Guilty as Sin (5 page)

you work.”

“
We
?”

“Jan and me.”

“Train him? To do what, exactly?”

Mirry remained unperturbed. “He
‟
s a good man in a fight, but find out what he
‟
s

best at, Lise.” Another devastatingly sweet smile. “You
‟
re good at that.”

24

Thank the gods she was over Miriliel the Burnished. These days, the memory of

their affair was bittersweet rather than painful. Jan… Well, Jan she admired and

respected, but he was a difficult man to like, let alone love. He could be so intimidating,

so cold. She didn
‟
t know how Fledge managed them both, but the fact remained that

she did. The little Grounded was such a darling, and much tougher than she looked.

She must be, because Mirry and Jan had never been happier.

At least Lise had been able to give Jan exactly what he needed. All she had to do

was live up to the reputation of her clan. The Gray were famous for their dedication to

public service.

She turned to the big Aetherii. “What are your talents, Daxariel the Burnished?”

If anything, the flush intensified. “I fly very well,” he said in a slow, deep rumble. “I

honor my word. I
‟
ve done the proper fight training.” A pause. “Ah…good with

children.” He fell silent, his tail curling restlessly around one outsized boot.

He had nice eyes. A clear green, with undertones of gold and extravagantly thick,

russet lashes. But he was so young.

“I
‟
ll leave you to it.” Gracefully, Mirry rose. “I have intelligence work to do for Jan.

Thanks, Lise.” Slinging a casual arm around her shoulders, he planted a brotherly peck

on her cheek, leaving her no more than slightly breathless.

As he strode toward the door, he clouted Dax on the shoulder with his tail. “Be

good, little cousin,” he advised with a twinkle.

And he was gone.

By all the gods, she could do with a mug of honeyed
babybane
. The herb was

soothing to the soul and the stomach, its contraceptive properties a convenient bonus.

But sadly, it wasn
‟
t to be. Stifling a sigh, Lise pulled a piece of paper toward her and

moistened the ink brush. “You
‟
ve done your Fourth Pinion training?”

Dax looked startled. “Fourth? Well, no, I meant I—”

“Never mind.” Lise flapped a hand, making a note.

“Right,” she said. “Let
‟
s work out an orientation program. You can stick with me

until I work out how best to use you.” She jotted down the date and drew a line under

it.

“First, we
‟
ll have lunch at Fledge
‟
s school. She wants to talk to me about something.

After that, I have to visit the chapter house of the Assassins
‟
Guild and chase up

information about a thief called Michael. And I need to check with the best known

fences for my earrings.”

She scribbled busily, peripherally conscious of the other Aetherii
‟
s fascinated gaze.

When he opened his mouth, she said, “Not now.”

Daxariel subsided. Good, at least he had the sense to let her think in peace.

Another date, underlined. “Tomorrow, you can come with me to the Palace to talk

to the guard captain then…” Warming to the task, Lise went on for some time,

occasionally going back to strike an item out and substitute something better.

25

She
‟
d worked her way through to the end of the following week before Daxariel

cleared his throat. “Ah…”

Lise looked up.

Daxariel blinked green-gold eyes. “If you want to have lunch with the children,

perhaps we
‟
d better go?” he suggested in a gentle rumble.

“Yes, of course.” Pushing the papers aside, she rose. “There
‟
s a flight platform on

the top floor. The Winged Envoy had it installed before she
‟
d agree to the lease.”

“We
‟
re not going to walk?” asked Dax, a towering presence at her heels.

“Why walk when you can fly?” countered Lise, amused at the note of

disappointment.

“I
‟
ve never seen a Grounded city before—at least, not from the street.”

Reaching a landing, Lise turned to find Dax waiting politely two steps below on the

narrow staircase. Every thought was written on his face, in those extraordinary bright

eyes. No subterfuge, no hidden depths. What an innocent. Inwardly, she winced.

“You were right,” she said. “We
‟
re definitely going to be late. But we can walk back

afterward if you like.” She allowed herself a small smile. “The Sereians still find us a

novelty. You realize you
‟
ll draw quite a crowd?”

“Oh yes.” Dax
‟
s brows rose. They were the same rich auburn as the downy feathers

that blended into the hair at his temples. “Me? What about you?”

“I
‟
m one of the Gray, remember? Not spectacular like— Well, anyway, I blend in.”

Dax snorted. “Not possible. You
‟
re too beautiful for that.”

Lise stared. Was he
flirting
with her, the great idiot? But there was no roguish

twinkle, no flush on his cheeks. He appeared to be perfectly serious, a man stating a

self-evident fact.

“Don
‟
t be silly,” she said briskly. Without further speech, she led the way up

another two flights to the attic.

“Mind your head,” she warned, opening the door.

