Cast in Deception Page 16

  “Since when?”

  “Since this afternoon. I believe both you and Bellusdeo are expected to attend Lord Diarmat.”

  “Since when?”

  “As I said—”

  “We’ve been given indefinite leave from those lessons!”

  “You were given leave from them during the Aerian crisis, yes. And during Lord Diarmat’s recovery. He believes, however, that he has recovered enough to recommence.”

  “But—”

  “Word has reached the Imperial Court of your invitation to the Consort. In and of itself, this would not constitute an emergency. Word, however, has also made clear that the Consort has accepted.”

  Kaylin wilted. “I’m supposed to go talk to Evanton after dinner.”

  “Evanton, I’m afraid, will have to wait.”

  “I think it’s about the cohort. And the Hallionne. He wants me to talk to the elemental water, because he thinks she knows something.”

  Helen sighed. “I’ll leave it up to you, dear. I know it might make things easier for the boys—and for Teela, who is very, very worried. But I also know that ignoring Lord Diarmat means that your interactions with him in future will be even more difficult.”

  Kaylin snorted. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Oh, it’s possible,” Bellusdeo said. “Why are you just standing there? We’re going to be late.”

  Kaylin had about a hundred good arguments for why she wasn’t going at all—but the thought of being late to a lesson taught by Diarmat was enough to swamp them all with a kind of visceral dread.

  * * *

  “Your carriage is almost at the door,” Helen announced. “It should be here momentarily.”

  Of course there was a carriage, feet being inappropriate for a Lord of the Dragon Court. Then again, wings were better than feet, and they were technically illegal without Imperial permission. Bellusdeo did not ask anyone for permission. The Dragon was wearing her feline grin as she made her way to the front door, where Helen waited.

  Kaylin was surprised when she therefore spoke in her serious voice.

  “I’m worried about the boys, too.”

  “Mandoran will have conniptions if he knows you’re calling them that.”

  “Mandoran has conniptions when he’s breathing. He’ll live.” Bellusdeo exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “I admit that I’ve been curious about the Consort for a while, and as your last informal dinner was surprisingly enjoyable, I think I’d enjoy this one.”

  “Did you tell Diarmat?”

  Bellusdeo raised a brow in Kaylin’s direction. “Since I don’t consider a dinner an emergency, no. I generally attempt to curtail all communication with Diarmat.”

  “Would you mind very much if I strangled Emmerian?”

  The second brow joined the first. “Why Emmerian?”

  “If you weren’t the source, he probably was.”

  “I wouldn’t mind terribly if you tried—he doesn’t seem to have our racial temper, and it’s not likely to get you killed. It is, however, likely to be humiliating for you, and I have to live with you.” She exhaled again, without apparently having bothered to inhale first. “This is tied in to Candallar, yes?”

  “I think so. One of the Hawks did try to kill Teela. She’s officially saying Canatel’s involvement was all a misunderstanding, by the way.”

  “Yes, attempts at murder are often misunderstandings. Unless it involves armies, in which case it’s diplomacy. I understand why she lied, though.”

  “Maybe it’s not a lie.”

  “Maybe I’m not a Dragon.” The familiar squawked and the Dragon sighed. “Teela is a Lord. She’s a ruler on a very small scale. The Barrani who joined the Hawks probably did so at her command. Implicit in that command is the power to protect, and in this case, she considers the failure her own. She does not feel betrayed.”

  “Would you?”

  “I’m a Dragon, Kaylin.”

  “So...that’s a yes? Or a no?”

  “Yes, I would feel betrayed. But Dragons in the Aeries resolved these so-called misunderstandings immediately; they did not wait, lie, and attempt to discern the source of the difficulty; they did not stoop to politics. Either I would have died, or the attacker would have died; I would not be concerned with his life. Teela is. She’s surprising to me, in many ways. I understand why Annarion and Mandoran are different—they’re young.” Before Kaylin could correct her, she lifted a hand. “If they are ancient, they are ancient in the same way I am. We are all displaced, Kaylin. We are all people who no longer have a home.”

