Cast in Ruin (18 page)

There were, as expected, families in the building. Walls of very dubious construction had been put in place some time ago; they weren’t original to the building. Kaylin sighed. “Shall we do this the old-fashioned way?”

Severn nodded.

No one who lived in the building—which is to say, no one who was actually brave enough to answer their door—had seen the woman in question. Kaylin was reasonably certain they were telling the truth, and any investigation of a more magical nature would have to wait for either Sanabalis or Tiamaris; she could sense no magic anywhere in the building. This wasn’t unusual for the fiefs.

There was a basement as well as two stories. The basement was the last place they looked because even in the fiefs, people didn’t
like
to live in the dark. But there were people, or at least evidence of people, living in the dark here. They weren’t home or weren’t answering their door. The door was actually locked, and the lock was half-decent.

Kaylin was torn. It wasn’t a hard lock to pick, but she didn’t have many tools for that kind of work at the moment. On the other hand, she wasn’t the Law, here—a little bit of break and enter, if it wasn’t accompanied by theft or violence, wouldn’t cause paperwork or complaints.

Severn didn’t think it was worthwhile. “Now that we know where it is, we can ask Tara to examine it at her leisure—and at a distance. I don’t think we’ll find anything.”

Neither did Kaylin, which is why she didn’t insist.

They made it back to the Tower ahead of the Dragons and the Avatar. Given the nature of the Tower, the doors weren’t locked. If they didn’t roll open on their own as she approached them, they did open with a little help.

Kaylin and Severn made their way to the morgue, where Red was still working.

One look at his expression made clear that he wasn’t finished. That, and he wasn’t entirely happy with the work in progress, not that happiness per se was ever something you expected to find while cutting into corpses.

“What’s wrong?” Kaylin asked.

“I’m going to need another set of scalpels,” he replied curtly. “Are you two done for the day?”

“I am,” Kaylin said. “I’ve got another appointment I can’t afford to miss. Red, what
is
wrong? Do you know what killed her? Or them?”

“No. I’m not sure anything I do will give us that information, either.”

“Why?”

Red hesitated. “I’ve done enough autopsy work on humans and Tha’alani to understand them; I can work my way around Aerians and Leontines. I’ve never touched a Barrani, but she’s not that—not externally. She looks more or less human to my eye.”

“But?”

“She’s not.”

CHAPTER 12

Kaylin and Severn exchanged a glance. “What is she, then?”

“I’m not entirely certain. You said she passed a magical scan?”

Kaylin nodded.

Red heaved a louder than usual sigh, and stretched both arms. “I want record access,” he finally said.

“I’m not sure Marcus’ll be happy about that. Ask Sanabalis when and if he gets back here.”

“If?”

“He doesn’t really like to spend much time in the Tower. I don’t know why. I can’t wait, though,” she added.

“You’ve got a date?”

“Yes. With a really arrogant Dragon Lord. I’ll trade,” she added.

“No, thank you. You’ll just destroy the corpses.”

Kaylin had spent enough time in the streets that she’d have to move quickly to make it to the Palace on time for her second encounter with Lord Diarmat. She tried to leave Severn in the Tower, but that was a lost cause.

“I’m not going to pick a fight or lose my temper on the way to the Palace,” she grumbled as they walked quickly toward the bridge.

“No. But you probably won’t eat before you hit the Palace, either.”

“I don’t have time—”

“Eat while you’re walking. Talk less.” He paused in front of a small stall and quickly purchased the food he meant for her to eat. She was hungry; it had been a long day, and there hadn’t been much of a lunch to break it. Sanabalis and Tiamaris hadn’t returned by the time she’d all but run out the front doors, which was bad; she had a couple of questions she wanted to ask them.

They’d wait until tomorrow, assuming Diarmat didn’t turn her to ash, eat her, or throw her in the local dungeon for insubordination. Or breathing.

Get a grip, Kaylin. He’s a
teacher.
You spent most of yesterday on the borders of the fief, while Shadows the size of a building tried to squash you flat.
At the remove of a day, those Shadows were infinitely more appealing, and only in part because manners, etiquette, or their opinion of her made no difference at all. She had the option of dodging or dying; nothing she said when she opened her mouth was likely to change that.

Whereas, with Diarmat, there
was
a small chance that something she said could change her whole future, for better or worse—except for the better part.

Ugh. She’d spent so much of her life telling herself—and, more embarrassing, anyone else who would listen—that she didn’t
care
what other people thought of her. Her life—much of her life—had revolved around that belief, because she
had
believed it. She was good at her job.

…At all the parts of her job that didn’t require her to be anything other than a half-educated kid from the fiefs.

All right, you bastard. I’ll learn.

“Kaylin?”

She reddened slightly. “What?”

“You’re cracking the cobbles.”

