Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(135)

Mandoran then moved a yard to the side and tried again; Annarion did the same in the opposite direction. Here, the lack of most of the front walls helped. But if the putative Barrani weren’t as confined to this existence as Kaylin or the Arkon, it didn’t matter. To their hands, the reflective barrier was not as solid, but it wasn’t permeable. Nothing they did could bring it down.

Bellusdeo roared. This time, the Arkon did not respond.

“What—what did she say?”

“She is tiring,” he replied.

“Does she say what she sees? Is there any clue at all?”

He didn’t answer, and she was never going to be desperate enough to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Not the Arkon.

Not Mandoran or Annarion, either. She backed away from the house and turned toward Gilbert—or what remained of Gilbert. He was frozen now, like a wave in motion—but with tentacles and a million eyes. He might have been the nightmare version of a starry sky. Or the monster version, if monsters told stories to their offspring.

And Gilbert was not a monster. Gilbert had saved Kattea. Gilbert was willing to save them all.

“Mandoran. Annarion. Come here.”

“What have you found?”

She shook her head. “I think—I think I might have a way in.”

They stared at her. She fished around in the small satchel of things-that-must-not-be-lost-on-pain-of-quartermaster and withdrew the very expensive pocket mirror the Hawklord had insisted she requisition. She wanted to stay in the quartermaster’s good books. Or at least his mediocre books. Or even his minor-pest books—instead of his public-enemy-number-one books, which was where she often resided.

But in the close call between pissing off the quartermaster and pissing off the man responsible for her job, she’d chosen the quartermaster.

“That’s a portable mirror.”

Kaylin nodded.

“That you’re not supposed to use.”

She nodded again. The Arkon joined them. His eyes brightened visibly—which meant they became orange, rather than the bloodred they’d been stuck in—at the sight of it. “You mean to use the mirror network to get in.”

She hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“I mean for Gilbert to use the mirror network to get in.”

“There’s a slight problem with that,” Mandoran said. “Gilbert’s not moving.”

“I know that. But he’s not dead, either. If he were, you wouldn’t have eyes. I mean, you wouldn’t each have a third one. And the third eye is moving, even if the rest of Gilbert isn’t. I think he’s—I think he’s stuck like that on purpose.”

“Because of the eyes.”

“Yes, because of the eyes.”

“She’s going to strangle you,” Teela told her friend. “And I might consider helping, even in my diminished state.”

“Fine. What exactly do you propose?”

Kaylin handed Mandoran the mirror. The third eye widened. It looked as if it were trying to expand, and that was more disturbing than its continued existence in Mandoran’s forehead. Annarion immediately came to join him, which had the same effect. Both of their eyes—their natural eyes—rounded.

“Or maybe I’ll strangle Kaylin instead,” Teela said.

Mandoran coughed and said, “You’re the Chosen.”

“Well, that’s just great.”

*

Kaylin rolled up her sleeves.

They don’t even give instructions, she said to her familiar.

No. But, Kaylin, having observed your life for some small time, they don’t give you instructions for living, either. Life happens.

Not everyone who is alive has marks like these.

No. And not everyone who has borne them hated or feared them.

Kaylin walked over to Gilbert, or to the part of him that she could actually reach, none of which involved his eyes. She touched the extended Shadow that was his body. It felt surprisingly like the mirror barrier that prevented entrance into the house, but it reflected nothing. This made sense. She didn’t expect to see a reflection of herself in Gilbert, because in the end, he wasn’t human. Or Barrani. Or Dragon. She could spend her entire life studying Gilbert, and she knew she would never understand most of him; she probably couldn’t conceive of what most of him was.

He looked monstrous, to the eye.

But people who looked dazzling could be monstrous. She had some experience with that. And whatever Gilbert was, he had saved Kattea’s life. He had not lied to Kattea about what he was. He had not promised anything.

He promised he would return to her.

Yes. But that wasn’t a lie. Not yet.

He understood loneliness. Or maybe he didn’t understand it. But he felt it. He was ancient, but in some ways, it was impossible not to think of him as young. It was the lack of practical experience. It was the open confusion. Gilbert had not learned to hide his weaknesses. On this plane, he didn’t appear to even understand many of them.

“Gilbert, can you hear me?” She glanced at Mandoran; Gilbert’s eye moved. “I—we—can’t use the mirror network the way you’ve used it. Or the way I think you’ve been using it. I’m not sure it’s even safe for us—”

The eye rounded.