Chapter 362: Outer Court

Istra had stayed away past the time she said she’d be gone.

Lucian stood his ground with Sera, watching groups file past the open hall. Fighters. Clerks. Some of them wore marks that meant nothing to him. Almost all of them paused to study him at least once.

Sera took that in as well. "They’re not even trying to be subtle."

"No," Lucian said.

"What are they expecting you to do? Crack the yard wide open?"

"They don’t know." He shrugged. "Hence the studying."

Sera leaned back against the far wall, arms folded. "Preferrably I’d like it if people ignored me for coin and poor timing."

"You could always walk off," Lucian pointed out.

"And walk back in through the dead passage into a town that’s marked me property of someone else by mistake? I’ll wait. I don’t have to like it."

The tray with water and rough loaves of dark bread was delivered without asking for payment. He took it in turn, studying the boy who had lingered an instant too long before turning away. Sera saw him go.

"Even the children know."

"Rumors spread fast when the waiting is nerve-wracking and the guards are gun-hungry," Lucian murmured.

The water was good. The bread was more than passable.

Cael spoke in his head. /Istra’s bargaining. Neutral ground won’t keep you this long. You’re already heavier cargo than any outer court would normally carry/

/Can I be handed over?/

/If the right demand comes/

/Will be if the demand comes sideways/

/Understood/

She returned near the end of the hour, her expression unreadable, her pace quicker than before.

"Were they happy to see you?" Sera asked.

"The night is negotiable," Istra said, "entry limited to the towers, no passage through. If there is a legal claim heard during the morning session it will be heard."

Lucian laid the bread down. "Who’s claiming?"

For the first time Istra was steady eye-to-eye with him. "Multiple parties. An Authority representative put in a message of intent, preceding any formal request. Veyrn tried to attach a house-recovery demand to your person through a mid-plane broker. And someone using pre-elimination Cael-seat lingo asked if a living footprint had surfaced on neutral grounds."

Sera’s look darkened. "The what lingo?"

"Retainers of absent personnel of the former rank," Istra said evenly. "They don’t all want Veyrn back."

"They only want whatever he left behind," Lucian said, not moving. "Which one gets to us first?"

"Who has the stomach to insult neutral ground?"

"Authority will bring procedures. The houses will bring pressure." Istra tapped her fingers together. "The old-seat people might manage either or both, or they might come alone, unarmed and asking for a private meeting after dark."

"I’m getting sick of that kind of compliment," Sera said.

"Calm people live longest," Istra nearly said. "We should stand and greet morning like visitors."

"We could also walk blind into the middle of the mid-plane without local ground rules," Istra pointed out, "and any predator inclined to call it a recovery mission would do it." She tapped her fingers. "Inside the line, they have to pretend at least."

Sera was watching her closely. "So we’re being taken care of by common courtesy?"

"For one night, yes." Istra turned, already walking back. "And now let’s go visit the counting master."

The guards at the door nodded to Istra. "The line officer suggests marking your charge and recording your log before evening count."

"He has a name," Lucian said.

The guard’s eyes didn’t change. "Then you’ll bring a name."

They followed him back into the yard and down the passage until it narrowed to a room large enough for the desk and the woman posted there. She had been expecting this with the kind of calm that suggested she’d seen a dozen impossible things before noon. On the small metal plate in her hand was a single tally.

"Identity," she said.

"Lucian."

"House?"

"None."

"Origin plane?"

"Lower."

Her gaze lifted. "Seal-breaker from Keth-Arel."

"Yes."

Another tally was made. "You are granted temporary outer-court shelter. Termination of this privilege begins if leave the yard without notice, if you exercise power within the line without just cause, or if higher claim is presented for hearing and accepted. Understood?"

"I understand," Lucian said.

Sera muttered, "They make hospitality sound like a threat."

"It is both," the woman said, unmindful of insult. "Next."

Sera stated her name, gave the Free, and listed Keth-Arel as her last place of residence. Another tally was made, and she was waved away. Back in the yard, the light was changing; not evening yet but close to it. More groups had gathered just inside the far gate, speaking softly to each other and casting too many looks in their direction. Sera noticed right away.

"I don’t like that."

"Neither do I," Lucian said.

Istra’s gaze tracked along the edge of the groups. "Curiosity, fear and opportunity. All three are faces of a courtier." She turned back to Sera. "You said there were only rules to contend with."

"There are," Istra said, "but not always the same ones."I did not say people stop being people."

A man in a high-collared deep green coat stopped nearby and held out both palms in a gesture of peace. When he was close enough to be heard, not a word of that was in his voice. "Lucian of no house. Word of your passage lifted a bit of the dust from the outer court, I trust. I serve a collecting office which holds mid-plane recovery claims. If Authority papers have wearied you or old-seat hauntings cling too tightly, we offer more structured possession and better prices."

Lucian studied him. "No."

For once the visitor was surprised. "Pardon?"

"I’ve heard the terms."

"I believe you’ve refused an offer."

"I’ve heard the terms," Lucian said again, "and I do not want those papers."

"You should not have dismissed us," the man said icily, "the people currently inquiring are not likely to be firm."

"I do not offer negotiation," Lucian said.

Istra moved half a step closer. "Lucian is under outer-court shelter. If you wish to continue this discussion you will have to come inside the line."

The visitor’s smile grew thinner. "Your shelter expires at morning. My offer expires when we are joined by more sensible company." He turned away without another word.

Sera watched him go. "I hate this place."

"It has integrity," Lucian mused.

"Integrity isn’t any more pleasant."

Istra turned back to them. "Eat if you can, rest if you can. After full dark I want both in the walls and not out in the yard. If a private visit comes it will come with a silence to cloak it." She paused as Lucian touched his hand to the bread.

"And if morning brings a claim we cannot ignore?"

Istra’s eyes met his. "Then we evaluate the usefulness of neutral ground, or remind ourselves why it’s well-lit." She disappeared again, speaking at the mouth of another corridor.

Sera sat back down, studying her unfinished bread. "Let me guess," she said, "the last time you told a guest not to go to the black- roof inn, you were preparing for the worst."

Lucian’s back was to her, watching the yard shift into deepening shawls of night. "I thought it a possibility."

Above the pale towers the lights of the mid-plane were unwavering, but around them the outer court kept its rules and its glances. The night was coming, with all the guests it could gather, and each one expecting to claim Lucian when they got him.