Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) (29 page)

“Why? She’s mortal. She’ll die in a handful of years.”

“Because she is Chosen, and she doesn’t understand what that means. Your Teela is correct, in a fashion. Immortality is the translation—it is an ancient Barrani word, and it does not have meaning in Elantran as it is currently spoken.

“You have had—Teela tells Mandoran—some experience with the Barrani who seek...freedom? From the shackles of their names. That freedom exists in the mortal; it does not exist in the immortal. It does not exist for either myself or Gilbert. Once I would not have understood the desire; it would have seemed tantamount to suicide.

“But I have come to understand it, with time.”

“Would you destroy your name?”

“I have already destroyed parts of it, as you know. But no, Kaylin. That is not exact. I have cut off limbs. I have closed eyes. But the core of my name is still transcribed by, proscribed by, words—and I do not resent them. They gave me life. But there is persistent belief that freedom from words conveys limitless power to those who were created to contain words.

“To my eye, it does not; you were not created to contain words, and you are limited in ways that your immortals are not. But I have never been ambitious.”

“Mandoran—what happened in the Arcanum? Why did the—whatever it is—start at the Winding Path? Teela went to the Arcanum, didn’t she?”

He nodded.

“And then she went to the Winding Path?”

“No.”

“So
where is she
?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Is it a room? Is it—”

“She doesn’t know, Kaylin. It’s dark where she is. She’s injured. Tain is injured. She’s carved out a small space—”

“Tell her—tell her to use elemental shielding, if she can.” Kaylin had no idea what Teela’s magical abilities were. Beyond the implication that Teela had once belonged to the Arcanum, she knew nothing about Teela’s magical past. Teela had never volunteered the information. But Kaylin had only asked once.

“She wants to know what you mean by elemental shielding.”

“The Tha’alani used it—will use it—in future. It seemed to stop the spread of—of whatever ends up killing most of the city.”

Ybelline lifted a hand. She was frowning. “You have your own
Tha’alaan
between you, yes?”

Neither Mandoran nor Annarion had been part of this city when it had become a city; they had very little familiarity with the Tha’alani—probably a good thing for the Tha’alani. They looked at Ybelline.

“No,” Kaylin said, before anyone spoke. She caught Ybelline’s shoulder. “You do not want to do this.”

“I have touched Gilbert’s thoughts without ill effect. I believe your Teela can do what we did, but much more effectively, if rumors about her past are true. What you tell her of what I’ve
said
will take time.”

“Mandoran is not a normal Barrani—”

“I know. Which is why there is some chance that he will allow this. My communication does not require knowledge of his name. And you will not have to take it, either.”

Mandoran said something colorful in Aerian.

Ybelline’s eyes narrowed instantly. Clearly, the castelord had a working knowledge of Aerian.

Mandoran walked around Annarion, who was stiff and wary, and presented himself to Ybelline. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asked.

“Not unless you fight it, and even then, the pain is not physical.”

“I would not do that.” The Arkon had arrived.

* * *

If Mandoran was willing to listen to his cohort and the Chosen, he was absolutely
not
willing to take advice from an ancient Dragon—a Dragon who had, no doubt, existed at the time of the wars of the flights. He practically grabbed Ybelline by her shoulders and yanked her toward him. The castelord stumbled; Kaylin had to suppress the very strong urge to knock Mandoran off his feet.

Ybelline righted herself, lifted her hands and placed them on either of Mandoran’s shoulders—not his cheeks, as she had done with Kattea.

The Arkon exhaled smoke.

It was very hard to ignore an angry Dragon when he happened to be standing at your back. Kaylin managed, turning to face Annarion, as Mandoran was now busy. “The Tha’alani had an experimental magic that seemed to protect them from whatever it was that will destroy this city. I don’t know if everyone dies—but the Tha’alani quarter perishes. Teela is alive—”

“Is she anywhere near Bellusdeo?”

“No,” Annarion said quietly. “She is not certain where Bellusdeo is.”

The Arkon’s eyes couldn’t get any more red, but he seemed game to try. He glared at Kaylin. She didn’t take this personally because he was glaring at everything, at the moment. “She has Maggaron with her.”

“And Sanabalis.” The Arkon exhaled. “With luck, he will actually listen to her. Bellusdeo’s tone can be difficult, but she is not, in general, reckless. And she has lived with Shadow and its subtleties for centuries.”

“I’m not sure this is
about
Shadow.”

“And you feel it is not? Given the sigils and their similarities?”

