Kaylin made that effort now.
Through Severn’s eyes, she could see Teela and Tain. Teela was examining the not-corpse, her brows folded in toward the bridge of her nose. To Kaylin’s eye, they weren’t actually in the same room that she was. Their voices were, but otherwise, there was no overlap.
But she saw what Severn saw. What Tain had initially assumed was a body lay, half-covered, on a stone slab that stood two feet above the ground. Given the shape of its upper body, Kaylin assumed it was meant to be male. To Kaylin’s eye, it resembled the Barrani, up to a point: the length of face, the height of cheekbones, the build of the chest.
But the Barrani of Kaylin’s acquaintance didn’t have three eyes.
“Gilbert?”
“I am here.”
“Can you see what—what they see?”
“In this room, Kaylin, I can see nothing. I think it more likely that at the moment, you see only what I see.”
“What they see—it’s real.” There was a hint of question in the statement.
“Yes. It is not precisely what I see. You do not see dreams when you wake.”
“Dreams aren’t real.”
“Are they not?”
She closed her eyes. Severn, I need you to speak.
“What do you need me to say?”
“Just speak.”
He did. Severn wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t tell stories; he didn’t offer many humorous anecdotes. What he did, instead, was describe the body. He pulled the sheet down and folded it. The body was definitely male. Severn touched its face, ran the tips of his fingers over the lids of closed eyes.
Through their connection, Kaylin felt what he felt. She saw what he saw. She understood why the Hawks had used both ice and marble as descriptions. What she could not see was herself.
Opening her eyes, she could see the trail left by the simple act of breathing in a very cold place. It hung in the air, and unlike breath, it didn’t dissipate. Kaylin raised her left arm; gold light was reflected by this odd cloud.
“Can you put your palms on his chest?”
Severn didn’t ask her why. Teela did.
“If there are words in this room, this is where they have to be,” Kaylin replied.
“You’re certain?”
“As certain as I can be.”
This didn’t impress Teela. To be fair, it didn’t impress Kaylin, either.
Healing had been the one blessing to come out of the marks that adorned her skin. It had always just worked. It hadn’t required practice or lessons or experience. She had saved lives—for the midwives, in the Foundling Hall, in the Halls of Law—merely by desiring it. She hadn’t studied bodies; she hadn’t studied herbs or plants or esoteric branches of magic.
This was the first time that healing had not worked on its own, as a function of Kaylin’s will. It was the first time she had resented her own ignorance so viscerally. Or maybe not. At heart, she was mostly ignorant. She’d gained enough experience that she could frequently hide it. But not from herself.
Not when it counted.
She kicked herself. Now was not the time for this. She could hate herself later.
*
Her breath had come out in mist, and the mist had gathered, condensing. She couldn’t stop breathing, and as she did, more mist joined the mist that hovered just in front of her, above the floor.
Kaylin moved to stand in what she thought might be the position Severn now occupied. She could feel the cold, hard lines of the body’s chest beneath his palms. Fortunately, Severn’s hands weren’t numb yet, despite the chill in the air.
“This,” she said aloud, “is a total pain.”
“You expected something easier?”
The mist before her eyes did not, as Kaylin half hoped, solidify. Not entirely. But it moved more like smoke than air. Strands of silvered white twisted around each other; she could both see them and see through them. They had dimension. She couldn’t see any words; the mist moved too much.
“They are there,” her familiar said, appearing by her left shoulder. “They are a microcosm of this place. You can see them only because you are entwined with Gilbert’s consciousness. You cannot touch them.”
“Can you?”
“Not as I am.”
“Am I—am I doing the right thing?”
“I cannot answer that question. There are too many variables.”
“Will this heal Gilbert?”
“Ah. I do not know, Kaylin. I do not know what you are now attempting to do.”
She looked at the flat, bright marks on her arms. “...Neither do I. I’m just thinking of all the old stories.”
“Stories?”
“The Barrani. The Ancients. The True Names. True words.”
“They are more than just stories.”
“I didn’t say they were just stories. But...they are stories.” She hesitated and then added, “A lot of our actual experiences become stories. Things we tell other people. Things we don’t tell other people. It’s not just about the words. But...sometimes words are what we have. They’re not everything; they have to be enough.”