Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) (18 page)

“You’ve only got two. Make do.”

She lowered the right hand. Severn’s hand, unlike her own, did not cup or carry a name. She brought his right hand to the center of the figure’s chest. With the left, she tried to pry the middle eye—which was set slightly higher in the figure’s face than the other two—open. She was surprised when it worked.

* * *

At first glimpse, the eye socket was missing an eye. That would probably have been for the best, because a second, steadier look made it clear that the eye itself was a dark, round obsidian that did not reflect light at all. There were no flickers in its depths to suggest that it was chaos or Shadow, but it seemed to move, very slowly, beneath the fingers that held the eyelid open.

Kaylin
.

She exhaled. “I need my body back.”

I’m not sure how to leave it.

You’re lying.

He wasn’t.

Kaylin had had nightmares that made more sense than this. She snarled a long Leontine phrase that made Tain’s ears twitch.

Can you see the word in your—in my—hand?

Yes. It’s the only light in the room.

Kaylin had had nightmares that were less upsetting.
There are words right in front of you.

They’re not words that I can see.

“Hope—can you still see them?”

“Yes.”

“Why in the hells can’t he see them? He’s behind
my
eyes!”

“I do not know, Kaylin.”

“Kitling, what are you trying to do?”

“Heal Gilbert.” She had come in search of Gilbert’s name. She was almost certain she’d found it. She’d hoped that somehow, the Chosen could finish a story, or at least make what she could see of it complete.

But the words were in a place that no one else could reach except her familiar. She’d made the faint, almost ethereal figures solid. Golden. They
were
words now, not the ghost or the memory of words. But that didn’t finish the story. The isolation and the cold hadn’t come to an end.

What had she expected? Gilbert was not like the trapped spirit of an ancient Dragon. Gilbert’s life was not over.

She’d taken the single name she had managed to preserve from her forehead, because there was a body here that could contain it. Until she’d seen it, using the True Name hadn’t occurred to her.

But that name and this body were not in the same place. No, she thought, frowning. They
were
in the same place. They were like the murder victims. Real and not real. Present and not present.

“I couldn’t see the victims with your wing plastered to my face.”

Silence.

She had looked through her familiar’s translucent wing many times. She had seen things that she couldn’t see on her own. She had gone places she wouldn’t have gone. It had never occurred to her that seeing them did not immediately make them real and accessible.

She’d thought of Hope’s wing as a way of seeing through illusion, of getting to the truth of what was
actually
there. She’d assumed that what she was seeing through his wing was
the
truth, that there was only one.

But what if it was only her perception that was the bottleneck? Then she needed to change that. She needed to change it
now
. She wasn’t certain that she could change it while caged in Severn, and thinking that, she once again felt his presence, heard his interior voice.

She was angry and relieved, and swung wildly between the two.

I could hear you
, he said.
I could always hear you
.
You were becoming too quiet. Too distant.

So you decided to take over my body while it was—

Dying?

The word hung in the air between them; she shoved it aside. She had done what she needed to do, in Severn’s body. She needed to do the rest in her own.

* * *

It was cold. It was cold enough that pain had given way to numbness, and the numbness to something that felt like distant warmth. She knew this was not a good sign. Her hand, her right hand, was folded around the name as if to protect it. That had clearly been Severn’s choice, not hers. She knew it wasn’t necessary.

With Severn’s help, with the bridge of a True Name between them, she could see the two rooms that were
both
real. She wondered if this was what Mandoran and Annarion dealt with all the time. If they could—with one set of eyes—see both rooms. Kaylin usually couldn’t. She could see one or the other, with help.

She lifted her right hand, cupping the name; she turned. She turned in two bodies: her own and Severn’s. His arms were longer, and he was taller; the vantage through which he viewed the inert form on the slab was higher up. His reach was greater; she had to adjust it, to adjust her own leaden arm, to compensate for the stiffness of her native limbs and the way she wanted to fold them in around her chest to conserve body heat.

Her head hurt. Her eyes watered—or maybe those were Severn’s eyes; she was almost certain tears of her own would be frozen.

But she moved her hands—no, their hands—in unison. Severn steadied her because he was also there. She felt warmth that was not like heat as she brought the name to its future vessel. She didn’t place it, as she’d originally intended, in the center of the body’s chest. Instead, she carried it all the way to the third eye, the peak of the awkward triangle.

Light was reflected in what now looked like an obsidian orb. Light, shape, form. The name did not shrink; it did not change shape. The eye did. It grew. Kaylin held the name steady, but that took effort. She wasn’t the only one who noticed; she could hear Tain’s sharp intake of breath.

