Page 130 of Cast in Atonement

Squawk.

“Exactly,” Helen agreed. She didn’t march Kaylin up the stairs, but she did escort her there; no one attempted to stop her, either. Kaylin argued, but it was half-hearted. She hadn’t felt this exhausted when she’d been standing in the Ancient’s hall; it had fallen on her in stages as she made the trek home—a trek that seemed interminably long as she put one foot in front of the other. Maybe she should have had Emmerian fly her home as well—not that he would’ve likely agreed. Evanton was the Keeper; he was a vital, if hidden, part of the world.

Kaylin was a cranky Hawk in a stupid dress.

“No one thinks your dress is stupid,” Helen informed her.

“They don’t have to walk in it.”

“It seems designed for walking, even running.”

“And if a Barrani wore it, it wouldn’t raise eyebrows. I’m not a ‘wear a long pretty dress in public streets’ person.” She grimaced. “And the clothing I was wearing was one of two sets I use for official work—I can get the tabard replaced easily, if you don’t count the quartermaster’s contempt and anger, but I don’t have the money to replace everything else, especially the boots.” She didn’t have a second set of boots, either. She had shoes, which would do in a pinch, but she’d need to replace the boots instantly.

Helen could create clothing for her, but it persisted only in the house, and Helen couldn’t magically create money—not that Kaylin would ask. She considered asking for reimbursement from the Imperial Palace, or Sanabalis personally, because she’d lost her real clothing in the line of duty, not on her own time.

“That would probably be effective,” Helen said. “And I would consider it quite justified, given the circumstances. Do you need help removing that?”

“No—I’m just going to take a nap. I don’t need to get ready for bed. I’ve worn this damn dress before. It doesn’t tear, it doesn’t get dirty—I don’t even think it allows sweat to touch its hallowed fabric. My bed isn’t going to get dirty because I happened to sleep in it while dressed.”

Hope hopped onto the pillow beside Kaylin’s, curled up, and closed his eyes.

He snored.

She couldn’t have restful sleep, even when exhausted. No. Of course not.

She stood in a clearing, bound by trees that seemed both ancient and on the short side, given the trees the Ancient had conjured. They were gnarled, their branches spread low and wide; she could see sunlight make shadows of those branches, which nonetheless allowed light to pass through.

Around the base of the trees, nestled between visible roots, were familiar flowers.

She stood in the green.

Across from where she stood, she saw a familiar figure, robed in the blue of his office: Evanton. She wondered if he were a figment of the dream itself, or if they had somehow become connected. Frowning, she took a closer look at the Keeper.

He was, and was not, the Evanton she knew. He had the same facial features, but a lot fewer wrinkles. Didn’t make him look any friendlier.

“I see I cannot escape you even in exhaustion-induced sleep.” Dream Evanton pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well?”

“Well, what? I was trying to take a nap before embarking in a long discussion. I ended up here.” She raised her arms. Yup. Green sleeves. “Do you know where we are?”

“I would expect that you would have a far clearer answer, but perhaps exhaustion has addled my brain. We are, at the moment, communing with the green—or the green is attempting to commune with us. What are you staring at?”

“Why do you look so young?”

“That is the question, while we’re dreaming, that you feel is pertinent and necessary? In case it has escaped your notice, we are not here in person; we are hundreds of miles away, in our separate abodes, attempting to rest enough that we may face what must be faced.

“I look ‘so young’ as you put it because I am not physically present; what is present is my spirit, or rather, it is the expression of the power of the Keeper, conferred on me by the previous Keeper. I look forward to the day I can pass it on and truly rest, but apparently today is not that day. I admit I have never understood the significance of robes and dresses as ceremonial garb; it seems entirely impractical.”

“Well, this dress is pretty much self-cleaning; it can’t be torn, and I can run in full stride while wearing it.”

“I retract my comment about practicality. I admit I was surprised to see you wearing it.”

“Not half as surprised as I was—it’s not like I keep a dress tucked in my side pouch, and even if I did, an emergency involving a dead Ancient isn’t where I’d pull it out to put it on. What did we do there?”

“I know very, very little about the living Ancients; I now know far more than I did about dead Ancients—and I would still classify my knowledge as extremely meagre. But you were correct in your surmise. Azoria clearly had some connection to the green.

“I know very little about the green; even Barrani scholars do not claim to be experts. The Warden and his students guard the green—but it has always seemed to me that it is not the green that requires his protection. It is his people that require protection from the green. Barrani are not always careful in their approach; they have fostered consummate arrogance, and even in the West March, where they live largely in harmony with the natural world, the natural world is subordinate to their whims and desires.

“The green is not, nor do I believe it could be—but that would not stop foolish and ambitious Barrani from making the attempt to conquer a possible source of power. Before you accuse me of being somewhat speciest, I would add that humans would do the same had they the access to the green the Barrani do.

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