The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,100
heard of it.”
“You have, in your short time on probation, annoyed the Tha’alanari. You have apparently also annoyed the Imperial Security Service. Both of these will have consequences for the Wolves—or for the person in charge of them. And you now want to add the Oracular Halls to that list?”
Severn nodded.
“This had better be good. It had better be stellar.”
Severn then explained.
* * *
Elluvian was amused. Amused and slightly chagrined.
“Helmat dislikes bureaucracy, which is unfortunate in a man who serves as Wolflord. He is adept at dealing with the politics that arise from time to time—but he takes little pride in it. I am certain, however, that Rosen would be delighted if you shared this latest request with her.”
“She’ll see it even if I don’t.”
“The Oracular Halls are very, very seldom visited. When they are—at least by officers of the Halls of Law—it is at the request of the Oracular Halls. It seldom goes in the other direction. Master Sabrai is competent. Under his guidance, the Oracles have flourished for almost three decades. He is not, however, the most accommodating or politic of men.”
“Rosen isn’t the only one who is—or will be—delighted.”
Elluvian chuckled. “Tell me, Private, to whom do you think Ybelline will go?”
Severn shrugged. After a pause which Elluvian interpreted as a refusal to answer the question, he said, “The Tha’alanari. They’re the only ones who could do what was done.”
“It is not nearly that simple.”
Severn waited. He asked no questions. Elluvian could not decide if he found this irritating or admirable. It was not Severn’s interactions with the Tha’alanari, the Imperial Security Service, and now the Oracular Halls that discomfited Elluvian; it was the High Court. More specifically, An’Tellarus. It had been two days. Not enough time for Corvallan to act—unless the action involved the mortal witnesses Severn had grouped together, two of whom had died in as many days.
An’Tellarus had summoned Elluvian to court. He was not yet of a mind to attend her; he had no business at court until and unless Corvallan had information to impart.
This would be the tricky part. Tricky for Elluvian—Corvallan was not his equal on his own, but Corvallan was not without support, and Cassandre was far deadlier. For Severn? If the situation was as the events now implied, it was death.
Too much was happening, too quickly. But the Barrani were now wed to the mortal clock, and time was always of the essence for mortals. Still, Elluvian was engaged. He felt more alive than he had in decades, trapped in the confines of these dingy offices, these petty mortal politics.
There were stakes here that were larger. He almost felt the investigation had only barely touched the periphery of the matter. Were it not for An’Tellarus, he would have found it almost entertaining, not that he would have used those words when speaking to any of the Wolves.
“You may return to your study of Records,” he finally said. “If we are granted permission to visit the Oracular Halls, it will not be today.”
* * *
Severn had perhaps half an hour in which to continue to make connections between a multitude of different interconnected cases when Elluvian’s mirror dimmed the images displayed in his most recent Records search.
Helmat’s face, larger than life, filled the mirror display. “Tell Severn he’s expected at the Oracular Halls.”
Both of Elluvian’s brows rose. “When?”
“Apparently, thirty minutes from now.”
“We have an actual appointment?”
“Yes. It was, according to Sabrai’s secretary, made three months ago.”
“Three months ago? Under whose name?”
“Severn Handred and one other.”
“Me?”
“No, actually. I’ve already made my apologies to the secretary, and he has agreed—with alacrity and surprising good humor—to extend the appointment.”
“The other participant? Not you?”
Helmat, framed perfectly by the mirror’s glass, looked at the newest of his Wolves. “Who do you feel is meant to be your companion in this endeavor?”
Severn bowed his head in thought. A handful of seconds later, he lifted his chin. “Ybelline.”
“Indeed. Ybelline. Apparently, one of the Oracles asked Master Sabrai to arrange the appointment. Would you care to hazard a guess as to which Oracle?”
“Random.”
“That is not her official name, according to the secretary. It is, however, how she sometimes introduces herself when she is permitted visitors.”
“Or when she requests them?”
“Or when she requests them. I have taken the liberty of passing the message on to Ybelline; she has not yet responded.”
“It may take a while,” Severn replied.
“It may. You are to meet her, as you did the first time, at the gates to the Tha’alani quarter.”