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those issues or concerns are. He has, however, stated unequivocally that the strangers, or at least one or two of them, would be comfortable, or perhaps comforted, by your presence. He acknowledges, of course, that the needs of the Halls of Law take precedence in this case, and that the jurisdiction is…hazy. He also feels, should we grant his request, Corporal Handred should accompany you.” The Hawklord looked at Kaylin.
    “While I feel it inadvisable to annoy Lord Diarmat, three thousand homeless strangers—none of whom speak Elantran or Barrani—seem, to me, to be the greater concern. While the fief of Tiamaris is not within the purview of the Halls of Law, if accommodations cannot be safely made, the strangers will no doubt become our problem, one way or the other.
    “I will therefore accede to Lord Sanabalis’s request, and I will write my regrets to Lord Diarmat. I will not, however, attempt to get you out of his extracurricular lessons. Is that understood?”
    Kaylin nodded.
    “Therefore, if you must be late—or worse, miss one—have a reason with which even the most punctilious of people can find no fault.”
    “Such as being dead?”
    “That would,” was the wry reply, “be acceptable, but I think it goes a tad far.” He exhaled. “Report to Lord Sanabalis directly upon leaving the Tower; he will have further instructions. Where it is possible, make your reports to Sergeant Kassan at the end of the day. He will no doubt have some issues with your placement, and this will mollify him somewhat. It is the only concession I can afford to make at this time.”
    Kaylin nodded and offered as perfect a salute as she could.
    “I will mirror Sergeant Kassan to let him know of your reassignment.” He placed one palm on the surface of his slender, tall mirror; the office—the one she usually called home when she wasn’t dealing with nervous, angry, or insane people—swam into view. At the center of that office, in image, as in life, was the bristling golden fur of a Leontine. “Sergeant Kassan,” the Hawklord said in brisk, clipped Elantran.
    “What,” Marcus said, catching the same glimpse of Kaylin that she’d caught of him, “has she done this time?”
    “At the moment? She has apparently made herself all but necessary to the Dragon Court. Lord Sanabalis has seconded her for ancillary work in the fief of Tiamaris; I have granted the requested redeployment. Please have Corporal Handred report in; I believe he’s in the outer office.”
    “I’m losing two Hawks for how long?”
    “I’m certain that, after deliberations with Lord Sanabalis, Private Neya will be able to answer that question.”
    Marcus growled. His eyes shaded toward copper, and his fur began to stand up, increasing the size of his face. Kaylin, used to this, lifted her chin, exposing her throat. The Hawklord, however, was unmoved by this display of annoyance, and really, given Marcus, it was second-rate. He gestured briefly at the mirror, and Marcus’s image dissolved in a sea of silvered waves.
    The Hawklord then turned to Kaylin. “I have an interrupted meeting to resume. Please tell the Barrani Hawks to get back to work on your way out.”

    Severn wasn’t waiting for her by the time she reached Marcus’s desk; Marcus, however, was. He was also aware that the appearance of Kaylin’s partner would end most conversation—although Marcus’s idea of conversation suited most definitions of interrogation Kaylin had ever run across. “Caitlin said you had two letters.”
    Kaylin winced and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    “The second letter was also from a Dragon Lord.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Marcus growled.
    “Lord Diarmat,” she offered, aware that while this was what he wanted, it would in no way mollify him. She was right; he’d created three new runnels in the surface of a desk that already looked as if insane carpenters had gone on a drinking binge and then tried to have a carving contest.
    “The letter’s content?”
    “I