“You’ve suddenly acquired faith?”
“No. Just the usual prayer of desperation.”
“Kaylin—”
“Severn, please. Please.”
He was silent, but he’d never been the talker. She had, and she’d almost run out of words. After a moment, and more roughly, he said, “What do you intend to do?”
“I need to go to the Oracle Hall. And I need to see Evanton.”
“Now?”
“Gods, no. Now, I want to sleep.” She paused and then added, “Have you slept at all?”
“In your chair.”
“Oh. For how long?”
“It’s not important.”
“Food?”
“Kaylin.”
She turned toward the window, shuttered against the morning light. Which had yet to arrive. “I think she’s still alive,” she told him without turning her head. “She has to still be alive.”
He said softly, “Yes. And she’ll be alive tomorrow. Sleep.”
“Severn, I—”
“Sleep. I’ll be here.” He rose, then, and walked over to the lamp. “Do you want the light?”
She shook her head. “Save the oil.” It was easy to say that. But other words wanted saying, and she couldn’t get them out of her mouth. “Severn—”
“Sleep, Kaylin.” His voice had lost the edge, but she felt it anyway. “In the morning, we’ll go to the Oracle Hall. We’ll go to Evanton’s. We’ll go wherever you need to go. We’ll find the child.”
His words were like a lullaby. She said, “I had steamed milk.”
And felt his lips curve up in a smile, as if they were beneath her fingers, and she were touching them.
Funny, that she could feel so uncomfortable and so safe at the same time. It was her last waking thought.
But her dreams were unkind.
CHAPTER 19
Kaylin and morning were not friends. But there were the usual hostilities, and then there was all-out war. This particular morning, it was cataclysmic. The shutters, which she depended on to keep a semblance of ignorance about the actual time, had failed her miserably; they were wide open, and sunlight was streaming down like irritating drizzle, only bright. There were birds that were, she swore, louder than they’d been even on the morning-after of the evenings she’d spent carousing with Teela and Tain.
Severn, in the armor of the Hawks, was loafing against the mirror wall. The mirror, which was an unfortunate shade of gray. She winced and rolled out of bed. “I’m in trouble.”
“You usually are,” he said. “Marcus mirrored while you were sleeping.”
“I slept through Marcus?”
“Apparently so. He was impressed.”
“I bet.”
“I gave him a brief explanation of our duty rounds for the day.”
“Which probably made him so much more cheerful.”
“He apparently considers the duty roster one of his petty joys in life, yes. He didn’t appreciate my interference.”
“How much pay am I losing?”
“None. I did, however, neglect to mention the Quartermaster’s chit.”
“His—oh. The one I’m going to need to sign. Probably in blood, for all the good it will do.”
“That one, yes.”
“Do you mind if I have a small rant about how unfair life is?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” Her stomach made an embarrassing noise, just to put the crowning touch on the day’s start.
“I did look for food,” he said as they walked down the street toward the market stalls. “Apparently, you don’t have any. Or you hoard it for gods only know what emergency.”
She had chosen to wear clothing over the dress, since it reminded her so much of underclothes anyway. The problem with that was she was required to wear a dress. She did have one of her own. It made her look like a farmer.
Even Severn had raised a brow when she’d put it on. Jabbing a stick through her hair and missing did not add much in the way of dignity, although it may have made him think better of speaking.
“Yes, I know. The color. Caitlin didn’t like it, either—but the dyed dresses cost more and they fall apart faster.”
“Actually, I’m just surprised you own it.”
“I used to wear it to the midwives’ guildhall.”
“Why?”
“I can’t honestly remember. I thought it would make me look less like a Hawk.”
“And that was important?”
“I didn’t want anyone who was dying of childbirth to be afraid of me.”
“I would think they would have other things on their mind.”
“Well, yes. I discovered that quickly enough.”
They stopped in front of a baker’s stall. In the heat of the early morning, the cooking fires were bearable, besides which, she was hungry. She ate while they walked, brushing crumbs from the folds of a thick linen skirt.
She even followed Severn as he made his way through the city streets, giving her both space—people generally moved a little out of the way when they saw an armed man, even if he was an officer of the Law—and time. But he also wasn’t wasting much time, and when she was finished eating, he hailed a coach.
“Um, Severn?”
“Yes?”
“We generally need permission to see the Oracles.”
“Ah.”
“I mean—I think I can talk them into letting me in—”
“But you’re not certain.”
“No. And I think you’ll have to wait—”
He produced a sealed letter. She recognized the Hawk pressed into what was now hardened wax. “You got this last night?”
“Yesterday,” he told her quietly. “We were not certain of your plans, and Lord Grammayre chose to give you as much latitude as possible. You are also,” he added, producing another letter, “free to return to the royal library if necessary.”
“Not if he didn’t also give you a letter guaranteeing I can leave.”
Severn’s lips turned up in a slight smile, but it was genuine—and Kaylin was happy enough seeing it that she realized he hadn’t been smiling much at all lately. Then again, she wasn’t going to win any Sunshine awards, either.
“Did he include you in that letter?”
