Michelle Sagara – Cast in Flame (страница 3)

“She spends most of her free time with me,” Kaylin replied. “I’m a groundhawk. She probably knows the law better than anyone who isn’t.”

“You misunderstand. Humans are not, of course, required to take such a binding oath—I believe they would not survive it. Bellusdeo has not been required to do so. Lord Diarmat correctly points out that she therefore poses a risk to the Court.” He stopped at a smooth, flat wall. It was unadorned; Kaylin suspected it was actually a door.

The Arkon barked a sharp, harsh word and proved her suspicion correct; a part of the wall simply faded from sight. What lay on the other side of it was a disaster. It made Kaylin’s desk at its worst look pristine and tidy. Hells, it made Marcus’s desk look well-organized, which Kaylin would have bet was impossible.

The Arkon noted her hesitation. “Is there a difficulty?”

“Just how important is all the paper—that is paper, isn’t it?”

“Parchment. Some paper. There is also stone and a few shards of smooth glass. I trust that you will disturb nothing while you are here.”

“How?”

He raised a brow; his eyes didn’t get any more orange, which was a small mercy.

“There’s stuff all over the floor. There’s stuff all over the chairs. I probably can’t put a foot down without stepping on something.”

“Then do not, as you put it, put a foot down.” He gestured.

The hair on Kaylin’s arms and the back of her neck rose in instant protest.

“Do not,” he said, in a more severe tone of voice, “make me regret my foolish and sentimental decision to take pity on you and provide you some form of refuge.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she walked into the room; her feet touched nothing. Neither did the Arkon’s.

“Not to be suspicious or anything,” she began.

“You do not think me capable of either sentiment or pity?”

“Not much, no. Not for me.”

His smile deepened. “As you point out, Private, Bellusdeo did spend most of her free time in your presence. You have not, however, been in the city for the past month and a half. She has therefore had no anchor. No friends, if you prefer. In the last two weeks of your absence, she has spent a greater portion of her time in the fief of Tiamaris, speaking with the refugees there. When she chooses to enter the fief, she is met by one of the Norannir.”

“That would be Maggaron.”

“The Emperor does not consider Maggaron to be a suitable guard in the fiefs; Lord Tiamaris, however, is. She has accepted—with poor grace—the Emperor’s wishes in this regard.”

“What happened?”

“She has taken to flying in the restricted air-space above the fief of Tiamaris.”

“It’s not Imperial land.”

“No. She has pointed this out—at length. You might have recognized one or two of the words she used, if you were paying attention. She has, however, come close to the borders of the fief once too often for the Emperor’s comfort.”

“The Norannir live on the borders.”

“Indeed. She has taken pains to point this out, as well.”

“He’s going to isolate her! The Norannir are the only other friends she has in this city!”

The Arkon’s smile was softer, and infinitely more pained. “They are not her friends, Kaylin. They were once her subjects. She is not merely a Dragon to them; she is akin to a living god. Bellusdeo has her vanity. She has her pride. But she, like any Dragon, understands her role in their lives. She does not go to them for their sake, but her own. They remind her of who she once was.

“There is altogether too much in the Palace that reminds her of what she now is.”

Kaylin’s arms tightened. “And what, exactly, is that?”

“A displaced person. She is very much the equivalent of the Norannir. You think of her as a Lord of the Court, and you have some rudimentary understanding of the political power that title might give her. She lives in the Palace, and not in the mean streets of the fiefs that border Ravellon. She has food, should she desire it, and clothing; she has money. But the Norannir have more freedom than Bellusdeo now does.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why not say this to the Emperor?”

“Do you think I have not?” His eyes shaded to a color that was more copper than orange. Kaylin couldn’t remember what it meant, she’d seen it so rarely. In fact, she’d seen it only once: in Bellusdeo’s eyes. “I have told the Emperor that Bellusdeo cannot live in a cage. He does not intend to cage her—but regardless, he does. She is too valuable to risk. We have already seen how close to disaster we came.”

“Arkon—” Kaylin froze, and only in part because the muted draconic voices had risen in volume. “Please tell me this argument has nothing to do with my moving out.”

