such as it was, but she didn’t really want to hand it over to the Dragon Court, the Imperial Mages, or the Arcanum. This left a much smaller pool—of one—and her desk duty had kept her off her current beat. Which was, sadly, where the single person she had in mind lived and worked.
The egg’s shell had started out almost soft to the touch, but it had grown harder and stronger. She wasn’t sure if this meant the egg actually had something living in it, because she wasn’t sure if whatever it was could be sustained without magic. Which she didn’t have. At least, not on purpose.
And thinking that, she carefully removed the bracer she wore as a matter of course throughout most of her working days. Laying it to one side of the box, she lifted the egg out, set it on the bed, swaddled it in her own blankets, and curled around it protectively to keep it warm.
Morning happened, and judging from the fall of sunlight, she wasn’t late, yet. Her sleep had, to her surprise, been untroubled, which did happen a handful of days each year. She had time to fish food out of the magical basket that Severn had given her. Of all the magic she’d seen, this one was the most quietly impressive: it preserved food. Even bread. She wasn’t certain for how long, because food didn’t generally last long in her apartment; she’d have to test it one day.
She then dressed, snapping the bracer back into place on her wrist and rooting through the clothing she’d thrown on the floor the night before to fish out the two letters she’d been handed by two entirely different Dragon Lords. The forlorn and unhatched egg went back into its box, and back under the bed.
The walk to work ended with Clint and Tanner at the doors. Clint nodded, and Tanner said, “You keep arriving at work on time and people are going to start worrying.”
“Oh? Who?”
“The ones who are losing money.” He laughed.
She grimaced. “They’ve started a different pool.”
“I haven’t heard about a new one.”
“It’s called the end-of-the-world pool, but if you don’t like the odds, there’s one about the next call from the midwives.” They’d pulled her out of work during the day for the last three births; it meant she was on time for work, but still short hours.
Tanner chuckled and they stepped out of the way to let her pass. She ran a hand along Clint’s wings as she cleared the door, and heard his friendly curse at her back.
Caitlin was at her desk. “You’re early, dear. How did yesterday’s lesson go?”
“I’m still alive.”
“You don’t sound particularly happy about it at the moment.”
“Not at the moment, no. It only means I have to go back in three days.”
“That bad?”
“Bad enough that I now consider any other teacher I’ve had to be friendly and put upon.”
Caitlin raised a brow. “And that made you early?”
“No. Early,” Kaylin replied, removing the two sealed letters from her side pouch, “was for these. I have hopes that one of them will get me out of desk duty.”
“Kaylin…”
“And hopes that the other one won’t be an immediate call for my execution. They’re for the Hawklord.”
“Were they urgent?”
“They were delivered by Dragons. One of them, at least, was written by Diarmat.”
Caitlin winced. “Then at least one is urgent, for your sake.”
“The Hawklord’s busy?”
“Yes, dear. He and most of the Barrani Hawks are closeted in the Tower discussing the difficulties with the investigation into the Exchequer’s suspected embezzlement.”
Which meant he wasn’t going to take any interruption well.
“Head up to his office and speak with his secretary. My guess is he’ll interrupt the Hawklord, at least briefly.”
Kaylin shrugged. “My job was to deliver the letters; it wasn’t to stand over the Hawklord’s shoulder making certain he reads them.”
“Take them to his office, dear.”
The Hawklord’s office wasn’t actually the Tower, although that’s where he held most of his meetings; it was vastly more convenient for Aerians to reach, as the dome in the roof opened. He did, however, have an office, with a secretary whose function was similar to Caitlin’s, albeit for a single man and not an entire office full of Hawks.
She liked the office better than the Tower for a variety of reasons. Chief among these was the fact that the Hawklord’s office doors had no door wards. They barely had working hinges, on the other hand. Hanson sat behind his customary desk watching the door’s progress. Magic wasn’t needed for protection here; no one could sneak into this office through those doors.
“He’s not here,” Hanson said when she’d mostly managed to get the doors open.
“I know. He’s in the Tower with the Barrani Hawks.”
“Yes. And an expert who calls himself a Forensic Accountant.” Hanson grimaced.
“A what?”
“Don’t ask me. I just work here.”
Kaylin, who also just worked here, nonetheless tried to wrap her thoughts around the title, and gave up. “I have two letters I was told to deliver to him in person.”
“Do either of the sendees have any reason to want you dead or fired?”
“Not yet.”
Hanson held out a hand. It was large, square, and belied the rather bookish clothing he generally wore for office work. Too many calluses, for one. “Let me have them.”
She would normally have been more than happy to pass them off as his problem, but this time she was torn. She had hopes for the contents of Sanabalis’s letter, and pure dread about the contents of Diarmat’s. It didn’t matter, though. Hanson lifted one gray brow and said, “I’m not opening either,” in a flat tone of voice. “I recognize both seals. Were you told, in either case, to wait for a report?”
“No.”
“And you are absolutely certain you did nothing to offend Diarmat?”
“Nothing besides breathing.”
“Take a chair,” Hanson said, rising as he made his decision. “Take any chair in my office except the one behind my desk.”
Kaylin had been a bit of an explorer when she’d first been brought to the office. Hanson’s chair wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her, even though she’d only sat in it a couple of times. Unfortunately, the last of those times had involved a rather irate citizen of great import to his Caste Court, an absent Hanson, and an absent Hawklord. It had not gone