  “You’ve got Helen.”

  “Helen is yours. None of us would have Helen if Helen had not chosen you, and she would have chosen none of us had we applied—is that the correct word?—for lodging.”

  “You can’t know that—”

  “She is correct,” Helen said.

  “But—”

  “What Bellusdeo, Annarion or Mandoran want from a home is not what you wanted. What they want, I could give, but it’s not what I want. I do not judge them unworthy,” she added, correctly divining Kaylin’s objection. “I like them all a great deal. But liking and living with are not the same. What I wanted to be, you wanted. That is why I chose you.”

  Bellusdeo nodded, unruffled. “You had no home for most of your living memory. Not until you crossed the Ablayne, and even then, you were out of place: you were far too young to be a Hawk, and too young to be living on your own.”

  “I lived on my own,” Kaylin said, trying not to feel indignant.

  “You had your own apartment, yes—one which Caitlin found for you. But everyone you knew had keys.”

  “Not everyone.”

  “The point is: you were also an outsider. And you wanted to come inside, which I believe is considered perfectly normal for humans. Barrani might, when very young, have some of that same desire—but they understand, if they survive, that inside is often far more deadly. And Dragons? We don’t share well. It takes concentrated effort, and a type of self-control that is lamentably rare among my kin. We don’t require company.

  “If you want, I’ll head Diarmat off, and you can go to Evanton’s.”

  “The Emperor will have my head.”

  “Oh?” This was distinctly chillier. Kaylin almost kicked herself. She had not expected to like the Emperor—and in truth, he seemed a bit above something as petty as like or dislike—but she hadn’t expected to feel any sympathy for him. Ever. Yet she did. She understood that in his own fashion he was trying his level best, where Bellusdeo was concerned, and she didn’t want to become the reason that Bellusdeo continued her dogged anger at him.

  “I didn’t know this was going to turn political.”

  “No one with any familiarity with you—even a passing one—would expect that you had political motivations. No one, however, believes that the Consort does not. Teela will be moving in—I think she’s halfway done. There was some argument with Tain which we all pretended not to hear. Helen’s attempt to referee the argument—referee is the word, yes? No?”

  “I don’t think referee is the word you want.”

  “I can’t think of a better one.”

  “Mediate?”

  “Fine. Mediate. Helen’s attempt at mediation was to tell them both that it was entirely up to you.” Bellusdeo snickered. “I thought you’d appreciate that. You’re certain you don’t want to go to Evanton’s?”

  * * *

  Lord Diarmat reminded Kaylin of the very worst of her teachers at the Halls of Law. No, that wasn’t true. It made her nostalgic for the very worst of those teachers. He was waiting for them in the large room that Kaylin thought of as the war room, his arms folded, a thin stream of smoke coming out of his nostrils. His eyes were dangerously orange. His color seemed off, but he was a Dragon and Kaylin had very little knowledge of D
ragons that didn’t come from Bellusdeo. She knew enough about this one, on the other hand, not to offer open concern. He was glaring.

  “We’re not late,” Bellusdeo said, her voice the same shade of cool she used whenever she spoke of the Emperor, her tone as critical as Diarmat’s when he was speaking to, or at, Kaylin. “And honestly, your color is terrible. We are not babes in arms; I believe that we could muddle through without dragging you from your warming stones.”

  This did nothing good for the shade of Diarmat’s eyes.

  “You are not a hatchling; you are fully politically cognizant. You are not, however, in charge of Private Neya. I am here to assess her ability to entertain the ruling consort of the Barrani High Court without embarrassment to either the Barrani or the Emperor.”

  “I highly doubt the Consort is so unfamiliar with Lord Kaylin that she expects to be treated as if she were a Dragon Lord.”

  Diarmat looked about as unamused as he could, short of breathing fire. Bellusdeo looked condescending. Kaylin probably looked ill.

  “The correct form of address for the Consort?” His tone was pointed.

