Michelle Sagara - Cast In Flight

“She’s not like the Lady,” was Kaylin’s flat and certain reply. “And she’s not like Bellusdeo, either.”

“No. She is not, but she occupies a central, singular place for the Aerians, as the Consort does for the Barrani, or Lord Bellusdeo for the Dragons. It should not surprise me,” he said again, “but it does.”

“Do you know what her role is?”

“We will trade information, perhaps. How did you encounter her?”

There was a beat of silence before Kaylin exhaled. “She works in the Halls of Law.”

His eyes shifted from blue to a very surprised gold, a color she very seldom saw in Barrani. “You must be mistaken.”

“I think I know the Halls of Law, and I think I know a sergeant when I see one. She works in the Halls.”

“A...sergeant.” He closed his eyes; when he opened them again, they had reclaimed the color blue. It was a lighter shade than Teela’s. So was midnight sky. “No wonder they tried to kill her. This has happened before?”

“Not while she’s been a sergeant.” Kaylin set her cutlery down and folded her arms, tilting her chair back on two legs. She wasn’t hungry, and while that didn’t usually stop her from eating, she wanted to concentrate.

“Never?”

“Not that I know of, no. But I’d say ‘never’ covers it.”

“Ah. And before that?”

“It’s not in Records.” She stonewalled. He couldn’t read her mind now. He couldn’t see her thoughts. “Why would you expect that this wouldn’t be the first attempt?”

He smiled. “Because she is living here, Kaylin. Perhaps you do not understand why this is a crime in the minds of the Aerians.”

“Some of the Aerians.”

“As you say. Why does she not dwell with her kin? Why does she choose menial employ? She is Illumen praevolo.”

“And I’m the Chosen,” Kaylin shot back. “But I need to eat.”

“The Chosen does not mean to humans what your Aerian will mean to the Aerians. Perhaps it should.”

“It certainly should,” Bellusdeo interrupted. “She is not treated with nearly the respect her burden is due.”

Kaylin lifted a hand in Bellusdeo’s direction, and the Dragon fell silent. She probably wasn’t happy about it, but Kaylin didn’t check; she was watching Nightshade as if he were the only person in the room.

“Do your Aerians not speak of it?” Nightshade asked her.

“No. And I can’t ask them.”

“And she does not explain?”

“No. She thinks it’s not safe for me to know.”

He smiled; it was winter, but beautiful. “And so you come to me.”

“I didn’t—” She exhaled and regrouped. “Yes. Yes, I’m asking you.”

“Has it occurred to you that your companion may be correct? No, don’t answer. You will say yes, but mean no. It is vexing. If you wish to know how I come by this information...” he began.

“I know how.”

“Ah. I forget. Yes, you probably do. The praevolo is not a position like the Consort within the Barrani. To become Consort, there are tests. Tests of the Tower. Tests of the Lake. Failure does not always mean death, but the closer one comes to success, the higher the possibility of death becomes. We are not, like humans, a people to whom children come quickly or easily; the risk of death can be a strong deterrent.

“But it is the line’s risk to take. Your friend did not have the distinction of determination or choice. She was born to it. It has been an essential part of her nature since that birth.”

Kaylin nodded, trying not to be impatient. Or not to be obviously impatient, at any rate. “I understand that part. I don’t understand why it’s significant. I don’t understand what it means.”

“As I have said, to humans, it means nothing.”

“She’s not a human, and she’s living here.”

“How much do you feel you have a right to know?” he asked, almost gently. It was gentleness from Nightshade that she didn’t trust. His violence, his arrogance, his intimidation were things that were obvious threats. “If she does not wish you to know, and it is her secret, her life, how much do those wishes count to you?”

There was a disgusted snort—a sergeant’s sound—from the doorway; everyone looked up. Moran stood in the frame, arms folded, eyes a blue that almost matched Teela’s in shade. “Lord Nightshade, I presume.”

He raised dark brows.

“You were the Barrani who marked Private Neya?”

Kaylin almost stood; Annarion’s expression had drifted from mild interest into disgust and anger and disappointment.

“It is not one of my many titles,” came the cool reply. He was staring at her, at the rise of her wings, or her one wing, at the bindings that kept the other more or less safe and in place. “Is it you?”

“Don’t ask questions when you already know the answer.”

“Among my kin, it would be considered polite.”

“We’re not among your kin here.” She glanced at Annarion. “We’re in Kaylin’s home. And Kaylin has never entirely grasped the intricacies of manners.” She entered the dining room as a place—with a stool—magically appeared for her at the table. It was beside Kaylin, and required some minor shuffling.

“I asked you,” Moran told the private, “to stay out of this.” She didn’t sound enraged. She sounded disappointed, which was worse.

“They tried to kill you.”

“Believe that I’m aware of that.”

“I’d like them to never try again.”

“And I’d like to have normal, healthy wings and a living mother,” Moran said with a shrug. “We don’t always get what we want, especially when it comes to the big things.” She glanced at Nightshade. “You were about to explain to the table what the praevolo is.”

“But you are now here; your knowledge has precedence.”

Moran shrugged again. The gaze she leveled at Nightshade was about as warm and friendly as Teela’s. “My view is colored. If you’ve heard about the Illumen praevolo, you didn’t hear about it from the Caste Court or the Upper Reaches; you heard about it from the rank and file. I’d like to know what they think.”

“You’ve never asked?”

“No. It’s not something that is ever discussed in the Halls. By any Aerian.”

“Very well, if you have no objections.”

“My objections have rarely counted for so little.” She shot Kaylin a glance, and Kaylin flushed the color of guilt. There was so much awkward tension in the room, it might as well have been a fractious office meeting with the Lords.

“This is not the world to which the Aerians were born.”

“No.”

“It is the world they reached, in an era long past, through a stretch of endless sky, the etande, as it was called.”

Moran was staring at the side of his face, her brows slightly furrowed.

“They had their reasons for leaving their home.”

“The World Devourer?” Kaylin asked.

“No, nothing so immediately deadly. You are aware that the Aerians’ flight is...improbable? They are, in build and general density, almost human. The activities that do not depend in any way on flight are not hampered by physical strength or build. Their wings, were they attached to the body of similarly weighted avian, could not achieve flight.”

Kaylin frowned. No, she hadn’t been aware of that, and she wasn’t in a great hurry to claim her ignorance.

“They are not magical creatures. In an absence of any magic, they will not cease to exist. They will, however, cease to fly.”

Moran was really staring at the side of his face now, but the midnight of her blue eyes had drifted into an early shade of clear night sky while she listened.

“So...their world ran out of magic?” Kaylin asked.

“Yes.”

“And our world is more magic-rich?”