Cast in Flame

Since eye color was the first thing Kaylin noticed about Immortals, and his was bad, it took her a moment to look at the rest of him. She had briefly met Emmerian what felt like years ago; he had been silent, then. It was a better silence than the current one. She had seen him in the air above Elani street, with most of the rest of the Dragon Court—as a dragon. She thought his draconic form blue, although color did shift with mood.

At the moment, he was not in dragon form. He wore the usual expensive cloth of Court dress, but it was far less ostentatious than anything Bellusdeo wore. He had no beard, unlike Sanabalis or the Arkon. It made him look younger, not that the appearance of age meant much where Dragons were concerned. Aside from relative age, he looked nothing like the other Dragons Kaylin had met.

Oh, he had the eyes. But he was missing some of the arrogant bearing that she associated with Immortals. If it weren’t for the telltale inner eye membranes, which were raised at the moment, she could have mistaken him for a regular person. A regular, rich person.

“Lord Emmerian,” Bellusdeo said. To Kaylin’s surprise, she bowed.

“Bellusdeo.”

Bellusdeo smiled. Her eyes lost some of their murderous rage as she did. “I was informed by Lord Sanabalis that an escort would be provided for our apartment hunt—if that’s the correct usage of the word hunt.”

“It is,” he replied. “I was pleased to be offered the opportunity—but I confess that I did not expect such a search to be...martial in nature. I am not perhaps suitably attired?”

She laughed. It was a lovely, low shock of sound—unexpected given the day. “It is, of course, I who am unsuitably attired; I’m tempted to retain the armor for the search. Any landlord who can overlook it is less likely to be troubled by having us as tenants.”

Lord Emmerian said nothing, although he smiled.

The small dragon lifted his head; Kaylin could swear he opened only one eye as he surveyed the latest Dragon Lord. He then sighed in a whiffling sort of way and lowered both head and eyelid.

“If you will accompany us to the Palace, I will change there. With luck, the explanations likely to be demanded won’t detain us until midnight.”

Kaylin was willing to make bets on that. Sadly, most of them involved another sleepless night and a lot of Dragon shouting. “Let me talk to Caitlin before we leave? She had a few suggestions for places we might look.”

Lord Emmerian froze.

“We have to find someplace I can afford,” the private informed him, her voice a mix of defiance and apology.

* * *

Caitlin had a list, of course. She handed it to Kaylin, and Kaylin glanced briefly at the addresses while the office denmother dispensed advice. Since no one came to Caitlin’s desk expecting to avoid advice, Kaylin didn’t bristle. “Don’t mention the reason you’re looking for a new place, dear. I realize that might seem a tad unfair to the poor landlord—but I can’t think of many people who’d want to take that risk.”

Kaylin could—but only one: the Emperor. “I don’t think the Barrani are likely to make another attempt; the only people who’ll be more vigilant about possible attempts than the Emperor are in the High Halls. They were embarrassed,” she added.

“I don’t think that’s true of all the Barrani.”

“No,” Kaylin replied, thinking of Mandoran. “But the Barrani Lords know the High Lord is angry; they’ll walk carefully for the next little while. Which, in Barrani terms, is a few decades—possibly enough of them that I’ll be dead of old age and it won’t be my problem. Or my landlord’s. Thanks for this.”

Caitlin opened her mouth, shook her head, and closed it again. As a send-off, it was ominous.

* * *

Bellusdeo did make it to the Palace, and to suitable clothing. She didn’t make it out again without the need to tender a report, but given the reportee was Sanabalis, it was quiet and relatively brief. The small dragon was slumbering across Kaylin’s shoulders the entire time; clearly Sanabalis was not worth the effort of waking up. On the other hand, Sanabalis ignored the small dragon, as well.

Before they were cleared to leave, Sanabalis had insisted they either take a carriage or a small platoon of Imperial Palace Guards. Kaylin had had enough of the Palace Guard. In fact, she’d had enough of them the first time she’d met them years ago. She made this as clear as only Kaylin Neya on a tear could. Bellusdeo, however, didn’t care for the officious, silent guard, either, and didn’t demur.

During this discussion, Emmerian was present.

