“The only person who has lost his temper—so far—is Annarion. It has caused negligible damage.” She seemed much more relaxed than she had when Nightshade had first entered.
“I am, dear. I do not trust him where you are concerned—but he feels a very strong attachment to Annarion.”
That stung a bit, which was stupid; Kaylin let it go.
“Annarion feels a surprisingly strong attachment to you,” Helen continued. “So does Mandoran, but I believe Mandoran blames this on Teela. Teela—”
“Yes, I know. She still thinks of me as a child in need of protection.”
“Barrani children are not often protected in the way mortal children are,” Helen said, correcting her gently. “Bellusdeo has also had one visitor.”
“The Emperor?”
“No, dear. Lord Sanabalis.
“And Kattea has had one visitor. I am afraid,” Helen continued, voice soft, “that I have been forced to confine him. He accepts this.”
“Have you told Kattea?” Kaylin asked, looking up the stairs. In answer, Kattea appeared, clutching the rails at the height of their rise.
“Is it—is it—” The name wouldn’t leave Kattea’s mouth.
Helen smiled, although the smile was troubled.
“That’s a yes,” Kaylin said.
*
If they expected to be led to the parlor, they were mistaken. Helen walked to the kitchen, and from there, to the doors that led down. Kaylin had always had a particular dislike of basements, but it had definitely grown stronger in the past week or two.
The stairs, however, did not contract or expand under her feet. No doors magically popped into existence. Helen held a lamp, and the lamplight cast perfectly normal shadows.
“Did he—did he do something wrong?” Kattea asked, her voice echoing.
“Not on purpose,” Helen replied.
“Is he in a dungeon?” This was asked with less dread.
“Yes.”
Kattea’s eyes widened. She glanced up at Helen, but there was no fear in her expression; there was a little bit of wonder. Kattea had clearly never seen a dungeon before.
*
Whether or not Helen had transformed the hall to which the stairs led to better conform to Kattea’s bright imagination, Kaylin wasn’t certain—but the hall certainly looked like a storybook dungeon, replete with flickering torches. There was a barred gate at the end of the short hall.
Fingers were wrapped around two of those bars; they looked like mortal fingers, normal hands. But they were very clean and very unblemished, and anyway, they weren’t the thing that caught attention.
The eyes were.
Kaylin thought she would recognize those eyes anywhere, even when there were only three of them.
“Kattea,” Gilbert said. His voice echoed far more than Kattea’s had, and for longer.
“Can he come out?” Kattea asked Helen.
“Not safely, dear—I’m sorry.”
“Can I go in?”
Helen was silent.
Gilbert’s hands loosened. “Tell her,” he said.
Helen nodded. “Gilbert’s presence here is destabilizing. What the Arcanist failed to do, Gilbert might do by accident, as he is now. If he adopts the form with which he was created, he will cause no damage—but he will not be able to interact with you.”
“I told you I would come back.”
“But—but when you were here,” Kattea began. She faltered.
Helen said nothing.
“Helen, can’t you do something?” Kaylin whispered. Kattea had normal hearing, after all.
“I am doing everything I can,” Helen replied gently.
“Is it safe for Kattea? Is it safe for her to enter?”
“It will be safe for Kattea, yes.”
“What are you not saying?”
Helen exhaled. She knelt beside Kattea, whose eyes had not left the bars behind which Gilbert stood. “Gilbert is here because he promised he would return. He wants you to know that you saved this city. You saved the Swords. Because he found you, because he remained with you and because he listened to you, he could hear everyone, and everything, else. He understood how very, very little room he had to maneuver in if he did not want to destroy the anomaly in the usual way.”
“Why can’t he tell me that himself?” she asked. She was still looking at Gilbert.
Gilbert’s eyes closed.
“He wants to see you,” Helen replied. “And so, he is here.”
“Gilbert,” the girl said, shaking her clenched hand free of Kaylin’s almost numb one. She propped her hands on her hips. “What did I tell you?”
“You told me that I am lonely,” Gilbert replied.
“And what else?”
He smiled. “That you would never leave me alone.”
Kattea nodded.
“If you come with me, you won’t be able to visit any of the friends you’ve made here. You won’t be able to visit your parents. Or your city.”
“They’re not my parents,” Kattea replied. “They’re not my parents anymore, anyway.”
Helen, silent, waited. Kaylin frowned.
But Kattea said, “I shouldn’t be here, should I? I shouldn’t still be here.”
Gilbert did not answer.