“Do you think he’s lying?” Bellusdeo asked. She had apparently decided to ask all the difficult, awkward questions that Kaylin had so far managed to keep to herself.
Kattea’s shrug was pure fief. Answer enough, as well. Gilbert was clearly competent, powerful, dangerous—any need he had for an orphan in Nightshade didn’t bear examination. Not when he was the only reason that orphan was still alive.
Had Gilbert found Kaylin after Steffi and Jade had died, she would have followed him. She would have asked no questions unless he invited them. And she would have done whatever she could to protect him, no matter what else he did. Because he represented food and shelter and another day or two of life.
No fear Kaylin had for Kattea would measure up against that, and why should it? The concern of an uninvolved stranger was worth nothing but sentiment and air. She couldn’t judge the child. She couldn’t ask that she make wise choices. What choices, in the end, did Kattea really have?
*
The door did not appear until they’d walked another thirty yards, and it did not appear where Kattea was looking for it. Bellusdeo was less obviously disturbed by this than Kaylin, and Kattea did not appear concerned at all. She did look very pleased when she sighted it, but she didn’t look relieved. She had expected she’d find it.
It was, in Kaylin’s estimation, not that hard to miss. It looked far more like a closet door than a door that would normally be found in halls like this one; even the doorknob looked old and worn.
Kattea didn’t open the door. Instead, she knocked. “Don’t touch the handle,” she said, although neither Kaylin nor Bellusdeo had moved to do so. “Gilbert will open the door.”
At her words, the door swung open into a large room, which was rectangular in shape. The floors of this room were covered in rugs—at least three, none matching. To the right was a large bed; to the left, a desk and two standing shelves. Those shelves had gathered books, dust and what looked, at this distance, like impressive cobwebs.
Kaylin took these details in before her gaze returned to the man who had opened the door. He looked pinched and drawn; his eyes were fever-bright, but a normal color. His face was long, but otherwise looked normal.
He did not look like the Barrani.
He did not look like a Dragon, either.
But Kaylin felt certain that he had to be immortal, because she thought Kattea must know his True Name.
*
Gilbert stepped away from the door to allow them to enter.
Bellusdeo went in first, cutting Kattea off to do so. Kaylin almost reached out to grab Kattea’s shoulder, but she knew how she would have reacted to that at Kattea’s age. Kattea’s trust of Gilbert was not trust as Kaylin had grown to understand it. It was necessity.
“Kattea said you were unwell.”
“I know.”
“You look...”
“Unwell.”
“Yes.”
“I said—” Kattea began.
“Kattea and I have a bit of a bet going.”
“Kattea has been attempting to explain betting to me. It is confusing.”
“It can’t be more confusing than basements that change shape and size and doors that aren’t where you left them.”
Gilbert frowned.
Kattea said, “That’s what I told him.”
“Did any Barrani come to this house yesterday?”
“No.”
“But something else did?”
Gilbert was silent for a long beat.
“Let me lose a bet.”
“I do not think that would be wise. The injuries you heal are not the same injuries that my people sustain. My injuries would not, I believe, make sense to you.”
“They don’t have to make sense to me.” Kaylin lifted her arms. Gilbert, seeing them, froze. He turned to Kattea.
“Her arms—were they glowing like that when she entered the halls?”
“You couldn’t see it? You can see everything.” Kattea said this without apparent sarcasm.
“I can see it now, yes. I— May I examine your arms?”
Kaylin unbuttoned the cuffs of her sleeves in reply. She rolled up the loose material and winced; the marks were bright. She rolled her sleeves down again instantly.
“Kaylin?”
“Sometimes they— Sometimes the words leave my skin.”
“Yes.” Gilbert now looked confused.
“You’ve seen marks like these before. You called me—”
“Chosen.” The most disturbing thing about his gaze, Kaylin realized, was the fact that Gilbert didn’t blink. Nor did he look away. His glance never strayed.
“You lived in Ravellon,” Kaylin said, changing the subject.
He nodded.
“How do you know what these marks mean?”
Bellusdeo folded her arms. Her eyes remained a bright, intense orange as she studied Gilbert.
Gilbert frowned. “I do not understand the question.”
“Ravellon is at the heart of the fiefs. Kattea’s told you about at least one of them—you found her there.”
“Lord Nightshade’s home.”
“Yes. The fiefs exist because of Ravellon. The Towers—or castle, in his case—exist to prevent Shadow from encroaching upon the rest of the city. Gilbert, was Ravellon your home?”