Kaylin glanced at Gilbert. “I’m beginning to think that we don’t understand nearly enough about what we call Shadow. Gilbert lived in Ravellon. There are elements of Gilbert that we would classify as Shadow—but I don’t think he means to absorb, devour or transform us. Or kill us all,” she added, just in case this wasn’t clear. “Gilbert was the one who first warned us against mirror use. It was only when we spoke to the
Tha’alanari
that his warning grew teeth.”

Ybelline pressed her weaving stalks gently against Mandoran’s forehead. Ybelline knew Mandoran’s mind was not Barrani, although it had once been. She knew that he was not immortal in the way the Barrani and the Dragons now were.

Her eyes, which she’d closed, widened; her entire body stiffened. Kaylin was behind her instantly, set to catch her if she fell. Mandoran, however, caught her waist, bracing her. His eyes were blue—but it was not the shade that meant danger or death. It was a pale, sky blue.

She had never seen that color in his eyes—in any of their eyes—before. She had seen it in the Consort, in the West March. She glanced at Annarion and was surprised to see that his eyes, while the regular sort of blue, now rested in a face that was bordering on crimson. So. Sky blue meant what she probably thought it meant.

Ybelline did not blush. She forced herself, slowly, to relax. It occurred to Kaylin that this was something Ybelline had probably encountered in the Imperial dungeons, and the thought made Kaylin nauseous. Severn touched her shoulder; she jumped. But after a long, slow breath, she leaned into his hand.

Annarion frowned. Whatever Mandoran was passing on, he was listening. “Kaylin.”

She nodded.

“You said it was raining in the Keeper’s
storefront
?”

She hadn’t—to Annarion. Clearly, Ybelline was explaining everything that had led to this point.

“Teela wants to know why, or how.”

“Tell her to ask Evanton.”

“She wants me to smack you and repeat her question.”

“I don’t know. It makes no sense to me, either—the water, the force of it, is contained
by
the Keeper, in the Garden.

“Evanton was in a room upstairs,” she said, speaking—and thinking—slowly. “I think he was
trying
to contain the water’s spread in the store.”

“Confine it to the store?”

“No—not exactly. I think there’s got to be some sort of fail-safe there, some way of speaking to the elements when it’s no longer safe for even Evanton, the Keeper, to do so.”

“You are certain?”

“I can go back to Evanton’s—after we’ve at least got some idea of what’s going on in the Winding Path. Does Teela think that’s where she is? Yes, I know she said she doesn’t know. But Teela thinks in her sleep. There’s no way she’s sitting on her butt in the dark not trying to figure things out.”

“She thanks you for your confidence. And asks you to shut up.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Annarion said softly, “Ybelline is speaking now. She is describing the exact steps taken to cast the spell that might have preserved the Tha’alani for some hours before they were also destroyed.”

* * *

The Arkon was absolutely unwilling to join the
Tha’alaan
; he was not unwilling to listen to Annarion. Annarion, aware of the Arkon’s intent stare, spoke of the similarities between summoning and repulsion. Both required knowledge. Both required—to Kaylin’s surprise—an openness, an awareness, a centering of the elemental
name
. Repulsion was not, as Kaylin had first assumed, an act of destruction or rejection. It was a barrier erected with the complicit acceptance of the summoned element; it was a marker they agreed to overlook, in its entirety.

Mandoran didn’t speak. He had managed to loosen his grip on Ybelline’s waist, and he had closed his eyes.

“Teela says she understands enough now,” Annarion finally said. “She is going to try it on her end.” He hesitated and then added, “She is profoundly grateful to the castelord. Ybelline, she is in your debt.”

Kaylin winced. The Barrani had peculiar and unfriendly ideas of debt. “Are they anywhere near the Winding Path?” she asked, again.

“They were in the Arcanum. Teela found a crack in a wall there.”

“Is that code for something?”

“Yes. The Arcanist in question—who has been missing for some time, due to the machinations of the Imperial Wolves—left research notes, instructions and apparently bound followers. One of those followers destroyed the necessary research.”

“Voluntarily?”

“Teela doubts it. She points out—to Mandoran—that this is
how
names are traditionally used. The enslaved Barrani had enough time to give Teela warning—but not enough will to subvert the command. Teela and Tain survived. The others in the room did not.”

“So...they should be
in
the Arcanum.”

“That’s what Tain thought. The destruction in question—Teela thinks it was meant as a...test.”

“Test
of what
?”

“She is uncertain. She is familiar with the Arcanum; she says that is not where they are now.”

“What, exactly, occurred?” the Arkon demanded.

