Mrs. Erickson’s shoulders dipped. Her face, which was usually expressive, became more of a mask. She failed to answer the question, which was answer enough: Yes, and it had not gone well.
Kaylin didn’t press for the yes. “How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Did your parents take you to get tested?”
She nodded.
“Did they go to the Imperial College of mages?”
She nodded again. “It’s so long ago,” she said, her voice low. “I know it shouldn’t bother me all these years later.”
Thirteen. That meant whoever was responsible for her testing was probably dead, which was a bit of a pity, as Kaylin wanted the opportunity to punch them in the face. Which would be the definition of career limiting. She reined in her immediate reaction.
“It was because of the ghosts, and a few other things,” Mrs. Erickson continued. “My mother thought I might have what she called ‘the gift.’ She didn’t, but her grandmother did.”
Kaylin nodded. She had set aside the scratch pad; she had no intention of entering this discussion into any formal report.
“We were lucky,” the old woman continued. “We had a roof over our heads, and we had enough food for the table. We didn’t have a lot of money left over. But we weren’t dressed in rags. We had to make an appointment, and that was difficult; my mother had to answer questions about my ‘education.’” She enunciated the last word in a very different way.
“I knew how to read by then, but we didn’t have much time for other lessons. Practical lessons—cooking, laundry, cleaning—took most of our time. I don’t mind the outcome for myself, you understand. But my mother was so hopeful. And she was crushed by the results. I had no magical aptitude.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t believe that.”
“Pardon?”
“Whoever was responsible for the assessment had their head up—I mean, I think they were wrong.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“And I think we should visit again.”
Mrs. Erickson shook her head. “The Imperial Mages are very busy people.”
“Yes. And this is one of their responsibilities, according to the Emperor.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You won’t be.”
“Corporal, I’m old now. I am too old to change. I am too old to plan or build a new life. All that would happen is I would waste a day—or several days—of a mage’s time. I’m not certain why you think this is a good idea—most people think I’m a bit dotty.”
“You’ve never worked with actual mages,” Kaylin replied. “They’re way more than a bit dotty. You probably have more common sense than the rest of them combined.”
Mrs. Erickson smiled, but also ducked her head as if to avoid the heart of the compliment. “Let’s pretend that you’re right. That I somehow do have magical aptitude, and that the mage who dismissed me decades ago was wrong. What do you expect that to change for me?”
Kaylin hadn’t been thinking about the future life Mrs. Erickson might lead; she’d been thinking about Severn, his weapon chain, and Amaldi and Darreno. She was fairly certain the ability to see ghosts wasn’t couched in magical talent, or rather, wasn’t couched in normal magical talent, if there was such a thing. Her own ability to see Jamal and his compatriots was almost certainly due to the marks of the Chosen.
She knew that Jamal was probably more important to Mrs. Erickson than Severn’s weapon chain or Amaldi and Darreno. But Severn wasn’t a ghost, and his weapons weren’t theoretical. Amaldi and Darreno weren’t ghosts either, in her opinion.
“If you’ll agree to it, I’ll make arrangements with the Imperial Mages. I’ll go with you as escort.”
“You have work.”
“I do, but this is part of that work.” Hopefully, Marcus would see it that way as well. “The ability to use magic is like perfect pitch—or so I’ve been told. It’s rare.”
“But why do you believe I can?”
“Because you could see—and interact with—Amaldi and Darreno. They’re not like Jamal and his friends.”
“No—they aren’t trapped in a particular building.”
“Mrs. Erickson, I don’t believe they’re dead at all.”
Cookies—Mrs. Erickson had brought cookies for her daily afternoon visit—were spread among the lurking Hawks. Sergeant Keele surprised Kaylin—she came out to the front desk. Keele wasn’t all that interested in baking. She might take a cookie, but she seldom ate them. Keele was the type of person sugar was probably allergic to, rather than the other way around.
“You’re wanted by your sergeant,” Keele told her.
Marcus hadn’t called for Kaylin, as she discovered when she stopped by Caitlin’s desk. Caitlin was the early warning system for every Hawk who set foot in the office, because Caitlin knew pretty much everything Hawk-related that happened within it.