“You are not, that I recall, fond of unnecessary dishonesty.” He took a seat. It was the only seat in the room that seemed to have enough exposed surface to sit on. “If Bellusdeo can be said to have one friend in the Empire, it is you. She found your absence far more difficult than either she—or you—had imagined she would.”

“She said this?”

“Of course not.” He winced; it took Kaylin a couple of seconds to realize it wasn’t because of anything she’d said. Unlike her, he could understand every word that was being said. Or shouted. “You have made it clear to Bellusdeo that life in the Imperial Palace does not suit you.”

“Not in those exact words, no.”

“Refrain from repeating the exact phrasing.”

Because Kaylin loved her job on most days, she did.

“You intend to find another domicile?”

“Yes. As soon as I can.” When he lifted a brow, she thought of the job she loved—none of which included pandering to annoyed Dragons. On the other hand, survival often did. “Look, there are people who would kill to live in the Palace. I’m certain of it. But they’re the people the Hawklord goes out of his way to prevent me from meeting. Everything in my Palace rooms—everything—costs more than the clothing on my back. I feel like I should bathe before I step foot through the door.

“I can’t leave or enter without an inquisition. I have to deal with Imperial Guards on a daily basis for no other reason than that I live here.”

“They are there for the protection and security of our guests.”

“Fine. But I don’t want to be a guest in my own home. I want to be able to live there. Bellusdeo is a Dragon. When she dons Court dresses, they fit her and look good. She understands the powerful. She has power. I’m a groundhawk. I can barely make ends meet on my cruddy pay. I’m not in her class—and I know it.

“I came from the fiefs. I work on the streets. I don’t belong here, and I can’t be happy where I don’t belong.”

“You are a Lord of the High Court.”

“The Barrani High Court, and you know damn well I don’t have to live in the High Halls.”

“You have visited them before.”

“I visited them with Teela.”

“And the difference?”

She grimaced. There was a difference. She wasn’t certain what it was. “Teela’s a Hawk.”

“And Bellusdeo is not.”

“Bellusdeo would never swear the oath the Halls of Law require.”

“No. Lord Teela did?”

“Lord Teela doesn’t give a damn about nonbinding oaths. They’re just words, as far as the Barrani are concerned. There is no way Marcus would ever allow Bellusdeo to join the Hawks.”

“Ah, yes. Your Sergeant’s famous mistrust of my kind.” His eyes, however, shaded toward gold. He clearly found Marcus amusing. “Your Teela understands the High Court, and she avoids it where possible. But if you enter that world, she enters it beside you—and she warns others, by presence alone, that there are consequences to any actions they might take against you. Bellusdeo cannot do that, here. And she is aware that she lacks that ability; the Palace is not her home. It is not an environment with which she is familiar, or over which she has ultimate control.

“Still, she tries. She targets Diarmat with the full brunt of her outraged disdain. Her outrage,” he added, “is genuine. She feels your marks are not accorded the respect they are due. She does not fully consider the advantage in being underestimated— and I will say, now, that there is a distinct advantage to you, in my opinion. She feels a debt of gratitude to you.”

“I didn’t do anything for her gratitude. I did it because...because....”

“Oh, do continue. I’m certain it will be fascinating. You did it because that’s what anyone would do?”

Kaylin shrugged. It was a fief shrug. Fief shrugs, on the other hand, were not a language with which the Arkon chose to be familiar.

“You grew up in the fiefs. You are aware that you are lying. Even if you aren’t, there are very few—I can think of almost no one—who could do for Bellusdeo what you did. She would have died there.” His gaze slid off hers. “I am not certain, at this moment, that fate would not be preferable in her mind. Yes, the discussion in progress—and to my mind it will be some hours before it is done—involves both your residence and hers.” He closed his eyes. “She is in pain, Kaylin. She is grieving. For us, the grief is long past; it exists only in echoes, when we turn our thoughts to the past.

“For Bellusdeo it is new. It makes her reckless. More reckless,” he added, as if this were necessary. “You see her as a Dragon, which is fair. You will age, you will die; she will live forever. She is favored by an Emperor we still consider it wise that you never meet; she is given leeway that would be granted no one else. All of this is true. It is not, however, the only truth.