She had expected a servant to come.
But he seemed to suffer no lack of dignity by pouring wine into clear goblets, nor any from offering her bread and fruit. She waited while he carefully set things upon her tray, arranging them carelessly so that they looked like a small artistic statement.
Which eating, of course, would destroy.
“I have ties,” he replied at length, when she did not choose to further fill the silence, “in the city across the bridge. I know many of your kind there, most of whom you would dislike, if you did not kill them outright.” He shrugged. “They are of use to me from time to time, and I will admit that I have killed a small number of them myself.”
“Murder,” she said, but it was almost rote.
“Indeed. But no investigation was launched, nor was one called for.” He watched her eat, and then, after a pause, he ate, himself, the perfect host.
“Grethan?”
“You are impatient, Kaylin, but your age is almost excuse enough. I said, when we sought this room, that in our youth we were concerned, always, with perfection. We strove for it in all things—in all arts, whether of peace or of war. In our music, in our poetry, in our plays, in the style of our dress. We forged great weapons,” he added softly, looking past her shoulder, “the art of which is not entirely lost to us now. In those years, our struggles with the Dragons were great, and many a forest was destroyed in the wars waged. But even that—even that was a kind of perfection.”
She nodded; nothing he had said surprised her.
“But perfection,” he said, lifting the glass he carried so that he could meet her eyes over the rim, and leaving it there, as if it were a lowered veil, “is tiring, in the end, because in the end, the perfect, the flawless—it is all alike. It is achieved, and it is static.
“And some of our kind looked instead to other things. To the flaws and the imperfections to be found in the natural world. In the Consort’s garden,” he added, “there is some hint of that wilderness, of life wending its way, making its choices.”
She hadn’t noticed it, but she’d been kind of bleeding and falling over with exhaustion at the time.
“You are a Hawk, child. Half-dead, you notice everything.”
“Everything of import.”
He shrugged, lifted the glass to his lips, drank. “Learn to define import by the people you study, and not by your own narrow life. It is significant, there.”
She bit her lip. Mostly to stop herself from snapping. “Grethan?”
“I am coming to Grethan. I am not, for my kin, young. My youth is long past me, and the time when I idled in that mysterious drive for perfection is lost. I, like the Consort, look now for the unique, for the things that life has made imperfect, each in its own way.”
“For the crippled?”
He frowned. The expression should have frozen his wine. It certainly froze Kaylin in place.
“I am not Grethan. I will never be Grethan. What he sensed in his crippled communication with the Tha’alaan, the Barrani have never had, nor will they ever achieve it. The Tha’alaan in all its alien glory is something that would be achieved only by our destruction, if by that at all. We are ruled,” he said. “We value power. The Tha’alaan does not seem to even understand it.
“But Grethan came to understand it in his brief time among your kin. Power, and the lack of power that comes with it. Pain. Lying. He learned each of these things in turn, and each of these things scarred him, twisting him.
“When he was offered to me,” he added softly, “he was Tha’alani in form only. The exotic appeals to many men—and few women—of all races. Very, very few of the Tha’alani are…accessible to those who live outside of the enclave. And those that are, are seconded to the Dragon Emperor, and very closely guarded.
“And when he was brought for my inspection, I saw many things in him, Kaylin, that intrigued me. I saw the stumps, scarred because of their clumsy mutilation, that were all that remained of the most obvious physical difference between his race and your own. I saw the scars, as well, that do not show, and I chose to offer him a way out of his situation.”
“What situation?” she asked sharply, more sharply than she had intended.
“Come, Kaylin, don’t be naive.”
The wine tasted as if it had already soured; the food in her mouth, like ash. She set things down, her arrangement a small chaos compared to his own plate. This, she did notice.
“It happens to many naive people, often girls who have run away from their strict parents, often boys. They come to Elantra with dreams and hopes—and very little in the way of money or employment. Some are lucky, but most find themselves indebted to men who extract a very high return for their initial investment.
“Grethan was incapable of lying directly. He was very easily led into a state that would be considered very illegal by your Hawks or your Swords. What he discovered of the races outside the enclave was unpleasant indeed.”
“And of the Barrani?”
Nightshade offered her a rare smile. “Very little at all, Kaylin. I offered him a way out of the debt he had incurred in his foolishness, and although he was at that time wise enough to be suspicious, my offer—whatever it might entail—seemed far better than what he could look forward to for the rest of his short life.
“He accepted my invitation,” he added, “and he came to live in Nightshade for a space of a few months. He has seen more of the Castle than you.”
“You—you—”
He laughed, then. “No, Kaylin. I did not touch him. That was not my interest in him, although I believe it took him a month to believe that was not the nature of any trap I might set. I merely watched him. Spoke with him. Allowed him to speak to other inhabitants of this place. It is my belief that the Castle would accept him should he choose to enter it again, but it is probably not his belief.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Very little, I assure you. We spoke about his people. We spoke about yours.” He paused. “But he spoke, as well, to some of my associates who are less obvious in the way they avoid the dictates of law.”