He remained silent. It wasn’t a rigid silence; he wasn’t—or didn’t appear to be, given eye color—afraid of either Sanabalis or Bellusdeo. He simply had nothing to add to the argument on either side.

Given Kaylin’s prior experience with Dragons and Dragon opinions—which were, of course, always smarter and wiser than hers, in the estimation of said Dragons—this was unusual. It wasn’t that Emmerian looked friendly. He didn’t. But he seemed content to be largely invisible, at least in comparison to the rest of the Dragons present.

This continued in the carriage as Kaylin sorted through addresses. Bellusdeo had, in the weeks Kaylin had been absent, studied Records-provided maps of Elantra; she probably knew the overall layout of the city as well as Kaylin did. The particulars were something she was willing to experience in person; she didn’t expect crime statistics to tell her much about living in the various jurisdictions.

She did, however, seem to find the laws and their minutiae fascinating. Kaylin could understand this if she didn’t think about it too hard; Kaylin sometimes found them fascinating. But Kaylin was pretty much paid to find them fascinating. Or to find reasonable ways to get around them in situations where the laws looked good on paper but were life-threatening in practice.

Bellusdeo now asked questions about the minutiae of said laws and their practical—or impractical—application. Kaylin, feeling self-conscious in the presence of a new Dragon Lord, answered as diplomatically as she could. Given that it was her job and the Halls of Law, this probably didn’t say much.

Emmerian, however, listened politely; Kaylin noted that he spent most of his time gazing out the windows at the passing street. There was just enough focus in the gaze that it implied attention rather than boredom, although his eyes did narrow as the Imperial carriage left the wider, grander avenues that surrounded the Palace, rolling past the streets that lead to the High Halls.

Bellusdeo was watching said streets at least as closely as Emmerian, but Kaylin wasn’t worried; the small dragon who served as a primary alarm system was practically snoring in her ear.

When the streets narrowed, Emmerian said nothing. More loudly. Kaylin was glad that they weren’t attempting to navigate by carriage during market day; carriage was probably the slowest way to get anywhere, although Imperial Crests reduced the waiting time by a fair margin. The streets were by no means dangerous by the time the carriage turned onto them, but Emmerian’s silence had developed a hint of distaste.

Kaylin, who should have expected this, forced herself to remain quiet. Emmerian was used to a palace. He didn’t have to live like a normal, working person. She exhaled. Bellusdeo didn’t have to live like a normal, working person either—but she wanted to. Hells, given Bellusdeo, Kaylin didn’t have to live like a normal working person. She was fairly certain most of the Hawks in the office would be appalled by her decision to move out.

But it was different, for Kaylin. Kaylin didn’t fit in there. She didn’t belong in rooms that made her feel dirty and clumsy and grungy just by existing. She didn’t have the right clothing to walk the halls without attracting the disdainful glances of the pages, people who probably made less a week than even she did.

It was free accommodation, yes. But in every way except money, it was costly. She would have jumped for joy at the chance to stand in the Palace’s shadow, as a child. She was a working, responsible adult, now.

Squawk.

Okay, a working, more-or-less responsible adult. Her job was the enforcement of the Emperor’s Law; she didn’t want home to essentially belong to that job. At the moment, it did.

“We’re almost at the first place,” Kaylin told the occupants of the carriage.

Bellusdeo had lived in Kaylin’s old place, and didn’t so much as raise a golden eyebrow. Emmerian hadn’t, and raised a blue-black one as the carriage clopped to a smooth stop.

“You don’t think the Emperor is going to like the place,” Kaylin said, as a footman opened the carriage door and deposited a fancy stool before it.

Bellusdeo snorted as Kaylin stepped down. Emmerian followed Kaylin, and scanned the street before he nodded to a visibly impatient Bellusdeo. She disembarked last, by unspoken mutual consent.

“I am certain,” the Dragon Lord finally said, “that he won’t.” He approached the doors to the four story building and frowned. “Is it possible that there’s no door ward here?”

“It’s not only possible,” Bellusdeo replied, before Kaylin could. “But extremely likely. Our Kaylin doesn’t care for door wards.”

“‘Our’ is it?” Emmerian examined the door without touching it. He did not, however, use magic to do so—or at least not magic that made Kaylin’s skin break out. “Private Neya, are the interior doors likewise without wards?”

