Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)

“How? How did he reach Ravellon?”


“A good question, and a difficult one to answer. Lord Nightshade did not cross the boundaries that separate Ravellon from the rest of your world; he did not enter with the intent to find or wake me. He was sent to the core of the building that sustains those of us who survived the disaster.”

Gilbert closed his eyes briefly. “Lord Nightshade should not have been able to wake me. That he could was the will of the gardia, the building. I was the only one awakened. The great halls were empty and still. None save Nightshade moved or spoke. Even the gardia was silent.

“There is a silence that is welcome; it is a reprieve from noise and chaos, a type of peace. I do not mean to denigrate silence.”

Helen’s expression, as she studied Gilbert, was grave.

“Nightshade spoke. I did not hear him, at first. I could only see him from the corner of an eye.”

Kaylin, remembering the eyes she had, one by one, carefully closed, said nothing.

“I told you I had to invert myself; it was not a quick process. Nor was it painless. It is not something I have attempted prior to this. I could not speak to your Nightshade in any other way. The gardia had sent him to wake me—or so I assumed; I made the adjustment.” He winced, but the expression faded into a very surprising smile. “I did not expect to like his voice.

“The gardia provided for his needs, and I learned to speak, first Barrani, and then the Elantran, which seems more prevalent here. I learned to listen. It is surprisingly difficult; the language you speak is so flexible, and the same words can have entirely different meanings depending on the speaker. I had to ask questions, repeatedly; I had to choose different angles, different approaches.

“But I came to understand him. He spoke of his family. His father. The Barrani High Lord and its High Halls. The High Halls he described felt faintly familiar. He spoke of you,” he continued, staring at the mark on Kaylin’s cheek. “He spoke of his Lady, and last, of his brother, Annarion. He spoke of the way time changes all things.

“Time,” Gilbert added, “does not change me. The concept of this change—as a thing that occurs naturally and without the deliberate intent of a creator—was new. It was interesting. I asked many, many questions. Lord Nightshade spoke of his home. He spoke of his Castle. He spoke of Dragons, and of the Dragon who lived in Ravellon.”

Bellusdeo stiffened.

“Lord Nightshade wished to venture into Ravellon—and beyond. He wished to return to his Castle. He wished to speak with his brother, to explain what might be explained. I do not understand all of your difficulties,” he added, a trace of apology in his voice as he glanced at Annarion. “But I came to understand the depth of his desire, and I wished to accommodate it.

“Do you understand now?”

“You spent enough time with Nightshade that you became friends, and you wanted to help him?” Kaylin asked.

Gilbert smiled. “Yes. You understand.”

“How long did you spend getting to know him? In mortal years. Or at least my years.”

Gilbert turned to the empty space Kaylin had silently marked “small dragon.” He spoke. The familiar squawked.

Gilbert then turned back to Kaylin. “Not more than forty of your years.”

*

Annarion turned to Gilbert, his eyes a shade of purple that Kaylin seldom saw. “What did he tell you of our family? Of our father? What did he say of me? What explanation did he think to make that would be of value?”

Gilbert lowered his chin slightly. “You have no doubt noticed that I struggle with your language. With any of your languages. I do not share your history, except secondhand. I will not speak for your brother, in this.

“If you wish to know, you must find him.” He hesitated. “But it might be best if you remained with Helen. I did not lie. I arrived in this time and in this place because, in my wandering, I heard you. The silence of the gardia, the silence of those you would call my kin, was broken by your voice, and yours alone.

“You called me, Annarion. You called me and I came. I lost the thread of your voice. I grieved at its loss. You would wake us all if you lifted that voice in our presence—and I do not think that is your desire. Your brother understands that you are not what you once were. Understand that he is not what he once was.”

Annarion nodded slowly, and Gilbert continued.

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