She did, now. “I didn’t, at the time. I’m sorry. I don’t know a lot about Oracles—”
“You know more than most of the Hawks,” the Hawklord pointed out.
“Fine. Istilldon’t know a lot about Oracles. The Oracles in the Oracular Halls aren’t quite sane. They fall into visions. They’re obsessed by them. Until they express that vision somehow—painting, quilting, singing, shrieking—they remain caught in it. I don’t recall that we ever brought them things to touch. Maybe it would help—I don’t know. I think Sabrai—Master Sabrai,” she added, as the Hawklord cleared his throat, “would toss us out on our rear ends if we tried.
“But they didn’t go through the Oracular Halls. Master Sabrai would never have given them access to his Oracles. They went to Margot. Theydidthink that handling these items would somehow control the flow of vision, or they’d never have sent the items out of the Aerie.”
“They want them back,” the Hawklord added.
“They can bite me. Us. The Emperor.”
He seemed amused by this, and amusement had been very absent in the Tower of late.
“Have they asked?”
“Yes.”
“They want thepraevoloto return what’s rightfully hers?”
“They contest the ‘rightfully hers’ part, but yes.”
Clint looked like thunder. Or like thunderclouds.
“And the collar?”
“They want the collar, they want the feather, they want the bracelet. They have evinced a willingness to accept thepraevoloas part of the condition of the return of these items.”
Kaylin uttered a string of inappropriate but heartfelt Leontine.
“The Emperor has refused to even entertain the petition. He has asked for legal advice from Aerians, and the Aerian advisors—not, of course, part of the Caste Court—have made clear that the bracelet belongs to thepraevolo. Period. The collar and the feather are more contentious—one expert believes that while thereisa livingpraevolo, the collar belongs entirely to her. One expert believes there is legal standing in the demand of the collar’s return. The collar functions when there is nopraevolo, as it happens.
“The Emperor is considering the ramifications of this legal advice. He has not, therefore, made a decision. The two items in question will remainin our evidence lockersuntil a decision has been reached.”
Clint was not a legal advisor. He was a Hawk. But it was absolutely clear that he felt itallbelonged to thepraevolo, commands from the Emperor notwithstanding.
“We, uh, have an appointment to meet with an Aerian Arcanist,” Kaylin said.
“So I have heard.”
One look at both the Hawklord’s and Moran’s faces made clear what they’d been arguing about. Kaylin understood the Hawklord’s concern—she felt it herself. But she hated to be cozened, to be treated like a child, a liability. She was damned if she was going to do it to Moran—who was, coincidentally, a sergeant to her private.
“Lord Grammayre,” Bellusdeo said softly, “Moran ispraevolo. It has meaning to the Aerians. This concerns the use of the power of thepraevolo—”
“It concerns themisuseof that power,” Moran corrected her.
“—and it is both natural and possibly necessary that thepraevolobe present.”
The Hawklord’s wings rose and stiffened. “There’s a risk—”
“Yes. There isalwaysa risk. But she is the natural leader, the natural ruler, of the Aeries.”
He started to argue. Stopped, glancing at the other Aerian in the room. Clint’s entire posture and attitude made clear that, on some level, Bellusdeo’s claim was true.
Clint, however, was not the Hawklord. “If anything happens to her—”
“I wouldn’t worry much about that. I’ll be there.”
“And if anything happens to you?”