Cast in Ruin (22 page)

Turning, she noted the rest of the room. The seven corpses were now covered, head to toe; nothing could be seen, not even the women’s hair. Standing between the two large tables that served as almost communal slabs were the Dragons: Tiamaris, Sanabalis, and the Arkon. Tara was nowhere in sight. The color of the Dragons’ eyes was, as Morse had reported, Not Good.

Six orange eyes now turned toward her. “Private,” the Arkon said. If he’d said it in Leontine, it would have sounded like a curse.

She folded in the middle immediately. “Arkon.” She didn’t even bother to look up from the very uninteresting floor, boring being preferable to painful. He didn’t tell her to rise.

“Did you speak with Lord Nightshade?”

“Yes, Arkon.”

“And?”

“No similar corpses were found in the fief of Nightshade.”

“He is certain?”

“We showed him the contents of the memory crystal you prepared, Arkon.”

“Good. Stand up,” he added, growling. “And do not test my patience in this fashion again. You may play these games with Lord Diarmat. He has had centuries of training humans, and obviously has the tolerance for it.”

If she’d opened her mouth, she would have choked on her tongue. She did, however, rise. The Arkon was no longer looking at her, and she was now looking at the back of his robes. She could see Tiamaris and Sanabalis because they were more or less facing her. They weren’t stupid; they were looking at the Arkon.

“You have no contacts in the other fiefs?”

“No, Arkon.”

“I dislike making assumptions on so little information.”

“Yes, Arkon.”

“Sanabalis?”

Sanabalis cleared his throat. The sound was pure Dragon. Kaylin had the very sick feeling that Dragon conversation was about to erupt, but she kept her hands dutifully by her sides. “Inasmuch as it is safe to make any assumptions in the fiefs, I feel it is safe to make this one. The corpses appeared in Tiamaris, and only in Tiamaris.”

“An artifact of the crumbling barriers?”

Tiamaris nodded. “That is Tara’s suspicion. She has marked, in as much detail as possible, the locations of the storms that escaped the boundaries during the end of Barren’s reign. There is no immediate correlation between those locations and the locations at which the corpses were found, but if the…women…emerged alive and died after the fact, that would make some sense.”

The Arkon broke a bit of stone off one of the slabs, and proceeded to crumble it into fine powder. Kaylin couldn’t see his expression, and was grateful. “There is no doubt,” he finally said. “The internal organs are exactly what we would expect if the victim was a genuine Dragon.

“The skin was thicker than mortal skin, with the possible exception of Leontines in their prime, but there are no internal scales, nothing to indicate that scales could have once existed. I dislike it intensely. Yes, Private?”

“It’s—it’s nothing, Arkon.”

He turned. Kaylin was surprised the floor beneath his feet didn’t crack; she was also surprised it wasn’t blackened, charred, or molten. “Perhaps I did not indicate how severe my lack of patience is. If you have a comment or a question, I am willing to hear it. Barely.”

“All of the members of the Dragon Court I’ve met look distinctly individual when in their mortal forms. Can that be altered?”

“Our mortal appearances? Yes. Not with ease, and not without cause, but, yes. We gravitate toward specific experiences naturally, however; color of hair, shape of face, height.”

“So…it’s possible that these could, in fact, be seven different corpses?”

“They are clearly seven distinct corpses.” His voice was Winter, a reminder that people froze to death just by being outside.

“I mean they could, when alive, have been seven distinct Dragons.”

The Arkon’s silence was chillier than his words.

Sanabalis, however, answered. “It is possible.” Kaylin seldom heard such a lukewarm acknowledgment of possibility, and filed this as a No.

“Is there any evidence that she
ever
had scales?”

The Arkon exhaled smoke with a bit of fire in it. “Not,” he finally said, “according to your coroner. The coroner, of course, has no actual experience dissecting Dragons; it is possible that he is incorrect.”

“Possible,” Tiamaris said quietly, “but doubtful.”

“Then…what does this mean? Do you think she came
from
the heart of the fiefs?”

“We do not have any metric for predicting what Shadowstorms will do,” Tiamaris said before the Arkon could exhale again. “You know, or should know, this. We have no method of determining how she arrived or from where she traveled.”

Kaylin’s frown deepened. She opened her mouth to ask another question, and then snapped it shut as she felt Severn tug at her. It wasn’t a physical tug; it was far more personal. But he was worried for her, and he wanted her to stop Right Now.

Kaylin edged her way across the floor to where Red sat. Lowering her voice as much as possible, she said, “You’re done here?”

