Michelle Sagara – Cast In Courtlight (страница 12)
“Out.”
He snorted, but there was a little less edge in the sound. He knew what she did when she was off duty, even though it was technically both illegal and impossible.
“You’ve got a meeting,” he growled.
“When?”
“A half an hour ago.” Some days it just didn’t pay to be alive. “How important is this meeting?” “It depends.”
“On?”
“On how much you like wearing the Hawk.” She groaned. “Stall for me?”
“I have been,” he snapped, exposing the full line of Leontine teeth. They were really impressive teeth, too. “And Kaylin?”
“Yes, Marcus?”
“I’m not enjoying it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get your ass into the office.”
“Yes, sir.”
“NOW.”
She broke contact. “Don’t laugh,” she said to Severn, who was, in fact, chuckling. “You’ve got beat duty, and if you’re here, you’re not there.”
The smile didn’t fade. “I’m not you, Kaylin.”
“Meaning what?”
“I cover my ass.” He reached into the folds of his uniform—he hadn’t even bothered to remove it—and pulled out a curled piece of paper. She really hated paper. “The Hawklord’s orders.”
“He
“I don’t believe that was the term used, no. But my duties this Festival are somewhat elastic, owing, no doubt, to my inexperience.”
“Meaning?”
“You don’t have time for the explanation.” She tossed him out into the hall and dressed.
CHAPTER 4
“What are you not going to do?”
“Severn, I
“Let me try that again. What are you
“Breathe anymore, if I don’t get there quickly!”
“Third time lucky,” Severn said in a tone of voice best reserved for truculent children. Kaylin bristled.
“I’m
But she was off her stride; Severn in the morning, Severn in her small bed, Severn by her side—it was too much to take in with good grace. And as Kaylin and good grace were often on opposite sides of the city, she struggled not to be exceptionally cranky.
But not too hard—cranky was better, in Kaylin’s books, than confused. She was damn tired. If Marcus had half a heart, she’d still be sleeping off the night’s work.
She was dressed in a wrinkled surcoat; she looked like Hawks might if they’d been involved in breaking up a bar brawl. She’d left her best pants in the damn Castle, and her second best, at the moment, had holes in the leg. Which wasn’t her fault; someone trying to cut her knee off could be considered damage taken in the line of duty.
The exceedingly stingy man often referred to as the Quartermaster had other ideas.
Severn frowned.
He had a way of moving that suggested violence without descending to it, but the sudden glint of steel in his hands was not a comforting sign. Rocks and temper forgotten, Kaylin stilled instantly, her hand dropping to a dagger hilt.
“What?”
“Barrani,” he said quietly.
She squinted. The sun was just too damn bright, and her mouth didn’t feel much less like she’d eaten a dead mouse. But as she eased into a fighting stance, she saw the man Severn referred to. Wondered how damn tired she must be to have missed him in the first place: he wore red.
And not a little red; it covered him from shoulder to foot in a long, expensive drape that caught sun and deepened color at the same time. Kaylin had a word for people who could spend
Red. “Arcanum,” she said in a tone that was usually reserved for the more colorful words she knew.
“Lord Evarrim,” Severn added. “He’s persistent.”
“He’s not alone.”
“I’d noticed.”
There were four guards with him, but they were dressed in a less obvious fashion. Where less obvious was armor that glinted beneath translucent surcoats. They wore their hair beneath wide bands, but they wore it Barrani style; capes that fell well past their shoulders. They were, of course, of a height, and they walked in perfect unison.
“You feel like jogging?” Severn asked, without moving.
“Not much.”
He shrugged. “You’ve got thirty seconds.” His words sunk in. “I’m not leaving you here.” “They’re not interested in me.”
Her turn to shrug. “They’re not interested in the Dragon Emperor either, and these are pretty damn crowded streets. I’ll take my chances.”
“Then let’s keep walking, shall we? The Halls are only four blocks away.”
Four long blocks. Kaylin nodded. Whatever animosity there was between them had turned sideways and vanished. They had time to squabble later. For now, they both wore the Hawk, and if Kaylin’s had seen better days, she was still proud of it. It was one of the very few things in her life that she’d worked to earn, and consequently one of the very few things she accorded real respect.
At block two, Lord Evarrim seemed to notice that Kaylin was walking toward him. Kaylin was underimpressed with the quality of his acting; it was good, of course, but it was cheap. Lord Nightshade would never have stooped to pretense.
Then again, he owned any street he walked in, so pretense was kind of superfluous.
“Private,” he said, nodding to Kaylin as if she were just barely worthy of notice. “Corporal.” The rank still rankled. Kaylin came from the Leontine school of acting, but struggled not to let it show anyway.
“Lord Evarrim,” Severn said, bowing. He hadn’t bothered to sheathe his dagger, and Lord Evarrim hadn’t bothered to notice the weapon. His guards were slightly more critical, but as swords were considered more of a public menace than daggers—and gods alone knew why—they didn’t draw weapons in the open streets.
They didn’t have to.
Severn did
This, Lord Evarrim did notice.
“I hope the Festival season is uneventful,” Lord Evarrim continued after a minute pause. “And I hope it finds you in good health.”
“And you, Lord Evarrim.”
“You are, I believe, new to the ranks of the Hawks,” the Barrani Lord said. He looked bored, but his eyes were a clear green—a dark green that held hints of blue.
Severn nodded.
“But the private is not. Private Neya.” Blue now, definitely blue. What the Barrani could keep from their faces, they couldn’t keep from their eyes; like Dragons, like Aerians, like Leontines, the color of their eyes told a story. In this case, it was a chilly one.
“Lord Evarrim,” she said, striving to match Severn’s tone.
“I believe you keep company with a member of the High Court.”
“I keep the company of Hawks,” Kaylin said carefully.