“Very funny.” She could see the Palace a few blocks away. “Severn, how did you manage it?”

“Manage what?”

“How did you learn the manners and etiquette of the Imperial Court?”

He shrugged. “To start with? I didn’t talk much.” He still didn’t. “I observed. I watched what other people were doing. I watched people react to each other. It’s not much different; the nobility use different words and gestures, but the intent’s the same.”

“Intent?”

“They’re politer when they threaten you. They don’t call in their thugs when they’re pissed off. They don’t throw a punch themselves, and they don’t pull weapons. But power matters. Once you get used to the
way
they talk, you can figure out what they would have said if they’d lived in the fiefs.” He shrugged, a fief shrug. “They’re not better or worse than fieflings. You’ve learned to speak Barrani; you can speak passable Leontine and Aerian. Consider the difference between Barrani and High Barrani.

“The difference between Court Elantran and street Elantran is similar, but larger.”

She thought about it for two seconds. “The big difference is that there isn’t anyone to observe but Diarmat. His guards don’t breathe when he’s there. No one speaks to him unless he speaks first.”

“That’s still something. Until you have some feel for what he’s saying, say as little as possible, as politely as possible. Speak High Barrani exclusively. You don’t need to smile. You don’t need to be friendly. He doesn’t have to like you.”

“He’s never going to like me.”

“No, he isn’t. Give up on that. It’s easier. You don’t have to charm him. You don’t have to impress him. You just have to survive him.”

“Can I ask for a small favor?”

“How small?”

“Take this home for me?” She handed him the sword.

When Kaylin entered the very large room that she’d been escorted to the last time, she realized how much easier said than done that was. She also became acutely aware of just how much dirt and dust had accumulated on her clothing during the long day in the fief the minute she crossed the threshold.

Diarmat was seated behind his desk at the far wall. He didn’t look up as she entered; he appeared to be engrossed in his writing. But this part of the drill, she knew. She walked briskly to his desk and stood in front of it, fighting the urge to lift her chin and expose her throat, since that didn’t seem to mean to Dragons what it meant to Leontines.

There, as much at attention as she could force herself to be, she waited. And waited. And waited. She looked at a point just above his left shoulder and listened to the rhythmic sound of quill against paper. Even, deep breaths kept her calm. She understood this particular test; she’d learned how to pass it before she’d actually been inducted and taken the Imperial Oath. There was no way that Diarmat could make her fail this, and she took some comfort in that.

If he kept her standing here for three hours, she could go home without disgracing herself. It would be a long three hours, but the consolation prize would be the tiny sense of victory she’d take with her.

Clearly, Diarmat was aware of this.

“Private Neya.”

She looked down. “Lord Diarmat.”

He rose and handed her an envelope. “Please deliver this to Lord Sanabalis.”

She nodded sharply and turned to head toward the door. He cleared his throat. It was a remarkably deep and unfriendly sound. “Lord Sanabalis is not currently within the Palace; deliver it to him on your own time.”

“Lord Diarmat.” She slid the envelope into her shirt’s interior pocket, where it was just long enough it would bother her for the rest of the evening.

He rose and came out from behind the desk. She stood her ground.

“What,” he asked, in a cool voice, “is your business with the Emperor?”

“Whatever he wants it to be.”

The Dragon Lord raised a brow. His eyes were a shade of bronze, but Kaylin doubted she’d ever see gold in this particular face. “Elaborate.”

“I have no personal reason to see the Emperor, Lord Diarmat. I have no personal desire to see the Emperor.”

“You dislike him?”

Oh, please. Kaylin almost resented the transparency of the question. Actually, she did resent it. She therefore kept her face as stiff as possible. If her words were a bit chilly, he probably wouldn’t notice. Or care. “The Emperor is the Commander of the Lords of Law. His laws are the only laws I enforce and follow.” Grinding her teeth, she took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. “I don’t know the Emperor well enough to either like or dislike him, because it’s not relevant. I respect and admire his laws. The Lord of Hawks meets regularly with the Emperor, and any commands he receives, we receive. We don’t need to know more than that.”

“Do you know why he created the Law you uphold?”

“Yes, sir.” Damn. “Yes, Lord Diarmat.”

“Where did you learn this?”

“In the Halls of Law.”

“You were not a noteworthy student in any positive sense of the word. Please elaborate what you feel you were taught.”

This was the type of test Kaylin abhorred. Abhorrence warred with her desire to have a job that was also a duty, a responsibility, and a vocation. Desire won, but it was close; it had been a long day. She was certain Diarmat knew, word for damn word, what she’d been taught; the problem was, she didn’t. What she knew was now a blend of every other conversation, every other argument, and every other experience she’d had as a Hawk.

None of which mattered to Diarmat.

