Cast in Ruin

“Etiquette lessons, if you must know.”

Teela frowned for a second, and then nodded. The fact that she’d asked at all meant the investigation was going very badly; normally, she would have known exactly where Kaylin had been the previous day. Teela had taken to office betting pools like fish take to water.

“You didn’t offend Diarmat, did you?”

“I believe my inferior existence is offense enough,” Kaylin replied, sliding into very clipped and precise High Barrani.

Tain chuckled. “He’s old school, Kaylin.”

“Meaning?”

“You’ll find out. Hawklord’s waiting,” he added. “And we’re not allowed back in until you’ve finished.”

Lord Grammayre’s eyes were an unfortunate shade of blue; his wings were at full height, but at least they were only partially extended. He held what appeared to be two letters in one of his stiff hands, and he looked up when Kaylin entered. He didn’t even tell her to close the doors; he gestured and they pretty much slammed shut at her back. Had she been Barrani, they would have closed on her hair. Or maybe not. Barrani hair never got in the way of anything.

“I have two completely conflicting requests, and I have very, very little time in which to reply. Are you aware of what either of these letters contain?”

“No, sir,” she said truthfully. She did snap a salute, and she did stand pretty much at rigid attention.

Lord Grammayre looked peaked. Had she been Caitlin, she might have asked him if he’d been sleeping at all; as she wasn’t, she didn’t dare. “Since neither request has anything at all to do with the Human Caste Court or the Exchequer, I almost consider the interruption a favor. Sadly, it is not a favor I can indulge in for much longer.

“Lord Diarmat, after an hour of extracurricular lessons, has decided that things would work more smoothly with a cocurricular schedule.”

Kaylin tried to make sense of this, and failed. “Cocurricular?”

“Yes. He would like your etiquette lessons—and his involvement in the same—to be more—” he glanced at the paper “—comprehensive. He feels that there is some danger you will take the lessons far too casually otherwise.”

“I’m still stuck on cocurricular.”

“Ah. The lesson schedule would become far more intensive, and the classes would be integrated into your duties to the Halls of Law. Your paycheck—and possible promotion, and yes, that’s also on my desk—would depend on your success. He feels that separation of his lessons and your duties are not—” again he glanced at the paper “—a strict advantage.”

Kaylin had drifted off the topic of cocurricular and Lord Diarmat, and latched onto the fact that a request for promotion—for her!—was on the Hawklord’s desk.

He lifted a pale brow, and then his eyes narrowed; they were still blue. He’d seen Kaylin almost daily since she was thirteen years old, and if she wasn’t that child anymore, he’d also become familiar with all the incremental changes time had made. He knew what she was thinking. “If,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I might actually have your attention for the next five minutes?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Lord Diarmat’s vision of cocurricular would see you at the Imperial Palace for three days of each week, duty cycles notwithstanding. He specifically states some concern with your overall martial training and your deplorable self-indulgence; he wishes all trace of these deficiencies to be dealt with immediately.”

Three days of each week? “What about my beat?”

“You would obviously not be patrolling for the duration.”

“And the duration?”

“That was not specified, although I believe the implication is that his lessons will last until he is satisfied.”

“Or I’m dead?”

“If you feel that’s more likely.”

Almost ashen, Kaylin grasped at straws. “And the—the other letter?”

“There is apparently some miscommunication among the members of the Dragon Court; given the relocation of the refugees and the absence of Lord Sanabalis from the Palace for much of each day, that is understandable.” He glanced at the second letter. “Breathe,” he said without looking up.

She tried.

“Lord Sanabalis apologizes for any inconvenience his request might cause the Hawks, but his request is, for Lord Sanabalis, quite urgently stated.”

The Hawklord wasn’t known for either his kindness or his cruelty. Kaylin was privately wondering about the latter. While it was true she’d interrupted a critical meeting at a very bad time, it was also true that the interruption wasn’t her doing.

“He would like to see you seconded to the Imperial Court as an attaché.”

“A what?”

“I believe he means a general aide of unspecified expertise. His request, however, would clash badly with Lord Diarmat’s.”

“Why?”

“He wants you as a full-time aide for an unspecified length of time. You would not report to Sergeant Kassan; you would report directly to Lord Sanabalis.” The Hawklord lowered the hand that held the letters, and his irritation receded; the color of his eyes, however, was almost cobalt. “Your duties to the Court at this time would take you directly into the fiefs.”

“The fiefs? But—”

“There have been some issues with the resettlement.”

CHAPTER 3

“Issues?” Kaylin said, her voice sharpening. “What do you mean, issues?”

“I? I mean nothing. Lord Sanabalis has failed—entirely—to make explicit what those issues or concerns are. He has, however, stated unequivocally that the strangers, or at least one or two of them, would be comfortable, or perhaps comforted, by your presence. He acknowledges, of course, that the needs of the Halls of Law take precedence in this case, and that the jurisdiction is…hazy. He also feels, should we grant his request, Corporal Handred should accompany you.” The Hawklord looked at Kaylin.

“While I feel it inadvisable to annoy Lord Diarmat, three thousand homeless strangers—none of whom speak Elantran or Barrani—seem, to me, to be the greater concern. While the fief of Tiamaris is not within the purview of the Halls of Law, if accommodations cannot be safely made, the strangers will no doubt become our problem, one way or the other.

“I will therefore accede to Lord Sanabalis’s request, and I will write my regrets to Lord Diarmat. I will not, however, attempt to get you out of his extracurricular lessons. Is that understood?”

Kaylin nodded.

“Therefore, if you must be late—or worse, miss one—have a reason with which even the most punctilious of people can find no fault.”

“Such as being dead?”

“That would,” was the wry reply, “be acceptable, but I think it goes a tad far.” He exhaled. “Report to Lord Sanabalis directly upon leaving the Tower; he will have further instructions. Where it is possible, make your reports to Sergeant Kassan at the end of the day. He will no doubt have some issues with your placement, and this will mollify him somewhat. It is the only concession I can afford to make at this time.”

Kaylin nodded and offered as perfect a salute as she could.

“I will mirror Sergeant Kassan to let him know of your reassignment.” He placed one palm on the surface of his slender, tall mirror; the office—the one she usually called home when she wasn’t dealing with nervous, angry, or insane people—swam into view. At the center of that office, in image, as in life, was the bristling golden fur of a Leontine. “Sergeant Kassan,” the Hawklord said in brisk, clipped Elantran.

“What,” Marcus said, catching the same glimpse of Kaylin that she’d caught of him, “has she done this time?”