  “Consort.”

  Bellusdeo winced.

  “Sit down, Private. Let me explain what could be at stake for you and your putative career. As a private, you do not extend invitations to the High Lord or his Lady without permission from the Dragon Court.”

  “I didn’t invite her as a private.”

  “And if you are not a private of the Halls of Law, you may feel free to do as you please. Until then, your behavior reflects on the glory of the Eternal Emperor.” And not to the better, his tone implied. Given his eye color, Kaylin was grudgingly surprised that he left it at implication. “Lord Bellusdeo’s presence within your domicile necessitates surveillance. The Barrani will likely accept this as a matter of course. We cannot, however, stop the Consort and check her thoroughly.

  “We would like to have a representative of the Court present at your home.”

  “You do. Bellusdeo lives there.”

  “She is not a member of the Dragon Court.”

  “She’s a Dragon Lord as far as the Halls are concerned.”

  “It is irrelevant what the rank and file at the Halls tell themselves. We are aware that she currently lives with you, but she has not undertaken the responsibilities of the Dragon Court in anything but a cursory way.”

  “Lannagaros has kindly offered to oversee the meal,” Bellusdeo said. She didn’t look like she’d breathe fire; she looked like she’d breathe ice.

  “Has he?”

  “Yes. If you would care to ask him, I am certain Lord Kaylin and I would be willing to wait. We might study the report you seem to have at hand; it looks infuriatingly like the layers of bureaucracy—that is the word, yes?” she added, to Kaylin, who tried not to cringe and failed to reply. “The bureaucracy in which your Court is mired. It is hard to imagine that you actually fought in the Draco-Barrani wars, given your adoption of so many of their peculiarities; I am uncertain how different their victory would have looked.”

  Kaylin did not take a step back, but that took serious effort. Had she realized Bellusdeo would be so openly antagonistic, she would have tried to leave her at home.

  Lord Diarmat, however, did not breathe fire. Instead he handed the report—and Bellusdeo had not exaggerated—to the Dragon. “I will speak with the Arkon. Please feel free to peruse the report.”

  “Will there be a test?” she asked sweetly.

  “Oh, most assuredly.” He walked out. He actually opened the door first, which Kaylin wouldn’t have bet on. Only when she could no longer hear his footsteps did she turn to Bellusdeo, whose eyes were a simmering orange. “Was that really necessary?”

  “His part or my part?”

  “Your part. Diarmat isn’t capable of behaving any differently; I think it would kill him.”

  “It might kill him yet,” was the dire reply.

  “And he’s going to march to the library, interrupt the Arkon, and discover that you lied.”

  “You know what I’ve said about betting?”

  “That it’s a waste of time and you don’t understand its appeal?”

  “I would like to rescind that. What would you care to bet?”

  “You talked to the Arkon?”

  “As it happens, I did not consult with Lannagaros, no.”

  “So you expect he’s going to lie?”

  “Not at all. I expect he’s going to confirm that he would be delighted to join us for dinner. As it seems to be Diarmat’s insistence that we have a minder for the visit, and the Arkon is the most senior member of the Court, there’s not a lot Diarmat can say.”

  “I’m sure he’ll surprise you—I think he can say a lot.” She grimaced and looked at the report which Bellusdeo had not even opened. “Let me see that.”

  “You can’t honestly imagine it will have useful information?”

  “Not that I want to defend Diarmat, but actually, I imagine it has a lot of what he considers useful or necessary information. And to be fair to him? Some of it probably is.”

  “You’re actually going to read it.” Bellusdeo was nonplused.

  “The Imperial spies are probably a lot more forthcoming than the Barrani themselves. If the Emperor is concerned about political upheaval as a result of this dinner, it’s probably going to have information on how or why that upheaval might occur. Yes, I’m going to read it. It’ll probably tell me more about the High Court than the Consort or Teela would.” She warmed up to that thought. “Diarmat was severely injured fighting to protect the High Halls, and I’m certain his personal preferences would be to see the Barrani as a giant heap of collective ash. He’s going to look down on me no matter what I do, I can’t change that.