The eye expanded, darkness widening until it occupied most of the form’s forehead. The other two eyes remained closed, and the body remained motionless. Kaylin should have found it disturbing, but didn’t have the mental energy for it. Or for anything other than what she was doing: holding herself, and the single word, steady.

She had thought what occupied the third eye socket was obsidian. As it expanded, she realized she’d been wrong. It was, or seemed to be, a very viscous liquid, like an oil. She turned her right hand over and let the name go.

It fell slowly. Had the black liquid sprouted tendrils to grab it and drag it down, Kaylin would have found it less disturbing somehow. She watched as golden curves made contact with what had taken the form of an eye, and watched them sink. It seemed to go on forever.

Forever, she didn’t have.

She lowered Severn’s arm and set both of his hands against the lip of the exposed slab, as if by so doing she could shore up her own weight. But if they shared a vision, they didn’t actually occupy the same body; her own knees buckled.

It didn’t matter. Standing was no longer required. The darkness that absorbed the name she had carried from the West March expanded as she watched.

It took everything with it.

Chapter 15

“Kaylin.”

The voice came from a distance. Kaylin had the futile hope that it would stay there.

“Kaylin.
Kaylin
. I know you’re awake.” Mandoran’s voice grew louder. “Teela’s pissed off. It’d be a huge help if you opened your eyes.”

“Is she pissed off at me?” Kaylin asked. As an experiment, she tried opening her eyes. They were sticky, and the light in the room was too damn bright.

“I think she’s pissed off at
Gilbert
. And if it’s any incentive, Bellusdeo’s eyes are almost bloodred.”

Kaylin sat up. This was not the smartest idea, but someone caught her before she regretted it too badly. Mandoran. The light in the room—which she forced herself to endure—was sunlight. She blinked, lifted her hands and rubbed her eyes. “Where am I?”

“In Gilbert’s house. Upstairs.”

“And there are no
beds
upstairs?”

“Not in this room, no. Severn suggested a different room, but Gilbert didn’t think that was a good idea. Did I mention that Bellusdeo’s eyes are red?”

“Yes.” Kaylin had been lying across a very ugly rug. It was a shade of green that would probably make anyone feel nauseous, and if that didn’t, it was fringed in bright orange. Orange. She looked at her hands. They were hers. They were no longer Severn’s.

Severn
.

She tried to push herself off the ground and failed a second time. “I’m here,” Severn said, his voice coming from somewhere behind her.

“Are you okay?”

“He’s standing, and Teela’s not worried about him,” Mandoran replied.

“He’s also capable of speaking for himself.”

“When he can get a word in edgewise.” It was true that Severn wasn’t very chatty on most days. “Teela’s worry is like a big wall of silence.” He paused, lifting his head. “She’s coming over.”

When Teela failed to materialize, Kaylin frowned.

“Oh, she’s not
here
,” Mandoran said.

“She left?”

“You’ve been out for two days.”

“Two
days
?”

“The Dragon’s eyes didn’t start out red.”

“Two days. Why didn’t you wake me? Marcus is going to tear my throat out!” Or worse, fire her.

“You can field this one,” Mandoran said, over Kaylin’s head.

“We attempted it,” Severn said.

Kaylin digested that statement and assessed her physical condition. Her arms, when she lifted them, trembled. Her legs ached. Her mouth felt as if she’d spent the previous night drinking with Teela and Tain. And her stomach, not to be outdone, growled.

Mandoran snickered. She glanced at him. His eyes were almost entirely green.

“What’s funny?”

“Now she’s pissed off at you.”

“Thanks. A lot.”

“You don’t know what she’s like when she worries.”

“Believe that I do. Why didn’t someone take me home?”

“Gilbert thought it would be a bad idea to move you before you could move on your own.”

“Did he happen to say why?”

“Yes.”

Kaylin shrieked in frustration; it hid the noises her stomach was making. “Honestly, if my arms weren’t so weak, I’d strangle you. What, exactly, did he say?”

Looking, if it were possible, more smug, Mandoran repeated what Gilbert had said. To no one’s surprise, Kaylin couldn’t understand a word of it. “If it helps, he was talking to your familiar.”

“Not really. I’m guessing my familiar told everyone to leave me here.”

“Yes. Bellusdeo elected to stay. Gilbert was visited by another one of your Dragons last night.”

Kaylin wanted to cry. “Emmerian?”

“Lord Emmerian,” Severn said, both correcting and confirming the guess. “Bellusdeo chose to remain. She was not willing to leave the house without you.”

“Did you at least go home?”

Silence.

“So...Annarion is here, as well.”

“He’s downstairs in the parlor. I like that word, by the way. We have a bunch of questions for you.”

“Food first. If I don’t eat, you won’t be able to hear my answers over the noise my stomach will be making.”