“An explosion of the type an Arcane bomb would cause. It was not an Arcane bomb. It appears to have caused displacement.”

“She’s not ahead in time, or behind,” Kaylin said.

Gilbert, however, frowned. “Why are you so certain?”

“Because we can talk to her.”

“No, Kaylin. Mandoran and Annarion can speak with her. Had Annarion been keeper of his brother’s name, I believe he
could
have heard Lord Nightshade. They are not what you are. They are not what Lord Nightshade is. But they are not entirely separate. I may be mistaken, but I do not think Teela is precisely here and now. But there are multiple perturbations and I do not understand the whole of them.”

“Teela thinks it’s the same day,” Annarion said.

“Teela is sitting in the dark, possibly in a dungeon—how the hell would she know?” Kaylin snapped.

But Mandoran said, “Her voice is thin. It’s weaker or quieter than it usually is. Gilbert might be right.”

“And he expects you two to somehow be able to ignore time?”

Gilbert said nothing.

“Teela says we need to speak with the Keeper.”

Chapter 24

“Does Teela still have the portable mirror in her pocket—and did you tell her not to use it?”

“Yes, and no. Don’t make that face,” Mandoran added. “Ybelline made it clear. I passed it on.” He had to shout the last phrase because the Arkon was also conversing. This would have been difficult, no matter what, but they were on the Arkon’s back. It was crowded.

Mandoran and Annarion had not been exactly
delighted
with the prospect of climbing on a Dragon back—and specifically on the Arkon’s. The Arkon, however, insisted, and he was in full Dragon mode. They chose the better part of valor.

Mandoran complained more, though.

The Arkon did not insist that Ybelline accompany them, but did not offer to transport her to the Tha’alani quarter, either. He insisted that Kattea remain with Helen. Kattea insisted otherwise. She did so from behind the safety of Gilbert’s back, as Gilbert didn’t seem to be intimidated—in any way—by the presence of a giant golden Dragon giving him the evil eye.

Gilbert insisted that Kattea be allowed to choose.

Kaylin, who
had
an opinion, struggled to keep it to herself. Yes, Kattea was an orphan. Yes, she was a child. Yes, she was making decisions based on fear and air and hope. And yes, someone responsible should be making the hard decisions
for her
. But if she had a guardian at all, it was Gilbert, and Gilbert felt that she would be safe. He made clear that the Arkon could carry Kattea—with Gilbert—or that he and Kattea would make their way to the Winding Path on their own.

The Arkon agreed to carry Gilbert.

* * *

The streets near Helen were empty.

The streets a few blocks away were not. The Arkon muttered something about breathing to clear space. Kaylin kicked his side. Her familiar squawked—a lot.

“It is
gallows humor
,” the Arkon replied. “Or at least that is what I am told it is called.”

“People need to laugh for it to be considered humor.”

“And if they do not laugh?”

“Not funny. Humor is supposed to be funny.”

“
I
find it amusing.”

“Fine. Tell it to the other Dragons!” She regretted this about two seconds later, because he resumed his booming conversation. To her ear, he sounded angry, but she couldn’t see his face and couldn’t judge by eye color.

Squawk
.

“Yes,” Kaylin told him, almost inaudibly. “I see it.”

* * *

There was a very large crater in the center of the slope of the Winding Path, or at least that was what it looked like at a distance. Kaylin could see the sharp edge of the street; she could see what she assumed was the brown of the dirt that underlay what had once been road. She could see the edges of the homes two streets over—and the homes at either end of the crater. Raising her voice, she said, “Do you know if it’s gotten bigger?”

“It has expanded, yes,” the Arkon replied. “If the castelord is correct, we may be able to halt the expansion.”

“Did it work for Teela?” Kaylin shouted.

“I’m
not
mortal,” Mandoran shouted back. “I can hear you if you’re not screeching!”

“Just answer the question!”

“Yes. Wherever she is currently confined is affected by the shield.”

Kaylin hesitated. The marks on her arms were not glowing. She squinted, swiveling on the Arkon’s back to get a glimpse of Elani Street. The familiar squawked, loudly, in her ear.

“Arkon!”

The Arkon roared.

“I think—I think we need to find Evanton.”

* * *

If turning Hawks to ash had not been illegal—and difficult, given she was on his back—Kaylin would have been smoldering. At best.

Mandoran and Annarion weren’t fond of the idea, either—which was, in Mandoran’s case, perfectly understandable. “Why?” the former demanded. Loudly.

