. He had arrived on the force some five years past and, while technically he’d been a Hawk for longer than Kaylin, was well aware that she’d been dogging the feathers of members more senior for years.

“You want me to what?” he said, when she told him what she needed him to do.

“Just fly up to the top of the tower and dangle me over the window.”

“Kaylin—”

“Perenne, I need to talk to the Hawklord, and Mallory’s standing guard in front of the usual door.”

“Meaning he ordered you not to talk to him.”

“Not exactly.”

“What, exactly, did he say?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Corporal Handred?”

“He told her that she is not required to report to the Hawklord—that’s his duty.”

“In exactly those words?”

“More or less.”

Perenne grimaced. “I
like
this job,” he said. “I’d like to keep it for a while.”

“You don’t have to do anything else,” she replied. “I just—I need to talk to the Hawklord, and I’ll be in the dumps for insubordination if I ignore Mallory to his face.”

“You’ll be in the cells for insubordination if you ignore him behind his back,” Perenne replied reasonably. But he opened his arms, and his wings went from their light, airy fold behind his back to a full tip-to-tip stretch.

“Don’t expect much,” he said, as he caught her in his arms and adjusted for her weight. “Mallory was appointed with the Hawklord’s approval.”

“The man’s an arrogant prick.”

“True. But he’s not a homicidal one.”

“Marcus isn’t homicidal.”

“Much. Look, I know there’s some history with Mallory, but the Hawklord trusts him enough to let him run and staff Missing Persons.”

The ground receded.

“Perenne, he’s going to insist that the Barrani cut their hair.”

Perenne winced. “I didn’t say he was sane. But let him. He won’t last long if he does.”

“I couldn’t talk him out of it if I tried.”

The dome that enclosed the Hawklord’s tower grew larger as they approached it from above. It was closed. Kaylin swore.

“Look, just—dangle me above it while I knock.”

“Knock?”

“Kick.”

“Better. Have you put on weight?”

“Very funny.”

The Hawklord could be called many things. Stupid was not one of them. Almost before Kaylin had finished kicking the dome—and it was actually easier said than done if she didn’t want Perenne to drop her—the dome itself began to slide open, eight parts receding into the stone of the tower’s upper walls. Perenne took the open dome as an invitation to relieve himself of his burden, and very gently set her down, his wings beating slowly.

He landed behind her and snapped the Hawklord a salute. The Hawklord nodded at Perenne. “Circle the dome,” he told the Aerian. “Private Neya has no other way of leaving, but I assume she thought this out beforehand.” His white wings were folded at his back, and his hands were at his sides.

But his eyes were ringed and dark, and he looked tired. He waited in silence for Perenne’s ascent, and then turned his regard on Kaylin. “I believe you were told not to report to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Ah. And what, exactly, are you doing?”

“I want
you
to report to
me.
”

“I see.” He turned and walked toward the mirror that graced the tower. “You refer to Marcus Kassan.”

“What happened? Why is he—”

“I don’t know, Kaylin. I know that he is currently in the custody of the Caste Courts. The Leontine Caste Court. More than that I have not been able to ascertain. But his arrest is within the purview of the Caste Courts, and unless Marcus demands a public hearing or a public trial in the Imperial Courts, it is not our concern.”

“You can’t believe he—”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It doesn’t matter what you believe. The Caste Courts have the right to convene in this fashion. If we decide to disrupt Caste law, we risk too much. The city can’t cope with two Caste difficulties.” He paused and then said, “You visited Ybelline Rabon’alani.”

“Yes. At her request. And she’s not going to file an incident report.”