“Not by name. I believe the words are and escort, but I didn’t break the seal to check.”
Kaylin sat back in the slightly worn chair.
“You’re smiling. Is something amusing you?”
“Not amusement—but it’s nice, sometimes, to serve the Hawklord.”
Severn was silent for a moment. “He isn’t the Wolflord,” he finally said. “And the Hawks aren’t Wolves. But yes, it’s good work.” He smiled again, and added, “You’re just saying that because you’ve eaten enough, for a change.”
The guards at the gatehouse were polite in a very distant way. They took the letter Kaylin offered them, and the older of the two left them there. He returned fifteen minutes later. “Master Sabrai will see you.”
Kaylin offered him a sharp bow, and followed as he lead them to the Hall itself. Severn was beside her, but the guard didn’t tell him to wait. He had looked at the Hawk emblazoned across his surcoat, and that was enough.
Master Sabrai was waiting for them at the doors. “Private Neya,” he said, bowing. “Corporal Handred.”
Severn offered him a perfect bow in return.
“Corporal Handred, you are new to the Halls. Are you familiar with the rules of the Oracle Hall?”
Severn nodded. “Speak to no one, touch no one.”
“Very good.” Master Sabrai ran a hand through his hair. Kaylin thought it looked paler than it had the last time she’d visited. His eyes were also lined with dark circles.
She stepped forward. “Master Sabrai?”
His smile was polite but unutterably weary.
“We’ve come to see Everly.”
“Only Everly?”
She nodded. “I don’t think it will take lon
g.”
“This,” he replied drily, “is the Oracular Hall. Nothing goes according to plan.”
“Has he finished his painting?”
“Which one? Ah, I forget myself. He is almost finished, I think. It is certainly more complete than it was when you first visited.” He began to walk away, and they fell in step. Well, close—he was a tall man, and Kaylin had to work to keep up.
“He has another visitor,” Master Sabrai said over his shoulder.
“Should we wait?”
“I do not think this particular visitor would be troubled if you appeared.”
Kaylin watched Severn’s face as the door opened; she wanted to see his reaction to the Dragon. Unfortunately, she must have blinked, because he didn’t appear to have one. He glanced once around the room, and Kaylin was willing to bet her own money that he’d cataloged everything worth looking at in that single glance. The morning light was strong, and the gallery, such as it was, was brighter. But the gallery itself didn’t appear to interest Severn. He looked, instead, at its occupants.
Lord Sanabalis was seated to the side and behind Everly. Everly, seated on a three-legged stool, a palette perched precariously in his lap, didn’t appear to notice. He was working, and his eyes were that odd blend of color and absence that made his face so striking.
Sanabalis, however, noticed them both immediately, and rose. “Corporal,” he said, nodding. “Kaylin.”
She tried not to let the lack of rank annoy her. As ranks went, the best that could be said about it was that she couldn’t go any lower, but the fact that she did have a rank made her a Hawk. “How long have you been here?”
Severn stepped on her foot, and she added, “Lord Sanabalis.”
“For the better part of a day.”
“A…day.”
“The Emperor is concerned,” Sanabalis said gravely. “His envoys are scattered throughout the city, and I chose this destination as less tiresome than the Arcanum or the Imperium.”
“He has people at the Arcanum?” Her brows, she was certain, had risen so far they were invisible.
“He has Dragons at the Arcanum,” Sanabalis replied, and the smile that accompanied those words was just a little on the toothy side. Kaylin would have found it disturbing, but she couldn’t imagine a group of men who deserved it more. “But enough. You will find the portrait of interest. Come and look at it.”
Now that she was here, she was certain she would find it interesting, but the interest was mixed with dread and a growing unease. Severn actually caught her elbow and dragged her along with him.
The first thing she saw was herself. The dress was finished, and it was an exact rendering of the one she now wore. It caught light, so there must be sun someplace. It wasn’t in the picture. She was standing in water, but Oracles were often full of symbolic words or images. She was not, however, alone.
Severn’s grip had tightened slightly, and she looked up at him. But he wasn’t looking at her. Well, he was—but at the image. The rest of the room had failed to get any kind of reaction out of him, but this made up for it. Whatever he had expected to see, this wasn’t it.
“You are not alone,” Sanabalis told her, as if afraid that her vanity might cause her to notice nothing else.
She looked. Where she had begun to draw to catch Everly’s attention, he had continued. The blobs that she’d made, with her utter lack of talent, against Everly’s stretched canvas had been obliterated. In their place, she could see people. She recognized all of them.
Severn, his forehead bleeding, his weapons glinting in the same sun that bounced off the sheen of the dress she wore, had eyes for her, and only her.
Beside him, a good deal shorter and in a majestic robe she’d seen only once, stood Evanton. He was uninjured, and his gaze went past Kaylin in the picture to meet the eyes of Kaylin the observer. It was disconcerting. He was actually a lot taller than Kaylin would have guessed, but she usually saw him hunched over his work, his back rounded, his shoulders pulled down by gravity.
Beside these two stood Sanabalis. His eyes were red light, and Everly had managed to paint the hint of a sheen to his skin; the shadow of wings lay across the water, although the wings weren’t actually visible.
