“You don’t think your father understood that you loved him?”
“It doesn’t matter. I told him—” She buried her face. “It doesn’t matter. Just—promise I can see him, if we all survive.”
“I promise.”
*
Gilbert led them, at last, to his room. The halls appeared to travel the length of the city; they branched in multiple places. There were no doors that Kaylin could see, but there were places that appeared to be almost entirely underwater.
“Yes,” Gilbert said, again as if she’d spoken out loud. “If you take this stretch, you will find yourself in the Tha’alani quarter. I do not believe the water will drown you.” He glanced at the Barrani and added, “That applies purely to Kaylin. It is not safe for the rest of us.”
“And you know this, how?”
“The water is speaking,” Gilbert replied. “It is...angry, but sane. It is here that the water will remain while it retains its human sentience.”
“Does the water kill the Tha’alani?”
“If you do not know, I cannot answer; I cannot sense their deaths. I am not in the moment of those deaths.”
“Gilbert—you said when you arrived here you could no longer see time.”
“Yes.”
“Can you see it now?”
“No. But I can sense it now. I am not certain what will happen to you if you ascend the stairs,” he added. He had come to stairs. Kaylin even recognized them. “Kattea, wait in my room.”
“No.”
“Kattea—”
“No. I’m not gonna say goodbye. I’m not. This time, I’m going, too.”
Gilbert looked—well, a swarm of eyes did—to Kaylin for support. She wanted to give it to him. Kattea was a child. She was an older child, true—but there was room for her in the Foundling Halls, and Marrin would see that she was both safe and fed.
Kaylin meant to say as much. She opened her mouth to say it.
But from a remove of years—and years—she could see Kattea from the inside of the girl’s life. She could feel the want—and the decision—as if it were her own. How old had she been when she went to work for Barren? How old when she’d learned a dozen ways to kill? How old when she’d killed?
Kaylin, Severn said.
I can’t. Don’t ask me. I can’t.
“Kattea,” Severn said, “I am neither Gilbert nor Kaylin; I am not a Dragon and I am not Barrani. I’m not certain I have much to contribute beyond this point—will you wait in Gilbert’s room with me? We have much in common.”
Kattea looked at Severn, really looked at him.
“I’m not certain I have much to contribute; I may distract Kaylin because she’ll be worried. You may distract Gilbert for the same reason. He’s asking you to remain behind because you’ll be safe.”
“But you’re her partner.” Kattea was the daughter of a Sword. An officer of the Halls of Law. She knew how partnerships worked.
“But she’s Chosen.”
“What does that even mean?”
“She can cheat. She can use powers the rest of us can’t—not even the mages.”
“So...you’re like the lame duck?”
“Yes.”
Severn—don’t lie to her.
“You’ll stay with me?”
“Yes.”
“Gilbert, you promise you’ll come back for me?”
“Yes, Kattea.”
Kaylin had very, very mixed feelings about leaving her partner behind, but very clear feelings about what he was now doing. “He will keep you safe,” she told Kattea. “He kept me safe for years. My mother died when I was five, and I never knew my father. I just had Severn and the streets of the fiefs.”
“Teela’s not impressed,” Mandoran whispered.
“Tell her not to report me. If we actually manage to get out of this in one piece, I could finally make corporal.”
“Not leaving your backup behind, you won’t.”
Kaylin cursed but kept on walking. Gilbert found the door to his room. It was not in the same location it had been when Kaylin had come to heal him—if healing was even what she’d done. But as she crossed the threshold, her arms began to glow. Kattea’s giggle made it clear that her neck was doing the same; the girl thought it funny because Kaylin had a soft halo around her head.
Severn settled down at the desk; Kattea sat cross-legged on the bed. “Can you read?” she asked.
“I can—any book in particular?”
It was the last question Kaylin heard as she closed the door.
*
“My thanks,” Gilbert said to her. “It is difficult to do what must be done while Kattea is so close. I fear to injure or break her. She is delicate, her connection to life so tenuous. Will she be stronger when she is older?”