Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) (25 page)

“Continue.”

“When we descended into the basement, Gilbert looked at the sigils left by other casters. He—” She grimaced. “He pulled words out of the sigils that
I
see when I detect traces of prior magic use. He did so in such a way that they were visible to everyone present, even Gavin.”

“Did the Sergeant capture these words for Records?”

“Not while we were there—Gilbert thought there was a significant danger that the mirror network would be compromised.” She shook her head. “
Compromised
is the wrong word. He thought it would be a total disaster. It wouldn’t be the first time magic caused problems via the mirrors.

“But—the night before the murder, Gilbert’s house was visited by four men. One of those was an Arcanist. Gilbert did not, according to Kattea, react
well
to the visitors—but Gilbert has no recollection of a conflict.”

“Was he injured enough to sustain memory loss?”

“Not exactly.” Kaylin thought explaining Gilbert to a very cranky Arkon was the definition of “career-limiting.”

“Teela and Tain headed out to the Arcanum—or the High Halls—without the rest of us. If there’s any information, they’ll dig it up. Oh,” she added, “there was one detail. The Arcanist in question was apparently wearing a tiara with a diamond in its center.”

The Arkon’s eyes slid from orange to something very, very close to red. “This theoretical Arcanist visited Gilbert.”

“Kattea said Gilbert was angry; to Kattea’s eyes, magical hostilities were exchanged. I’m not certain Gilbert sees this as conflict. And no, before you ask, I don’t think Gilbert in the Palace is a good idea. Do you recognize what a diamond-wearing Arcanist entails?”

“I have work to do, Private.”

Kaylin surrendered. “The water of the future blended—somehow—with the water of right now. The
Tha’alaan
resides, in great part, in the elemental water’s core. It brought some of the memories of the future
Tha’alaan
with it when it arrived.” She exhaled. “Every Tha’alani in their quarter dies. The experience of each and every death has been dumped into the
Tha’alaan
; it’s uneven, and I think the Caste Court is attempting to mitigate the obvious damage that’ll cause.

“But Ybelline is aware now of how significant this is, and she is examining the memories of the last few deaths, to attempt to give us more information about what caused it.”

“Very well. I wish to have the visible words examined. I also wish to have the basement beneath Gilbert’s house examined. I am not in a condition to examine them personally, and even were I, Tiamaris was as close as we come to an expert in ancient buildings and writing. He does not, of course, have my wealth of experience—but he has a particular focus.

“He is not, however, likely to be available. I will therefore send Sanabalis.” He turned to glance off-mirror; he spoke, but the mirror did not convey the sound of his voice. “I expect a full report of any relevant information gleaned from either the Tha’alani or Tiamaris.”

“I can interrupt you?”

“You may even do so safely, for the duration.”

* * *

“I think he’s going to send Bellusdeo with Sanabalis,” Kaylin told Severn. She glanced at Gilbert. He had no difficulty keeping up with the two Hawks. Kattea had flagged, which was fine; Gilbert was carrying her. Kaylin suspected he would carry her anywhere, for as long as it was necessary.

The water’s silence made her uneasy. She could not believe that Gilbert intended to hurt Kattea—but what constituted harm, for Gilbert, was probably not even translatable into Elantran. Or any other language Kaylin knew.

“If,” she told him, as they continued their very brisk pace, “you see any other buildings of significance, let us know?”

He nodded. He had said very little since his encounter with the water’s Avatar, and seemed—for Gilbert—less confused and more grave. He stopped well short of the guard post occupied by the Tha’alani, and Kaylin thought it best to ask Ybelline’s permission—through direct mental contact with the guards—to dispense with the usually thorough inspection. Kattea flinched when one of the guards bent down to touch Kaylin’s forehead with the stalks that grew out of his own.

The guards themselves were not especially eager to touch the thoughts of an outsider, but knew their duties; they waited until Ybelline granted permission for Kaylin to enter the quarter.

One of them wore the tabard of the
Tha’alanari
—one who was capable of guarding their thoughts, or the thoughts they took in, from the rest of the
Tha’alaan
.

It was he who escorted them to Ybelline’s home.

* * *

The streets of the Tha’alani quarter were never empty; today was not an exception.

