Cast In Secret (15 page)

Bushy Leontine brows rose a fraction, although if you weren’t familiar with the furrows of that furry, huge face, you might not have noticed. “Social call. During work hours.”

The bastard was going to dock her pay.

And she was going to let him. There were entire days where being awake was overrated. And then there were days that were worse.

“And the visit to Nightshade?”

“It was… part of my investigation.” Not, technically, untrue. She hadn’t said it was official.

“Ah. And why?”

“Evanton, as you’re well aware, is a purveyor of fine – ”

“Junk, and the occasional genuine enchantment, yes.”

“This involves a genuine enchantment. Something in his care has gone missing.”

He growled. “And what would that be?”

“A box. A reliquary, I think. He’s had it so long he doesn’t know what’s
in
it, but he was worried anyway.”

Leontines didn’t really appreciate magic much more than Kaylin did, were in fact the only race she knew well enough to know hated it more.

“We discovered that more than one child is possibly missing,” she said with care, “and that their disappearance, or the way the information was conveyed, ties in with magic.”

“With elemental magic, hmm?”

She flinched. Thought for a moment. “Sanabalis – ”

“Lord Sanabalis.”

“
Lord
Sanabalis came to see you.”

“Yes. He found your lesson somewhat unusual, given his own duties at this time.”

“But I – ”

“You asked him an entirely coincidental question about the nature of water. Unfortunately, Dragons don’t actually
believe
in coincidence.”

“They don’t?” she asked, momentarily sidetracked.

Marcus wasn’t having any of it.

“Not at all.”

“Does this mean I’m off the hook for lessons while he – ”

“Almost exactly the opposite, you lucky girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He barked a command that only Caitlin could actually reproduce, and the lights flared up, giving the office a ghostly look, to add to the almost haunting silence left in the wake of absent gossips. Speaking of which… “Severn?”

“Yes?”

“Did Jadine actually dump Lorenzo, or did she – ”

The loud bark sent the question ducking for cover.

“You are going to be the death of me,” Marcus growled. “After I kill you.”

“Justifiable homicide,” Severn said with a smile.

She gave them both a sour look.

Marcus then turned his attention to the paper Severn had so quietly handed him. He unfolded it, looked at the name, and winced.

“You recognize it?” Kaylin asked.

“What have I told you about asking the obvious?”

“Don’t. It wastes air.”

“Good.”

“But do you – ”

“Don’t breathe, Kaylin.”

“The name?” Severn asked quietly. “It was dark, and I could not easily read what was written. Lord Nightshade has a fine hand.”

“Donalan Idis.”

Severn became completely still. His expression didn’t change; he did not reach for his daggers or the chain he wore at his waist. His eyes, however, did not leave Leontine eyes; his gaze did not falter.

“How by two moons did you come to be mixed up in this?”

“You sent us to – ”

“Fine. Blame a tired, old sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Less cheerfully, and a lot less smugly.”

“Yes, Marcus.”

“Good. You may, if you wish, enlighten Kaylin, Corporal. But if Idis is involved – ” He paused. “Nightshade has a fine hand?”

“The name, of course, was provided by Nightshade, sir.”

“I… see. And what does he want in return? His kind don’t last long if they’re seen to cooperate with the Halls of Law.”

“I imagine that he could cooperate with the Emperor himself should he so choose, and none could unseat him.”

“I see. What information did he request of us in return for this, Kaylin?”

She shook her head. “Not much.”

“Fine. I want a full report of yesterday’s – ”

“Today, sir?”

“Not unless you’re an oracle.” He flicked a claw toward the wall. “It’s
very late
.”

Which was, of course, why the mirrors were covered.

“Your wives are going to feed you to their litters one day, sir.” It was a Leontine phrase.

Marcus laughed. If Leontine laughter could be rueful, this was. “My wives have each other and they say the household runs more smoothly when I’m not in it. Now get out.”

“Sir.”

“Report.
Full
report. In the morning. On my desk.”

As if he’d notice it. Kaylin nodded briskly anyway.

“By way of Caitlin,” he added when she had almost cleared the office.

