thought she could hear Marcus growling from two blocks away. The Halls of Law loomed like a gallows as they marched briskly toward them. Teela was tight-lipped and blue-eyed by the time they reached the doors. Tanner and Clint framed them, but one look at Teela’s expression made them instantly wary. Fair enough. Barrani blue was not a terribly safe look.
Clint’s eyes, however, were already the wrong color for an Aerian: coal gray, which made them look hard. He lowered his weapon as they approached, but didn’t raise it to allow them passage, and given Teela’s mood, that was significant.
“What’s wrong?” Kaylin asked.
“I heard a rumor in the mess hall.”
“Was it about me?” Kaylin asked.
“Got it in one go.”
“I can hear Ironjaw growling from here, Clint. He’s been waiting for us to arrive.”
Clint had the grace to wince, but didn’t immediately grant them passage. “It’s about you and Moran.”
Kaylin blinked. “Pardon?”
Tanner held out a hand, palm up. Clint dropped a few coins into it, although he didn’t really look away from Kaylin. Tanner then said, “Caitlin said you’re going to offer Moran a place to stay while she recuperates.”
“Caitlin told you this?” Kaylin demanded, feeling a bit of a pang.
“Clint grilled her.”
That was also highly unlike the Clint Kaylin knew. “It’s not a rumor. It’s true. I haven’t convinced Moran yet.”
“Moran will say no.”
“She’ll say no the first few times I try, yes.”
“Don’t try a second time.”
Kaylin stared at Clint as if he’d been replaced by a Shadow. “She can’t fly.”
“No.”
“She won’t let me heal her—and I offered that first.”
“There are reasons for that. The Hawklord wouldn’t let you heal him, if he had any say. The Barrani don’t let you touch them. I don’t imagine the Dragon Lords would countenance it, either.”
Bellusdeo allowed it, but Kaylin kept that to herself. This entire conversation had gone in a direction Kaylin would never have anticipated. “Clint—she’s living in the infirmary.”
“She has been offered conveyance to, and from, the Aerie. She has chosen to decline the offer.”
“I know that. But the infirmary is more of a jail than a home.” Kaylin had folded her arms at some point and was now tightening them.
“To you, Moran is a sergeant. She rules the infirmary. To Moran’s family, she is not a Hawk. Her work here has never been treated with respect; it has, among the more considerate, been politely ignored. She was injured in her service to the Hawks.”
Kaylin, confused, looked at Teela to see if she was having any better luck following this discussion. From the shuttered expression on the Barrani Hawk’s face, she was. The small dragon, however, didn’t consider it important enough to budge and lay across Kaylin’s shoulder like a slightly resentful shawl.
“I’m aware of how she sustained the injuries, Clint.” She used his name like punctuation. “All I’m offering her is an actual home-away-from-home. She needs a place to stay. My place will actually have rooms that are designed for an Aerian, even an injured one. She won’t have to deal with landlords. She won’t have to deal with rent. She can walk to and from the Halls in relative safety. You’re acting as if this is some kind of political deal.”
“It is. You’ve always thought Moran’s wings were different.”
“Well, they are. All the rest of yours are single colors. Hers look like they’re speckled.”
Clint nodded. After a few seconds, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many other speckled wings have you seen?”
“I just told you—” Kaylin caught up. “You’re telling me they’re significant in the Aerie.”
“I’m trying to tell you that, yes.” To Teela, he said, “Did you have these issues when you introduced Kaylin to the High Halls?”
“Not these specific ones, no. The Barrani Halls are slightly simpler. Everyone you meet is going to try to kill you at one point or another; she only had to try to avoid the ones who were going to do so immediately.”
Tanner chuckled.
Kaylin didn’t. “The Hawks are politically neutral.”
“Yes, kitling, they are. But none of us exist solely as Hawks. We have duties and responsibilities—and enemies—outside of the Halls. We have history. Some of us have a longer and more complex history simply because we’re older. Moran, clearly, has significance outside of the Halls, and you are somehow stepping in it.”
“I will let Moran decide.”
“Kaylin—” Clint started.
She waited, glaring at him. He didn’t finish the sentence.
“What he’s not saying,” Tanner said, when it was clear that Clint was conceding, “is that you will cause the Hawklord extreme political grief. It’s possible the Hawklord will be waiting to speak to you when you arrive in the office.”
“Fine. At this point, it’s probably moot. Marcus is going to rip out my throat before I can try to convince Moran a room in my house is better than the infirmary.” She exhaled heavily and added, “I don’t want to cause the Hawklord any difficulty. I’d like to make corporal sometime in my life.”
That claim apparently fooled no one.
“Can you explain—later—what or who Moran is to the Aerie?”
“Not easily. There’s more than one Aerie in the Southern Reach. Most of the Hawks come from one of three specific Aeries. Moran does not.”
“Is this something I should have learned in racial integration classes?”
“No. Racial integration classes are meant to be practical, and the only Hawks who are summoned to the Aerie are, by default, the ones who can fly.” He grimaced. “We’re all fond of Moran.” This wasn’t entirely true; it was, however, true of Kaylin. “Go on in.”
* * *
Marcus could be heard long before he could be seen—even by the merely mortal. “I suppose if I quit my job now and ran home, Helen wouldn’t let me starve to death.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it—at least not with my own money,” Teela replied, indulging in her usual encouragement.
“Was your life like this before you joined the Hawks?” Kaylin asked, as they walked toward the growling against all base survival instinct.
“Not