Kaylin had not visited while in possession of the familiar—and like Nightshade’s mark, small and flappy had become so much a part of her daily life she could almost forget he was there. To anyone who hadn’t yet seen a tiny, translucent dragon—which clearly moved on its own—the familiar was a delight and a curiosity.

Small children gathered by the side of the narrow road that wound its way through the oddly curved, rounded contours of the dwellings the Tha’alani favored. They were openly curious, and some, bolder than others, attempted to touch the strangers in the Hawks’ tabard. Some stepped back, clearly nervous.

“They don’t see a lot of outsiders,” Kaylin told Kattea, who had stiffened in Gilbert’s arms. “So they’re curious.”

Kattea clearly had the usual fear of the Tha’alani mind readers. Kaylin tried not to resent it, because she’d once felt that fear herself. But she did pause to let the bolder children touch her extended hands, and she did allow one hesitant child to brush her cheek—he was too nervous to truly connect—with the stalks on his forehead. If she’d once been as frightened as Kattea, she wanted to make clear that the fear was groundless, and there was no better way.

On the other hand, the small dragon was the star of the show today; all of the telepathic questions the children transmitted were about him. He was well enough behaved that he allowed them to touch him—but not with their slender, immature antennae. The children radiated delight and wonder so strongly, words would have been superfluous.

But Kaylin had come here for a reason, and if spending the day amusing small mind readers was actually a happy thing, it took up time they didn’t have. Their escort understood this, and the children melted away, some with obvious reluctance. No words, however, were exchanged. They weren’t necessary.

Ybelline was waiting for them. She wore very simple robes—yellow, fringed with purple—that flowed loosely down her shoulders and arms; the sheen of the fabric caught the sunlight, which reminded Kaylin that it was not actually that late in the day.

Ybelline’s jaw was tightly set; she smiled—because she smiled so often, it was practically her default expression—but her color was bad, and her eyes were darkly circled. Kaylin, who often hugged her, hugged her now for entirely different reasons. Ybelline’s stalks brushed Kaylin’s forehead and settled there.

Kaylin told her everything. Ybelline was
Tha’alanari
. What she saw in Kaylin’s thoughts, she could—with effort and discipline—keep out of the
Tha’alaan
. She showed Ybelline the three corpses that had been the start of her involvement; she showed Ybelline Gilbert, Gilbert’s basement and her attempt to heal him. She showed Ybelline the elemental water and told her what the water had said.

Her conscious memory was nowhere near as good as the memory Ybelline now touched, and Kaylin was perfectly willing to let the Tha’alani castelord rifle through all of it. She had no fear at all that Ybelline would judge her.

“Come with me,” Ybelline said, as she withdrew.

Kaylin hesitated, and Ybelline marked it. “I’m sorry. I want to introduce Gilbert and Kattea. Gilbert, Kattea, this is Ybelline—the castelord of the Tha’alani.”

Gilbert set Kattea down and offered the Tha’alani woman a very deep bow. It was not, strictly speaking, a Tha’alani greeting, but Ybelline interacted with enough people that she recognized it as a gesture of deep respect, regardless. Kattea’s stiff nod was less admirable and far more skittish—but this was something Ybelline understood, as well. Kaylin’s annoyance was deeper and lasted longer.

Then again, some of it was with her past self, and no one could get as angry with Kaylin as she herself could.

Gilbert offered Ybelline his hand. Kaylin stepped between them a shade too quickly. Ybelline, however, shook her head. “It is all right, Kaylin. It is a risk I am willing to take.”

“He’s not—”

“Yes, you’ve told me. But I have...done as I must. I have experienced my own death.” Her smile was slightly gray, but the resolve beneath it, unshaken. “Experiencing death is not, in the end, as terrifying as it seems at a remove; it is not fear, but fact.”

“Ybelline—”

“If you are not mistaken, he will help us. And if I am not mistaken, it is Gilbert’s help we now require.”

“It’s the ‘me not being mistaken’ part I’m worried about,” Kaylin replied.

Ybelline’s answering smile was deeper this time. “It is because you are young. If you do not trust yourself, that is...how do you say it? Not my problem.”

“That’s pretty much how we say it, yes.” Kaylin exhaled. “Gilbert, I’m not sure if you know the Tha’alani, or know about them.”

