Michelle Sagara - Cast in Chaos

Not every pregnant woman came to the guildhall, but most did; the guildhall received its share of donations, and it could afford to do work for next-to-nothing. “Twelve?”

“Ten. You’re counting the two you marked.”

“Good. Can you get them out of there?”

Marya lifted the ledger. “Ahead of you there. Do you think this magic has affected the actual pregnancy, or does it just manifest itself at birth?”

“I honestly don’t know, but we’ve got nothing to lose by relocating them. If it’s the pregnancy, they’re still in the same predicament. If it’s the birth, they’re safe.”

“My thinking, as well.” She looked tired. “Will you be home if something goes wrong?”

“Yes. But the first thing I do in the morning is meet with a Dragon Lord.”

“Your morning?”

“No, sadly. The real morning. We’ll be leaving the Halls of Law immediately, and heading out to the Oracles. If anything comes up—anything at all—mirror there.”

To say that she was tired when the Halls of Law appeared around the corner would have been so inaccurate she didn’t bother. She made one stop on her jog to the Halls, and came away with three stuffed buns from a baker’s stall. That, and enough change to throw into a wishing well without worrying about lost money.

She’d had the usual restless sleep that occurs between the hours of way-too-damn-late and dawn. Because she knew that Sanabalis would be seriously pissed off if she was late, the mirror’s chime actually woke her.

Sanabalis was waiting in the office. She was bleary-eyed enough that she didn’t actually note who was on door duty.

“Kaylin?” Caitlin said from her desk nearest the office doors. “Were you at the guild last night?”

Kaylin nodded.

Clearly, it was the wrong kind of nod. “There were problems?”

“Yes.” She headed straight for Marcus’s desk, and only in part because Sanabalis was seated, more or less quietly, in front of it. The Dragon Lord looked up as she came to stand just in front of him.

“Sergeant.”

Marcus had seen her enter the office. “What happened last night?”

“We had two births. One baby born with three eyes. One born speaking. In full sentences.”

“None born with two heads?” Sanabalis asked. She didn’t appreciate his sense of humor and turned to tell him as much, but when she caught sight of his expression, she bit back the unfortunate words just before they could leave her mouth.

“Why are you asking? What have you found?”

“I found nothing that might point in that direction,” he replied. “The Arkon, however, has spent the entirety of the evening poring over some of his private collection, and he extracted some information that might be of use to us.”

“Two-headed babies?”

“Yes. They were not, however, human, if that’s any comfort.”

“Not really.” She paused. “What were they?”

“Barrani.”

“What happened to them? No, never mind. I really don’t want to know.” She turned back to her Sergeant. “Marya’s moving any of the women who are pregnant and might go into labor. She can only move the ones she knows about.”

He nodded. “You have an appointment with the Oracles.”

“Could you—”

“I’ll mirror Marrin and let her know about the possibility of abandoned newborns.”

She exhaled. “Thanks. I’d mirror her myself but—”

“Go.”

When the carriage—which, as promised, was the usual heavy, Imperial model—was in motion, Kaylin leaned back and closed her eyes. “When were the two-headed babies born?”

“The exact date is not known.”

“Meaning the Arkon doesn’t know it, or it’s not known by the Barrani, either?”

Sanabalis raised a brow.

“Forget I asked. Why did he think it was relevant? He doesn’t even know about the midwives’ guild report yet.”

“No. He was looking for reports of anomalous and unusual manifestations of magic in concentrated geographical areas. Leaving out the usual anomalies that might occur in or around what is now the heart of the fiefs, and discounting transformations that could be directly traced to shadow storms, he found two possible events.”

She didn’t like the way he said the last word. “Events?”

“The perturbations continued for a small period of time—the exact period is uncertain, but it is not more than a month, and not less than three days.”

“What happened to end them?”

“Whatever buildup of magical potential had occurred was discharged.”

“Sanabalis, what happened?”

“The conjecture at the moment, and it is simple conjecture—we do not have enough physical evidence to make a definitive statement—indicates one of two possibilities.”

If he had been human, he would have been dragging his answer out on purpose, to be irritating. He was a Dragon. Like the Barrani, they had forever, and could usually be counted on to make someone who didn’t, really feel it. She watched the streets crawl by, glancing up at the sky to see if it looked as if there might be something as ominous as rain in the near future. The sky, however, was clear. And pink.

“The two possibilities? Before we reach the Oracular Halls?”

“Very well. The reason we have so little information about a possible event of this nature is because anything within a ten-mile radius—or possibly larger—was destroyed. It could not have been instantly destroyed, or there would be no information at all.”

She stared at him. “You think the magical buildup destroyed an area that size almost instantly?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you would like an immediate answer—not precisely. If you would, however, like the longer and more thoughtful answer I was attempting to give, you will cease your interruptions.”

She tried. It lasted about ten buildings. “Not precisely?”

“The intensity of the effect seems to be confined. We are attempting to monitor its spread—and I will say that the rain itself was a blessing, however it started, in that regard—and we have begun to draw up plans to evacuate much of the central area. For obvious reasons, neither the Palace nor the Halls will be evacuated. There are also other buildings that we cannot afford to empty.”

“What was the second possibility?”

“The second possibility does not—exactly—negate the first. But… In the wake of one of these geographically confined events, the first evidence of your ancestors was found.”

“P-pardon?”

“Humans are not native to this world, as I believe we’ve mentioned before.”

“But—” She stopped talking for a few minutes. It wasn’t hard; there were too many words trying to get out the door at the same time, and the collision made her seem speechless. She dealt with the mess as quickly as possible.

He raised a brow. “If you have some disagreement to offer, attempt to apply both rationality and historicity.” His lips curved in a grin, and he added, “I will live forever. If you require some tutoring and study in either of these, I can be persuaded to wait.”

“Can I just mention that the history of humans offered in class—such as it was—involved the Caste Courts, their separate laws, and their role in the politics of the Empire? Nowhere, in any lesson, was Origin of Species covered. I would have been interested in that.”

“And not in the rest?”

“The rest was relevant. If you go back and look at my transcripts, I passed that part.”

“Indeed,” he replied, with a nod to Dragon memory. “However, you passed in a fashion that was less than laudable.” He lifted a hand before she could speak again. “Humans are not native to our world. If you need proof of that, you have only to examine what you know of species that were created in, and of, the world itself.