Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) by Michelle Sagara Page A

designed for an Aerian, even an injured one. She won’t have to deal with landlords. She won’t have to deal with rent. She can walk to and from the Halls in relative safety. You’re acting as if this is some kind of political deal.”
    “It is. You’ve always thought Moran’s wings were different.”
    “Well, they are. All the rest of yours are single colors. Hers look like they’re speckled.”
    Clint nodded. After a few seconds, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many
other
speckled wings have you seen?”
    “I just told you—” Kaylin caught up. “You’re telling me they’re significant in the Aerie.”
    “I’m trying to tell you that, yes.” To Teela, he said, “Did you have these issues when you introduced Kaylin to the High Halls?”
    “Not these specific ones, no. The Barrani Halls are slightly simpler. Everyone you meet is going to try to kill you at one point or another; she only had to try to avoid the ones who were going to do so immediately.”
    Tanner chuckled.
    Kaylin didn’t. “The Hawks are politically neutral.”
    “Yes, kitling, they are. But none of us exist solely as Hawks. We have duties and responsibilities—and enemies—outside of the Halls. We have history. Some of us have a longer and more complex history simply because we’re older. Moran, clearly, has significance outside of the Halls, and you are somehow stepping in it.”
    “I will let Moran decide.”
    “Kaylin—” Clint started.
    She waited, glaring at him. He didn’t finish the sentence.
    “What he’s not saying,” Tanner said, when it was clear that Clint was conceding, “is that you will cause the Hawklord extreme political grief. It’s possible the Hawklord will be waiting to speak to you when you arrive in the office.”
    “Fine. At this point, it’s probably moot. Marcus is going to rip out my throat before I can try to convince Moran a room in my house is better than the infirmary.” She exhaled heavily and added, “I don’t want to cause the Hawklord any difficulty. I’d like to make corporal sometime in my life.”
    That claim apparently fooled no one.
    “Can you explain—later—what or who Moran is to the Aerie?”
    “Not easily. There’s more than one Aerie in the Southern Reach. Most of the Hawks come from one of three specific Aeries. Moran does not.”
    “Is this something I should have learned in racial integration classes?”
    “No. Racial integration classes are meant to be practical, and the only Hawks who are summoned to the Aerie are, by default, the ones who can fly.” He grimaced. “We’re all fond of Moran.” This wasn’t entirely true; it was, however, true of Kaylin. “Go on in.”
    * * *
    Marcus
could
be heard long before he could be seen—even by the merely mortal. “I suppose if I quit my job now and ran home, Helen wouldn’t let me starve to death.”
    “I wouldn’t bet on it—at least not with my own money,” Teela replied, indulging in her usual encouragement.
    “Was your life like this before you joined the Hawks?” Kaylin asked, as they walked toward the growling against all base survival instinct.
    “Not nearly as frequently. Before you ask, my life in the Hawks wasn’t this unusual, either. Not until you joined as a mascot. When you joined the actual payroll...”
    “Thanks for the support, Teela.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “
Private
, stop dawdling!” Marcus roared.
    Kaylin muttered a short Aerian curse under her breath; given the volume of Marcus’s voice, his sharper hearing wasn’t likely to catch it. She hoped. She also sprinted to reach his desk, bypassing the duty roster on the way. He was bristling, and the raised fur added inches in volume on all sides of his head, his visible arms, his face. His lips were a thin, barely visible line over much more prominent teeth, and his eyes were a decidedly unpleasant shade of orange.
    His desk would definitely need replacing.
    Kaylin lifted her chin, exposing her throat. Teela,