“Which part of ‘Kaylin doesn’t care for door wards’ was unclear?”

Emmerian stiffened. Bellusdeo had drawn herself up to her full height, and her eyes were now tinted orange. Emmerian’s were likewise shading to bronze. The small dragon lifted his head and surveyed the situation—while yawning. His teeth were solid ivory, although the rest of his mouth suggested the same translucence as his body.

Both Dragons immediately turned toward him. He squawked. Given Bellusdeo’s expression, Kaylin wasn’t surprised she didn’t squawk back. Contrary to Diarmat’s constant criticism, Bellusdeo did have some sense of personal dignity; squawking at a winged lizard in the city streets was beneath it.

Emmerian was likewise silent, although he now looked mildly surprised. Kaylin, aware that she was the pedestal on which the interesting person was standing, nonetheless ducked between them and opened the door. The hall, at least on this floor, was lit; steep stairs the width of one person climbed up on the left of the door. The landlord’s office—which was a fancy word, in Kaylin’s opinion, for apartment—was down the hall to the right.

She was surprised at how nervous she felt. She couldn’t remember feeling nervous when she’d gone apartment hunting with Caitlin the first time. Suspicious, yes. Bewildered. Not nervous. She mentally kicked herself.

What was the worst thing that could happen here? Besides Bellusdeo descending into full-bellow Dragon fury. The apartment could be terrible. The landlord might want too much for extras he hadn’t bothered to mention to Caitlin. Bellusdeo might actually hate the place. None of these things was deadly; some might be minor humiliations, but Kaylin expected that from life.

She straightened both shoulders and knocked on the closed, residential door marked as an office. The floors on the other side of the door creaked. So did the floors on this side, but more ominously; Dragons were dense, and two of them were occupying pretty much the same square yard of flooring. The building was in decent repair, given Kaylin’s admittedly slight experience; it was by no means new or modern.

The door opened on a man of middling age and similar height; he suited his building. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a tone of voice that implied he meant the answer to be no.

“Yes. I’m Private Kaylin Neya. I have an appointment to view 3B.”

The man relaxed slightly; he glanced at Bellusdeo and Emmerian, his eyes narrowing. Neither of the two looked like they lived in this part of town. Ever. “Marten Anders. These your friends?” he asked, stepping into the hall with a very obvious ring of keys in his left hand.

“Yes. This is Bellusdeo. She’ll be sharing the space with me for the time being.” Kaylin failed to introduce Emmerian. Mr. Anders noticed, of course.

“She’ll be marking the lease?”

“No.”

The man shrugged. “We don’t want trouble here,” he told them both. “I run a respectable, quiet place.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Kaylin replied—quickly. Bellusdeo looked as if she was about to speak.

The small dragon squawked instead. The man’s eyes rounded instantly as the transparent troublemaker sat up on Kaylin’s shoulders.

“He’s house-trained, and he doesn’t bite. He doesn’t make much noise.” She resisted the urge to clamp a hand around his mouth, because she was fairly certain ‘doesn’t bite’ would be instantly disproved.

“What is he?”

“A lizard.”

The small dragon squawked.

“You know how there are albinos? He’s like that, but with even less color.”

Mr. Anders nodded slowly. Since Bellusdeo and Emmerian kept glacially stiff expressions plastered to their faces, he accepted the off-the-cuff lie and headed up the stairs.

* * *

There were actually two rooms, although the bedroom was about the size of the smallest of Bellusdeo’s closets in the Palace. The floors were covered by a rug that had seen better decades, and the boards made a lot of noise. To Kaylin, this was familiar and almost comforting. There were windows; they were glassless, but shuttered—and barred.

“Are the bars necessary?” Bellusdeo asked.

“They’re decorative, ma’am,” the landlord replied.

“Good. You won’t mind if we remove them, then. I don’t particularly like the idea of living in a cage.”

Emmerian turned to the landlord before he could reply. “Would it be permissible to make alterations to these rooms and the hallways themselves?”

This was not a question to ask a landlord who was looking less eager by the passing second. If Emmerian had been anything other than a Dragon, Kaylin would have stepped, hard, on his foot.

“What kind of alterations?” was the entirely reasonable response.