  “But this might be useful. Do you think he’ll let me keep it?”

  “Kitling,” Bellusdeo said, her eyes as gold as they had been since entering a room that also contained Lord Diarmat, “Sometimes you really surprise me. In a good way. Yes, I’m certain he’ll let you keep it. If you ask, he might be slightly mollified.”

  “Could you try to stop antagonizing him on my behalf?”

  “I’m doing it on my own behalf.”

  “Then could you try to antagonize him when I’m not here? He’s had it in for me since the first day we met—and I’m his only safe target.”

  “Which is contemptible; it is hardly deserving of consideration.”

  Kaylin generally agreed with this. “I don’t think he’s trying to be contemptible. I think he’s worried.” Before Bellusdeo could speak, she rushed on. “Look—I’m the last person I would send into diplomatic waters. I’m only sent to the expensive parts of town when there’s been magical interference, or worse, and I’m sent with senior Hawks who do all the talking. I’m trying to learn how to behave—”

  “I see nothing wrong with your behavior.”

  “—like a Hawk. I’m trying to think before I speak. But I often fail, and I don’t want that to reflect poorly on the Halls of Law. He’s not wrong about me and diplomacy.”

  “Why is it that you’re expected to conform to everyone else, and not the other way around?”

  “Because I’m mortal, and I’m a private?”

  “That was rhetorical. From everything you’ve said, the Consort knows what you’re like, and she accepted the invitation. She’s hardly going to start a diplomatic dustup if you fail to behave like any other Barrani Lord.”

  “Oh—and that’s another thing. Could you please stop calling me ‘Lord Kaylin?’”

  11

  Lord Diarmat was not gone long. Kaylin had made it through four pages of High Barrani when the door opened; she almost dropped the report. But she wasn’t doing anything wrong, even by draconian standards, and managed to maintain her grip on what was essentially a large book.

 
“It appears,” Lord Diarmat said, to Bellusdeo, not Kaylin, “that the Arkon is, indeed, planning to attend.” The words sounded more like an accusation than a confirmation.

  “We have therefore satisfied the Imperial condition. A member of the Dragon Court will be in attendance, and he will oversee Lord Kaylin’s meeting with the Consort. Is there anything else?”

  “Forms of address.”

  “Lord Kaylin has an appointment of some import this evening. If you could keep this short and to the point, I’m sure it would be appreciated.”

  The familiar sighed loudly in Kaylin’s left ear. This was enough of a warning that she could lift her free hand—the one not gripping a sheaf of bound papers—to cover that ear. He squawked. Loudly.

  Both of the Dragons turned to look at him. As he was pretty much sitting right beside Kaylin’s face, that meant they were staring at her. But they weren’t glaring.

  Squawk. Squawk.

  “Can you understand him?” Kaylin asked Diarmat, forgetting entirely the correct form of address.

  Diarmat’s expression made clear that he noticed. Then again, he noticed everything. “I can. I do not understand all of what he says. Do you understand any of it?”

  “Not well.” As his expression shifted, she surrendered. “Not at all, not when he’s this size. I understand him when he’s bigger. Or when he’s...not in this shape.”

  “I will not hold you responsible for his actions or his comments, but I suggest you train him.”

  This caused predictable outrage on the part of her left shoulder ornament, but it lightened Bellusdeo’s orange eyes a bit.

  Diarmat did not ignore this, however. He bowed to the familiar. “My apologies. It is your size. I forget myself.”

  Bellusdeo gasped in theatrical shock, which soured Diarmat’s grim expression further. But for a moment, Kaylin felt as if she were at her breakfast table, and both Mandoran and Bellusdeo were champing at the bit in frustration and boredom. Diarmat did not keep score the way Mandoran did; he didn’t make a game of it. But she thought he made a game of nothing in his life—nothing was play, to him. Everything was serious.