Cast In Flight. Michelle Sagara

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       Chapter 8

      When Evanton left, she turned to her partner. “An Aerian Arcanist. Any bets?”

      “What are we betting on?”

      “Which flight the Arcanist belongs to.”

      “As long as you’re betting against dar Carafel, yes.”

      Kaylin shrugged. “Shadow as simple power?”

      “It’s Elani,” Severn replied.

      “Meaning it’s a bill of goods we’re being sold?”

      “We’re being asked to buy. But he’s probably not entirely wrong. I don’t understand how—or why—the Aerians had Shadow nets. The study of magic related to Shadow is illegal, even in the Arcanum.”

      “The Arcanists don’t follow their own bloody rules. They’re certainly not going to follow the Emperor’s when they can avoid it.”

      Severn, however, continued to stare at his hands, as if they vaguely displeased him. She could take a guess at why, but didn’t have to waste the mental energy. “Gilbert.”

      Since this was more or less some part of what Kaylin had been thinking, she nodded, pensive now. “Gilbert’s the only Shadow I’ve ever met who wasn’t...”

      He nodded, freeing her from the search for descriptive words. “Evanton’s not wrong. The first time you really spent time in the garden, it’s because an Arcanist—with an Imperial death sentence hanging over his head—tried to co-opt the Keeper’s powers in order to change the world.”

      “To rule it.”

      “To rule it by changing it. The heart of the elements weren’t the Arcanist’s concern. The power was. We have evidence—in the form of Leontines—that the powers of creation or transformation used there were, at the very least, susceptible to Shadow.”

      “You think it’s more than just susceptible.”

      “I think there’s a chance that the heart of the power is similar. The Towers were created to stand against Shadow—but the Shadows that have managed to breach a Tower knew what to look for, where to find it, what to do with it. They were trying to transform the Tower by rewriting the words at its core.” He was talking about Tara and Tiamaris indirectly.

      Kaylin nodded slowly. “But what if the Shadows knew what to do because they’ve been at war with the Towers for so long? Bellusdeo understands Shadow better than any of us because she lost a world to it.”

      Severn nodded, allowing the point. The problem was that Kaylin wasn’t certain she believed it. Because Shadows—or at least Gilbert—had words at their core. Whatever and wherever that core was.

      “You remember the Fishmonger?” Severn asked quietly.

      Kaylin flinched. There wasn’t a Hawk on the force who didn’t remember that case, and no Hawk who’d joined the force after the Fishmonger was caught who hadn’t been informed. The whole city knew about the Fishmonger. The Swords had been on full alert for almost a month by the time he was run to ground.

      As a name for a man who had killed dozens in gruesome, horrible ways, it was stupid. But he’d earned the moniker because of where he’d found his victims, and how. He’d sold fish. He’d sold fish predominantly to the poorer citizens of Elantra, and on occasion, those citizens had vanished.

      Parts of their bodies had been discovered in the fish, later. The Fishmonger had probably known more ways to kill a man than Red, the coroner, did.

      There were still a few cookies left in the tin, but Kaylin put the lid firmly back in place, appetite completely absent. “Why are you bringing him up now?”

      “Because he was human. We’re human. We’re not the Fishmonger. He didn’t require magic. He didn’t require power—elemental or Shadow or other. He did what he did with what he was born to. The Wolves were hunting him,” Severn added quietly. “We had a different view, but we were looking at the same thing: the damage done, the victims.

      “Gilbert is, in theory, of Shadow. You felt it the first time you met him. You knew it. But he’s Shadow the way you and I are human. The Fishmonger was Shadow the way the creatures that come out of Ravellon are.”

      Kaylin nodded, frowning. “Do you think that Ravellon was like one big holding cell for the criminally insane? I mean, the Shadows? I hadn’t really thought of it before now, but maybe it makes sense. Gilbert wasn’t what any of us were expecting. I think that hit Bellusdeo hardest. But is it really smart to look at Shadow as if it were fire or water, elementally speaking?”

      Severn hesitated. “When elementals are summoned—”

      “They’re sentient, if they’re of any size.” Kaylin struggled to catch the rest of the thought. “Shadow might be sentient the same way. But—fire wants to burn things. At any size. The trick to the summoning is controlling or denying that impulse.”

      “Water wants to drown or crush things, Air wants to throw things into other things. Earth wants to crush or smother things.”

      “And you think Shadow is somehow like the elements?” Kaylin asked Severn. Her first instinct was to deny it. So was her second. “Life needs the four elements. If the elements desire destruction when they’re summoned, that’s sort of understandable. No one likes to be practically enslaved. But what do we need Shadow for?”