Cast In Secret

“No. But I—I need to find her, Sanabalis.”

“Yes,” he told her softly. Where in this case soft was like the rumble of an earthquake giving its only warning.

“You know about this.”

“I don’t, Kaylin. Or I did not. But water—it is the element of the living. It is the element to which we are most strongly tied, or to which you and your kind are. It is the element that speaks most strongly to the Oracles.”

Kaylin failed entirely to keep from grimacing.

“You disdain the Oracles?”

“They speak in riddles when they speak at all, and afterward, they tell you that whatever gibberish they said was of course true.”

“It is only afterward that the contexts of the words have their full meaning,” he replied patiently.

She stopped. “You’ve been talking to the Oracles?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The Emperor desired it,” he replied, carefully and slowly. “And in truth, they came to him, and they were ill at ease.”

“How ill?”

“Perhaps a week ago, perhaps a little more, they were woken from their sleep by a dream.”

“All of them?”

“All of them. Even those who are mere apprentices and have not yet earned the right to live in the temple and its grounds.”

“It wasn’t a good dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream at all.”

“A—what do they call them?”

“Vision.” His momentary impatience was clear.

“Of what?”

“Water,” he told her.

“Water.”

“Yes. The waters are deep,” he added, speaking almost exactly in the tone and style of Evanton. “And things sleep within those depths that have not been seen by even the living Dragons, save perhaps two.”

She froze. “Something is waking.”

“In their dreams, yes.”

“What?”

“They’re Oracles, Kaylin,” he replied.

“So you don’t know.”

“No. They’re certain it’s not a good thing for the city. Which has a port. The Sages have been poring over the words and symbols,” he added, with just a flicker of his brow.

“And they get what anyone sane gets, which is confused.”

He actually offered a slight smile. “It is not yet clear to them, no.”

“Something big is going to happen.”

“Big enough to wake the Oracles—all of them—no matter where they lay sleeping.”

She was silent for a moment, candle forgotten. “And did they have any sense of timing?”

“Time is not as concrete for people who see into possible futures,” he told her quietly.

“That would be no.”

“That would indeed be no—but there is urgency. And I cannot think that it is coincidence that you came to me today to ask me about the element of water.” He paused. “The Keeper summoned you.”

“Well, no—” She stopped. “Maybe.”

“Then the child is someone connected to the water, I think.”

Kaylin nodded. “I have no idea where to start,” she added. “But … Ybelline also invited me to visit her … at her home in the Tha’alani quarter.”

Dragon brows rose. “And you accepted?”

“It wasn’t official,” Kaylin replied. “And … yes. Because I was in Missing Persons.” She trailed off. “Dragons don’t believe in coincidence, do they?”

“Not in this city,” Sanabalis replied. “They do, however, believe in lessons.” He stared at the candle.

“If the world were ending—”

“You’d still have work to do.”

The contempt in which candles were held by Kaylin could not safely be put into words in front of a Dragon lord—but it was still a close thing. Sanabalis, however, did not lecture her. He was quiet during their lesson, and his lower lids flickered often as he studied her face. At length he stood.

“Perhaps,” he said, as if grudging the word, “you require a slightly different approach, given your remarkable lack of success. Very well, Kaylin. The day after tomorrow, we will look at the shape of water. Be prepared,” he added softly. “There are many reasons why water is not the first element we approach. And why, in some cases, it is better not approached at all.”

He rose and left, and she sat in the West Room, staring at the plain surface of a nearly invulnerable table, seeing her future. Which would be in Nightshade, where so much of her past had unfolded.

It was well past midday when Kaylin made her way across the Ablayne, idly watching its banks for trouble. Almost hopefully watching the banks for trouble. It was a safe trouble—in as much as people trying to kill you or beat you to a messy pulp could be called safe