Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(106)

“I’m Kattea Krevel,” she told him.

“Marcus Hassan,” Marcus replied. “Sergeant Marcus Hassan. We need to inform the Emperor—” He stopped. Growled. “Shojii!”

“Sir!”

“Tell the Swordlord and Wolflord what’s happened.”

“The Hawklord—”

“Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marcus turned back to Kattea. “Krevel. Krevel. Corporal Krevel? Are you related?”

Kaylin froze. Kattea didn’t. “Yes. I’m his—his cousin.”

“And this man is a friend of yours?”

“Yes.”

Marcus sniffed the air. Leontine sense of smell was acute, no surprises there.

“Marcus—the Winding Path?”

“We’re not certain what happened,” he said. “Something big. Half of the street—the middle half—is no longer visible.”

“What do you mean, not visible?”

“Exactly what I said. There’s a very large gap—a circular gap—where the middle part of the street used to stand.”

“That’s not invisible.”

“People don’t fall off the street into what looks like a pit. They keep walking. They vanish. They don’t appear on the other side. We’ve cordoned off either end of the spherical space—but it’s growing. The Swords are mobilized; the Aerians have been sent to patrol.” He cursed in Leontine. “The sky above the sphere operates the way the area on the ground does—but it’s harder to see.”

Kaylin stopped breathing for one long moment.

“Yes,” he said, although she hadn’t spoken. “That’s not theoretical.”

Kattea, listening, said, “That’s how it started.”

Marcus frowned. He wasn’t as tall as the Barrani, but when he looked down at Kattea, he seemed to be doing it from a much greater height. “Private?”

Kaylin exhaled. “We should head up to the Hawklord’s Tower,” she replied, “so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

*

The aperture to the Tower was open when they arrived, as were the doors. Kaylin was grateful; the door wards of the Hawklord’s Tower were, with the exception of the Imperial Library, the worst magical door wards in existence.

Lord Grammayre’s eyes were almost black, they were so dark. That left no room for worse, which meant they didn’t change shade when Gilbert walked in behind Kaylin. Kattea was in front of him, Ybelline behind; Marcus was leading the way and Severn pulled up the rear.

“Teela and Tain headed out to the Arcanum. At least that’s where they said they were going.”

“They mirrored from the Arcanum.”

“Then—”

“They went, in haste, to the Winding Path. Teela said the man to whom she wished to speak had been resident in the Arcanum; he left, in colloquial words, a lot of corpses. Among those corpses was one that was not quite dead. They mirrored to request that backup be sent to meet them on the Winding Path at the scene of the investigation.” Marcus growled.

Lord Grammayre bowed to Ybelline.

“But they—”

“They wanted you.”

“Oh.”

“You went to Evanton’s.”

“Yes.”

“And the Tha’alani quarter was on the way?”

“...No.”

The Hawklord lifted and lengthened his wings, as if testing them. They were, had always been, beautiful. And they could also be deadly. “The Arkon sent word. We will not be able to respond in the usual way, but the Aerians have agreed to serve as emergency messengers until this crisis has passed.” He exhaled. “Gilbert lived in the house across the street from the murders?”

Kaylin nodded and began to speak.

*

She managed to make it through half of the story—at least as she perceived it—before the Hawklord stopped her and looked up, to the open aperture. Shadow darkened the floor—the skies were not exactly clear. But the shadows caused by this cloud didn’t pass, and in the end—

In the end, they resolved themselves into a familiar, draconic form. Kaylin thought—for just a moment—that the gold meant Clint had been mistaken about Bellusdeo, because the Dragon was gold.

But it wasn’t Bellusdeo.

She had never watched a Dragon shift form in midair before. This Dragon, however, obviously considered the interior of the Tower too small for a safe landing—at least for the people currently beneath him. He shifted, golden scales blurring and reconfiguring as he descended; his wings shifted shape and size before they at last folded—literally—into his back.

The Dragon was the Arkon.

“You’re not supposed to be flying,” Kaylin told him, because surprise had loosened her jaw. And her brain, clearly.

“I have come in search of your Gilbert” was his rumbling reply. His eyes were orange. Of course they were. “And it was decided that his presence within the Palace at this time constituted too much of a danger.” His nod to the Hawklord was perfunctory, and Marcus might as well have been invisible; he did offer an extended nod to Ybelline.

Ybelline said, “I must return to my own kin.” She offered the Dragon Lord a much deeper bow than Kaylin felt he warranted, and turned toward the Tower doors.