“What happened?”
“Unclear. Annarion won’t talk to me at all at the moment, and Mandoran won’t talk to me about Annarion. They would like me to clear up the difficulties here and send you home.”
She had a thing or two to ask them, as well. Gilbert had implied, strongly, that he had met Nightshade, and that Nightshade had been in Ravellon. This was not exactly the news that would fill his younger brother—his frantic, increasingly worried younger brother—with joy or peace.
*
After her most recent visit to the Keeper’s Garden, Kaylin wasn’t certain what to expect when Grethan opened the door. The Garden, however, appeared to be in its normal, contained state. The small hut, which had interesting internal dimensions, decor and occasionally visitors, was not in immediate sight; the pond, around which various small shrines had been erected, was.
Seated on a rounded, mossy rock was the Garden’s Keeper. Evanton was dressed not as cranky shopkeeper, but as a figure of mystical import: he wore very fine blue robes that lent him a majesty that his usual apron and jeweler’s glass did not.
The small dragon left the apprentice and returned to Kaylin’s shoulders, where he flopped like a badly made scarf. Evanton made no move to stand or greet them; his legs were crossed, his eyes closed. He did not look angry, frustrated or enraged; he did not look worried.
Of course, he didn’t look up at all.
Grethan hesitated to interrupt Evanton, and Kaylin well understood why. She was hesitant herself, and Kaylin didn’t have to live with his moods the way Grethan did. But the apprentice didn’t have three mysteriously disappearing corpses and a sentient Shadow to deal with.
She glanced at the familiar. She was almost grateful that he’d been with her when they’d met Gilbert; had he not been, she wasn’t certain what she would have done. Leaving Gilbert on his own and trusting him not to harm anyone went against all of her instincts. And yet...small and squawky had been, if not friendly, then at least comfortable in the Shadow’s presence.
Marcus would eat her throat, and she’d probably deserve it. But...he wouldn’t bite Bellusdeo, and he wouldn’t roar at Teela—and they’d both been present. She exhaled. She was almost certain Marcus would at least hear her out. She’d probably need to go shopping for a new desk for the Sergeant by the end of it, though.
“You are exhaling loudly enough to wake the dead,” Evanton said. He’d moved nothing but his mouth.
Grethan cringed.
“And,” he added, as his eyes flickered open, “you are late.”
*
“We had a bit of a problem on the Winding Path,” Kaylin began. Then she stopped. “Wait...late for what?”
This made Evanton chuckle. “You’ve clearly grown accustomed to apologizing for tardiness. Regardless, I was expecting you somewhat earlier.”
“I made lunch,” Grethan said quietly, alleviating Kaylin’s mounting silence.
“Good. I find myself somewhat hungry.” Evanton nodded to Grethan. “Lunch will be served in the Garden.”
“We’re in a bit of a hurry...” Kaylin trailed off, glancing at Teela, hoping for a bit of support. She got nothing.
“You’re too busy to keep an old, frail man company while he eats his first meal of the day?”
“...Or not.” She took a seat beside him, though she was not at all hungry, for once. Teela did not sit; she folded her arms, looking down at them.
“Have some tea.”
“I’ve already had tea this morning.” Evanton didn’t care for tea himself.
“I see. What exactly brings you here today?”
“How much do you know about Shadows?”
“An odd question to ask.” He didn’t sound at all surprised to hear it.
“We’re investigating a murder case. Three young men were found in the basement of a house on the Winding Path.”
Evanton nodded, waiting. For an old man who sometimes defined the word impatient, he was pretty good at it.
“Across the street from the house where the bodies were discovered is another house. It seems like an entirely normal house...but one of its occupants is not exactly human.”
“And not, I’m assuming, Barrani, either.”
“Definitively not Barrani,” Teela said. She’d mostly abandoned the conversation to Kaylin, but clearly felt this needed to be said.
Evanton rose. “Are you claiming that he is Shadowed?”
“He claims to have come from Ravellon. The only Ravellon I currently know is at the heart of the fiefs—and the only things that escape it usually leave a trail of bodies in their wake. If we’re lucky, the bodies stay dead.”
Evanton’s expression flattened. “You have left this man in the home he now occupies?”
“I know it sounds crazy. But he had a child with him. A girl.”
“This girl also claims to have come from Ravellon?”
“No. From Nightshade. He brought her across the bridge.”