* * *

Bellusdeo’s eyes were a steady orange when Kaylin made it into the parlor. She was standing; Kattea was asleep in the largest chair the room contained. Gilbert, however, was absent. “You look terrible.”

“I’ve been in the same clothing, unwashed, for two days, if reports are true. I haven’t eaten. I am terrified that Marcus is going to rip my face off.”

“Teela took care of that. Teela also dropped by your house and left word with Helen.”

“I heard Lord Emmerian was here?”

“He will be back shortly. I sent him on an errand,” she added, showing the first hint of a genuine smile—one that made Kaylin feel instant sympathy for the Dragon Lord. “Don’t look like that. I sent him to the market. With Gilbert.”

“On their own?”

“They were both beginning to annoy me.”

“Can I just go back to being unconscious?” Kaylin, however, entered the room and sat in the nearest chair. “Or sleep. I think sleep would be good. Did Teela say anything about the state of the investigation across the street?”

“Yes. In Elantran. And Leontine.”

Kaylin winced. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes. She opened them again when food arrived and had the guilty impression that the interval between these two states wasn’t exactly short.

Lord Emmerian glanced at Bellusdeo when he entered the parlor; seeing the color of her eyes, he relaxed. Gilbert, however, paused in the doorway. He offered Kaylin a very formal, very ostentatious bow. He then went to the chair Kattea occupied and woke her. She yawned, stretched and then noticed that Kaylin had joined them.

“You sleep a
lot
.”

“Not usually.” She attempted to look at Kattea when she spoke, because otherwise, she’d be staring at Gilbert. She recognized the longer lines of his oval face, the straight lines of shoulders, the length of his arms.

He smiled, as if reading her thoughts. “I am well,” he said, voice gentle. “You have my gratitude.”

What he lacked was the third eye. Kaylin didn’t ask him where it had gone. Given Emmerian’s presence in the room, she thought it smarter to keep her own counsel.

“Do you have a working mirror here?”

“I do. I will take you to it after you have eaten.” Gilbert bowed again and left the room. Kattea leaped off her chair and followed, chattering in his wake.

Lord Emmerian’s eyes were shading to gold as Bellusdeo’s did. “You are well?”

Kaylin, wary, nodded. “Hungry,” she added.

“Do you expect more difficulty?”

“I didn’t even expect the last bit. But no, I’m not going to be trying anything I don’t understand in the next little while.”

He met Bellusdeo’s eyes. Bellusdeo wasn’t glaring, but it was close. “Then I shall depart. The Arkon conveys his best wishes and requests the pleasure of your company at your earliest convenience.” He bowed—to Bellusdeo—and left.

“He’s not much like Diarmat, is he?”

“Thankfully not.” Bellusdeo exhaled. Given her expression, Kaylin was surprised not to see smoke. Or steam. “What happened?”

“I tried to heal Gilbert. I think I mostly succeeded.”

“You have certainly altered his appearance. He looks vaguely Barrani.”

Mandoran coughed.

“He looks more Barrani than he does human. I think it’s his skin. Or his ears.”

“His skin?”

“It is remarkably flawless. His eyes, however, are not Barrani—or Dragon—in nature; I do not believe they have changed color once. What is he, Kaylin?”

“I don’t completely understand it myself.” She glanced at Mandoran. “Do you?”

He shook his head. “You’ve changed him, I think.”

“Is that good, or bad?”

Mandoran shrugged. “What Bellusdeo sensed in him when she first met him, she does not sense in him now.”

“I do not necessarily find that comforting,” the Dragon added. “It merely means that it is hidden—and if that is so easily done, it raises questions of security.”

“Define
easily
.”

Bellusdeo snorted. She walked over to the chair Kaylin occupied, bent and said, “You look terrible. I suggest we go home.”

“Can I eat first?”

“Given how quickly you cram food into your mouth, that won’t take long.” She grabbed Kaylin by both shoulders and shook her gently. For a Dragon. Kaylin was surprised her teeth didn’t fall out. “If you want to have a conversation with Gilbert, have him come with us.”

“Can we bring Kattea, too?”

* * *

The first words Helen said—to Kaylin—when she entered the safety of her own home, were “I surrender. I have managed to create a relatively safe containment sphere which will accept mirror transmissions.”

The first words Kaylin said to Helen were “I’m sorry.”

Helen’s frown was glacial, but she opened her arms. “Welcome back.”

Kaylin walked into her hug. “I didn’t mean to worry you—”

“No, of course not.” Helen smiled, looking careworn. She lifted her head, released Kaylin and stepped back. It might have been a trick of the lighting, but Kaylin thought Helen actually reddened. “I have entirely forgotten my manners. You have guests.” Her expression froze, and the normal, mortal brown of her eyes drained from them as she looked to the occupied doorway.

