Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(75)

“If you wish to know, you must find him.” He hesitated. “But it might be best if you remained with Helen. I did not lie. I arrived in this time and in this place because, in my wandering, I heard you. The silence of the gardia, the silence of those you would call my kin, was broken by your voice, and yours alone.

“You called me, Annarion. You called me and I came. I lost the thread of your voice. I grieved at its loss. You would wake us all if you lifted that voice in our presence—and I do not think that is your desire. Your brother understands that you are not what you once were. Understand that he is not what he once was.”

Annarion nodded slowly, and Gilbert continued.

“I could not find a path that would lead from the gardia to Lord Nightshade’s home.” He frowned. Turning, he rose, walked to the doors and closed them. “This door is closed. The room we are in now could exist in the gardia. Pretend, for a moment, that it does.” He then opened the door. “On the other side of this door is the foyer. But if this were a door in Ravellon’s center, it would open into an entirely different space. Opening this door a hundred times would grant a glimpse into a hundred different spaces.

“You have no desire to explore. You have a specific space to which you must return. This is analogous to my attempt. Your Nightshade could not clearly describe his residence. Had I wished, from the outset, to aid him, it would nevertheless have been impossible for me. Only with the passage of years, and my growing familiarity with the way you communicate, was there a possibility of success.

“But it was...difficult. My inversion meant that there were transitions I could not make without sustaining injury. The transitions that were allowed were few, and they did not lead to Nightshade’s home. In the endless corridor very, very few of the doors now open. The silence is absolute.”

Gilbert paused for a moment, seeming to collect himself before continuing, “In all of my many attempts, I found only one path that led to Nightshade’s home, as he perceived it; only one tenuous connection.”

“The Castle.”

“Yes, Helen. The Castle. The path to and from the Castle was damaged, frayed. It existed in the aftermath of Nightshade’s departure. It led from the gardia to the Castle.

“The Castle was reluctant to grant me entry. It was more reluctant to allow me to leave, even when I explained my chosen mission. The discussion devolved into argument; the argument into conflict. I sustained injuries there. I was in danger of losing coherence.”

*

“And then you met me!” Kattea said, grinning as she entered the parlor. She carried a tray that looked as if it weighed at least half of what she did; Helen was hovering behind her. She didn’t take the tray.

“I did offer, dear,” she told Kaylin. “But Kattea did almost all of the work, and she wanted to bring it in herself.” She gestured, and dishes appeared on the sideboard to which Kattea was carrying the tray.

“You weren’t frightened?” Helen asked Kattea.

Kattea shrugged. “It’s hard to be afraid of Gilbert when you’re expecting Ferals. Or worse.”

Which was perfectly reasonable, as far as Kaylin was concerned.

“Kattea was the first person I encountered. Had I never endeavored to communicate with Nightshade, I would not have recognized what she was. Because I had, I could hear her, and even see her. If I focused on Kattea, the disorientation caused by the Castle slowed enough that I could think. Kattea has explained the concept of races. She has attempted to explain the physical differences between them. To me, however, she was very like Nightshade.”

A ten-year-old girl was nothing like Lord Nightshade.

“With the exception of Annarion and Mandoran, you all are. The way you live, the way you are confined, the limited scope of your interactions with the world—they are consistent across the various species. But there is something else that is strangely consistent, as well. It was not a trait that I noticed in Lord Nightshade; it is a characteristic of every other inhabitant of the city I have encountered.”

“And that?”

“Your relationship with the time in which you dwell. Kattea is rooted in her own time. The length, the consistency, of those roots is strong, but they will fade the longer she remains here; she will meld into the now in which you live. This now will sustain her, just as her own would. I do not wish to return her to the place in which I found her.” He grimaced. “Your language is thin and inexact. You speak of ‘time’ and ‘place.’ To you, these are distinct. They may overlap, but they are not one.

“Kattea is not an anchor in the sense that your boats—”

“Ships.”

“—ships have anchors. But she serves the same purpose. She is part of her own time, and only in that time is there a road into—and out of—the gardia, by which Nightshade might leave. Only through Kattea do I have the confidence that I am able to return to that time. But that connection will wane.

“It is almost irrelevant at this point. I did not intend to stop here. I did not intend to come here at all.”

“You meant to return to Castle Nightshade.”

“Yes. I followed the sound of Annarion’s voice until it abruptly ceased. When I could not longer hear him, I attempted to correct my course. I could not. It is not that I am trapped here,” he added. “I can move, if I so choose.