Michelle Sagara – Cast in Peril (страница 13)

“Not at the moment, you’re not. Your point is, however, taken. I’d prefer to avoid the Palace, if at all possible.”

“Why?”

“Because the Emperor isn’t terribly happy with the Barrani, its Lords, or its mages, and I’m not assuming that he’s going to be entirely happy with its Hawks, either.”

“Why?”

“Kitling—think instead of talking, hmm?” She gave Kaylin five seconds to do that thinking, which seemed a tad unfair. “The bomb wasn’t thrown by mortals; it certainly wasn’t planted by Dragons. Whoever tried to kill Bellusdeo was almost certainly Barrani; it is not inconceivable that they were working in concert with humans.”

“If I ask why again, are you going to hurt me?”

“I’ll seriously consider it,” Teela replied, but her eyes stayed on the safe side of blue. “Bellusdeo is both female and Dragon. The Dragon population has been static for a long time now; the Barrani population hasn’t. If we’re not at war—and we’re not—the war still informs us. Someone doesn’t want there to be any more clutches, and killing Bellusdeo pretty much guarantees that.”

* * *

Kaylin’s regular beat was still embroiled in the investigations and magical cleanup demanded by the Emperor and the Imperial Order of Mages. They were drawing to a close, which meant the growing line of concerned citizens—Margot chief among them—were likely to be less of a feature in the various offices the Swords occupied. Which was a pity. Margot’s inability to make money by swindling the gullible was a genuinely bright spot in what was otherwise magical chaos and displacement.

The panicked reports of citizens at the edges of the Elani district had dropped to a manageable level in the two weeks it’d been more or less locked down, which meant the Hawks confined to desks in the public office were released to their regular duties. In the case of Private Neya and Corporal

Handred, this meant a stroll to the fief of Tiamaris; as Elani was still in lockdown, and it was their beat, they had time in the schedule for low-level investigations of a more incidental nature. As the Hawklord called them.

As the two Hawks headed toward the bridge-crossing that led to Tiamaris, Kaylin filled Severn in on the admittedly scant details of the report Marcus had offloaded, hoping that Severn would drop in on Missing Persons—Mallory’s domain—

tomorrow. Mallory didn’t have the apparent contempt for Severn that he had for Kaylin. To be fair, Severn didn’t have the apparent contempt for Mallory that Kaylin had, either. Severn was much more likely to be granted full records access for a search of those reported missing the past two weeks.

The small dragon chewed on the stick in Kaylin’s hair without dislodging it or, worse, snapping it, as they made their way across the bridge and, from there, to the less crowded fief streets. They hadn’t bothered to ditch the Hawks’ tabard, so the occupants of those streets kept their distance—but they didn’t duck into the nearest building, doorway, or alley just to move out of the way. Things improved, if slowly.

To Kaylin’s surprise, Tara wasn’t in her garden when they approached the Tower itself. Kaylin slowed, ducked around the side of the building, and found it empty, as well. Severn nodded when she glanced at him; he found it unusual, as well.

The Tower doors were shut. Since they had no ward—a kindness offered by Tara, who understood just how thoroughly uncomfortable wards made Kaylin—the two Hawks knocked and then took a step back to wait. The doors took five minutes to roll open.

Standing between them as they opened was Morse. She was alone, which was also unusual; she was on edge, which was worse. “Tiamaris wants to speak with you,” she said without preamble.

“Where’s Tara?”

“In the mirror room. If she wants to be disturbed, she’ll let us know. She’s been there for the past three days,” she added as she turned and began to lead them into the cavernous, wide halls of the Tower.

“Morse?”

Morse shrugged. “Yeah,” she said, answering the question Kaylin had asked by tone alone. “It’s been bad.” She paused, squinted, and then said, “Where’d you get the glass dragon?”

* * *

Tiamaris was waiting in what looked like a war room. The wall opposite the doors was a vast display of mirrors, none of which were in their reflective state. The whole of the fief, in much cleaner lines than the streets ever saw, was laid out to the left. Across those streets were lines in different colors; one was a bright, sharp red. It demanded attention.

Not even mindful of the distinctly orange color of his lidded eyes, Kaylin came to stand beside the fieflord.

