everything you do is Hawk business. You intend to visit the Consort?”
“If she’ll see me. I have a hundred questions, and I think I have to whittle them down to the important ones.”
“And those are?”
“The ones I can ask without giving offense to anyone.”
“In which case, you might as well stay home.” But the Dragon was smiling fondly. “I don’t suppose you could invite her to visit you here?”
“I could—but I highly doubt she could accept. This isn’t exactly a safe space—” Helen cleared her throat, and Kaylin flushed. “Getting to Helen isn’t exactly safe for the Consort.”
“Who would destroy her?” Bellusdeo asked. “Dragons might have, once, but the Dragons that would have are dead or asleep. And the Dragon that rules now would fight to the death to preserve her because she is, in part, of his hoard.”
Kaylin flinched. “I’ll thank you to never ever say that where the Barrani—any of them—can hear you.” She pushed herself off her chair in order to pace the length of the large room. “I hate politics.”
“Then you hate the living—of every race. Politics exist wherever the living congregate. What you call politics in the comfort of your own home are the things you feel are above you, beyond you. The Emperor is political. The High Lord is political. The Hawk Lord is political. What you fail to understand is that even within your office, politics happen. You call it something else—but at base, it is not that different. The reach of the powerful is greater, therefore the effects of their gambits are both more visible and less easily affected.”
“Office politics don’t get people killed.”
“No, with the possible exception of Teela.”
“That wasn’t office politics—that was High Court politics.”
“But office politics can get people dismissed. And Hawks—like any other living beings—need food and shelter.”
“How do you know this?”
“I listen. I talk, but mostly, I listen. I look for the rules of the game being played, because any game requires a winner. And I don’t play. There is nothing, here, for me to win, and very little to lose.”
“But not nothing.”
Bellusdeo exhaled. “I would almost suggest you move out for a month or two, if I thought you could. But Helen would not be happy, and I have no wish to hurt her. Teela personally chose the Barrani Hawks. One of them attempted to assassinate her. If she is not foolish enough to trust Barrani, she desires what she once built with her cohort: trust.”
Bellusdeo held up a hand as Kaylin opened her mouth. “The Barrani Hawks are not Lords of the High Court. They do not have power, and lack a Barrani measure of wealth. Teela’s personal power has been enough, in the past, to protect them. She did not anticipate the necessity of demonstrations of that personal power to those who might consider becoming her opponents; she has been secure in her power for too long. Such necessary demonstrations will be neither peaceful nor entirely safe.”
“For me.”
“For you.”
Kaylin woke to the sound of shouting. Some of it was in Elantran. Some of it was in Dragon. The rest was more or less Barrani. The small dragon was pretty much trying to put his claws up her left nostril, and his squawks, while quieter than real Dragon roars, were much closer to her ears.
She rolled out of bed, noted that she had not grabbed the dagger she kept under her pillow, and considered this—more or less—progress.
“It wouldn’t help,” Helen said. “It is not morning by any standard definition. Would you care for light?”
Her house did not wake her up in the middle of the night unless there was an emergency call from the midwives. Midwives did not enrage or terrify either Barrani or Dragons.
“Where are they?” Kaylin asked, squinting as her eyes acclimatized themselves to bright light. She got dressed while the familiar circled her head, waiting for a place to land.
“I am currently trying to keep Mandoran and Annarion calm, with lamentably little success. I did call for Teela.”
“How?”
“The mirror.” Helen disliked and distrusted the mirror network. The fact that she had used it made things much more dire.
“Bellusdeo is roaring.”
“She isn’t angry. She felt she needed to get the boys’ attention—and native Dragon certainly did that.”
Kaylin headed to the door, her floors creaking comfortably beneath bare feet. At the door, she slid those feet into boots. She wasn’t certain what had happened, but if running or fighting were involved, bare feet wouldn’t be helpful. “What caused this, anyway?”
“The cohort.”
“The cohort’s not even here yet!”
“No. But they are traveling by Hallionne and portal path, and...they seem to have encountered some difficulty.”
Kaylin froze, hand on the doorknob. “Pardon?”
“I believe you did hear me.”
“But—” She was cut off by Dragon roar. “Did that bit involve fire?”
“Yes, but it’s contained. Bellusdeo is trying to stop the boys from doing anything catastrophically hasty—and she has my absolute blessing. I would advise you to hurry, on the other hand.”
“Oh?”
“Teela is almost at the door.”
* * *
Teela was. But so, to Kaylin’s surprise, was Tain. Their eyes were midnight blue, their expressions grim. In the distance Bellusdeo roared, but this time it had intelligible words in it.
Teela made a beeline for the kitchen.
“The boys are downstairs,” Helen explained. “I had to move them to the training rooms. Mandoran is not particularly happy with this.”
“Is Bellusdeo with them?”
“Yes.”
“What’s going on?” Kaylin demanded—of Tain.
“You probably know as much as I do. There’s been some trouble with the cohort in the West March. The impressions left by the cohort are chaotic and unclear.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am not certain, at this point, that they can communicate with Teela and the boys. At all.”
