Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(109)

Nodded more emphatically. If mirrors were not forbidden, Kaylin would have been on them instantly. Severn understood why. If Teela had died, Mandoran and Annarion would know. If she hadn’t—and she had been pushed forward or backward or sideways in time, they would only know that she’d disappeared.

Just as Nightshade had disappeared.

“Private,” the Arkon snapped. “Your fidgeting makes me almost motion sick. Be still.”

The Hawklord gave her a Look, which implied that she was embarrassing the entire force in public, and she stopped rocking on her heels. “How do you think Annarion and Mandoran will be helpful?” she asked, to distract herself.

“They see in a way that you can’t. They see in a way that I can’t—or rather, they see less, and see it from a different vantage. I do not understand the whole of what is, or is not, inimical to your kind. Kattea has taught me much, but she is not aware of everything I do, and some of what I have done, she considers hostile.”

Kaylin frowned. “The Arcanist visited you, the night before the murders.”

“That is what she maintains.”

“She saw him. You...didn’t.” Kaylin’s frown deepened. “The night after the murders, he came again. That time, you saw him, and she didn’t.”

Gilbert didn’t reply; he was now as silent as Kaylin couldn’t be.

“It’s like the corpses or the stones, isn’t it?”

“It is not,” he finally said, although his frown had deepened. “I could see the corpses in question. I could see the three stones.”

“You could see the words. You—” She turned to the Arkon. “Did Sanabalis manage to get that information to you?”

“No.” He turned to Gilbert. “It is, in part, to speak of these so-called words that I came.”

Squawk.

“Ah. I am not certain that I can duplicate them.”

Squawk.

“I do not see how it is skirting the rules. They have been seen. Their presence was not revealed by you. I am not certain you were aware of them at all.”

SQUAWK.

“He has a bit of an ego,” Kaylin said. “What does he mean by rules?”

“I believe he expects you to understand what he means; it is irrelevant. I am not...as he is. It is difficult for me to manifest the words I see in a way that makes them accessible to your kind,” Gilbert said.

“He means anyone alive in the city,” Kaylin told the Arkon, “not mortals. And frankly, I’m not certain it would be a good idea to have Gilbert attempt to re-create what he saw.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think he’d do anything to harm us deliberately—Kattea’s here, if nothing else. But I don’t think he’s always aware of what might cause harm. Kattea seemed to feel there was actual, magical conflict; Gilbert seemed to genuinely feel there wasn’t. He’s not an Arcanist. He’s not trying to live forever or rule the universe or whatever it is that drives the Arcanists.

“I just don’t think he truly understands what life is. Our lives, anyway.”

“I will take that under advisement.” The Arkon spoke as if he meant it. “But at this point, I do not feel it is Gilbert who is responsible for the state of our city, and any information is not only relevant, but urgently required. I am therefore willing to have that risk taken.”

Kaylin turned to Lord Grammayre, who nodded. The Arkon was not, in theory, in the chain of command—but theory could be stretched in emergencies.

Gilbert glanced, once again, at Kattea. “Very well.” He lifted his hands slowly, held them in front of his body, at elbow level, and turned them, palms up, as if he was carrying something no one else in the room could see.

His eyes began to glow.





Chapter 23

Kaylin was accustomed to seeing eye colors change; glowing was another thing entirely. When Gilbert’s eyes glowed—as they were glowing now—it looked as if his head had been hollowed out and was being used as a lamp. It was not a comforting sight.

Kattea was still wrapped around Ybelline; if warning needed to be given to—or about—Gilbert, it wouldn’t come from her. Kaylin opened her mouth and closed it again as the familiar came to sit on her shoulder. His claws dug through her tunic. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“I don’t suppose,” she whispered to the familiar, “you could tell me what he’s doing?”

Squawk.

The glow of Gilbert’s eyes brightened so much, it was hard to look at his face. The Arkon’s inner membranes rose, and he lifted a hand; Kaylin felt a wash of unpleasant stinging settle across her arms, her legs, the back of her neck—anywhere that was marked. She even approved of it, although she gritted her teeth.

The light seeped out of Gilbert’s eyes, as if it were crawling. This was very disturbing to watch. He was apparently in control of its destination, though; it fell into his cupped palms, curling in and around itself as if it were a dozen small snakes.

Could have been worse, she told herself. Could have been cockroaches.

Squawk.

“I know. Sorry.”

The snakes began to separate, and Kaylin watched as they hardened and shed parts of themselves. She looked up to Gilbert’s face; his eyes were once again obsidian. They did not reflect the glowing light she could clearly see taking shape in the palms of his hands.