Cast In Fury by Michelle Sagara Page A

she looked calm, she turned to face the rest of the office. The first thing she should have noticed was Marcus’s absence. But the first thing she did notice was that Caitlin was missing. At the desk beside the mirror from which most general office business was done, an older man sat. He was trim and fit in build, with a very well-groomed beard; his hair had grayed enough to be salt-and-pepper, but not enough to be white.
    She hesitated for a moment, and managed to stop herself from running up to the desk and demanding to know where Caitlin was. But it was hard. Had Severn not been at her side, it might well have been impossible.
    The rest of the office seemed to have taken the change in stride, if you didn’t notice the silence that hovered above a group of people famed for their gossip and chatter. One or two of them met her eyes in silence.
    “Who is he?” she asked Severn, her voice a muted whisper.
    “Caitlin’s replacement. Sergeant Mallory wished to work with a man who’s accustomed to him. It comes with the job,” he added, before she could speak. “His name is Kevan Smithson.”
    “He worked in Missing Persons?”
    “For eight years. Before that, he was part of the office pool here. Let’s get this over with,” he said, and began to walk toward the desk that Mallory now occupied.
    She’d burn in hell before she called it his desk.

    “Corporal Handred,” Sergeant Mallory said, looking up from his paperwork. Kaylin was barely willing to give him this: it was half the size of the stack she’d last seen, and it was a good deal more tidy. “Private Neya.” He rose as he said her name. She stood at attention. She wasn’t particularly good at standing at attention on most days, but on most days, it wasn’t demanded.
    He didn’t, however, seem to notice. “You are both on call at the Imperial Palace.”
    “Sir,” Severn replied.
    “I have attempted to ascertain the duration of your work at the Palace, but the Imperial Court could not be precise.” He turned, then, to look at Kaylin. “You are
not
the Hawk I would have chosen for that duty,” he said, reaching behind him to pick up a folder. There was no immediately visible writing on it, but Kaylin had a pretty good idea of what it contained. “And I have spoken with the Hawklord about this matter. Apparently, you were specifically requested.”
    “Sir,” she said, hoping she sounded as curt—and as correct—as Severn.
    “You will report to the office before you leave for the Palace while you have duties there.”
    “Sir.”
    “And you will tender a report of your activities to Mr. Smithson at the end of each day.”
    “It’s neither an investigation nor an arrest,” she told him.
    “Yes. I’m aware of that. But given the delicate nature of relations with the Palace, and given the probability that I will be called upon to explain your behavior while there, I require a report.
    “Ah, and I wish you to lift your right arm.”
    She did as he ordered.
    He walked over to her and rolled up her sleeve. The golden surface of the bracer caught the ambient light, reflecting it perfectly. “I will also require you to show proof of your compliance with the Hawklord’s orders when you report.
    “You are aware, perhaps, that the former Sergeant and I did not see eye to eye on many things. I have spent some time perusing your file,” he said, lifting and waving it as if it were a red flag and Kaylin were a bull, “and while I better understand some of his decisions with regards to your behavior, I feel that he placed too much emphasis on your possible import.
    “I will be watching you, Private Neya. Do
one
thing to embarrass this department, and you will no longer be part of it. Is that understood?”
    “Sir.”
    “Yes or no, Private.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Dismissed.”
    Kaylin took a breath and walked away from his desk.
    “Private! That is not the way to the carriage yards.”
    She turned on