Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(118)

“What—what do you see?” he asked her.

She was asking herself that, as well. She had walked the gray space between worlds before. She tried to remember the experience, because it was a lot like this—and yet, nothing like it. Nightshade had torn a hole in the world—a literal tear—to free her before she was eaten by the thing the gray space contained.

“Kaylin?”

“Still here,” she said. But she had no idea where “here” was. The ground—if it was ground—felt slippery but hard, like wet mud. She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t see her own feet. She couldn’t see the shrines, the grass, the braziers; she couldn’t see the path that led to the small stone hut that could be the size of a mansion—on the inside.

She couldn’t see the shrouded gray of nowhere, either. The air was oddly luminescent. There was no horizon, no landscape. Even the light, folding in on itself like short auroras of color, did not suggest distance or geography. This was not where Teela and Tain were.

“We need to find Evanton,” Kaylin said. She could feel Grethan’s arm in hers, but wasn’t surprised to note that she couldn’t see him. “I think you’re going to have to take the lead here.”

If Grethan answered, she couldn’t hear him. Then again, she wasn’t certain her words had reached him, either.

“Why,” a familiar voice said, “are you just standing there? Teela says hi, by the way.”

Kaylin turned toward the sound of Mandoran’s voice. She wasn’t particularly surprised to discover that the Barrani, at least, was visible.

*

“Teela’s about ready to give up,” he added, with so much cheer Kaylin knew she wasn’t giving up on survival.

“Your name?”

“Got it in one. She hates the idea—but she hates the idea that she has no other way of reaching you more. I suggested she give you her name, but she said it would be a conflict of interest.”

“What?”

“She’s a Hawk, she’s not going to give up her job and she’s your superior.”

“If she gave me her name, though—”

“She doesn’t think it would make much of a difference. She’d still be the one in power.”

Barrani arrogance made Kaylin want to scream. “Why are you even here?”

“I could see the hall. I could walk across it—but not easily. I didn’t expect the Garden to just let me in—but Grethan didn’t close the door, and apparently, unseen doors don’t work the way the normal ones do.”

“What do you see now?” she demanded.

“You. Clearly. I mean it. You look exactly the same as you always look: dirty, cranky and clumsy. Emphasis on cranky.”

“Where is Annarion?”

“He’s on the other end of the rope, theoretically. It’s not a long rope.”

“Fine. Can you see Evanton?”

“No.”

“More looking, less talking.”

He snapped a pretty sharp salute, and Kaylin didn’t bother to tell him all the ways in which the gesture itself was incorrect.

*

She didn’t understand time. She didn’t understand space, not as it applied to layers. But it was clear to her, as she followed Mandoran, that the space she was now in was layered in some way; that she could see layers of it, depending on how she looked. No one else could see them without the help of the familiar. But the world itself still existed. Somehow.

Kaylin?

She missed a step. Since she couldn’t even see her feet, this shouldn’t have been surprising.

Nightshade? Nightshade, is that you?

She felt faint disapproval—blending with condescension—which was answer enough. Turning to Mandoran, she said, “I can hear Nightshade!”

Mandoran did not react with excitement.

“Tell Annarion?”

“I did. Gilbert is on his way.”

“Pardon?”

“Gilbert thinks he understands what the difficulty might be. He’s on his way.”

“He can’t bring Kattea with him. Tell him.”

“You’re going to have to tell him yourself,” Mandoran said, turning. Kaylin’s grip on Grethan’s arm tightened as the entirety of the landscape went dark. Gilbert, apparently, had arrived.

*

Kaylin said, “What do you see?” to the Barrani beside her.

Mandoran frowned. “I see Gilbert. You?”

“Shadow.” And it was. The faint iridescence of moving chaos had become embedded in a growing darkness. Kaylin had seen this before. She had never seen it from the inside, but she had seen what it had done to people who had.

Every instinct in her screamed to run—or fight. The small dragon smacked her, hard, with his wing. It was purely to get her attention; he didn’t leave the wing over her eye. And to be fair to him, it worked: he got her attention.

Mandoran’s eyes, she realized, were like the rest of the surroundings. They looked like...liquid Shadow. She couldn’t tell if this was just a reflection of the environment, but she doubted it. Strongly. She knew he could be an impulsive, feckless, condescending idiot—but she wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t certain that she could be.

Severn—I don’t think Grethan can hear me.