Still, it allowed Kaylin to head to her mirror. What she’d had to say, she’d said, and Mrs. Erickson hadn’t said no. She hadn’t exactly said yes, either. Kaylin had some magical ability; she could certainly see magic and magical traces just as well as the best of the Imperial Mages. She couldn’t use magic the way they used it, but had never had a strong desire to learn. There were no Hawks that were Imperial Mages, after all.
But she knew that no two mages saw magic—or the aftereffects known as signatures—the same way. What they saw, their minds interpreted in unique ways. Kaylin didn’t see magic when she looked at Severn’s belt. She’d never really surveyed anyone else to see if they saw—or more accurately, didn’t see—what she did.
Teela and Tain were out patrolling, so she couldn’t ask them.
But first things first. “Records, I’d like to speak with Lord Sanabalis. The Arkon,” she amended, wondering how long it would take her to get used to the change in title.
The mirror flared to life, although it remained mostly reflective. She waited, wondering if this was a request that should have been forwarded through Hanson in the Hawklord’s office instead. She had a sneaking suspicion the answer was yes, but also knew it might take a while to arrange an appointment to speak with Sanabalis, and she turned her attention to the old missing persons Records, because Records had some information for her.
As she’d suspected, the children weren’t, for the most part, entered into Records as missing. They were physically different enough that they might have been adopted, in which case any abuse or damage was unlikely to be reported by the abuser. But she suspected, given the difference in clothing styles, that they weren’t, or hadn’t been, part of a family.
They were a family of necessity now.
Only one of the four children was listed as missing: Esmeralda. Esmeralda Noachin. Kaylin checked the date of the report: ninety years ago.
Mrs. Erickson was seventy-one as of this year, according to Records. Kaylin was surprised. She knew Mrs. Erickson was old, but not that old. No wonder the kids—or Jamal, at least—were worried. Ninety years ago, Esmeralda was reported missing. But her case wasn’t in the open log, which meant she’d been found.
Kaylin began to read the report more carefully. Esmeralda had been found. Records capture usually included images of corpses, if the corpse, not the living child, was recovered instead. There was no corpse. According to Records, Esmeralda had been found and returned—alive—to her family.
Kaylin had definitely seen a ghost named Esmeralda. Was it possible they’d returned the wrong child? No. No, that wouldn’t be possible—the family would have recognized the difference, surely?
“Records, further files associated with Esmeralda Noachin.”
Records began a gentle ding. There were files associated with Esmeralda. One looked to be long and complicated.
“Records: location Esmeralda was found.”
A map appeared in the mirror’s surface. It was the wrong map; closer by far to a common well than it was to Mrs. Erickson’s home, where the girl was in theory trapped. Somehow, a girl whom her own family accepted as Esmeralda, had been found alive in the wrong place.
Kaylin went back to the missing persons report, to the sketch made of the girl in her clothing—clothing that matched what the ghost wore.
“Records,” she said. “Search for reports related to Mrs. Erickson’s home. All time periods. Any report.” Mrs. Erickson’s house was, in Records, at 14 1/2 Orbonne Street. Why half, Kaylin didn’t know. It’s true the house was smaller than either of its neighbors, but half?
“What are you muttering about, kitling?” Teela’s voice drifted over her shoulder.
“I thought you two were on patrol.”
“We were. There was some trouble and we had to bring a couple of very, very inebriated young men in to cool their heels in a cell.”
Kaylin winced. “How bad were they?”
“We could incapacitate them and dump them in the cells for a day or two, or we could kill them in self-defense. They were, as mortals say, armed to the teeth.” Teela sounded vaguely bored, which meant the inebriated criminals were most likely human. “What are you looking at?”
“Missing persons report.”
“That’s real estate, not missing persons.” Teela frowned. “Mrs. Erickson?”
“I escorted her home yesterday.”
“Why?”
Kaylin hesitated. Before Teela could lean in, she said, “Mrs. Erickson was worried about Severn.”
Teela blinked. “Do go on. Was one of her ghosts concerned?”
“Two of her ghosts.”
“And because he’s your partner you decided to check it out?”