Her curse and his subsequent laugh were the only two sounds she could hear.

“Donalan Idis was a member of the Arcanum.”

“In good standing?”

“I don’t know. It’s not a phrase the Arcanum actually uses, to my knowledge.”

They were wending their slow way down a nighttime street that did not have the fear of Ferals to mark it. It was almost unworldly to Kaylin, and she felt out of place in it, as if she were walking in dream. Childhood dream, dream of safety, Severn by her side.

“How do you know him?”

“The Wolves know all of the members of the Arcanum,” he replied, his tone remote. “As well as all names of the Imperial Order of Mages, and their apprentices.”

“And this one?”

“He is slightly more familiar to the Wolves,” Severn replied, “for his early work with the Inquisitorial Services.”

“The what?”

“Torturers.”

She would have blanched. Didn’t. “But they don’t use – ”

“This was before the Tha’alani… offered to work within the Imperial Service. I believe that some were drafted into Emperor’s service prior to the compact made by the Tha’alani and the Dragon Emperor, but it was a dismal failure.”

“How many years ago was this, Severn?”

“Well before your time or mine,” he replied. “But I would guess maybe thirty.”

“So he’s old.”

“He’s human, and he is not young. But
old
is probably not the right word.”

“Why?”

“Because, Kaylin, he is still alive.”

She thought about what he had said for a few minutes. “Do you think he had a hand in the attempt to draft the Tha’alani?”

Severn was silent for a full minute. “If I were to guess, yes. I can attempt to confirm it tomorrow.”

“Through the Wolves.”

“Not officially. But yes.”

The departments in the Hall – all three – had different duties, and of course, each one felt theirs was the most important, so there was a bit more than just friendly rivalry, especially after Festival season, during which the Wolves had what the harried Swords and Hawks called “their bloody vacation.”

The Swords kept the peace, if there was much peace to be kept – and they were probably at their busiest during the Festival season. The Hawks were left to pick up the pieces when peace did
not
ensue: they investigated murders, thefts, missing persons and other breaches of the law. It wasn’t uncommon for the Swords and the Hawks to work together when the city was in chaos, and Festival described that more or less neatly.

But the Wolves… were a special investigative branch of the law; they kept to themselves. They were called in when everything else had failed – where everything else meant things like arresting a suspect or a known criminal. Especially if the attempted arrest had involved injury or death.

Severn had been a Wolf.

“Severn?”

“What?”

“Can you find something else out for me?”

“Possibly. What?”

“How did they choose the Tha’alani they attempted to draft?”

“My guess? The ones that weren’t ash. The Emperor doesn’t take kindly to any refusal of a direct command.”

“But they – ”

“It was a disaster, yes. But it drove the Tha’alani to come up with a compromise. And that compromise has worked for decades.”

“What happened to them? The ones that were pressed into service?”

“Kaylin – ”

“No – you seem to know a lot about the Tha’alani. What happened to the ones who – failed?”

“They went home,” he said tersely. “And they put the fear of the deaf into the Tha’alani in a way that nothing else could have.” His lips tightened and closed. If there was more to say – and she could tell there was much, much more – it wasn’t going to come from Severn. Not tonight.

He walked in silence to the front door of her apartment, but he did not offer – or ask – to stay. “Tomorrow,” he told her. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell you what I can about Donalan Idis. But, Kaylin – ”

“Don’t expect the news to be good.”

He nodded.

Morning happened, like a waiting disaster.

Except, of course, you could predict it. Kaylin dragged herself out of the sagging middle of an old mattress, glared expectantly at the mirror – which, miracle of miracles, remained silent and reflective – and started sorting through the pile of laundry she mentally classified as “clean.”

The midwives hadn’t called her in, and this was good; she was still recovering from the last delivery, and the taste of birth fluids and almost nonexistent hair lingered in her mouth. Still, Leontines were among the most devoted and grateful of peoples, and the child, named in some ways after her, was a sign of goodwill between the pridlea and Kaylin that only kin-murder would break. Word would travel – had probably already traveled – between the various pridlea that constituted the complicated Leontine pack system. She would be marked as more than just a friend to the cubs’ family. Given that she was already unofficially considered Marcus’s kit, she could be relatively certain of safety among the Leontines.