But there was more.
Donalan Idis stood apart from the group. The perspective was wrong, to Kaylin’s eye—he seemed far too tall. Cowering at his feet, her face caught in profile, was a child. Pale-haired child, wounded eyes. Behind them a third shadow lay across the ground—for they stood on ground. It didn’t belong to anyone.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“What do you make of it, Kaylin?”
“I’m…not sure. It’s not finished,” she added defensively.
“No. There is water, there, and land. There is, if you’ll note, pillars to the sides of the picture. Were Everly an ordinary painter, I would say they were a framing device. He is not, and I think they may have some significance.” He paused and then said, in a voice that sounded like an earthquake, “Is it enough?”
As if she had all the answers, and were withholding them somehow. Severn’s hand tightened again, but he said and did nothing. Everly, however, appeared to notice nothing, hear nothing.
“Has Everly slept at all?” Kaylin asked Master Sabrai, who had been discreet enough to maintain both distance and silence. “No.”
“Eaten?”
“Lord Sanabalis has seen to the task of feeding him.”
“He can’t keep painting like this, can he?”
Master Sabrai’s hands found his hair again. He glanced at Sanabalis, but said nothing. Which was enough for Kaylin.
“He has to sleep,” she began.
“He does not have time,” Lord Sanabalis said.
“We have almost two weeks. Killing him isn’t—”
“We don’t have two weeks,” the Dragon lord said calmly.
“But—”
“We have, at best guess, two days, if that.”
“But—but—”
“Yes, Kaylin?”
In a far meeker voice, she said, “You said we had weeks.”
“Tell her,” Sanabalis told Master Sabrai.
The master looked in desperate want of a chair, and Kaylin walked over to the one Sanabalis had vacated, pushing it across the floor. “Sit,” she told him.
He sat.
“What happened to the two weeks?”
“It was only ever an estimate,” was the stark reply. “But something happened, something changed—”
“Today,” Sanbalis told her. “Or yesterday.”
“Something we did?”
“Believe that we are evaluating all the possibilities we are aware of. To our knowledge, only one significant event occurred.”
“The deaths?”
“The drownings, yes.” He paused, and then added, “To our knowledge.”
“But how would he know—” She stopped as her brain caught up with her mouth, and she clamped her jaw shut.
“Yes,” Sanabalis said quietly. “We do not know what you’ve been doing. Only that it involved Ybelline and Nightshade. Kaylin, what did you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” His brows rose, and his eyes shivered instantly into an orange that was just a little too tinged with red for comfort. But he was utterly still. As if he had to be.
Miserable in ways she hadn’t known she could be, she answered his anger with silence.
“Kaylin,” Severn said, his voice so soft it wouldn’t have traveled had he not bent to speak in her ear.
“I can’t say,” she told them both miserably.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“It’s the same thing.”
“I do not believe the Emperor would see things the same way.”
And for the first time, Everly spoke. His voice was soft and flat, the words almost like brush strokes in their deliberation. “If you take her to the Emperor, he will eat her.”
>
Not, as first words went, all that promising.
Master Sabrai’s jaw had slid open and seemed stuck that way as he watched the painter Oracle.
Everly clambered down from the stool, the odd expression that stole personality from his face slowly fading. He walked almost listlessly to the side of the Dragon lord and caught his sleeve, pulling it, his eyes slightly rounded.
The Dragon lord walked over to the picture. Looked at it. Looked at Kaylin. “So you can speak, boy,” Sanabalis said softly.
But Everly said nothing. As if a lifetime of effort had gone into the single sentence he had spoken, his shoulders suddenly rounded.
Sanabalis caught him before he hit the ground, and carried him, very gently, to the Master of the Oracle Hall.
“Is it enough?” Master Sabrai whispered, as he took Everly from a Lord of the Imperial Court.
“He believed it was enough,” Sanabalis replied. When he looked at Kaylin again, his eyes were a pale gold, with flecks of orange. He looked both tired and old. “Tend to the child, Master Sabrai. Accept the apologies of the Imperial Court for any injury done him.” He bowed to the Master of the Oracle Hall.
Master Sabrai, pale and tired, nodded, holding Everly tightly. The boy was still breathing, but his skin had lost all color, as if the color itself had been leeched out of him in service of his painting. In service of the Emperor.
The same Emperor who had acceded to the request of an Arcanist, and had allowed the Tha’alani to be driven almost insane. For one sharp minute, Kaylin hated him.
“How damn long did you keep him awake? How long has he been working like—like this?”
She felt, rather than saw, Severn’s gaze; felt the warning in it. Even understood it through the momentary haze of a surprising fury. Sanabalis might play the old Dragon, the old teacher, the avuncular master—but he was a Dragon. She couldn’t force herself to apologize or to take the words back, but she managed to stop herself from adding to them.
They waited in silence while Master Sabrai left the room. Severn followed him and opened the door for him.
“I will leave you to the work,” Sabrai said without looking back.
The Chronicles of Elantra Bundle Page 108
