The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,101
the Imperial Service,” Elluvian said. “They do not have right of command over Ybelline Rabon. They certainly don’t have right of command over the Wolves.”
“Apparently the Imperial Service disagrees.”
“This is petty on their part. We are Wolves, not errand runners or Imperial guards.”
“If this is the full extent of the pettiness we face in response to Severn’s request, we will be grateful.”
“Saidh is not generally petty.”
The Wolflord ignored this. “She’ll be safer with you—and Severn—than she will with Imperial guards. Saidh knows this. You know it. Ybelline Rabon will, when she is ready to travel, meet you both at the gates. You have a window of four hours.”
* * *
“I am impressed, I confess,” Elluvian said as they walked streets they had already crossed twice. “Helmat is annoyed.”
Severn nodded. “How important is his annoyance in comparison to the conclusion of the hunt?”
“Negligible, as you have already observed. Most would find Helmat the most intimidating element—he is your commander.”
A shrug. “Can you find out if the Hawks had any success?”
“You are authorized to make that inquiry.” Silence. “You wish to remain anonymous.” More silence. “You do not wish the girl to know that you are involved with the Halls of Law.”
“No.”
“Has it occurred to you that this might be difficult?”
“No.”
Elluvian chuckled. “The optimism of youth.”
Severn said nothing, and Elluvian reconsidered. Not optimism, he thought. Determination. The Wolves were not required to enter the Halls using the same doors the Hawks or the Swords did; unlike the Hawks or Swords, no part of the Wolves’ offices was open to the public.
* * *
Ybelline appeared—in the robes of her people, not the garb of the Imperial Service—an hour after the two Wolves reached the gates. The guards were no more welcoming or friendly than they had been the first time, but no argumentative discussion seemed to be occurring between Ybelline and the guards; they seemed slightly relieved to see her.
It was the uniform, of course. She was not wearing the garb of the Imperial Service. She was wearing a turquoise robe with gold trim and white borders; turquoise beads gleamed from the combs in her hair. Her eyes, however, were hazel with flecks of green. She approached the two Wolves, and Elluvian was surprised to see that green recede as she met Severn’s gaze.
The cub asked her no questions; he simply waited until she reached him.
He then tucked his chin slightly, holding both hands palm up between them. She hesitated for less than three seconds before placing her hands, palm down, across his. And then, before Elluvian could speak a word, she touched Severn’s forehead with her antennae. Severn closed his eyes as Ybelline closed hers.
Elluvian looked toward the Tha’alani guards; their eyes were no longer the green of anger or fear. He did not, and possibly would never, understand the Tha’alani. Ybelline’s greeting of Severn, or possibly Severn’s greeting of her, accepted by her, had set them all at ease. Given their paranoid view of human thoughts and fears, the opposite reaction was the one he would have predicted.
It wasn’t just a greeting. They stood in the street, bounded by wall, guard and Wolf, for ten minutes. Fifteen. Severn’s hands tightened around hers, no desperation in the grip; Elluvian thought the boy meant to offer comfort.
She lifted her antennae, and then, after another pause, opened her eyes and lifted her hands. She stepped back. As she did, Severn bowed. He held that bow until she bade him rise.
“A carriage,” Elluvian said, “will take us to the Oracular Halls.”
“An Imperial carriage?”
“Helmat insisted.”
* * *
Helmat had not, of course, insisted, but the window of time granted them was closing, and the carriage would be faster at this time of day than the longer walk. It would also make protecting the Tha’alani agent almost trivial. People would see the Imperial crest, not the passengers—and if they did see the passengers, the one they were likely to note was Elluvian. Ybelline had drawn a hood up and across her face. A second look would, of course, make clear that the shape of the hood’s fall was wrong.
The guards at the Oracles’ gates did not stop the carriage at all.
The guards at the doors looked both annoyed and relieved; they allowed all three to enter the front doors. Master Sabrai was standing impatiently, all but glaring at an ornate clock; he transferred that glare to the visitors. He did not, however, accuse them of being late.
“This way,” he said, speaking to Severn and Ybelline. “Not you,” he