“The Eternal Emperor is a Dragon, the Lord of Dragons. He was born during the wars between the Barrani and the Dragon flights, and much of the territory now known as the Empire was taken during these wars. The Barrani and the Dragons weren’t the only people living on those lands, although many of the mortals served one or the other in some capacity.” She hesitated, and then said more quietly, “They were often slaves.”

Lord Diarmat inclined his head, that was all. His eyes didn’t shift color in either direction, and his expression was as cold and disdainful as it always was.

“They died in greater numbers than either of the Immortal races.”

“That would be a given. They exist in greater numbers, and they breed quickly. Continue.”

Here, she hesitated. What she knew of Hoard Law hadn’t been taught in any class. Diarmat was probably the Mallory of the Imperial Palace; accuracy wasn’t as essential as following the rules. Which meant the classroom lectures. Damn it. History of this kind had never seemed important; it wasn’t relevant to her ability to do her job.

“The Eternal Emperor must have valued the mortal races. He summoned the leaders of the Caste Courts, where they existed—the Leontine leadership is spread out, and diffuse; the human leadership is similar—and they came. He built the Imperial Palace here, and he built it as a dwelling which could house any race. He asked the Caste Courts to do the same thing, and they agreed.”

“Why did they agree?”

“They wanted to survive.”

“Indeed. You ascribe no nobility of purpose to their decision, then?”

She stopped herself from shrugging with difficulty, but she did stop. “I think some nobility of purpose may have been present, but even absent anything but desperation, they did as he requested. He then told them what he would, and would not, tolerate within the City. It was not so different from what he would tolerate in the rest of the Empire.”

“Meaning?”

“If it didn’t bother him, he didn’t care what happened.”

Diarmat’s eyes did change color then, and not in a good way. High Barrani, damn it. Do
not
let it slide again.

“There were difficulties integrating the races within the Imperial City. The Emperor told the Caste Courts that they were to deal with any infractions of his rules. They failed. He then had the choice of dealing with the difficulties himself.”

“And?”

“He did this initially. It was a slaughter, and it didn’t diminish the behavior that annoyed him; he hadn’t killed all the people responsible for crimes against his rule, but he
had
killed hundreds who upheld it. The random deaths of those innocent of any crime had a negative effect. During this period, Barrani Arcanists made use of the chaos to attempt to dethrone the Emperor, relying on the mortals—mostly human—who felt they had been wronged. They failed.” Had she been speaking to anyone but Diarmat—anyone at all—she would have added a few colloquialisms at this juncture.

“At this point, he had the choice of torching the entire City, or of establishing some sort of martial law. He chose to establish martial law.”

“For what reason?”

She towed the party line. “He valued the citizens of his Empire enough to make the attempt to preserve them. He understood that mortals are more flexible and less experienced than Immortals; the Barrani kept out of his way.” Reading between the lines, they’d done this by more or less manipulating stupid mortals into the front lines, but Kaylin was pretty certain Diarmat didn’t read between the lines and wouldn’t appreciate the observation. “The imposition of martial law—and the influx of a large number of armed soldiers—restored some order to the City.

“The soldiers, however, created the difficulty that any standing army will create. There was a sharp division between soldier and civilian, and the soldiers became a distinct and separate entity. They weren’t trusted; they were feared. They weren’t feared as much as the Dragons would have been feared because they weren’t capable of doing as much damage; they
did
damage, on the other hand.”

“And this was not to the Emperor’s liking?”

“No. He therefore dispersed the small army.”

“How?”

“We weren’t taught that.” She could guess; she didn’t offer. “The partial success of the largely mortal army suggested an alternate course to the Emperor. He understood that the army itself stood above the civilians, but they did it by force of arms. In some cases, this was an advantage, but the advantage was temporary. He desired a body of men and women who could supervise said civilians by force of law. He therefore retired for some months with members of the various Caste Courts, and when he once again returned to the Palace, he had the first draft for Imperial Law as it now stands.

“Having the Law didn’t instantly mean he had a way of enforcing it; he’d had a much less comprehensive set of rules prior to these, and enforcing those had proved problematic, if the goal was preservation of life. He therefore decreed that one building—and one alone—would be built in such a way that it could occupy the same space and height that the Palace did. This building, with its three towers, is now the Halls of Law.

“The Emperor needed a force of arms that he could command when such force proved necessary. He therefore created the Swords, and tasked them with preserving the peace when peace was not upmost in the minds of his citizens. Mindful of the resentment of the populace at the death of people who were innocent, he then created the Hawks. The Hawks were to investigate known breaches of the Law, and apprehend the criminals. The Hawks were therefore tasked with finding both criminals and proof that the accused had committed crimes against the Empire.

“The Imperial Courts—peopled by mortals, although, in theory, Barrani and Dragons could serve, as well—were to evaluate the charges, and if the accused were found guilty, to sentence them or censure them, depending on the severity of the crime.