“What do you mean?”
“Powerful men,” he replied. She knew it was all he would offer. “Not all of the Barrani avoid me, as you have seen, although I am Outcaste. There are some, still, who will barter with me, and when they come here, they come as guest, not as their Lord’s agent.”
Some fleeting thought wondered what those interests were, but it couldn’t grip strongly enough to hold on. There was really only one person she was interested in hearing about. “Why did you expose him to these people?”
“He asked it, as a favor.”
“But—but why?”
“The Tha’alani are not mages,” he replied. “They do not appear to be born with the talent, and if they are, they do not come forward to have it trained. If they did, they would be under Imperial control, Imperial dictate. They would live among the deaf.”
“And Grethan—”
“Seemed obsessed with the magical.”
She closed her eyes. “He wanted to fix what was wrong with him.”
“He did indeed.”
“And you let him believe—”
“No, Kaylin. He chose to believe. I was not unkind—that, he had already experienced. Nor was I kind, for he had walked away from kindness, which informed the whole of his life until he found your people. I told him the truth—that there was no cure to be found that I knew of.”
“And he didn’t believe you.”
“He had no desire to believe me, and for many of your kind, belief and desire are one and the same.”
“When did he leave you?”
“That would be the first intelligent question you have asked.”
“I could have asked why.”
“That, too, would be intelligent.” He paused. Rose. Walked over to where she sat, her brow furrowed as she tried to imagine what she would do were she Grethan. She could understand some of his life; some of
it, she had lived. It made her squirm.
And the touch of Nightshade’s hand on her chin made her freeze in place. “It is my belief,” he told her softly, “that one of the men to whom he spoke offered him the cure that he desired. I do not know what was said. The meeting itself, the first meeting here, was innocuous. But Grethan was not confined to the Castle. I did not require it, and I was curious to see what he would do with freedom, if he had any sense of it at all remaining.
“But he did meet again with one of my colleagues.”
“And then he returned to the enclave.”
“Yes.”
“Who did he meet with?”
Nightshade shook his head. “That,” he said, as his hand left her chin, “was not at all subtle.”
“I don’t need—”
“But you do, Kaylin. You need to make the person who has the information feel that it is either in their interest, or amusing enough, to give it to you. A gift requires no payment, and no barter.”
“Look, the child—the missing child—was last seen talking to Grethan. I think they disappeared at the same time. I think he took her with him when he left.”
“And that,” Nightshade continued, as if she had not spoken, “was equally unwise. You are now claiming need for the information, and need implies desperation. When someone is desperate, they will often pay far more than mere information is worth.”
“Nightshade—”
He bent suddenly and brushed her lips with his own, the taste of wine sweet on his breath.
“The Barrani are not a scrupulous people,” he said as he stepped back. His eyes were cold. “But we understand our prey.
“Very well, Erenne. You wish information from me, and if I am not mistaken, that information will be costly, for I will undoubtedly lose that contact within the city.”
“And…from me?”
“From you I will ask for information in return.”
CHAPTER 6
She tensed.
“You went to visit Evanton.”
She nodded. “And I lost contact with you there.”
“Do you understand why?”
“Not completely.”
He raised a brow and met her gaze, unblinking. Cat’s eyes—but a large cat, capable of destroying much before it could be brought down. If it could. “Do you understand Evanton’s role, in this city?”
“Not really.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
He surprised her with a rare smile. “No, not entirely. But I understand that he has, at his command, the elemental powers of a bygone age, and he has chosen—he will always choose—to keep them leashed. There is no power that could move him to use what he holds, and no threat that could be dire enough that he would do so. Were the entire of Elantra to be destroyed, I believe his shop would still stand, where it has stood in place since before the creation of the Empire.”
“He can’t be that old.”
“No. He is not the first Keeper. He will not be last. And he is aged.” He studied her face for a moment. “What did you see, Kaylin? What did he dare to show you?”
“His garden,” she replied tersely. “And yes. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. You could almost hear voices.”
“He showed you these things even though you bear my mark.”
“He didn’t seem concerned about it. He said you wouldn’t be able to even enter the store.”
“Ah.”
“But…Teela could.”
“He has less to fear from Teela. She is a rebel, and known for it among our circles.”
“He’s not exactly—”
“He is known to us. He is treated with deference.”
“Why? If you know he won’t use the power—”
“He is Keeper for a reason. There are those among our learned who believe that were the elements to be unleashed, they would destroy the world. Or remake it. Tedious debates, which you will no doubt forget or I would lay them out before you, have occurred about this for centuries.”
Centuries. Kaylin almost shuddered.