“Kattea fears them,” Gilbert said, which caused the younger girl to blanch. Then glare. “You do not.”

“No, I really don’t. If we could all communicate the way the Tha’alani do, I’d be out of a job. You will not find kinder or more understanding people anywhere, ever.”

“But you are still worried.”

Kaylin exhaled. “I am worried
for
them. When they speak to you, when they read your thoughts, those thoughts become part of what they know, and what they know is part of the
Tha’alaan
. Healing you...made it clear that you’re not like us. But if you’re different in the wrong way...”

“You are not castelord, Kaylin,” Ybelline said firmly. “And I am not a child to be protected when the future of my people—and yours—is imperiled.”

“I am not worried,” Gilbert said—to Kaylin. “It is frustrating; it is hard to make myself understood to your kind. What she knows—what she can know—cannot hurt me.”

“And if she touched your name?”

“That is not the way it works” was his quiet reply. He almost sounded regretful. He once again extended his hand; Ybelline took it. She hesitated.

“The functionality is within the stalks?” Gilbert asked, correctly identifying the hesitation.

“Not entirely—but yes. They are not always necessary for the Tha’alani.”

His smile was slender, but genuine; she’d amused him. She certainly hadn’t amused Kattea. Kaylin placed a staying hand on the younger girl’s shoulder.

“You let her touch you,” Kattea whispered.

“Yes, I did. The thing about Ybelline is this: she can see
everything
about you—all the things you hate, all the things you regret, all the things you would never tell anyone—” with each phrase, Kattea’s body stiffened slightly “—but she doesn’t judge you. She will never hate you, even if you hate yourself. I know it doesn’t make sense to you,” she added. “But I’m not worried for Gilbert.”

“You’re worried for
her
?”

Kaylin nodded. “Not because I think Gilbert will try to hurt her,” she added. “But I’m starting to think that people—like us—aren’t meant to understand people like Gilbert. I mean, we’re not even built so we
can
. I think there are whole parts of him that make no sense to us, and will never make sense to us. We can think about him on the outside until it’s exhausting, but—we’re not
inside
of him.”

Ybelline stiffened, in a much more obvious way than Kattea had; Kaylin crushed the girl’s shoulder, realized what she’d done and apologized.

“Gilbert’s like us, in one way,” Kattea surprised her by saying.

“Oh?”

“Or maybe he’s only like me.”

Paying attention to Kattea was easier, at the moment, than watching Ybelline. If Kaylin had thought her wan and pale before, it was nothing to the color she now became. But Ybelline was right. Kaylin was a
private
. Ybelline was castelord.

“How is he like you?” Kaylin asked, forcing her eyes away from the Tha’alani and Gilbert.

“He’s lonely.”

“I don’t think Gibert gets lonely the way we do.”

Kattea folded her arms, her fear turning to annoyance. She radiated anger at what she assumed was condescension—and to be fair to her, it kind of was. “I think I know Gilbert better than you do.”

“You’ve known him for what, three weeks? Maybe four?” Kaylin bit back more words. “I’m sorry. I’m worried, and I’m cranky. Gilbert isn’t human. No, more than that, he’s not like
any
of the races you know. From what he’s said—and you’ve heard him say it—he was built for a purpose.”

“So?”

“What kind of crappy god builds loneliness into something that doesn’t
need
others to survive?” Her brain caught up with her mouth and shut it down.

Helen had been built with a specific purpose. Some of that purpose, Helen no longer remembered. Helen had never described herself as lonely, in the years—or centuries—before Hasielle, her very first tenant, had arrived. She hadn’t used the exact word, no. But she’d been drawn to Hasielle because Hasielle was the type of person to
make
a home of wherever she lived. To bring warmth or light or life to the space, just by being in it.

To
keep
Hasielle, Helen had destroyed parts of herself. She wasn’t, hadn’t been, in
love
with Hasielle—but the yearning for her had been visceral.

For how long had she observed Hasielle, without even speaking to her? For how long had she noted Hasielle’s cleaning and humming and cooking?

Kaylin looked at Gilbert’s profile. Gilbert might have been a cleverly painted statue. For how long had Gilbert been aware of Nightshade, in the dim recesses of an ancient building in the heart of the fiefs? At the beginning, he hadn’t even been
aware
of Nightshade.