Cast in Peril. Michelle Sagara

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      As if she could hear the thought from across the office, Caitlin appeared with a blanket. She wrapped it around Kaylin’s shoulders and knotted two corners just under her chin. She also paused to look at the small, translucent creature in Kaylin’s hands. “He is adorable, dear,” she said.

      Bellusdeo, silent and unassailed by Marcus in a fury, snorted.

      “I’ll get you something warm to drink. The Hawklord should be down— Ah, there he is.”

      * * *

      The entire office was like a living catalog of racial foul moods. The Hawklord’s eyes were as dark as Teela’s, and his wings were high, the arches poised as if to strike. “Private,” he said in a much friendlier voice than the Sergeant had used. “You’re alive.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      He looked at her hands. “If the item you are carrying is not essential, I suggest you set it down somewhere safe.”

      She swallowed. “It’s essential.”

      “I see. Perhaps, at a later point in time, you can tell me where, in the regulations, carrying glass is considered essential for performance of your duties.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “What happened?”

      “We went home to change for the etiquette lessons. While we were there—” She took a deep breath, held it, and continued. “While we were there, something was thrown or shot into the apartment through the window.”

      “The window was open?”

      “No, sir. The shutters were closed, but they’re really warped, so they’re only tied shut. Sometimes they pop loose—”

      He lifted a hand. “Continue.”

      “I think an Arcane bomb landed in the room.”

      His brows rose. “Impossible.”

      She swallowed. “Sir—”

      Clint cleared his throat; she’d forgotten he was even there. “It’s not impossible, sir.”

      “You have a damage report?”

      “We have Hawks working with a portable mirror now, but I did see the building.”

      “And?”

      “It’s sustained severe structural damage. Very little remains of the walls, floor, or ceiling in the room in which the suspected bomb exploded.”

      “And you, Private, were somehow not in the room when it did explode?”

      “I was.”

      He looked over her head to Bellusdeo, who was standing and looking vaguely regal. Although Dragons were not Barrani, and therefore lacked some of their innate grace and cold beauty, they certainly weren’t mortal. They could, on the other hand, hide it better when they chose to do so. “We were both in the room.”

      “You are unharmed?”

      “Yes.”

      “Did you shield yourself?”

      Bellusdeo’s brow rose a fraction. “I did not.”

      “Can you explain how you are both alive?”

      “Not definitively, but I have some suspicion.”

      “And that?”

      “The necessary item in Private Neya’s hands.”

      Every set of eyes in the office that were close enough to Kaylin now turned their attention to what she was carrying. The Hawklord’s eyes were already losing the sapphire edge of their blue. Tain and Marcus still looked enraged, however.

      “Private, explain.”

      “When we had the problem with the magical surges a few weeks ago, the midwives had some problems with some of the deliveries.”

      “Yes. I read the reports.” It was hard to tell from his tone of voice whether or not he was being sarcastic.

      “This came from one of those problems.” She lifted her hands, extending her arms to enable her commander to get a closer look. The translucent dragon lifted its wings and then raised its delicate head, elongating its neck in the process.

      Kaylin hurriedly drew her arms back in, because she wasn’t entirely certain what the little creature would do—and biting the Hawklord’s nose appeared to be a distinct possibility.

      “I…see.” To Bellusdeo he said, “How did this small dragon preserve your lives?”

      “He is not a Dragon,” she replied as she approached Kaylin’s side. “But I believe he is a familiar.”

      * * *

      The Hawklord and the Sergeant exchanged a glance. Kaylin was willing to bet a large amount of money—and given her finances, large was relative—that the Sergeant, at least, had never heard the term.

      “What is a familiar?” Score. His fur was slowly sinking, but his ears would probably be standing on end for an hour.

      “Theoretically?” Bellusdeo asked.

      “It doesn’t look very theoretical to me.”

      “A familiar is theoretically the companion of a Sorcerer.”

      Marcus glanced at the Hawklord again. On the other hand, Kaylin was pretty sure he knew that word. He growled. Kaylin winced. The small creature spread its wings.

      “Sergeant,” Bellusdeo said in an entirely different tone of voice, “I suggest you approach—and speak—respectfully. If we are correct, the small creature in front of you absorbed the brunt of the magical explosion and converted some of that power into a protective barrier.”

      “What? Something with a brain that size?”

      The creature opened its little mouth and tried to roar. It squeaked.

      “I think he might be hungry,” Kaylin said.

      Marcus’s eyes had actually cooled to a more workable burnt-orange by this point. Irritation and fury clearly couldn’t occupy the same turf in his mind for long. The creature squeaked again, and Marcus covered his eyes, briefly, with his pads. “I-do-not-believe-I-am-having-this-day,” he said. “Private!”

      She stiffened. “Sir!”

      “Do you know why the office is so crowded tonight?”

      “No, sir.”

      “Because we are about to move into three important areas with the aid of the Wolves. Do you know why we haven’t left yet?”

      “No, sir.”

      “Because СКАЧАТЬ