“It’s the elements,” she replied. “I don’t understand how—or why—they’re involved. I
know
the disturbance is centered on the Winding Path. But—something must happen to Evanton, or his Garden—in the future. Which is probably really, really close.”

“The Tha’alani quarter is not destroyed for an hour and a half,” Mandoran told her. “From now. That’s all the time we have.”

“I
know that
,” Kaylin snapped—although technically, she hadn’t. “But the water was
outside
of the Garden. Yes, it was confined in the Keeper’s abode—but it shouldn’t have been able to rain in the store.” And worse. “I think—I think the water that came from the future and merged with the water
here
wasn’t confined in the same way in that future.

“If the Keeper was dead, there
wouldn’t be
a fief. Or seven.”

This was true, given everything Evanton had ever said about the Garden. Or anything the elements had said about themselves. But she couldn’t let go of the notion. “Ask Teela.”

“Teela is preoccupied at the moment—” His words cut off as the Arkon banked sharply. Kattea shrieked, and Kaylin let the Arkon know just how useful fancy flying maneuvers
weren’t
. “Teela says the equivalent of
what
?”

Kaylin laughed. “In Leontine, right?”

“It’s a remarkably flexible language.”

“Yes, well. If she—”

Annarion said, with vastly more distaste, “She has almost finished indulging in Leontine metaphor.” It was amazing to Kaylin that he and Mandoran could be so close, could have spent all of their lives in each other’s pockets, and be so very, very different. “Arkon, she asks that you honor Kaylin’s request.” This last was said in very formal High Barrani.

The Arkon, however, was already on it.

* * *

Kaylin knocked with almost enough force to stave the door in. “Evanton!”

Grethan opened the door, his eyes wild; they were almost brown. The stalks on his forehead were weaving frantically. “Kaylin!” No rain fell in the store at his back, and the floor looked dry. This should have been a comfort.

“What’s happened? Where’s Evanton?”

“He’s in—I think he’s in—the Garden.”

“We need to talk with him. It’s—” She started to say
an emergency
. Grethan’s expression, however, made it clear that he knew.

“I can’t reach him.”

“What?”

“I can’t—I can’t enter the Garden.” He reached out, grabbed her shoulders, dug his fingers into her arms. She let him. Had he been older there was a very real chance she would have broken his fingers or one of his arms—but his fear was so strong she couldn’t, for a moment, see him as adult. As a threat.

Grethan was Tha’alani. His forehead stalks, however, were decorative. He could not join—or touch—the
Tha’alaan
, as the rest of his kin could. The only way for Grethan to reach it at all, the only way to alleviate the isolation that was almost unknown to the Tha’alani
,
was through the elemental water.

“Slow down,” she said, forcing herself to do the same, although she had no time. She could practically feel the Arkon breathing down her neck. “Grethan, slow down. Where did you last see Evanton? He’s not in the Garden?”

“There is no Garden.”

* * *

Kaylin headed—sprinted—toward the rickety, narrow hall on the other side of the kitchen. She wasn’t certain whether or not Grethan followed, and at the moment, she didn’t care. She made Teela’s Leontine seem tame as she skidded to a stop.

“Grethan...”

“I told you. It’s gone.”

The hall with which Kaylin was most familiar was no longer a squeaky mess of narrow boards, made even narrower by overstuffed shelving. It hadn’t transformed into a grander hall, and it hadn’t, as halls did in Tiamaris, remade itself to better accommodate the actual number of visitors.

It had simply ceased to exist.

Squawk.

“I know,” she whispered. “We’ve got a problem.”

* * *

The Arkon surrendered draconic form when Kaylin returned to the street. Gilbert, Kattea, Mandoran and Annarion slid off his shrinking back before they ended up in a pile atop his human form. Grethan held back, his toes on the threshold, his hands gripping the frame of the door.

“What is happening?” the Arkon demanded.

“The Garden—or at least any way of
reaching
it—is gone.”

“Gone, as in the door has disappeared?”

Kaylin swallowed. “Gone as in: miniature version of the Winding Path.” She turned back to Grethan. “I don’t know if you heard, but—part of the city is doing the same thing as your back hall. But on a much larger scale.”

To her surprise, Grethan nodded. “Evanton heard. Evanton—” He swallowed. “He went to the Garden.”

“How did he hear? Did he use the mirror?”

Grethan nodded.

Kaylin cursed. “Can you hear the elements
at all
?”

The boy shook his head. The presence of a Dragon and two Barrani calmed him a bit, as did the two Hawks.

“You said he went into the Garden before it disappeared?”

Grethan nodded again.

