“He is mistaken,” Helen said.
“Am I? You were created to serve a specific function. I do not know what that function was or is; your story is opaque to me. I sense its presence, but I cannot read it. I cannot hear it. I was created to serve a specific function—but that function did not rely on others. You cannot move from the space you occupy; to move would destroy you. In that, we are different. But in all else, I believe we have more in common than I have with any of your inhabitants.”
“Your name—it’s like the names of the ancestors,” Kaylin said.
Gilbert frowned.
Kaylin turned to the empty space that Gilbert had been addressing. “Can you explain the ancestors to him? Please?”
Squawk. Squawk. Squawk.
Gilbert’s expression shifted with each screeching syllable. “Where did you encounter these ancestors?”
“In Nightshade’s Castle.”
Squawk. Squawk. Squawk.
His eyes shifted color as Kaylin watched; they were a true brown now. As brown as Kaylin’s, although they had darkened so much she could no longer see pupil. He was rigid by the time the invisible familiar fell silent.
“Yes,” he said. When Kaylin’s forehead creased, he added, “My name is very like the names of those you call ancestors. They are not,” he added, “ancestors, in the Elantran meaning of that word. Their names are not as complicated as mine. I thought them gone or contained.”
“The two we met were sleeping. They woke up.”
“They heard Annarion.” It wasn’t a question.
Annarion looked about as comfortable with this statement as Kaylin felt.
Gilbert glanced at him. “I heard you when I first attempted to leave my home. I followed the sound of your voice...but I could not hear you when I finally arrived in this Elantra. I could not hear you when I first met Kaylin. I can hear you now. I can hear your friend. It is...distracting. Distracting and compelling.”
This didn’t increase Annarion’s comfort level; it also added Mandoran’s discomfort to the mix.
“We hear your pain,” Gilbert continued. “We hear your loss. We hear your fear. We do not understand its cause, but we understand that you are here, that you are real. Your voice is that strong.
“In a bygone era, your voice would have been one of thousands.” He hesitated. “You were not created as I was. You were...born. You have not been altered by any will save your own. The word at your core is so simple, so singular, I cannot hear it. And yet, Annarion, I hear you. I hear Mandoran.” He grimaced. “I hear Kattea.”
“She is engaged in her kitchen duties,” Helen’s disembodied voice informed him. “Refreshments will not be offered immediately; I think it would break her heart if all of her work was wasted. But...I confess I am mildly confused. Gilbert said he found Kattea in the fief of Nightshade.”
“I did.”
“And according to Kaylin, that was weeks ago—a handful of weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Her behavior, and her knowledge of, among other things, food, is not consistent with that claim. Her experience in Nightshade does not mirror Kaylin’s. One would, of course, expect some differences; no two mortals have identical histories or experiences.”
“Is Gilbert lying?” Kaylin asked quietly, noting the shift in the color of both Dragon and Barrani eyes.
“No, dear. Kattea’s memories are consistent with Gilbert’s version of events.”
“What is the difficulty you perceive?” Annarion asked Helen.
“The fief of Nightshade that Kattea was found in is not the fief in which Kaylin was born.”
Chapter 16
Silence.
Kaylin was uneasy. Everything Helen had just said mirrored thoughts—doubts—Kaylin had also had. The silence stretched until Kaylin broke it. “How is Kattea’s Nightshade different?”
“She was not starving. She was not terrified of her neighbors. She lived in a modest house. The Ferals she feared were not—as they were for you and Severn—a simple fact, like sunset or sunrise. There was a functional market within walking distance of her home. She learned to cook while aiding her mother and her aunt.” Helen hesitated.
Kaylin marked it. “What else aren’t you saying?”
“I am not mortal,” Helen began apologetically. “I may misunderstand. But Kattea believes that the Elantra in which you live and work is in her past. She believes that the city as it is now disappeared very shortly after she was born.”
“She thinks she’s from our future?”
Helen hesitated again. “She did not speak of this out loud, and perhaps, as guest, I should not...”
Gilbert, however, said, “Yes.”
*