Technically, this was accurate, and Teela might forgive her because the Barrani lived in the margins of technicalities—it was why all the laws and most of the lawyers were steeped in Barrani minutiae, although the lawyers themselves were, by and large, human. Teela, however, was less patient when others attempted to rely on technicalities where Teela was concerned.
“Yes. But it wasn’t just that. Tell me, what do you see when you look at Severn’s weapon chain?”
“An unusual belt.”
“So...it doesn’t glow when you look at it?”
Teela stilled in a way that indicated Kaylin now had what she didn’t really want: all of her attention. “No. I assume you aren’t referring to enhanced magical investigation.”
“I’m not. To me—and you know I’m sensitive to magical signatures—it looks like a belt made of chain.”
“And Mrs. Erickson’s ghosts see it differently.”
Kaylin shook her head. “It’s not her ghosts—well, maybe her ghosts do as well—it’s Mrs. Erickson. She knew who Severn was because she vaguely knows who I am, and he’s my partner. Him and his painfully illuminated belt.”
“Painfully?”
“She has to squint sometimes when he’s too close.”
Teela’s eyes were blue, but they usually were; she was concerned, but not worried. Not yet. “And that led you to investigate Mrs. Erickson’s house?”
“Oh—no, that came later.”
“And that’s why you volunteered for front desk duty today?”
“Pretty much. I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask Mrs. Erickson. I think we should have her tested for magical aptitude, but I wanted to know if she’d been tested before.”
“Judging from your sour expression, she had.”
“Yes, but probably by an idiot. I’m sure the Imperial College will have some record of it. I think she should be tested again, regardless.”
Because Teela wasn’t mortal, she didn’t say, At her age? “Did you want to tell me the rest?”
Not particularly, but Kaylin knew this offer of a listening ear wasn’t actually an offer.
Teela was clearly bored enough that everything Kaylin told her—and she kept nothing back—was of interest. To Teela, Amaldi and Darreno were the most pressing concern because they recognized the weapon itself, and Kaylin couldn’t actually see them without her familiar’s wing. They had clearly had some experience with Barrani in the past—and that past was distant enough Teela might have been a child when it had happened.
Mrs. Erickson’s possible magical talent was of interest because it appeared to allow Mrs. Erickson to see the two. Mrs. Erickson’s ghosts were of interest only because Kaylin could see them without the familiar’s help, and their presence seemed to engage the marks over most of Kaylin’s skin.
“Don’t you have a report to write?”
“Tain’s writing it. Records: Esmeralda Noachin.”
Esmeralda Noachin’s final report was gruesome. She had been executed seventy-four years ago, having been found guilty of a series of very gruesome murders. The victims: her family. Three family members, mother, father and younger brother, and one cousin. Four victims.
She hadn’t spoken a word in her own defense; she had refused to answer any questions. She had not reacted to the verdict the court handed down: she was guilty of murder, and she would pay the ultimate price. Even on the day of her execution, she’d been expressionless and silent.
Prior to the murders, however, there had been minor misdemeanors, breaking and entering, attempted theft.
No motive for the killings could be found; one lawyer felt there might be answers associated with her disappearance as a child. But she had always denied being kidnapped; she had claimed that she had gotten lost and couldn’t remember what happened afterward.
“Do you have family names for the other three ghosts?”
Kaylin shook her head. “I only have Esmeralda’s because of Records searches.” She felt a chill take the air around her spine. “Records: search for Jamal, capital crime files.”
Jamal hadn’t been reported missing. There was no information about his disappearance in Records. Many families didn’t trust the Halls of Law; some were involved in petty crimes they didn’t want revealed to officers of that law. But the lack of a missing persons report didn’t mean he wasn’t in Records.
Jamal Rayan had been convicted—and executed—for a series of gruesome murders that had taken place over a century ago, one hundred and fifteen years to be more precise. He had, at the time, been twenty-five years of age. The image Records offered was an adult male, broad shouldered and tight-lipped, hair long and braided down one side. Forty-one years before Esmeralda’s murders. He had killed his family, but his family lacked a father. His mother, his two sisters, and his half-brother—a young child—had been his victims.
