“And if the only solution, if the only legal solution, was to let them die? I did not know but, Kaylin—had I, I would have done the same thing.”
“All right. All right, I accept that. I can’t judge it. I can’t disagree with it. I just don’t understand why you could do this now. I don’t understand why you knew to bring them to right now, and not tomorrow or ten years ago.”
The water rumbled. It spoke, but the words were sensation, not sound, and Kaylin could make sense of none of it. She headed down the stairs, her hand still paired with the hand of the Avatar. But she was thinking. Thinking and approaching the question from another avenue.
Ybelline said, I believe it is because this was the only time. No, that is not the whole of it. Earlier might have been better—but the jumps cause less friction if they are short; they are far less likely to be detected. There was no later time.
The water existed in Kattea’s time.
Yes, Kaylin. Yes, but—no. I do not understand it.
There’s no “No” here. If the water didn’t exist at that time, how could it bring them back to this one? Ugh. I hate time.
Ybelline, however, had not surrendered. I am sorry, Kaylin—I understand the urgency. I...cannot...explain...what I hear at the heart of the Tha’alaan; it is too foreign. Too large. There is something in this time, something like a rip or a tear. I do not think the water could move Gilbert to any other time. The attempt could be made only because of this fissure. I think.
... And it’s the fissure that causes the disaster. It almost wasn’t a question.
I am not the Hawk, Kaylin. Those answers are not mine to find.
Ybelline’s confidence in Kaylin underlined every word. Kaylin did not have any of it, and wanted it very badly. What she had, however, was a probably half-drowned Gilbert and a drenched Keeper and Keeper’s apprentice. It was a start.
But before she went in search of them, she headed back up the ruined stairs, keeping her back to the wall. “Severn?”
The single door at the top of the stairs opened.
“We have to go fish Gilbert out of the water—but I think it’s safe now. As long as you’re careful on the steps.”
Chapter 20
The rain in the storefront had stopped. The water had receded. The mess caused by both was still very much present—but a mess of that kind wasn’t Kaylin’s problem. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Grethan, because it was going to be his.
Elemental water, like fire, could withdraw completely. Had the water been natural—well, never mind. Natural water didn’t start a passing monsoon on the inside of a small, narrow building. Natural water didn’t take on the form of a woman, and it couldn’t be solid enough to hold on to without causing frostburn.
The water, however, was now evident only in the form of its Avatar. “I do not think the Keeper is going to be very happy.”
“Probably not,” Kaylin agreed. “On the other hand, he can’t exactly kill you. Believe that if I’d caused this mess—” She shuddered.
Kattea was impressed by the mess; the chaotic jumble of unsold junk seemed to be more worthy of attention than the elemental water. She did give the water the side-eye, though, and she kept Kaylin and Severn between them.
“The hall here is narrow,” Kaylin told the girl, as they made their way past the kitchen. Water had risen quickly enough here that the dishes caught in the flood hadn’t shattered; they rested on the ground. That was about the only positive thing that could be said for the state of the kitchen.
She started to lead the way out of the kitchen and stopped; Evanton’s back hall was not two people wide, even if one of them was pure liquid. Before she could disengage her hand, she heard voices. Well, to be precise, she heard squawking.
Small and flappy sailed into view. He paused in front of the water’s Avatar, screeching like an outraged seagull. This didn’t appear to upset the water. It gave Kaylin a headache.
“I see you were busy.” Evanton surveyed the mess of his kitchen with pursed lips and very narrow eyes. Grethan, coming up behind his master, viewed it with dismay. Gilbert, on the other hand, had to be reminded—by Kattea—not to step on the dishes.
The water’s Avatar shifted in place. Kaylin tightened her grip. The last thing she wanted—at this very moment, as last-things-wanted was a moving list—was for hostilities between the water and Gilbert to resume. Gilbert, in his disheveled clothing, was not dripping wet. He turned to face the water—or maybe the familiar, it was hard to tell. Gilbert’s eyes—the eyes Kaylin thought of as natural—were unfocused. His third eye was open, unblinking black.
“Gilbert,” she said, before he could speak. “You said that you were created for a specific purpose, sort of like Helen was.”
“Yes.”
“What, exactly, was that purpose?”
Silence.