Friends in high places were supposed to be something to strive for, but Kaylin found that friends in the quiet and unexpected places were often the ones who really helped in ways that counted.

And among those friends, complicated and scarred, was Severn, whom Kaylin tripped over when she opened the door.

“What are you doing?” she said as she righted herself on the banister – which creaked under her weight, damn it all.

“Listening to you snore.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You scared the mice, Kaylin.”

“Ha-ha.” She gave him the “later in the drill circle” look the Hawks were so familiar with – as if he were a Hawk, had always been a Hawk. Funny how odd that expression felt when your face froze there as your thoughts caught up to it.

“You’ve got the key,” she said, turning away.

“Yes. I kept it after the fight in Nightshade. You were unconscious for most of the week.” He paused, and then added, “I don’t really need a key.”

“I don’t want to know.” She pushed the door open and held it for him, looking into her room with the newly self-conscious gaze of someone who has an unexpected visitor.

He knew an invitation when he saw it, stood, and entered quietly. He also closed the door at their backs, and after examining the chair that was sometimes referred to as an open-plan closet, he walked across to her bed and jumped up to the ledge of the window, perching there.

“I brought food,” he added, handing her a canvas sack. He glanced at the mirror.

“Don’t,” she told him, before he could move.

“Don’t?”

“Don’t mute it, or whatever it is you think you were about to do.”

“For security reasons, Kaylin – ”

“The orphan hall and the midwives,” she replied.

He gave in with a shrug. Against those, there wasn’t a damn argument he could offer that would move her, and he knew it.

“I was a Wolf,” he said, as Kaylin reached into the bag he had handed her. She broke the loaf of bread she found there, and also broke a chunk of cheese from the long wedge that was likewise in the bag.

She nodded, her mouth full.

“I was a Wolf for three years before the Wolflord called me to the Shadows.”

Her mouth was full but it had stopped moving. She lifted a hand, her eyes wide.

He waited, with a look so impassive it made stone seem like cheesecloth. “Believe that I choose my words with care, Kaylin. But to understand what I’m going to tell you, you have to understand a bit more.”

“This is Wolf business,” she said, when she could manage to chew and swallow again. “It’s not Hawk business.”

“Most of the Hawks’ business is actually not your business, but it doesn’t stop you from nosing around.”

“Yeah, well, nothing I find out about the Hawks is going to buy me a shallow unmarked grave.”

“Nothing I tell you will end that way, either.”

She was silent; the words were spoken softly. Clearly.

“Severn – ”

“Three years a Wolf. Four years a Shadow Wolf. There is a reason that I understand the Tha’alani so well. The current Wolflord is not himself a man who could walk in the Shadows – as he put it.”

“Probably needed to keep his hands clean.”

“That is uncalled for, Kaylin.” Sharp words. Severn clearly respected the man.

“Sorry.”

“Lord Merlin is wise,” Severn added.

“Merlin? Isn’t that a – ”

“Bird, yes. The irony is often remarked on by newer recruits. His family is, however, an old family, and his father – who is still alive – retains a seat in the council of the Castelord.

“As for keeping his hands clean – ask Lord Grammayre one day what happened eighty years ago, give or take a few.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not Lord Grammayre.”

She continued to eat, wondering where he was leading her. Not really wondering whether or not she would follow. He was Severn, and some part of her was still a fiefling in his care, whether she liked it or not.

“Live in the Shadows for long enough, and all you see is danger, death, insanity. Evil, if you want to use that word.”

“You don’t?”

“It’s too simple.”

“Fair enough. I like things to be simple.”

“I know.” He folded his arms across his chest. If she had done that, she’d have tipped off the window edge. “You lose the ability to judge men. You look only for the things that will make them a danger. And at some point, all living things can be a danger, either now or in the future. To rule the Shadow Wolves, you
must
be able to see more clearly than they can see.”