Kaylin noted the number of victims, and wondered if four was significant; he’d killed the same number of people as Esmeralda before he’d been sent to his death.
But before his death, he had also been arrested for petty crimes—breaking and entering, attempted theft. His life had not apparently been kind.
“Are you betting that the other two ghosts will have somehow not been dead until they reach a certain age? And that their eventual death leads to the executioner?”
Kaylin nodded.
They were interrupted in their third name search, Callis Creekson, by the interoffice Records gremlin: Kaylin had an incoming call. She didn’t immediately recognize the chime, which was a relief: it meant the Hawklord hadn’t inserted himself into the call for a possible Records meeting.
She shuffled the report on Callis Creekson to the figurative side as a familiar face loomed large in the mirror’s frame.
“Corporal,” the new Arkon said, his voice a Draconic rumble. “You wished to make an appointment to speak with me.”
Kaylin nodded.
“Is it urgent? I have become, regrettably, a far busier man than I was before Lannagaros chose to accept the Academia’s chancellorship.”
“I want you to either personally examine a possible candidate for the Imperial College of mages, or to personally select someone whose oversight and ability you trust to conduct the examination.”
Lord Sanabalis blinked. “Pardon?”
She repeated her request.
“Then the appointment would not involve you in any way?”
“I intend to accompany the candidate; I believe she’ll be too nervous to go, otherwise.”
“And you somehow believe that a Dragon examiner will put her at ease?” His eyes were orange, but flecked now with gold; he was amused.
“Well, you’re not allowed to go full Dragon without Imperial permission, so I’m not entirely certain she’ll know that you are a Dragon.”
“Technically, I am allowed to go—as you so inelegantly put it—‘full Dragon.’ I’m the Arkon.”
“Wait—the old Arkon was allowed to do that?”
“The position is a position of trust across the whole of our race. We are, and were, trusted to do so only in situations of dire necessity. And no, I imagine meeting one human would not warrant it. Why, exactly, do you consider one possible mage—a profession about which you complain almost as often as you breathe—so important you insist that I conduct the interview myself?”
“She’s a bit unusual.”
Sanabalis’s eyes became a darker orange. “This had better not be a waste of my time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Very well. It is my hope that she is a far better student than you’ve proven yourself to be. I have time in two days. If you arrive at the palace before the early dinner hour, I will see you then.”
Teela was drilling figurative holes in the side of Kaylin’s head by the time Sanabalis’s face faded from view. Callis Creekson was waiting for their perusal.
“Records, pause,” the Barrani Hawk said, over Kaylin’s shoulder. “You intend to take Mrs. Erickson to see the Arkon.”
“To see Sanabalis, yes. Could you do me a huge favor, by the way?”
“Probably not. I try not to accept requests from the almost criminally insane.”
“Very funny, Teela.”
“The Arkon?”
“First, it’s Sanabalis. Next to Emmerian he’s probably the least scary of the Dragon Court. Next to the old Arkon, he’s the most competent in magic, ancient and new. He can’t be bribed—that I know of. He can’t be bought. Any decision he makes, for whatever reason, I can trust.”
“It might have escaped your notice, but Mrs. Erickson is old for a mortal. Much of the aptitude testing the Imperial College engages in is in the service of finding new Imperial Mages—mages who can be trained to be useful.”
Kaylin groaned.
Teela cuffed the back of her head. “Even if your suspicions are somehow correct, how is that of benefit to either Mrs. Erickson or the Imperial College of mages?”
Kaylin shrugged. “That’s the other reason for Sanabalis. Even if she’s too old to teach, he’ll find her interesting.”
“That’s almost like an answer,” Teela said.
“You don’t find all of this odd?”
“I find it odd, yes. It will remain odd. If her magical aptitude is confirmed, what will that change?”
Kaylin shifted. “It’s not the ghosts that are my biggest concern. It’s her two outdoor ghosts. I doubt you’d see them, even if you were looking. Mrs. Erickson didn’t have to struggle. You know I’m allergic to magic.”
Teela snorted.
“She wasn’t using any. She’s gifted, I’m telling you. But she was tested when she was much younger, and sent home as a waste of time by someone in the Imperial College.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?”