Kaylin considered the wisdom of bringing Mandoran and Annarion into the store. But Mandoran hadn’t set off any alarms or fail-safes; he hadn’t caused problems until he’d been introduced to the elemental water itself. If there was no Garden, this was less likely to cause problems. She hoped.

“Gilbert—when you went to speak with the water—”

Gilbert nodded. He tried to set Kattea down, but she clung to him tightly.

“Did you make it to the Garden?”

He frowned. Kaylin led him to the start of what was no longer a hallway. The edge of the floor curved in a circular shape, as if someone had dropped a giant stone ball into something much squishier. To either side, she saw what she would have expected to see if a large spherical chunk had been removed from a building.

Beneath this sphere of absence, she could see stone halls.

Squawk.
A translucent wing rose instantly to cover the upper half of Kaylin’s face.

“Teela demands to know what you see
now
,” Annarion said.

“Teela is definitely feeling better. Tell her I see the hallway.”

“Pardon?”

“I see the Keeper’s hallway. I see the door that leads to the Garden. I see his packed shelves and his threadbare runners. He’s there.” She poked the familiar. “Show Grethan.”

The Keeper’s panicked apprentice stepped back to stand beside Kaylin, and the familiar sighed and lifted his other wing. He dug claws into Kaylin’s shoulder, in theory for balance.

“What do you see, Grethan?”

“I see—” He ducked out from under the wing. Rose again. Ducked. “I— The hall is there.”

“Yes. Via dragon wing, it’s there.” She ignored the Arkon’s cough.

“Can I— Is it real?”

Squawk.

“Gilbert, what do you see?”

“I see the hall that I walked this morning. The floor will hold Grethan if, and only if, he does not lose sight of it. Grethan, you said the Keeper was in the Garden?”

“Yes,” Grethan replied, once again looking through the small dragon’s wing. “Can we go there?”

“Arkon?”

“If the Keeper is having difficulty, I am not certain adding Private Neya will make his life any easier.”

“Which means...no?”

“Which means: hurry.”

Gilbert reached out and caught Kaylin’s shoulder. “It is possible,” he said grimly, “that without the familiar, your Grethan will be lost.”

She hesitated. “If the Garden itself is in the same state as the hall—or the corpses—we’re probably doomed anyway.” She slid an arm around Grethan’s arm. “It’s up to you. Do you want to join Evanton, or do you want to wait?”

“I want to go to the Garden.”

* * *

Annarion coughed.

Everyone—except Grethan—turned to look at him.

“What do the two of you see?” Kaylin asked.

They exchanged a glance. “Do you have a rope?” Annarion asked Grethan. Grethan shook himself, ducked out from under the familiar’s wing and disentangled his arm. He walked back into the kitchen and made the noises people made when they were looking for something they were mostly certain was there—somewhere.

He came back with a length of rope. Annarion took it, tied one end to Mandoran’s waist, endured Mandoran’s criticism of his ability to tie a knot and then tied the other to his own.

“I see a hall,” he told Kaylin, when this was done. “But there’s something off about it. Does it strike you as odd when you have your familiar’s help?”

“Only in that I need his help to see it,” she offered. “To be honest, I’m slightly more concerned about the basement.”

Silence.

“The basement?” Mandoran asked.

“The stone halls beneath this one. You can see them where there should be floor.”

They exchanged another glance.

“Please tell me you can see them.”

“We can see the hall, but it is...transparent. We can’t see what’s below it. Severn?”

Severn said nothing.

“Kattea?”

“I think I see dirt. It’s kind of dark.”

Kaylin fished a flare out of her kit. “I don’t suppose you have another rope, Grethan?”

* * *

She tossed the lit flare down into the basement she could see without her familiar’s wing, taking care to avoid following it.

The light illuminated the hard sides of walls, and the rope seemed to sink forever; the flare didn’t actually reach the floor on the first two attempts. “Can you see the walls now?”

Silence.

“Okay, tell me what you guys
see
.”

Mandoran said, “I think I see what you see.”

“You think?”

“The walls are old and crumbling, to my eye. If the street is built over this, it’s a wonder it hasn’t sunk.”

“They’re not crumbling, to my eye. They look almost new.” She frowned. “They look...” She turned to Gilbert and Kattea. “They look like the walls in your basement.” She paused. “They look
exactly
like the walls in your basement.

“Gilbert—”

But Gilbert had come to the edge of the hall that the rest of them could see—or rather, the edge of space where the hall had been. “Yes,” he said softly. “You are right.”

“Share,” Mandoran said, in exactly the intonation Teela would have used.