“I helped build them,” he said. “Before we left, back in the Wars. I didn’t know I could open them. I’d never tried. But when the girl told me you’d been captured, I thought, might as well.”

“And why did they let you go?”

He shrugged. “They recognize me. They know what I gave for this island. They know I’m no threat.”

“That’s a fine story,” she said.

He nodded.

“But it doesn’t explain the beetle.”

He waited.

“You remember. The beetle, from when we were talking on the shore. Little sand-colored monster. Seven legs. Climbed out of the beach where you spit. Tons of them now, all over. They’re calling it an invasive species. I went to the library; I wrote to the Hidden Schools. Turns out the species isn’t invading from anywhere. It’s new. Just showed up one afternoon. And I think I know which one.”

“What are you asking?” His voice didn’t sound old at all. Not young, either: timeless, like a rock speaking.

“What happened to you?”

“War.” The word cut in his mouth, and in her ears. “What do you think?”

“Tell me.”

“We fought south of the Shining Empire, in the islands off Kho Khatang. They needed gods and priests who knew boats and islands and water. I took to the skies as a bird of flame, and our warriors clogged the channels. Craftsmen rode in on dragonback, and demon chariots that trailed lightning. Clinging fire fell. They poisoned the land and sea. They poisoned time. The Carrion Queen and the Blade Child caught me in the sky, and our battle burned. Unlucky travelers who visit the delta at night see echoes of our struggle, and go mad.” He breathed, ragged. “We died. All of us but me. And I woke blind and broken.”

“The fleet.”

“Lost. Except for this body.” He raised his hands, and let them fall. They struck his legs with a sound at once soft and thunderous. “And that was my war. Our war. It took me two decades to dare return, and when I did, I found the island changed. The pool filled with foreign idols. The streets patrolled by Penitents with people trapped inside them, when I had meant them as a tool for priests to use in our defense.”

“And you did nothing.”

“No.” A sudden breath of wind, like a storm front breaking, shoved her back. The wind stopped, and he sagged. “Not nothing. But less.”

“You could have stopped us. Helped us.”