He nodded; his hands on the armrest tightened. She’d seen Red examine corpses that would have made anyone with a shred of sanity run screaming from the room, and he did it without working up a sweat; this was the first time she’d seen him this disturbed. Turning to where the Dragons stood, she said, “Arkon, may we escort the coroner back to the Halls of Law? We’ve an entirely unrelated message to pass on to the Lord of Hawks from Nightshade.”

“You may. The bodies will remain in Tiamaris. No formal report of the work done here is to be entered into Records at the Halls of Law; to that end, we will retain the coroner’s personal mirror. No verbal report is to be tendered to either the Lord of Hawks or the Sergeant.”

Red nodded. Kaylin winced, but nodded, as well. She could just imagine how happy that was going to make Marcus. The Hawklord was always more resigned when it came to random Imperial Fiat. Then again, the Hawklord actually spoke
with
the Emperor, something Marcus had never done, to Kaylin’s knowledge. On the other hand, she’d never seriously asked.

“And you, Private, are to return to the fief when you have finished your errand.”

“Yes, Arkon.”

CHAPTER 15

When they were well away from the Tower, Kaylin turned to Red. “How bad was it?”

“I think my hearing is slowly returning.”

She winced. “I didn’t even feel the shouting.”

“Pardon?”

“When the Dragon Court is having an argument, it shakes the whole damn Palace.”

“I guess the Tower is better constructed.” Red fell silent. He carried his bag as if it had gained ten pounds over the course of the day.

“Red, can I ask a question?”

“I don’t know. Lord Tiamaris said the Tower can listen in on any conversation that occurs in the fief—are you going to ask a question that’s not safe for me to answer?”

“Given the Arkon’s current mood, ‘Would you like something to drink’ would probably be punishable by death.”

“Then, no. No questions.”

“Red?”

He sighed. “Kitling,” he began, never a good sign, “you’ve had more exposure to Dragons than anyone in the Halls except the Lords, and possibly, the Barrani. Maybe you’re used to them; I’m not. I don’t think I could do an autopsy today without making a mess of the corpse. I’m still shaking. I want to go back to the office and deal with normal crimes, normal bodies, and even a very pissed-off Sergeant.” He grimaced as a little color returned to his face. “Scratch the last one.”

“That’s probably the only thing you can count on.”

He even dredged up a chuckle. “What was the question?”

“Did you get any sense from the angry Dragons that it was possible to separate a Dragon’s mortal form from its Draconic one?”

“Kitling.” Again with the diminutive. “Stay away from this one. Trust me. You don’t want to get any more involved than you currently are.” Because she was waiting, he added, “Half their conversation was conducted in Dragon, and I didn’t understand a word. After a few sentences, it didn’t matter; I don’t think I could hear anything else.”

Red accompanied Kaylin into the office, something he didn’t normally do. This caused a bit of a stir, but only in the parts of the office nearest Marcus’s desk; the other parts were busy—or chatty—enough not to have noticed. Caitlin, however, looked up. “Red.”

He stopped by her desk. Kaylin and Severn paused, as well, although Marcus was clearly aware of their return.

“Is your work in the fiefs done?” Caitlin asked when Red failed to find even pleasant nothings to say.

“Unless the Dragons say otherwise, it is. Unfortunately, the Dragons have decided that the work I’ve done is to remain entirely off the record, and out of any reports.”

“Meaning you won’t be filing one.”

“Correct,” Red replied, dropping his bag and folding his arms across his chest. “But I still expect to get paid.”

Kaylin’s brows rose a fraction. “Does that work?” she asked him.

“It had better.” To Caitlin, he said, “Do you want me to deliver that happy bit of news to Sergeant Kassan, or can I pull a runner and leave it in your hands?”

“Leave it in my hands, dear. You look like you’re in definite need of lunch.”

“Lunch won’t be necessary,” said the coroner, who was famed throughout all three branches of the Halls of Law for his iron stomach. “I think I’ll have an appetite somewhere around dinner. Were there any emergencies?”

“Not more than the usual.”

“Good. I’ll be in my office if Marcus wants to frustrate himself in person.”

Marcus was
not
in a good mood. The Sergeant—and any casually working Barrani—had of course heard every word that Red had spoken to Caitlin. His eyes had shaded from gold to bronze by the time Kaylin and Severn had pushed off from Caitlin’s desk and approached his.

“Why,” he growled, “are you here?”

“We escorted Red out of the fiefs, sir.”

“And now he’s back. Is Sanabalis finished with you?”

