While it was possible they were responsible for the magical attack, Kaylin doubted it.
“Private.”
Kaylin immediately loosened her grip on Moran. She didn’t completely release her. “Don’t move from here,” she told the sergeant. “We have no idea if that was the only attack.”
Moran looked at the broken stone inches from her feet. “I need to clear the area.”
“You don’t need to clear the area. You’re the target. If you attempt crowd control here and they’re not done yet, you’ll just get people killed.” It was a small miracle that no civilians had died, and Kaylin knew better than to bank on another one.
“You need the streets cleared?” Bellusdeo asked. She turned toward Kaylin. The front of her very practical clothing was smoldering. There were more holes in it than there was cloth. Bellusdeo had not been within the bubble’s radius. The Dragon’s eyes were very, very orange. If eyes were windows into the soul, Bellusdeo’s was on fire.
Kaylin nodded.
“Good.”
* * *
Bellusdeo roared.
In the middle of the crowded Darrow Lane road, this caused even more panic, which was probably why Dragons were technically forbidden to speak their mother tongue in public places. But the roar, unlike the explosion, continued for enough time that people could identify its source and get the hells away from it.
Kaylin then looked for the rest of her companions.
Mandoran was untouched; Tain wasn’t in immediate sight. Teela was. In her left hand, she carried a naked, runed blade; it was glowing brightly. Something about the metal of that blade reminded Kaylin of Severn’s weapon chain, which could combat magic if wielded properly.
“Mandoran,” Bellusdeo said, “you’ve been picking up Elantran at an astonishing rate. You’ve perhaps heard some of their colloquial phrases?”
“Far, far too many. Why?”
“I’m wondering if you’ve encountered this one: ‘it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’”
Mandoran looked at Bellusdeo, his perfect brow rippling in minor confusion. “I don’t think either of our peoples are much given to begging for anything. Why do you ask?”
Bellusdeo roared again. The first roar had pretty much cleared the street around them for a good ten yards, although it had also panicked horses. Her smile was almost feline. She didn’t bother to shed her ruined clothing; there was no salvaging it. She dropped to her hands and knees and began to shed her human appearance, as well.
Kaylin found the transformation between two solid shapes disturbing; she always did. Flesh wasn’t supposed to be liquid; it wasn’t supposed to twist and expand, changing in both color and texture. Bellusdeo grew golden scales, the largest of which could have served as a very good shield had it been detached; she gained both height and length. And wings.
* * *
“Kitling?” Teela shouted, not bothering to glance back.
“We’re good,” Kaylin replied.
“Moran?”
“I’m fine. The road isn’t,” the sergeant added, looking down at the blistered, cracked and shattered stones at their feet. “If you let go of me, will I still be safe?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On whether or not Teela’s going to do something with that sword other than pose.”
Mandoran laughed. He was the only one who did. “She’s going to have to move fast,” he said.
“Mandoran, don’t—”
“I won’t hurt your precious citizens. Well, not all of them, at any rate.”
Bellusdeo spoke in a lower and fuller voice that was nevertheless distinctly her own. “I’ll leave the corporals in charge of apprehending the would-be assassins. Sergeant?”
Moran looked at the golden Dragon. And she was a golden Dragon now—a very large, very imposing one with jaws that were the size of Kaylin.
“I assume you haven’t ridden bareback Dragon before,” Bellusdeo said to the sergeant.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“A last time, too,” Kaylin muttered. She was still holding on to Moran.
Bellusdeo’s orange eyes paused over her worried expression—which was clearly reflected in them. “Magic?”
Kaylin nodded. “I don’t think they’ve finished yet.”
“Then get on—and don’t let go of Moran until you’re seated.”
Mounting a Dragon wasn’t exactly a no-handed operation, but Kaylin kept this to herself. She understood exactly why she was going to try her best to obey the command: if it weren’t for Kaylin’s alert and bristling familiar, Moran would be dead. Kaylin would probably be dead as well, if it had come to that.
“Has anyone ever tried to assassinate you before?” Bellusdeo asked the Aerian.
To Kaylin’s surprise, Moran answered, “Yes.”
“Often?”
“No. And before you continue the interrogation,” she added, struggling her way into a seated position between spinal ridges along the Dragon’s back, “never with magic.”
“I thought the damn Caste Court wanted you back,” Kaylin said, trying not to sound as outraged as she felt.
“Some of them do. Some, clearly, don’t.”
“And both factions are going to cause boatloads of trouble at the office.”
“Yes. I did warn you.”
Kaylin snorted. As Bellusdeo pushed off the ground and lifted her wings against the pull of gravity, Kaylin shouted, “You’ve got nothing on Bellusdeo!”
“Don’t,” the Dragon rumbled in response, “make me drop you. You might deserve it, but the sergeant doesn’t.”
* * *
The streets directly in front of the main entrance to the Halls of Law were crowded; they often were. Bellusdeo could have landed in them anyway—the approaching shadow of a very large Dragon was more efficient at clearing the streets than a full squad of mounted Swords. She chose instead to land in the stable yards, which had the advantage of fewer civilians. There were more horses, and the horses weren’t thrilled, but that would quickly become someone else’s problem.
Kaylin slid off Bellusdeo’s back; Moran followed. She was a lot shakier on her legs than Kaylin, but then again, she’d never ridden on something the size of a Dragon before. Or possibly
