“This isn’t making things any simpler,” Kaylin said.
“No, it wouldn’t. Believe that I am not enjoying it, either. I believe the difficulty resides with Gilbert’s instruction. He is here now. He is also there, then. The water exists in both places, and it is aware in both continuums. Gilbert’s imperative is causing a type of stress the Garden was not meant to contain.”
“...What does that mean for the rest of the city?”
“At the moment? That they shouldn’t come barging into my shop unless they want to get wet. I believe I have things more or less under control.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am not. The context of this control is difficult. There are reasons that the rain occurs only within the shop—but there are also reasons it is no longer contained to the Garden.” He turned to Gilbert. “Stop speaking to the water.”
“I am not—” He closed two of his eyes. “Ah.”
“If I understand what has been said, you set out to find a way to send—or bring—Lord Nightshade home.”
“Yes.”
“Nightshade—like Kattea or Kaylin—exists in a way that is not conducive to that homecoming. You understand this better than anyone here. It is not unreasonable to assume that your difficulty—and mine—is in part caused by your presence. Or Kattea’s.”
Kattea stiffened.
“I did not mean that you had done anything wrong,” Evanton added, voice more subdued. “But this is not where you should be. Gilbert is more flexible. He is not what you—what we—are.” He turned to Gilbert.
Gilbert said, “When I arrived here, I could no longer sense time. I believe that the water delivered me here for reasons of its own. The parameters of my request allowed it. If your suggested solution is my return, it is impossible.”
“That is not what I wanted to hear,” Evanton replied. He turned to Kaylin. “I would happily grant your request to speak with the elemental water, but it would be irresponsible. I do not think you would survive it. Gilbert, however, might. There may be other issues.”
“What did you wish to ask the water?” Gilbert asked Kaylin.
“Why it brought you here. I’d like to know how, too, but I’m beginning to think that’s irrelevant; it’s clear that Evanton doesn’t believe Kattea would have survived had you not been with her.” She hesitated.
“If you are going to keep something to yourself, do it competently,” Evanton snapped.
“It’s not mine to share.” She turned to Kattea, who was still rain-wet. “Tell Evanton what will happen to you if you go back.”
“I’ll die.”
“The water isn’t like the other elements,” Kaylin said, when it was clear Kattea intended to let those words be the whole of her contribution. “I think—I think she heard Kattea. Not, maybe, at first—but Gilbert was specific about the mode of travel: she had to choose a path that Kattea could survive.
“I think she’s aware of Kattea. She was certainly aware that Gilbert was distracted by Annarion. You haven’t met him—he’s Mandoran’s brother, effectively.”
“I would thank you to keep him to yourself for the time being; I have more than enough trouble at the moment.”
“Yes, well. I am keeping him to myself—he’s living with me. So is Mandoran.”
“You are obviously a saint.”
“No—but Helen probably is. One of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you knew about her. She doesn’t recall meeting you.”
“One of these days, when it is not raining on the inside of my shop, I will.” He exhaled. “What else do you need from a poor, tired, frazzled old man?”
“I don’t know. Do what you’re doing. And let Gilbert ask the water why.”
*
Evanton’s tired, old and frazzled was a constant. His clothing, however, wasn’t. When he accepted Kaylin’s request, it changed instantly into the blue robes that she associated with his title or his role. He then turned to pick something up off the table and smacked his head against the lower portion of the angled wall.
He could curse like a Hawk.
Grethan hovered in the doorway, waiting for Evanton, clearly feeling equal parts fear of and fear for his master.
“Stay on the second floor. Or in this room. There is some danger that the rain will become a deluge on the ground floor. No, not you,” he snapped at Grethan. “I’m going to need your help.”
The familiar squawked.
Evanton, looking aggrieved, said, “If you must.”
And the familiar floated up, off Kaylin’s shoulder, and came to rest on Evanton’s head.
Gilbert deposited Kattea on the table; she was the only person who could sit there without hitting her head. There wasn’t a lot of sitting space otherwise, but Kaylin had lived with floors—or worse—in her time. She sat. So did Severn.
“Is it really because of me?” Kattea surprised them both by asking.
“No,” Kaylin said.
Severn said nothing, which, oddly enough, was louder.