“No, sir.”

“Then get lost; some of us are busy.”

Kaylin cleared her throat and lifted her chin. Marcus gouged a deeper runnel into the surface of his desk. Red was right—he was in bad need of a new one; it was a wonder the claws hadn’t gone through the desktop by now. Kaylin mentally added buying another inexpensive desk to the list of things she had to do Right Now.

“Private.”

“Sir.”

“Why are you
still here?
”

She thought about retreating without mentioning Nightshade at all. It seemed the least career-limiting option. But if what Nightshade had implied was true, he had information about the Exchequer—or at least involving the Exchequer—and the Halls were in desperate want of solid, useful information. If there was a decent chance Nightshade was right, they needed it.

“Don’t move your lips when you’re adding things up in your head,” the Sergeant growled. “It’s a terrible habit.
What
do you need to speak with me about so urgently?”

“Lord Nightshade.”

“Is he in his own fief?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has he stayed there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any reason to suspect that he intends to engage in illegal activities in Elantra?”

“Nothing illegal short of breathing, sir.”

“Then I don’t need to hear it right now.”

“He says he has information that you might be interested in, and he’s willing to discuss it with you in person.”

“I see. And you think this is information we need?”

“He mentioned the Imperial Exchequer, sir.”

Marcus’s eyes went copper; Kaylin’s chin went higher. Wood shavings appeared beneath his extended claws. “He’s willing to discuss it out of the goodness of his heart?”

“…No, sir.”

“How much does he want?”

For the first time, she glanced at Severn.

Marcus turned to Severn. “Corporal?”

“He’s requested a leave of absence—for Private Neya.”

“I’m not interested.” Marcus made a show of turning back to his paperwork, which didn’t involve much actual movement, given there was so much of it.

Not for the first time, Kaylin hated her lack of involvement in what had become the department’s most important investigation to date. Had she been, she could have agreed and negotiated in Nightshade. As it was, she knew about as much as Nightshade did—or demonstrably less—and it galled her.

“Sergeant.”

Marcus’s facial fur was now standing on end, as were the tufts of his ears.

“Nightshade didn’t tell me either the information or its source. But I think you should at least listen to what he has to say. If you don’t want to negotiate with him directly, let the Hawklord do it.”

“I’m
not interested,
Private.”

That might have been the end of it, given the color of Marcus’s eyes, but Teela—and a slightly more cautious Tain—sauntered over to his desk. Like Marcus, they’d probably heard everything. Unlike Marcus, they were pragmatic. Braving a face full of angry Leontine, Teela spoke first.

“Sergeant.”

Marcus didn’t bother with orders; he growled. It wasn’t a quiet growl, and the background noise in the office took a nosedive in its wake.

Teela was unfazed. Her eyes, however, were distinctly blue. “At this point, we can’t afford to turn away any possible leads.”

“What leads can a fieflord give us?”

“We won’t know until we hear him out. He’s not asking for money.”

“If it were money, I’d listen.”

“He’s not asking you to fire her.”

“What the hells is he asking then?”

They both turned to look at Kaylin. Blue and orange weren’t colors that went well together, especially not given the expressions that surrounded the eyes. “He wants me to go to the West March with him.”

Teela’s thin brows rose. When they fell again, her eyes had narrowed. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Teela slid into High Barrani. Mostly. “Kitling, Lord Nightshade has oft played dangerous games. The reservations of the Sergeant—”

“Those aren’t reservations; they’re an outright refusal.”

“The reservations of the Sergeant are not unfounded. When did Lord Nightshade ask for your company?”

“He hasn’t given a date.”

“I have some suspicion of the dates. It is not, however, a
short
leave of absence, and if I’m not mistaken, you have very little experience traveling.” She frowned. “Very well, Sergeant. I offer this. If, as I suspect, Lord Nightshade intends to travel for the gathering, I will also be in attendance.”

“He said only me,” Kaylin began.

“Indeed. And only you would be required to take a leave of absence. The Barrani Hawks, however—”

Tain cleared his throat; Teela glared at him. “The Barrani
Lords,
however, are given a leave of absence for important cultural events. I am a Barrani Lord. I had not intended to attend the gathering, although I have, of course, been invited. I will change my plans,” she told Marcus. “If Nightshade’s information warrants it. Technically, you would not be in violation of his request, if you agree to fulfill it.”

“I’m not sure she’s any safer with you around,” the Sergeant growled. But his eyes were less lividly orange. “No drinking.”

“Can we compromise and say no brawls?”

“I’ll leave that to the Hawklord.”