“You want to know who.”
“It was probably fifty-five years ago, give or take a few. But yes, if that person was somehow still alive, I’d like to have a few words with him.”
“And Sanabalis can give you that information.”
“If he feels like it, yes. But more important, he’ll probably remember the mage, even if the man is dead. And he might be moved to investigate other candidates that that person has written off. It’ll help the Imperial College, even if they don’t know.”
“What if she fails the various tests again?”
“Then he’ll know the tests are outdated, narrow in scope, and just plain wrong?”
Teela chuckled. “It would almost be worth forcing myself to visit the Imperial Palace to watch the outcome. Almost.”
Barrani Hawks seldom went to the Imperial Palace. In theory, they were welcome. In theory so were Lords of the Barrani High Court. Given the Draco-Barrani wars, and the permanence of Immortal memory, it almost never happened.
“Could I ask you to force yourself to visit the High Halls, instead?”
“Why?”
“I want any information you can find about Severn’s weapon. I’m going to visit the chancellor of the Academia. Well, no, I’m going to ask permission to visit his library, and possibly one of his teachers.”
“Tread carefully, Kaylin.”
“I think there’s a good chance Larrantin would be interested.”
“In the weapons? I highly doubt it.”
Kaylin shook her head. “In the displacement and entrapment of living people.”
“I’d suggest you’re going to be spreading yourself far too thin. You should concentrate on the task you’ve set Records. Callis Creekson.”
“It’s the same,” Kaylin said. “Four murders. Twenty-five years of age.”
Teela nodded. She had, as she often did, commandeered Kaylin’s mirror instead of returning to her own desk. Kaylin was grateful that she was still allowed to sit in her own chair, because when Teela got That Look, it wasn’t guaranteed.
Katie Holdern had also been executed for a series of gruesome murders. She, too, had killed four people, although the Records report indicated the possible ritualistic nature of those murders, a detail that had been missing from the prior three.
“Your real estate Records have arrived,” Teela said, while Kaylin carefully read the final ghost’s report.
Kaylin nodded. Fourteen and a half Orbonne Street filled the mirror’s frame. Kaylin had expected a visual record of the house she’d visited, but Records had decided that the floor plan was more important. Kaylin’s brows bunched in minor confusion.
“You don’t recognize the floor plan.”
“I don’t recognize the house, no. Mrs. Erickson’s house is half the size—and I would have said the lot isn’t anywhere near wide enough to accommodate the floor plan here.”
“Records,” the Barrani Hawk said, “lot size.” Records coughed up a number. “According to our taxation Records, the lot is wide enough.”
“Records: lot size 12 Orbonne Street and 16 Orbonne Street. Overlap with fourteen and a half.”
Teela rose. “Are you going to be visiting Mrs. Erickson again anytime soon?”
“Three days from now, at least. You could volunteer for front desk duty if you wanted to speak with her—she comes in every day.”
“Barrani are never put on front desk duty,” Teela replied, a hint of smugness intertwined with her usual smile.
“I’ll see her in three days—I’ll be going to the Imperial Palace with her. If you want you can meet us after the assessment, because I’m going to escort her back to her house. Why, by the way?”
Teela shrugged. “These Records don’t align. The house at fourteen—if there ever was a house at fourteen, as opposed to fourteen and a half—should have a wider frontage than either of the two houses that stand as its neighbor.”
Records rippled, and 14 Orbonne Street came into view, although neither of the two Hawks had specifically requested it.
Kaylin stared. There was, in theory, a house number fourteen—there was certainly a lot for it—and that house had not changed hands in some time. The problem, of course, was that the house didn’t exist.
Mrs. Erickson’s parents, Stacia and Collin, had purchased fourteen and a half a few years before Mrs. Erickson’s birth.
“Is an owner listed for the missing fourteen?” Teela asked Records. To Kaylin she added, “This is why good record keeping and competent bureaucracy is essential.”
Records coughed up a name. Teela’s frown froze on her face, but her eyes became a midnight blue. The name was Barrani, or at least styled as Barrani names were styled—some of the more pretentious human families chose names that were as close to Barrani as they could legally be.
