Michelle Sagara - Cast in Chaos

Lord Grammayre was, uncharacteristically, not in his Tower when they finally crested the last corner and hit the office proper. Nor was Marcus behind his desk. The two of them were standing more or less in the space in front of Caitlin’s desk, which was what passed for a reception area this deep into the Halls itself. They turned to greet Sanabalis as he walked briskly toward them.

“Lord Sanabalis,” the Hawklord said, bowing.

“Lord Grammayre. I have need of your Hawks.”

“Of course.”

“Let us repair to the West Room. We can discuss the nature of their deployment—and their new schedule.”

Marcus didn’t even blink.

“For reasons which will become clear, I would like to shut down the use of Records except in emergencies.” He turned to the small mirror on the wall. “Records,” he said. Which would clearly make this an emergency.

Lord Grammayre lifted his left wing, and then nodded.

“I have spoken with the Imperial Order of mages. The Emperor is currently evaluating the possibility of a quarantine on the Arcanum. Map, Elantra.”

A map that was in no way the equal of the one he’d called on in the Palace shimmered into view. For one, it occupied a much smaller surface. Reaching out, Sanabalis touched three points on the map; they were familiar to Kaylin.

“A quarantine?” the Hawklord asked, watching the map shift colors where the Dragon Lord had touched it.

Sanabalis nodded grimly. “I will,” he added, “speak with the Lord of Swords when I am finished here. If it is possible, it will be his duty to see that it is enforced.”

“That is not likely to make the Emperor more popular with the Arcanists.”

“Nothing short of his disappearance would do that. The Arcanists are a concern, but they are not the cause of the current difficulty. They are merely the most obvious avenue for turning it into a disaster. Here,” he added. “Here, and here. At the moment, they are sites in which what I will call leakage for the purpose of discussion has been known to occur. The leakage in your office—the windows—is not as severe as the incidents that occurred in Elani street.

“It does not, however, matter. People’s expectations during this unfortunate leakage guide some of its effects. Our historical Records are, as might be expected, veiled. The Arkon is looking over them now.”

“Are there historical Records that would be relevant, Lord Sanabalis?”

“There are. They are not exactly fonts of optimism, however. What we need the Hawks to do is, as Private Neya would colloquially put it, ‘hit the streets.’ We need to ascertain what the boundaries of the area are. Look for the unusual. Look for the miraculous. Take note of the usual crimes or deaths, but examine them for any…unexplained…phenomenon. This has to start now,” he added.

“The Emperor himself will speak to the Master Arcanist. He has been summoned to Court as a precaution. At the moment however, the Arcanum sits squarely outside of the area marked by the three geographical incidents. With luck, it will remain that way.

“Sergeant Kassan,” Sanabalis added, “you may assure your Hawks that they will be adequately reimbursed for their extra duties.”

Marcus looked as though he had just swallowed something more unpleasant than a week’s worth of unforwarded reports. “Several of the Hawks are involved in the current investigation into the Exchequer.”

“It pains me to say this, Sergeant Kassan, but both duties—the more subtle and now-endangered investigation, and the much less predictable magical one—must be fully discharged.

“As Private Neya is not currently involved in the former, I suggest you deploy her in the latter. I have taken the liberty of arranging an appointment with the Oracular Halls, as she had some success in not offending the man who runs it on her previous visit. I would recommend that you send both her and her current partner.”

“I have—” Kaylin began.

“Private Neya will, however, be excused her classes.”

Kaylin shut her mouth.

“Or rather,” Sanabalis continued, “her classes under my tutelage. I was unable to shift the class schedule for the etiquette lessons, and it is vital that she not offend that teacher.” He turned to Kaylin. “If anything is untoward or of particular interest in the Oracular Halls, you will return to the Palace to report to me.”

Kaylin glanced at Marcus, who nodded stiffly, and managed not to growl. Given the state of his hair, much of which was standing on end, it was surprising. In a good way.

As if he could read that stray thought, the Sergeant added, “And you’ll report back at the Halls after you’ve been debriefed at the Palace.”

“But—”

“I don’t care how late it is. From the sounds of it, the office will be operating under extended hours.” He grimaced, which in Leontine involved more fur and ears than actual facial expression. “I’ll mirror my wives and let them know.”

She didn’t envy him that call.

The appointment with the Oracular Halls was, ironically enough, one hour in the future. Sanabalis handed Kaylin a very official document with the unmistakable seal of the Eternal Emperor occupying the lower left quarter, where words weren’t.

“Take the Imperial Carriage. Master Sabrai will be expecting you,” he told her. “He did not, of course, have time to respond to or question the request, and he did not look terribly surprised to receive it, which is telling.”

What it told Sanabalis, Kaylin wasn’t sure; Sabrai was an oracle, after all, and they were supposed to be able to thresh glimpses of the future out of the broken dreams and visions of the Halls’ many occupants. “What am I supposed to discuss as the official representative of the Imperial Court?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. Given the lack of disaster during your last visit—in spite of your many attempts to contravene the rules for visitors to the Halls—I am willing to trust your discretion in this matter.”

Someone cursed, loudly, in Leontine. Kaylin recognized the voice: it was Teela’s.

“Well,” she told Sanabalis, “Severn and I will head there immediately.” She managed to make it out of the office as other voices, mostly Barrani, joined Teela’s. Marcus had apparently already started the who-hates-the-duty-roster-most game, and while the Barrani in the office were Hawks first, they were still Barrani. Barrani in a foul mood were a very special version of Hell, which, if you were lucky, you survived intact.

Given the way the day had started, she didn’t feel particularly lucky.

“It isn’t cowardice,” Severn said, with a wry grin, because he understood her sudden desire for punctuality. “It’s common sense.”

The Oracular Halls, as befitted any mystical institution that labored in service to the Eternal Emperor, was imposing. Constructed of stone in various layers that suggested a very sharp cliff face, it was surrounded on all sides by a fence that looked as if it would impale any careless bird that landed on it. The posts were grounded by about three feet of stone that was at least as solid as the walls it protected; it wasn’t going to be blown over by a storm, a mage, or an angry Leontine.

A Dragon, on the other hand, wouldn’t have too much trouble.

In the center of the east side of the fence, which fronted the wide streets that led up to and around it, was a guardhouse. It was late in the day, but the hour did not lead to less guards; there seemed to be more than the last time she’d visited at the side of Lord Sanabalis. She counted eight visible men, and those eight wore expensive, very heavy armor. They also carried swords.

Severn glanced at her as the carriage came to a halt, but said nothing.