“They would be both physical and magical in nature. You clearly have rudimentary mirror grids within the building, but we would require something with a little more power. The windows would have to be changed; we would install glass—at our expense, of course. Are the rooms above this one currently occupied?”

“Yes.”

“If we take this room, we would require it. For the sake of safety, we would also require the room directly below.” Emmerian held up a hand before the man—whose mouth had compressed into a line that sort of matched his narrowed eyes—could interrupt. “We would, of course, be willing to double your current rents. Or possibly triple.” It was the only thing the Dragon Lord had said that might possibly appeal to a landlord, but given the pinched expression on this one’s face, it didn’t appeal enough.

A thought struck Kaylin in the deepening gloom. “I’m not willing to pay triple the rent for these rooms—I can’t afford it, given what I’m paid.”

“No, of course not. We have agreed that we will not interfere materially with your living quarters.”

“And glass windows that practically scream out to enterprising thieves aren’t materially interfering?”

“No. They serve several functions, they increase security, and they add value to the building itself in the event that you choose to leave. The modifications will,” he added, turning once again to the landlord, “remain your property when Private Neya chooses to vacate these premises.”

When. Not if.

Kaylin could feel herself losing inches of height as Emmerian continued. This was possibly the most she’d heard him speak in one sitting, and she regretted the absence of his silence. The only thing worse was the shifting color of Bellusdeo’s eyes. They weren’t full-on red, but they were orange, and she’d dropped the inner membrane that muted their color.

And that, she thought, as she glanced at the pale man who was in theory a possible future landlord, was that. If he hadn’t recognized Bellusdeo for a Dragon upon introduction, he recognized her as something non-mortal, now. Kaylin exhaled. It was the sound of total defeat. “Could you two wait outside?”

When neither Dragon moved, she added, “Now?”

The landlord did not insist on seeing them out. He did fold his notably burly arms across his chest when they were quit of the empty rooms.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry they were so insulting,” Kaylin told him.

“Dragons, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re a Hawk.” He shrugged. “It’s a job. They always like that?”

“Normally? No. Worse. They don’t intend to be insulting—”

“But they think all mortals are money-grubbing merchants at heart.”

She had the grace to look guilty. “In Bellusdeo’s defense, she’s spent a couple of weeks with us on patrol in the Elani district.”

“So...fraudulent, money-grubbing merchants?” His lips twitched up at the corners. It was slight, but it was better than the frown that had taken up residence while Emmerian was talking.

“Caitlin wouldn’t have recommended the apartment if you were—if you weren’t... Can we just pretend I didn’t start that sentence?”

His grin spread. “It’s a bit of a pity,” he said. “I think I could live with you. I think I could live with...new-fangled enhancements. They’d probably have to do something about the floors.”

“But you can’t throw people out of their homes, even for three times the money.”

“No. Money’s tempting, and I wouldn’t get legal hassle for it—but, no.”

“I like you better for it,” Kaylin replied; it was true.

“Aye, well. If you’re looking to make a home, it’s a good trait—for you—in a landlord. Tell you what—if you lose the roommate, and the apartment’s still here, come back and we’ll talk.”

* * *

Emmerian and Bellusdeo were waiting in the carriage. The doors were closed. The windows, however, were slightly open, and Kaylin could hear Bellusdeo’s voice the moment she opened the external door. She guessed that orange eyes were now deeply orange, and had Severn been with her, she’d’ve bet on it.

He wasn’t, so she didn’t make money. Then again, he might not have taken the bet, because he had ears in his head.

Since she wasn’t feeling particularly charitable, she took her time walking to the carriage. She hoped Bellusdeo was figuratively chewing Emmerian’s head off—but she didn’t want the conversation to slide into native Dragon—not in the city streets. It would cause a panic, and she’d be at the center of it. Given the way things generally worked, Marcus would blame her.

If Marcus didn’t, the Lord of Swords probably would— because when people panicked in any number, it increased the workload of the Swords. The footman jumped off the little shelf at the back of the carriage as she approached the doors. She let him open them, and climbed into a carriage that fell immediately silent.

The small dragon whiffled.

“He didn’t mind a Dragon roommate,” Kaylin said, first up. “It was the crap that came with the roommate that he found objectionable. What were you thinking?”

Emmerian looked momentarily disconcerted.