Kaylin turned to Kattea, who had walked through the door, and Gilbert, who had not. “This is Kattea, and her companion is Gilbert. Kattea, this is Helen.”

Kattea smiled up at Helen, who had, once again, let her manners slip; she didn’t appear to see the child.

“My apologies for the intrusion,” Gilbert said, when Helen failed to speak. He turned to Kaylin. “This was possibly not the wisest of ideas. I believe you won a bet with Kattea; she is willing to answer your questions. I will wait.” Turning to Helen, he asked, “If that is permitted?”

“Where did you meet Kaylin?”

“In my current residence. She came as a Hawk.”

“Are you responsible for her absence?” Helen’s eyes were now obsidian.

“To my regret, I am. I am in her debt.”

“Kaylin?”

Kaylin was embarrassed. “I tried to heal him. I think I mostly succeeded. We still have a bunch of questions to ask him, and at least some of them are important to Annarion. They’re about his brother. Gilbert didn’t invite himself over.”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

“I invited him. Do you think we can have the rest of this discussion in the side room?”

Helen’s black gaze turned to Teela. “You did not inform me of all of the facts.”

“I don’t have all of the facts,” Teela replied, shrugging. If Kaylin was worried or intimidated by the Avatar of her home, Teela wasn’t. Nor was she about to start.

Kaylin turned to Helen. “Do you recognize him?”

“I am not certain.” Not a good answer. Helen’s memories of her early life—and her early duties—had been irreparably damaged sometime in the past. “He is not the first of his kind I have encountered.” She exhaled. “I cannot read him. I do not think this visit wise. I have spoken to you about the sorcerers of my youth.”

Kaylin turned to look at Gilbert, who still hadn’t moved.

“Well...” Kaylin said, considering. “Unless he tries to harm you—or anyone else—while’s he in the house, I’d like to take the risk.”

“Very well.” Helen nodded stiffly. “Give me a moment to prepare the room.”

* * *

Kattea asked Helen if she wanted help in the kitchen. Time in the kitchen was not, strictly speaking, a requirement for Helen; Kaylin was surprised when she didn’t say as much. Most of the sentient buildings of Kaylin’s acquaintance were not famously good at lying.

“But you’re a guest,” Helen said.

“I like kitchens,” Kattea replied. She had the earnest look of a puppy—a scruffy, underfed puppy who had not yet been kicked in the face enough that it had lost the ability to trust.

Helen hesitated for a moment longer and then nodded. “But if I tell you not to touch something, you have to listen. Certain items in the kitchen are not entirely safe for you.” She led Kattea out of the room.

Gilbert offered his apologies again.

His deference clearly amused Mandoran; Annarion was silent and watchful. Teela lounged—there was no other word for it—across the largest free space in the room; Tain took a patch of wall instead and leaned into it. Severn sat in the chair closest to the door, facing inward.

Gilbert sat to Kaylin’s right; Bellusdeo camped to her left.

In all, it was not a very comfortable room.

“You’ve been in buildings like this one before,” Kaylin said.

“I am of the opinion that I have never set foot in a building such as this. You called it Helen?”

“If you mean did I name her, then no. Helen is her name. She’s in charge. I live here, and I can ask her for things—but I can’t enforce obedience.”

Both of his brows rose. “And it—she—cannot enforce obedience from you?”

“I imagine if she bent her mind to it, she could.”

“She’s certainly been doing a number on Annarion,” Mandoran added. Annarion glared, but said nothing.

Gilbert looked about the room. “She reminds me of my youth. We once lived in homes such as these—places that heard our voices and spoke with their own. But we knew their names. It was one of the many ways in which we communicated our desires.” His eyes were a curious shade of brown, almost rust in color.

“It was,” Helen’s disembodied voice said, “the chief way in which control was exerted.”

“And such control was unpleasant?”

“Was it not unpleasant to you?”

Gilbert frowned. “It was not possible,” he finally replied. His eyes darkened. They weren’t, then, like mortal eyes. Until this moment, Kaylin hadn’t been entirely certain.

“What wasn’t possible?” she asked.

“For our names to be known. I understand that your names are not like ours,” he added.

“We don’t—Kattea and I—have names.” Her frown mirrored Gilbert’s. She understood why immortals resisted being healed. It was almost impossible for the healer not to see the thoughts and emotions of the healed, to some extent. “When I tried to heal you...” Her thoughts weren’t solid enough to form useful questions.

Gilbert’s nod was quiet. “You almost lost your life.”

Kaylin shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” She hesitated and then said, “I had no idea what I was doing. And having done it, I still don’t understand. When you say knowing your name is impossible, what do you mean?”