Given Teela’s reaction, that wasn’t the case here. Kaylin took note of the name: Azoria An’Berranin. “Arcanist?” When Teela failed to answer, Kaylin glanced at her profile; it was rigid and pale. “So I guess you’re going to visit the High Halls.”
Teela’s nod was so rigid it was a wonder she could move her head.
You will be expected to accompany An’Teela, a familiar voice said. Ynpharion inserted himself into her thoughts through the bond they reluctantly shared.
Kaylin was never going to understand Ynpharion. She held his True Name. He hated the fact; he found it both lowering and humiliating. The taking of that name had, in the end, saved lives—one of them, Ynpharion’s. But Ynpharion seemed to be one of those death-before-dishonor Barrani. Ah, no—all Barrani evinced that position, but in her opinion, few actually believed it.
Ynpharion did. His home was now the High Halls; he served the Consort personally.
Did you recognize the name? Azoria An’Berranin?
No—but the Lady does, and she is...unsettled by it. The Lady is desirous of your company.
Because of the name?
I think it is more than that, but I at least have a modicum of patience. And a ton of condescension.
It is not condescension, it is frustration. You have tools available to you that you do not wish to use. There are other people to whom you can turn for information; I suggest you consider them. I have no intention of doing all of your thinking for you.
“Kitling?”
“Sorry, I was talking to Ynpharion.”
Teela frowned, a reminder that Kaylin’s name bonds were supposed to be a deep, dark secret that she carried with her to the grave. Lack of secrecy simply meant the grave might be a more immediate destination.
“Did he have anything useful to say?”
“Not a lot, and all of it was condescending.”
“Ah. He is frustrated with you?”
“Always. But at least he’s consistent.” She hesitated and then said, “He thinks the Consort wants to talk to me. Or us—he told me I should accompany you when you go to the High Halls.”
“I am not taking you to the High Halls dressed like that.”
“Like a Hawk?”
“Indeed.” Teela contemplated Kaylin’s outfit. “You have the assessment with Mrs. Erickson in three days. We’ll visit the High Halls in four days. You have suitable clothing, and you had better be wearing it when I drop by to pick you up.”
“I’ll trade. Tell me about Azoria.”
Teela glared at her and walked away.
Kaylin knew—from Mandoran—that the Academia was setting up mirror access to the rest of the city. Mirrors were a part of daily life in Elantra. They were very seldom used in the fiefs of her childhood. But Helen didn’t like them, and allowed access only in what she termed a “safe” room. Tara, the Avatar of the Tower of Tiamaris, didn’t like them either, and made the same choice Helen made. Had her lord, Tiamaris, not required mirror network access, she wouldn’t have allowed them at all.
The former Arkon—Lannagaros—was accustomed to mirror use; Kaylin would have expected mirror functionality to be one of the first things the new chancellor of the Academia instituted.
Apparently, she would have been wrong.
She looked up at the sound of the internal office clock—its cheery, friendly voice giving tired Hawks information they actually wanted: time to go home. She had far too many things on her figurative desk at the moment; her mirror feed now looked like an extremely unartistic collage. It was hard to focus on just one thing; she had the instinctive sense that many of them were somehow connected.
Home was Helen. Kaylin had the privilege of being tenant to one of the very few sentient buildings in Elantra. Helen was an oddity, even among sentient buildings. She didn’t have masters, she had tenants. Kaylin would have felt more insecure about this had she not known that most of Helen’s tenants had remained her tenants until their deaths. Helen was waiting for Kaylin as she set foot across the property line; she stood in the open door of the front foyer, where she always stood when Kaylin came home. Kaylin had been fond of her old apartment, but not in the same way. Having someone to come home to made a big difference.
Today, however, not so much.
“What were you doing at the office today?” she asked. While she generally asked about Kaylin’s day at work, there was usually less concern in Helen’s tone.
“Research and initial investigations into possible murder cases.”
“Ah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Teela was shocked or upset enough by the mention of a Barrani individual that she failed to entirely mask her reaction from the rest of the cohort.”
“Oh.” Kaylin exhaled. “Sedarias?”
“She is concerned, yes.”
Great.