“You can’t just demand that a landlord kick out two apartments full of people because you think you want rooms for your own purposes.”

“I made no demands.”

“They weren’t exactly requests, Emmerian.”

“They were. If the landlord did not wish to accommodate them, he was free to refuse to let the apartment.”

“Which he did.”

The Dragon implied a shrug without going through the down-market motion. “The modifications are not required should Bellusdeo choose to remain within the safety of the Imperial Palace. The measures are a compromise.”

Kaylin turned to Bellusdeo. “You agreed to this compromise?”

“Hardly. I agreed to live with some surveillance. Given your current life, I expected that it would be subtle.”

“My current life?”

“You are, as you well know, under Imperial Surveillance. I assumed that the security I would be offered would be of a similar variety.” Her eyes were getting redder by the syllable.

“I think,” Kaylin said quietly, “we’re done for the evening. I’ll mirror from the Palace and make my groveling apologies to the other two landlords.”

CHAPTER FIVE

If Kaylin was done for the evening, Bellusdeo was not. Kaylin attempted to use the mirror in their Palace rooms—twice. She managed to more or less explain to Caitlin the outcome of the interview with Marten Anders, but the sound of Dragon fury meant Caitlin was reduced to lip-reading for half the call. Calling to grovel about missed appointments was out of the question. Caitlin offered to do it for her.

Apparently, sleep was out of the question, as well.

Staying in the Palace, however, had less than zero appeal; Kaylin didn’t want to hide in the library with a sarcastic, cranky Arkon, although she did consider asking him if he had a spare bed in one of his maze of treasure rooms. She paced for a bit while the small dragon warbled in the breaks between Dragon “conversation.” There weren’t that many of them.

When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she mirrored Teela. She almost cut the call when she saw the color of Teela’s eyes: very, very blue.

“Unless Bellusdeo has burned down a city block or two, this is not a good time,” the Barrani Hawk said.

“I think she’s trying to burn down the Emperor, if that counts.”

“It doesn’t, unless she manages to succeed.” Teela frowned as Kaylin lost sound. When it returned—or rather, when outrage receded between the long, long breaths Dragons could draw, Teela’s brows had risen. “You’re not half wrong,” she said, in Elantran. “How long have they been going at it?”

“An hour. Maybe more. I have no idea how long they’ll be at it either— Oh, I think that one’s Diarmat.”

Teela started to speak, rolled her eyes, and stopped. “Lord Diarmat. Honestly, kitling, when in the Palace, try to observe proper form.”

“I’m heading out of the Palace because at this point, I can’t. Try, I mean.” She frowned. “Teela, where exactly are you right now?”

The Barrani Hawk grinned. It was a cat’s grin. “You finally recognize the room?”

Kaylin was silent for a long moment. “Where’s Severn?”

Teela glanced to the side of the mirror and held out her right hand, still grinning. “I win,” she said.

Severn came into the mirror’s view. He looked about as pleased to lose a bet as Kaylin would have, which wasn’t her biggest concern. “Why is Teela at your place?”

“Teela,” Teela replied before Severn could, “was bored.”

“I mean it, Teela. I know what you do when you’re bored.”

“If you’re not going to play with him, I don’t see why you should be so proprietary; he’s a big boy.”

Severn raised a brow in Teela’s direction. “I’m the substitute Tain for the evening.”

“Why does she need a substitute?”

“The one she has is currently babysitting. I hear Mandoran caused a bit of excitement on Elani street.”

“Where he wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t been in session with the Wolves.” Kaylin’s frown deepened. She was certain Severn had heard maybe three words of the last sentence, but wasn’t willing to bet on it; the Dragons weren’t pausing for much. “What does she need Tain for?”

“She’s not an idiot.”

“Why, thank you,” Teela drawled.

Severn didn’t blink or otherwise indicate he’d heard her. “Tain’s about the best backup she has.”

“Why does she need backup? What’s going down?” The small dragon sat up and leaned forward, adding his version of inner membranes to the mirror’s surface.

Severn didn’t reply. But he did glance—pointedly—at the Barrani Hawk. It was no answer, but it was answer enough for Kaylin. “Don’t leave without me,” she said abruptly.

Teela’s eyes were already dark enough they didn’t change color. “You are not—”