Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(87)

Evanton, clearly, did. His eyes—his normal, human eyes—widened. “Kaylin,” he said, although he didn’t take his eyes off Gilbert, “what have you done?”

Kaylin brushed past him and entered a room that she had never seen before. To her surprise, it was almost empty; there was a table—not a desk—against the wall. The roof angled sharply above the tabletop. The room itself was narrow. It had a window, built into the steeply inclined wall above the table, and a small door that implied a closet. The floor was in better repair than the floors on the ground floor, probably because it didn’t get as much foot traffic.

The familiar squawked at Evanton. Loudly. His mouth was an inch from Kaylin’s ear.

“What is it this time?” Kaylin asked.

He lifted his wing, smacked her nose and then held it in place over her eyes. For a translucent lizard, he had no difficulty conveying impatience and a certain long-suffering annoyance.

Dragon wing made visible what normal vision didn’t: there were words engraved in the sturdier wood of this room’s floor. They were glowing, as if light had been poured into them.

“This is the room in which I, for want of a better word, meditate.”

“Is the Garden safe at all?”

“Not for you. And not, I fear, for Gilbert. You wish, no doubt, to speak to the water?”

She nodded.

“Of course you do. It would have to be water, given the present difficulty. What has occurred?”

“The long version or the short version?”

“Start with the short version; it is what I have patience for at the moment.”

“The water apparently carried Gilbert and Kattea across time. Maybe ten years of it.”

Evanton raised his hands and massaged his temples. “Thank you. I’ll take the longer version now.”

*

Evanton listened to Kaylin without interruption, which was unusual. He sent Grethan out to fetch bread, water and something that looked suspiciously like wine, but otherwise confined his actions to nodding or raising a brow.

This ended when Kattea joined the conversation at his request.

“You said the water spoke to you.”

“It mostly spoke to Gilbert.”

“Mostly, or entirely?”

“...Entirely.”

He nodded. To Gilbert, he asked, “What instructions did you give?” As not many people were expected to give instructions to the elemental water, Kaylin was slightly surprised by the question.

“I asked that we be conveyed—in a manner safe for Kattea—to Elantra.”

“Those were the only parameters you set?”

“Yes. It did not occur to me to examine the details of the request; that level of granularity has seldom been necessary.”

Evanton nodded, as if this made sense.

“Evanton—how did the water bring him to here? I mean, to here, now?”

“That is a very good question. And an appropriate one. I believe I have a better understanding of the rain.” He glanced at his drenched apprentice and added, “It is likely to stop soon, one way or another. I have a preference for which way.”

“Can you not give commands to the water?” Gilbert asked.

“Yes. As you suspect—as you recognize—I can. I am not, however, like the original Keeper in that regard. I can give commands that are heard now. I cannot give commands that are heard at every moment of the water’s existence and awareness.”

Kaylin blinked. She opened her mouth and closed it as she approached the shopkeeper; he was gray. Almost literally gray. “Have you been eating?”

“I am long past the age where I require maternal care” was his clipped reply. “My control—my stewardship, if you will—exists now. It has demonstrably existed in the past. It will, in theory, exist in the future—but the future is, to me, uncertain. I may die tomorrow. Grethan, do not make that face.

“I may merely be incapacitated. My responsibilities, my ability to endure and perform them, exist now. Now is a moving target. From any vantage in which I exist, I am ‘now.’”

“This isn’t making things any simpler,” Kaylin said.

“No, it wouldn’t. Believe that I am not enjoying it, either. I believe the difficulty resides with Gilbert’s instruction. He is here now. He is also there, then. The water exists in both places, and it is aware in both continuums. Gilbert’s imperative is causing a type of stress the Garden was not meant to contain.”

“...What does that mean for the rest of the city?”

“At the moment? That they shouldn’t come barging into my shop unless they want to get wet. I believe I have things more or less under control.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not. The context of this control is difficult. There are reasons that the rain occurs only within the shop—but there are also reasons it is no longer contained to the Garden.” He turned to Gilbert. “Stop speaking to the water.”

“I am not—” He closed two of his eyes. “Ah.”

“If I understand what has been said, you set out to find a way to send—or bring—Lord Nightshade home.”

“Yes.”

“Nightshade—like Kattea or Kaylin—exists in a way that is not conducive to that homecoming. You understand this better than anyone here. It is not unreasonable to assume that your difficulty—and mine—is in part caused by your presence. Or Kattea’s.”