Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(81)

Gavin’s estimation of Kaylin’s ability to supervise was vanishingly small. “I’ll be there to supervise. Are you going to stand here all morning?”

*

Viewing the bodies—or having Gilbert view the bodies—had seemed like a smart idea in the comfort of her own home.

Gavin took the lead, which was to be expected. Kaylin followed, and Gilbert trailed after her. Severn took the spot behind Gilbert and Kattea pulled up the rear, at Gilbert’s insistence and to the child’s annoyance. She did not feel endangered in the presence of Hawks—and Gilbert himself—and she was old enough, barely, that she didn’t want to be treated like a child.

Gilbert abruptly stopped walking as they approached the stairs that led to the subbasement. Gavin continued down the stairs, stopped and turned when he realized that no one was following. “Is something wrong?” he asked. Well, demanded, really. Asking was not entirely Gavin’s style.

Gilbert didn’t answer.

Kaylin turned and froze herself; Gilbert’s eyes were black.

And there were three of them.

*

She almost reached up to close the third eye, but knew it was pointless. The eye looked like a normal eye, except for its placement; closing it wouldn’t make it disappear.

“When,” Gilbert said, in a voice that implied he had more than one mouth, although only one, thankfully, was visible, “did you disturb this place?” The stairs shook.

Gavin’s eyes were slits. “Private Neya.”

She exhaled. “He’s here to look at the bodies because he can see things we can’t. For obvious reasons.”

“What is he?” Gavin’s hand had fallen to his dagger; he didn’t have a sword.

“Gilbert. He’s—he’s not from around here.”

“I can see that. Where is he from, exactly?” He retrieved a pocket mirror with his left hand.

The small dragon leaped off Kaylin’s shoulder and flew at Gavin’s face. She dived after the translucent familiar while Gavin attempted to swat him out of the air.

“Don’t!” she shouted at the small dragon. “He’s not going to hurt us!”

Severn leaped down the stairs, using the wall to halt his momentum. He raised a hand and caught the familiar by a spindly leg. It screeched in his face. “Apologies,” Severn said to Gavin. “The Arcanum has been implicated in these murders. We require knowledge that the Arcanum has, without consulting or otherwise alerting an Arcanist. Gilbert is foreign; he is not from the Arcanum.” To the familiar, he said, “Gavin needs to mirror the Halls of Law.”

The familiar squawked loudly—and furiously.

Gilbert said, “Your companion is trying to tell you that it is not safe—in any way—to use the mirror in this building.”

Gavin frowned. He’d recovered his composure. Flying, tiny dragons and men with three eyes might have walked past him every morning before breakfast. “The mirror has been used—to no detriment—in the past.”

Gilbert closed all three of his eyes. He spoke to the familiar, and it spoke back. Neither were intelligible to Kaylin. Or to Gavin, given his expression.

“Harm has been caused. If you do not wish your magical communications to be completely compromised—” He stopped. “Kaylin, this mirroring—Mandoran attempted to explain it. How does it work?”

She punted the question to Severn.

“None of us are mages,” Severn said, “but my understanding is this: it is a magical net that is spread across the whole of Elantra. Mirrors are fixed locations that are attached to that net; a mirror can be designated in two ways. Geographically—to a building—or personally. Teela can be reached at any mirror that is attached and activated. Kaylin cannot. If you require a more technical explanation, you’ll need to speak to an Imperial mage.”

“Can this be done now?”

Kaylin blinked.

Gilbert’s eyes were open again. The two that were divided by his nose blinked the normal way; the one that rested in the center of his forehead didn’t. It didn’t blink at all. It did, however, move, although the movement was subtle. Gilbert spoke to the familiar. Kaylin decided then and there that she was going to learn the language Gilbert spoke. The familiar sounded too much like an enraged chicken; she couldn’t even pull syllables out of his squawking.

“My apologies,” Gilbert said to Gavin. “I did not mean to interrupt your progress.”

Gavin’s lips thinned. He looked pointedly at Kattea, the necessary “interpreter,” as Kaylin reddened. He then looked at the nascent mirror in his hand before shoving it back into its well-cushioned place in his satchel. “Neya.”

“Sir.”

“Just how big is this going to get?”

She knew she had to choose her words with care. Apparently she was not fast enough for the older Hawk.

“Private.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Gavin—but I don’t know.”

“Bigger than the tidal wave?”

Silence.

“Bigger than the Devourer?”

“No—not that big.”

“So you do have some idea.” He ran a hand through his graying hair. “You understand there’s a chain of command?”