Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra)

by Michelle Sagara

  She could have stabbed him in the leg and caused less obvious pain, in Kaylin’s opinion. “I will, of course, be delighted to accept your offer of hospitality.”

  Bellusdeo laughed. Her eyes were pure gold. “At your age, Lannagaros, you should be a much better liar.”

  “I have had enough power in my life that I have never been forced to learn the art of dissembling.” To Kaylin, he said, “Your familiar does not feel that...Gilbert...poses an immediate threat. I wish you to ascertain what Gilbert’s presence means. His presence across the street from this unusual murder—and basement—cannot be a coincidence. Bellusdeo will accompany you when you interview him.”

  Kaylin opened her mouth, thought better and closed it again.

  The Arkon then turned to Mandoran. Kaylin didn’t understand a word that left his mouth when he spoke to the Barrani youth. Teela didn’t immediately understand them, either, but her expression made it clear that Mandoran did.

  “I cannot believe,” Mandoran said, as his eyes shaded to indigo, “that you are still alive. The High Lord did not understand just how much of a threat you posed.”

  “The High Lord approves of the Arkon,” Kaylin pointed out.

  “He refers,” Teela said, in a brittle voice, “to the High Lord who reigned at the time of the last of our great wars. He has had no interaction with the reigning High Lord.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “Nothing that you need to hear,” Teela snapped. It had been a long time since Teela had used that tone of voice; the last time Kaylin could remember hearing it, they’d been caught in the cross fire of a magical fight. An illegal one. And Kaylin had still been a mascot.

  Bellusdeo, however, folded her arms. “Perhaps Kaylin doesn’t,” she conceded. “I, however, would like an explanation. Arkon?”

  The Arkon looked at Mandoran and Annarion. To Kaylin’s great surprise, he didn’t respond to Bellusdeo, either. “You said you were of the Solanace line.”

  Annarion nodded.

  “You are aware that the line ended when your brother was made Outcaste.”

  “I am Solanace,” Annarion said. “I have committed no crime. I have broken no law.”

  “You will not take the mantle of your father’s line if you do not face the test of the High Halls.”

  “No.”

  “You are aware that your ancestral lands are in the hands of your cousin.”

  “Why, exactly, do you know so much about the Solanace family?” Kaylin asked.

  “I know many things. If I were to catalog them all, you would die of old age—or possibly fire. I do not enjoy your constant interruptions.” This last had more thunder in it. “I did not threaten your companion. I merely wished to know how much he would understand.”

  “What language were you speaking?”

  “An old, dead tongue.”

  “An old dead tongue, more to the point,” Teela said, rising at last, “that I have not personally encountered. Mandoran and Annarion were exposed to the same languages that I was, in my youth; they have not been exposed to the breadth of languages that I have since our separation.”

  “Then you will have something to chat about on your way out.”

  Kaylin blinked.

  “Bellusdeo told me everything of value. You will, as I said, speak with Gilbert. You will keep me informed.”

  “Of course.” Kaylin smiled. “Dinner in five days?”

  The Arkon exhaled smoke in a steady stream. Bellusdeo came to stand beside Kaylin. Her smile, which looked genuine and made her face seem so much younger, deepened.

  “I cannot think why I missed you in your long absence.”

  “Of course not. Come. If we must build bridges—and why, exactly, bridge is a good metaphor when we can all fly, I don’t know—help me to establish a different paradigm. You were there at the beginning. Be here now.”

  * * *

  Bellusdeo was still chortling when they left the Palace.

  “He didn’t answer any questions,” Kaylin pointed out.

  “He answered most of mine earlier, and he doesn’t like to repeat himself.”

  “Except when he’s being critical.”

  “He’s seldom critical of me.”

  Of course not.

  “But he was always critical when I was young. It makes me nostalgic. He was so stiff and so proper it was fun to tease him.”

  “Should I ask what Dragon teasing entails?”

  “No. Teela is already giving me the side-eye.” Still smiling, she said, “His interactions with you remind me of the way he always treated us—me and my sisters. I do not believe you could annoy him so much that he would kill you; he has some affection for you.” Her smile faded. “All of my attempts to irritate him come to nothing now; he pities me too much.”

  “I would have thought that would be life-ending. His life.”

  “He is old, Kaylin.”

  “Which should make it—”

  “Age in the immortal sense does not mean what it does for your kind. If I truly meant to kill him, I would resort to poison. I am not sure I could do enough damage, otherwise.”

  “He would never kill you.”

  “In self-defense, we are more...primal.”

  “And why, exactly, are we talking about your possible death at the hands of the Arkon?” Kaylin glanced at the rest of the company. They all looked amused.

  “It passes time,” Bellusdeo replied. “And it is pleasant enough to consider in the abstract.”

  Kaylin was never going to understand immortals.

  * * *

  Convince Moran to stay with Helen. Check.

  Visit the Arkon. Check. She had even managed to sneak in the possibility of an informal Imperial dinner.

  Squawk.

