far too large and the ceiling too high. The bodies, however, were a significant addition. There were, as Gavin had said, three. They were, on first glance, all male and approximately Kaylin’s age.
They were also lying in a kind of sleeping repose and had been arranged in a neat row, their feet even with one another. They wore nondescript clothing of the type that a carpenter or gardener would wear. They did not appear to have expired of specific injuries; there was no visible blood.
“Have the bodies been moved at all?” Teela asked.
Gavin replied in a tight voice, “I have been at this job for longer than most of the Barrani. Beyond what was required to ascertain that they were not alive, they have not been touched.”
Teela nodded thoughtfully. If she’d noticed Gavin was offended—and since she was Barrani, there was a chance she hadn’t—she clearly didn’t care. “So we have neatly lined up bodies of slightly different sizes—all apparently mortal—that Kaylin can’t see when she’s looking through her familiar’s wing. This is not looking promising.”
“Should we send the bodies to Red?” Gavin asked.
“I think,” Kaylin replied, before Teela could, “that we should bring Red to the bodies. I’m not liking the idea of bodies that can’t be seen—”
“By you.”
“—being deposited in the morgue. The protections we have in the Halls are for the regular magical criminality, and this clearly isn’t it.”
Gavin hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if taking any advice from someone so junior and from such questionable roots was against his every fiber. He was, however, practical, and his nature forced an end to that hesitation. “I’ll mirror it in. Head to the Halls and make sure the Hawklord sits on the Imperial Order—we’ll want those reports as soon as possible.” He glanced at the bodies. “His parents aren’t going to be happy.”
“Which one is the son?”
“The one on the left. Neither of the parents recognized the other two, so I’ve sent a request to Records for any information about previous criminal activities or any missing-persons reports that might involve them.” He handed Teela the portable mirror. “Request your forward. Marcus is expecting you in the office.”
* * *
“This isn’t the way to the Halls,” Teela observed as they walked away from the Winding Path. Kaylin glanced, briefly, at Gilbert’s house; she was almost certain his presence and the deaths of the young men were related. But she couldn’t force herself to believe that Kattea was also connected to the deaths. Kattea had been in Nightshade—and she’d gotten out. What would be left, for her, if Gilbert was gone?
“Kitling?”
“Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?”
“I asked you where you thought you were going.”
“To visit Evanton. It’ll be brief, I promise.”
Grethan, Evanton’s young Tha’alani apprentice, seemed uneasy as they entered the Keeper’s shop on Elani Street.
“Is he in a mood?” Kaylin asked.
“He is currently meditating in the Garden.” Which meant, roughly translated, “not yet.” Evanton didn’t care for interruptions when he was meditating. “But he left instructions to let you in if you happened to visit.”
The familiar flapped off her shoulders and headed for Grethan’s instead. For some reason, the familiar liked Grethan. Or at least saw him as harmless. The Tha’alani’s smile was quick and wide.
“Can you conjure the image Hope showed us at Gilbert’s?” Kaylin asked Teela as Grethan took them down the very narrow hall that led to the Keeper’s Garden.
“Yes. I’m not inclined to do it more than twice today, but I will show the Keeper if he asks. I already dislike almost everything about this investigation, and we’ve only barely begun.” She exhaled. “Mandoran is upset.”
“Annoyed or actually upset?”
“Annarion had a minor setback this afternoon.”
Kaylin missed a step.
“Helen was there. Mandoran seems to be more adept at containing himself. Annarion’s containment falters when he is too emotional.”
“What happened?”
“Unclear. Annarion won’t talk to me at all at the moment, and Mandoran won’t talk to me about Annarion. They would like me to clear up the difficulties here and send you home.”
She had a thing or two to ask them, as well. Gilbert had implied, strongly, that he had met Nightshade, and that Nightshade had been in Ravellon. This was not exactly the news that would fill his younger brother—his frantic, increasingly worried younger brother—with joy or peace.
* * *
After her most recent visit to the Keeper’s Garden, Kaylin wasn’t certain what to expect when Grethan opened the door. The Garden, however, appeared to be in its normal, contained state. The small hut, which had interesting internal dimensions, decor and occasionally visitors, was not in immediate sight; the pond, around which various small shrines had been erected, was.
Seated on a rounded, mossy rock was the Garden’s Keeper. Evanton was dressed not as cranky shopkeeper, but as a figure of mystical import: he wore very fine blue robes that lent him a majesty that his usual apron and jeweler’s glass did not.
The small dragon left the apprentice and returned to Kaylin’s shoulders, where he flopped like a badly made scarf. Evanton made no move to stand or greet them; his legs were crossed, his eyes closed. He did not look angry, frustrated or enraged; he did not look worried.
Of course, he didn’t look up at all.
Grethan hesitated to interrupt Evanton, and Kaylin well understood why. She was hesitant herself, and Kaylin didn’t have to live with his moods the way Grethan did. But the apprentice didn’t have three mysteriously disappearing corpses and a sentient Shadow to deal with.
She glanced at the familiar. She was almost grateful that he’d been with her when they’d met Gilbert; had he not been, she wasn’t certain what she would have done. Leaving Gilbert on his own and trusting him not to harm anyone went against all of her instincts. And yet...small and squawky had been, if not friendly, then at least comfortable in the Shadow’s presence.
Marcus would eat her throat, and she’d probably deserve it. But...he wouldn’t bite Bellusdeo, and he wouldn’t roar at Teela—and they’d both been present. She exhaled. She was almost certain Marcus would at least hear her out. She’d probably need to go shopping for a new desk for the Sergeant by the end of it, though.
“You are exhaling loudly enough to wake the dead,” Evanton said. He’d moved nothing but his mouth.
Grethan cringed.
“And,” he