“What did you see, Kaylin? It concerned you. Where did you go in his garden, and what did you choose to listen to?”
“He told me to listen to nothing.”
“He is wise. You, however, are not. You were agitated when you left his abode. Tell me this much, and I will tell you what you need to know.”
“I—” She hesitated. There would always be this hesitation around Lord Nightshade. His presence was larger to her than the long, tall shadow the Castle had been for over half her life. “I looked to the water,” she said at last.
“To the water.”
“There was a small pool. Pools that size aren’t usually very deep.”
He laughed. The laughter was genuine, but not entirely free from condescension. And not free, when it ended, from concern. “So,” he said softly.
“So what?”
“Tell me, Kaylin, before I ask further what you found in that water, why you went to Evanton at all.”
“I was sent there by my sergeant,” she replied.
“Pardon?”
“He received information that required some investigation, and he sent groundhawks to investigate. Why do you look so surprised? It’s what I do for a living.”
“But it is odd that it was you that he chose to send.”
“Not really. I like Evanton. Evanton likes me. Well, he bites my head off less than other people when I ask him questions he considers stupid.”
“What questions would those be?”
“Any questions at all.”
“Since Evanton is easily offended, Sergeant Kassan thought there was little risk in sending you to handle the investigation. Very well. Pardon my intrusion and continue with your story.”
“I—The water was deep.”
“Deeper by far than you can imagine, Kaylin.”
“I couldn’t see the bottom.”
“That is what I just said.”
“But I could see the surface clearly. The water there is very still, even though the breeze is strong. And yes, I’m not an idiot. I understand that the air and the water do not mix in that place.
“I saw—I thought it was my reflection, at first.”
“And he did not stop you from approaching the water?”
“No—there were footprints in the moss bed that led to the edge of that pool. I followed them there.”
At this, Lord Nightshade stilled, as if he had received his first real surprise of the day.
“Not Evanton’s.”
“No. We wouldn’t have been called for otherwise.”
“How many?”
“This is official business—” she began.
“And the information you require of me is for official business, as well. That is the way of the Law, to ask for the aid of those who understand its underside. You bribe people,” he added. “And each of us, in our fashion, is susceptible to bribery.”
The problem was that it wasn’t official. But she’d be damned if she now admitted this. “All right, but the people we often ask for information are trying their best to stay out of the Hawks’ eye. You—”
“Yes. I rule here, Law or no.”
“But if you—”
“You are my Erenne,” he told her softly. “And you will give new meaning to that word, in time. New meaning, and old.”
She forgot what she had been about to say; the tone of his voice was almost intimate, and it traveled the length of her spine, making her stiffen, causing her hands to draw in toward her lap, in easy reach of her daggers.
Not that they would do much good.
“What you do, however, is private, now. No information will be given, Kaylin, to anyone. What you know and what I know are no longer separate, and I will not weaken my house.”
She nodded, her mouth dry. She took a gulp of liquid to wet her lips and wine burned its way down her throat, causing her to cough. A lot. All in all, it hadn’t been her most dignified day.
“I saw the face—the bruised face—of a girl who was maybe ten. Possibly twelve. It was hard to tell. She wasn’t standing in a lot of light.”
“And you remember her face clearly?”
“Completely clearly.”
“What did she say?”
She started to play that game, to ask him, Who said she said anything? But she couldn’t play games here, not with this man. “My name,” she whispered. “I think she was asking for help.”
“Where was she?”
“I couldn’t see. Believe that I tried.”
“How long did you have?”
“Long enough for a Hawk.”
He nodded. “It is interesting that you went to the water, or that the visitors that Evanton did not himself lead into the garden also went there.”
“Why? Sanabalis—Lord Sanabalis—asked me about my interest in water, as well.”
“Because there are portents,” he told her. “As Lord Sanabalis must have told you. In the Oraculum. And elsewhere.”
“End of the world portents.”
“Something close.”
“I have to find that girl.”
“That is my belief, yes.”
“I mean—”
“I understand what you meant. But she is not the only missing child you must find. I cannot say for certain that Grethan took the child. It is not an act that I would have considered within his capabilities. But I can tell you where Grethan went before he returned to the enclave.”
“Was it across the bridge?” she asked.
“Yes, Kaylin. It was not within the fiefs. Very few of the wise here—and they exist, but hidden—would risk the journey from one fief to the lord of another.”
“Give me a name,” she said briskly. “Um, and a race.”
“He is human,” Lord Nightshade replied carefully. “And he is a member of the Arcanum.”
Kaylin wilted visibly, although the Castle itself did not seem to be affected by the heat of the sun and the humidity that the ocean cast across the city.
“I will write it down for you,” he added.
“Why?”
“Because he is careful, and because speaking his name can act as a summons.”
“To you?”
“Indeed.”
I loathe magic.