  She should have felt at least a little accomplished. But sometimes the world—her world—seemed so fragile. One wrong move, one moment of unrelieved ignorance, and it was over. The Devourer had almost destroyed it. The idiot who had hoped to take over the power of the Keeper—without any of the responsibility, of course—could have destroyed it. If the heart of the green had been destroyed, if Mandoran and Annarion had returned to the world without the tenuous link to the names that had given them life, Kaylin thought it likely that the world would have eventually ended, as well.

  The fact that it hadn’t implied, strongly, that they’d been collectively lucky. And relying on luck was a mug’s game. The only reliable thing about luck was that it was a coin toss. It could come up heads or tails, good or bad, win or lose. If you played long enough, bad was inevitable.

  “Kaylin,” Mandoran said.

  She stopped.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Didn’t you hear the Arkon?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, then. I’m going to visit Gilbert and Kattea.”

  Teela said, “Your stomach is making so much noise I can hardly hear myself think. We’re almost near the midmarket. Pick up something to eat—for all of us—on the way there. Bellusdeo can pay.”

  “Oh?” the Dragon said.

  “The Emperor will see to any reasonable expense you accrue. Even if he offered to do so for Kaylin, ranks of bureaucracy stand in the way of her refund.” When Bellusdeo failed to respond, Teela grinned. “Look, he has to be good for something.”

  The gold Dragon snorted. But she paid.

  * * *

  Kattea was far more subdued on their second visit than she had been on the first. Her eyes did light up when Bellusdeo presented her with the basket that contained a late lunch; she didn’t even wilt when Kaylin explained that the day had been so grueling none of them had had time to eat yet.

  The small dragon squawked. A lot.

  “Is Gilbert
in?” Kaylin asked.

  “Yes. He’s busy.”

  “Does he need to eat? I mean, can you interrupt him?”

  “He knows you’re here.”

  Kaylin frowned. The difference in Kattea was so marked, she dropped straight into worry. “Did something happen last night?”

  Kattea shook her head. She glanced once over her shoulder, and when she turned back, her face was shuttered. She was polite; her body language was deferential. But she might have been an orphan navigating the streets of Nightshade, she was suddenly so wary.

  Kaylin knew that wariness well, she had lived with it herself for so long. “Ferals?”

  The girl froze. “There are no Ferals on this side of the bridge,” she whispered. As if it were a prayer. As if she almost didn’t believe it.

  Kaylin had been there, too. “No, there aren’t. Not unless something goes badly, badly wrong. Was Gilbert injured?” So many shots in the dark. But this one hit its mark.

  Kattea nodded.

  “Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head.

  “Eat with us?”

  Wariness, again.

  Kaylin smacked her own forehead. “This is Annarion, and this is Mandoran. They weren’t here yesterday, but they’re friends. They’re Teela’s friends. They are not the fieflord’s thugs.”

  “Are they Hawks, too?”

  “Not yet.”

  Annarion looked gray green. Mandoran looked as if he wanted to add something. He didn’t.

  * * *

  Kattea’s wariness diminished as she ate. Gilbert, however, did not make an appearance, and when Kaylin was certain that her stomach wouldn’t embarrass her, she rose. “Kattea?”

  The girl glanced at the Barrani—all of them. Kaylin had a very bad feeling.

  “Will you take me to see Gilbert? If he’s injured, I might be able to help.”

  Bellusdeo rose, as well. Her eyes were not quite orange yet; her expression suggested that if Kaylin insisted on going to see Gilbert without backup, they would be.

  “You can’t help him. He said no one could help. Not even me.”

  “Want to make a bet?”

  Kattea’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

  She really was a child after Kaylin’s own heart. Since Bellusdeo had paid for lunch, Kaylin fished around in her pockets and drew out two silver coins. They were as round as Kattea’s eyes became. “I...can’t match that.”

  “No. What will you bet?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Information. If I can help Gilbert, you have to answer my questions as truthfully as you can.”

  Kattea weighed the stakes. She looked momentarily crafty and calculating. “I’ll take it,” she said, standing. “You can come see Gilbert.”

  * * *

  By unspoken consent, Kaylin and Bellusdeo left the room together. Severn, Kaylin’s partner, remained behind with the Barrani.

  “Did any Barrani come here yesterday?” Kaylin asked. “I mean, besides us?”

  “You haven’t won the bet yet.”

  Bellusdeo lifted a brow behind Kattea’s back, but made no comment until the girl bypassed the stairs that led to the bedrooms. She headed to the door that led to the basement, instead. Of course it had to be the basement.

  Bellusdeo’s eyes were orange by the time Kattea opened the squeaking door. Kaylin’s would have shifted to orange or blue if human eyes changed color with mood. She glanced at her arms. Her skin didn’t hurt, which would have been a comfort in other circumstances, but the marks on her arms had begun to glow.

  Bellusdeo couldn’t fail to notice. Light seeped through the dark, full-length sleeves Kaylin habitually wore while on duty.

  The basement was not well lit. Some homes had window-wells at the height of basement walls; the previous owners of this one obviously hadn’t seen much use for them.

  The stairs ended.

  “Is it always this dark down here?” Kaylin asked their guide.

  Kattea did not carry a lamp or a torch. Her left hand trailed the wall as she walked, but the light from the door above them ended abruptly. It was replaced by a lot of darkness.