Teela lifted one delicate brow and dropped back into Elantran. “I’d prefer that his information be entirely laughable.”

“Oh?”

“I dislike travel. The West March is interesting if you’re inclined to revere plant and insect life.”

Marcus rose. “Caitlin,” he shouted. “Mirror Grammayre and tell him we’re on our way up.”

“Yes, Marcus.”

“And you two,” he added, glaring at Kaylin and Severn. “Get back to work if you don’t want your pay docked. Did Nightshade happen to say when he’d be dropping by?”

“No, sir.”

“Fine. Get lost. I mean it this time.”

He’d meant it the first time, as well. Kaylin hesitated.

Severn bent and whispered, “It’s not our case, Private. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today. Let’s go.”

Kaylin took one deep breath, expelled it, and shook herself. She headed toward the door and Severn fell in to her side. “It’s not that I don’t want to leave,” she said, lying, “but we’re supposed to head back to the Arkon before we do anything else.”

“Given his mood, obedience is probably the only option. Cheer up; he’s unlikely to eat us.”

Tara answered the door when they arrived.

“Where’s Morse?” Kaylin asked.

“Morse is delivering a message,” was the noncommittal reply.

“Do you still have a room full of Dragons?”

Tara frowned.

“Sorry,” Kaylin said, because she really didn’t want to explain the nature of metaphors for the hundredth time. “What I meant was, are the Arkon and Sanabalis still here, and still in the morgue?”

Tara nodded thoughtfully. “Your question was shorter the first time, but inaccurate. Is it really true that Morse or Tiamaris would have understood what you meant?”

“Yes,” Kaylin replied. She continued the explanation that Tara wanted as they made their way down the hall, promising herself to be literal when speaking to Tara, at least for the rest of the day. Sadly, she’d probably forget, because it was too easy to forget. If Tara didn’t exactly look normal, she didn’t radiate that aura of power that would have otherwise forced Kaylin to be careful with her words. This unspoken observation branched into an entirely different explanation.

Severn was silently laughing by the time they reached the morgue—which was good, as nothing
in
the morgue was liable to be cause for mirth.

Case in point: the Arkon met them as the doors rolled open. Kaylin didn’t remember the morgue having double doors, but this was an ancient magical building, and things like that changed without warning or notice. The Arkon didn’t appear to care one way or the other.

Lord Sanabalis and Lord Tiamaris were standing as far away from the Arkon as the room allowed, attempting to look busy. Kaylin thought this both cowardly and unfair—although it was probably, given the color of the older Dragon’s eyes, also wise. She bowed; so did Severn. The Arkon’s smoke wafted over their heads.

“I see you’ve deigned to return,” he said. His voice had dipped into Dragon scale; it was low and very loud. He was not, however, roaring.

“Yes, Arkon,” Kaylin said in the tone of voice she generally reserved for Marcus in a foul mood.

“Good. You are to continue your investigation, but you will be accompanied by the Tower’s Avatar for the duration.”

Kaylin rose and glanced at Tara, who seemed entirely undisturbed.

“There is a reasonable chance that we are missing two bodies,” he continued, ignoring the question in the glance. “If possible—if at all possible—you are to find witnesses who heard anything that the woman said before she collapsed.”

“She wasn’t speaking a language they recognized—”

“That,” was the autocratic reply, “is what we have the Tha’alani for.”

Kaylin thought about her career, and the application in particular for her promotion, and winced. Opening her mouth was not a good idea.

“Yes, Private?”

Then again, having facial expressions also apparently sucked. “If it’s true that the deceased arrived because of small, localized Shadowstorm, it’s unlikely that we’re going to find many more of her. The borders have been effectively closed. Tara—the Avatar,” she said, quickly correcting herself, given the ripple of lines in the Arkon’s brow, “says the Shadow is once again entirely contained.”

“Yes. There’s been some discussion about that.”

Kaylin looked past the Arkon to Tiamaris. Whatever the discussion had been, the youngest of the Dragons didn’t like it.

“You will go now. I have taken a very small leave of absence from my library while I oversee this investigation; you will report to me at the end of the day.”

“Yes, Arkon.”

Tara took very little time to prepare, which in this case meant changing into her gardening clothing. Kaylin and Severn took less. They exited the morgue as quickly as they could; neither Tiamaris nor Sanabalis had uttered as much as a squeak.

“That’s not true,” Tara said as she closed the Tower doors behind them and stepped onto the garden path. “They spoke quite a lot before you arrived.”

“In Elantran?”