“Word arrived that you encountered some difficulty yesterday,” he said, sparing her a passing glance. The glance, however, became a full-on stare when it hit the curled body of the small glass dragon. “What,” he asked in a sharper tone of voice, “is that?”

“The reason the difficulty wasn’t fatal.”

“Pardon?”

“The small dragon—”

“It is not a dragon.”

“Sorry. The small winged lizard—” The glass dragon lifted his head and glared balefully at the side of her face. “You’re smaller than he is,” she told it.

“It appears to understand what we are saying.”

“Yes. He doesn’t speak, though. He was hatched during the explosion of the Arcane bomb that destroyed a quarter of the building. Given what’s left of my apartment, we should have gone down with it. We didn’t. Bellusdeo thinks it’s because the— He protected us.”

Kaylin turned to Severn, who was examining the map with a frown. “The Arkon is doing research as we speak. None of which is relevant at the moment. The red is the last known location?”

The fieflord shook his head. “I will never understand mortals. Yes.”

She counted. There were a lot more than one missing boy.

“What did the Sergeant tell you?”

“He handed me a report,” she replied. “Miccha Jannoson crossed the bridge from the City and didn’t return. Are any of these lines relevant to that report?”

Tiamaris lifted a hand, and Kaylin followed its movement. One thread. It started three yards from the bridge, on the fief side of the Ablayne. It was notable for its length: it was short, much shorter than the streets.

“I don’t understand.”

“Tara spent much time constructing these overlays,” he replied, as if that would explain things.

It didn’t. “Miccha wasn’t a citizen of the fief.”

“No.”

“The Tower, any Tower, is in theory capable of tracking its citizens.”

“That,” he replied, “is a statement only partially based in truth. What she can track, should she so choose, is the approximate activity of people within my domain, if she has enough information to work with. Her records of the Barren years are notably scant, but the information she’s processed since I accepted the mantle of fieflord are of necessity more complete.”

“She couldn’t find Bellusdeo,” Kaylin pointed out, her gaze moving to the other tracks of red, some much longer.

“She couldn’t, no,” he agreed. “But there are probable reasons for that, chief among them being she had only a corpse with which to work.”

“She has even less in the case of Miccha.”

Tiamaris turned to regard her. “She is watching the bridge closely,” he finally said.

“What are the purple points?”

“The purple points—and they are not markedly purple to my eye—are unknowns.”

“Unknowns?” She glanced at the Dragon Lord. Miccha was an unknown, but Tara had clearly tagged him. “What exactly do you mean by ‘unknown’?”

“The fieflord, through the auspices of his or her Tower’s defenses, can see anything that occurs within the fief should they be paying attention. It is not, however, a trivial affair on our part. It is less difficult when the Tower is sentient, awake, and watchful, but even Tara has her limits. In the case of Miccha, she noted him precisely because he crossed the bridge and appeared to have very little reason to do so.”

“He did it on a dare.”

Tiamaris raised a brow. “It was an expensive dare,” he finally said.

“You think he’s dead.”

“I think he will not return to his family.” He hesitated and then added, “He is not the only person within my fief’s borders to disappear abruptly; he is the only citizen of the Empire to do so and therefore the only person who is directly relevant to your duties.”

“A lot of missing-persons reports are filed, Tiamaris. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“What distinguishes this one from those?”

“There is no obvious commonality among those who are missing. They are variously youthful, elderly, male, female.”

“They were reported missing?”

“Two were, directly to Tara. Those are the burnt-orange lines. Relatives of the missing women came to Tara for help a day after their parents disappeared. The orange lines are their known paths and destinations for the day prior to the reported disappearance. She was not, then, at full alert.”

“Now?”

He indicated four red lines. “These occurred after the first requests for aid. Those,” he added, pointing at lines that were a paler orange, “are possible similar disappearances. Morse has her people out in the streets in an attempt to discern whether or not the disappearances are real.”

Morse wouldn’t get that information directly, but she had Tara as backup. She asked the questions no one in their right mind—for a fief value—would answer; Tara eavesdropped on the conversations that occurred after Morse left the vicinity of possible witnesses. The citizens of the fief, if they thought about it for a few minutes, could figure out what was going on, but years of survival-based behaviors didn’t disappear in a month or two, and Morse caused terror in anyone sane, regardless. Tara didn’t.