  Bellusdeo could see in the dark; so could Teela and Tain. Kaylin and Severn required a bit of help. So, in theory, should Kattea. “Gilbert says you need light,” Kattea said, a hint of question in her voice.

  “In general, yes. You don’t?”

  “Not if Gilbert’s here.”

  Kaylin silently kissed two silver coins goodbye as Kattea led them farther into the basement. She forgot about the bet when she realized that the floor beneath her patrolling boots was made of solid stone. Reaching out, she touched a wall that was also solid stone; it felt smooth to the touch. Smooth and cold.

  “This is a large basement,” Bellusdeo said, presumably to Kattea.

  “It’s really big,” Kattea agreed. “It’s mostly empty.”

  As they walked, the word mostly echoed in the invisible heights above their heads. The sound of their steps in unison made the kind of noise that suggested vaulted ceilings and a deplorable lack of carpeting.

  “Kattea—is this how you found the house?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Tell Gilbert that he’s right. I need the light.” It was funny how little it helped when light flooded the basement.

  * * *

  The ceilings were fifteen feet off the ground, and the ground was, as Kaylin had suspected, stone. If not for the utter absence of natural light, this could have been a grand hall in a manor into which Kaylin would never be invited. Or a palace.

  There was no way that this was the basement of the house in which Gilbert and Kattea claimed to live. There was no way it would fit.

  “Is it too much to ask,” Kaylin murmured, “that something be normal for a few days? Just—normal? Normal, venal criminals, ordinary stakes?”

  “You are clearly not immortal,” Bellusdeo replied. She glanced at Kaylin; her eyes were fully orange now.

  “Meaning it’s not boring.”

  “Normal—for me—for centuries was the heart of Shadow. I do not yearn for it. Normal, for me, was the war that eventually destroyed my home.”

  “I get it. I suck. I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself. Or,” she added, when Bellusdeo raised a brow, “I’ll at least stop whining out loud.”

  “The latter is conceivable.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You should never have accepted the marks of the Chosen if you wanted a boring life.”

  “I wasn’t offered a choice.”

  “What is the phrase that Joey uses?”

  “Joey? Oh, you mean at the office?”

  “Yes. I think it’s ‘Sucks to be you.’ Did I say that right?”

  “Yes.”

  Kattea snickered.

  “That’s funny?” Kaylin asked her.

  “No. Gilbert doesn’t understand what it means. That’s funny.”

  Gilbert was not present. Any hope that Kattea was not communicating with him in his absence—and it was very scant hope, given the observable facts—wilted.

  “It’s around here somewhere,” Kattea told them. “There should be a door.”

  “Should be?” Bellusdeo asked, her voice deceptively soft.

  “The basement here is a bit confusing. It changes shape, sometimes. Gilbert says that’s normal.”

  “It is so not normal,” Kaylin told her.

  “I told him that. I think it confused him.”

  “Gilbert sounds like he’s easily confused.”

  “He really is. He says—he says that’s why he needs me.” The words trailed into silence. Kattea was a child. She was not a young child, but she was a child. But that meant nothing in the fiefs.


  “Do you think he’s lying?” Bellusdeo asked. She had apparently decided to ask all the difficult, awkward questions that Kaylin had so far managed to keep to herself.

  Kattea’s shrug was pure fief. Answer enough, as well. Gilbert was clearly competent, powerful, dangerous—any need he had for an orphan in Nightshade didn’t bear examination. Not when he was the only reason that orphan was still alive.

  Had Gilbert found Kaylin after Steffi and Jade had died, she would have followed him. She would have asked no questions unless he invited them. And she would have done whatever she could to protect him, no matter what else he did. Because he represented food and shelter and another day or two of life.

  No fear Kaylin had for Kattea would measure up against that, and why should it? The concern of an uninvolved stranger was worth nothing but sentiment and air. She couldn’t judge the child. She couldn’t ask that she make wise choices. What choices, in the end, did Kattea really have?

  * * *

  The door did not appear until they’d walked another thirty yards, and it did not appear where Kattea was looking for it. Bellusdeo was less obviously disturbed by this than Kaylin, and Kattea did not appear concerned at all. She did look very pleased when she sighted it, but she didn’t look relieved. She had expected she’d find it.

  It was, in Kaylin’s estimation, not that hard to miss. It looked far more like a closet door than a door that would normally be found in halls like this one; even the doorknob looked old and worn.

  Kattea didn’t open the door. Instead, she knocked. “Don’t touch the handle,” she said, although neither Kaylin nor Bellusdeo had moved to do so. “Gilbert will open the door.”

  At her words, the door swung open into a large room, which was rectangular in shape. The floors of this room were covered in rugs—at least three, none matching. To the right was a large bed; to the left, a desk and two standing shelves. Those shelves had gathered books, dust and what looked, at this distance, like impressive cobwebs.

  Kaylin took these details in before her gaze returned to the man who had opened the door. He looked pinched and drawn; his eyes were fever-bright, but a normal color. His face was long, but otherwise looked normal.

  He did not look like the Barrani.

  He did not look like a Dragon, either.