Dax had to crouch nearly double to negotiate the long, narrow chamber with its low

ceiling. He was clearly accustomed to such contortions, but he breathed a sigh of relief

as they stepped out of the window and onto the flight platform. “By the Veil, look at

that.” As he gazed out over the roofs of the city crowding together up the steep streets,

his wings arched behind him, rustling with the desire to be off, to take to the open air.

An errant breeze ruffled Lise
‟
s hair and she laughed. “Go on,” she said. “After

you.”

Dax flashed her a grin that lit up his whole face. Lise blinked. For a moment, she

expected him to spread his wings and knock her clear off the platform in his

enthusiasm, but he didn
‟
t. Casually, he leaned forward into space, until he reached the

tipping point where gravity took control. Wings tightly furled, he fell like a stone.

Veil-it, he was going to—

26

A mere ten or so feet above the street, huge bronze wings snapped out. With a

triumphant yell, Dax arched up into the air, the end of his tail slapping a shop awning

on the way past. Dust billowed. The Sereians below froze, their pale faces upturned,

following him as he rose into the sky, mouths agape.

Gods, a maneuver like that would snap her spine, and Lise knew she was as fit and

as strong as she
‟
d ever been. The man
‟
s bones must be made of iron. Sedately, she

spread her wings and followed, gliding gracefully away from the platform. She wasn
‟
t a

wild girl any longer, hadn
‟
t been from the moment she
‟
d entered the Pinion Academy

on a full scholarship. Her lips curved. Gods, her sire had been proud.

“Which way?” called Dax, looping beneath her and then above.

She
‟
d been going to cut across the city, straight to Fledge
‟
s school in the slum area

of the Slopes. Now though, she was burningly curious to see Daxariel the Burnished fly.

Hadn
‟
t he said flight was one of his talents? After all, Jan and Mirry wanted her to

determine the man
‟
s usefulness.

She beckoned him closer until they were wingtip to wingtip. “Come higher and

we
‟
ll do a circuit of Sere. For orientation.”

Dax grinned and his tail twitched. “Good idea.”

Veil-it, she had to take two downbeats to every one of his. Liseriel the Gray was

accounted an athlete and a warrior among her peers, but Dax made her feel like a

fledgling. To her chagrin, she couldn
‟
t decide whether she was miffed or fascinated.

“This way.” She banked toward the south west. Pale terracotta roofs passed

beneath them, the buildings tall and narrow, climbing up and down the steep, narrow

streets. “The city
‟
s built on seven hills so the Sereians value elevation. The higher you

go, the more expensive the property.”

Dax nodded, peeled away and did an exuberant barrel roll, the sun sparking

metallic green flashes off his plumage as he spun.

Lise opened her mouth to scold, but before she could speak, he completed the

maneuver, returned calmly to her side and asked, “That
‟
s the Palace, then?”

She followed his pointing finger toward the astonishing edifice crowning the

highest peak. It was high enough to be a dwelling place for her people, but no Aetherii

would countenance an eyrie so… Well, so
ugly
.

The Palace of Sere had probably started life as a single tower, but over the centuries,

each ruler had added yet another excrescence, a turret or a garden tucked into some

odd space or a gargoyle or a flying buttress. The walls were made of a rough bluestone

quarried in the mountains. Centuries of weathering had turned them a dull gray while

stubborn skeins of greenish lichen made the older buildings look decidedly leprous.

Topped off with the slight overhang of the pale terracotta roofs, the towers had the air

of a forest of fungi striving toward the light.

What was worse, just looking at the Palace made her remember the Prince
‟
s party

and Michael
‟
s dark chuckle in her ear.

27

What do you want a feather for?

Use your imagination.

“This way,” she said, banking. “I want to show you the city gates and the major exit

roads.”

She slipped into a downward glide, the wind sighing as it tousled her hair and

riffled her feathers.

Below, the dusty road from Valaressa wound up from the foothills into a pass high

above the slopes and valleys that stretched away to the south. It entered Sere via a gate

in the western wall. Nose to tail, half a dozen trade wagons waited patiently for

admittance. Inside the west gate was a busy square lined with taverns and food stalls

with bright canvas awnings. Some civically minded merchant had even erected a clock

tower.

Lise watched Dax take it all in. “The Prince controls who enters and leaves the city.”

Below, a child shouted and waved. Grinning, Dax waved back, and more faces

tilted up to stare. People stopped what they were doing to point.

His brow creased. “Do you employ them? The Grounded, I mean?”

Lise shrugged. “Some. I have informants on the street. And Jan has Fort and Griff

with the Ten Nations Fair. They
‟
re really good.”

“Oh,” he said thoughtfully.

Lise flicked her tail at him, connecting smartly with his thigh. Ow. All solid muscle.