The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,137

the person who had provided it. There was a layer of politics in any interaction between two people; even those who barely kept a roof over their own head or food in their mouths. No one wanted to be sold out, no matter what their activity.

The Tha’alani occupied more and more of his attention. They were never, as far as Severn could determine, criminals. No matter how central the Tha’alaan was in their lives, people were people. Tha’alani criminals must exist.

But Tha’alani Caste Court laws were not inscribed into Records Severn could access. He needed to speak to Ybelline.

The Wolflord very grudgingly made the call to the Tha’alanari. Ybelline was not the person who answered that call, but according to the Wolflord, she never was. No, it was Scoros, looking hazel-eyed and extremely tired. His answers to the Wolflord’s questions had been monosyllabic. He didn’t ask questions, and he made no argument on behalf of Ybelline.

A lot of nothing was said; the Wolflord’s expression, by the end of the very short mirror call, was as dour and grim as Scoros’s. “You have permission to visit Ybelline. She will not come here unless you intend to ask questions that require Imperial Service answers.”

“I don’t.”

“I want,” the Wolflord continued, “a report on your progress in this case. Preferably before you leave, but given the time, it can wait until after. Immediately after.”

Severn nodded.

* * *

The guards who greeted Severn at the gates to the Tha’alani quarter were green-eyed to a man, but he now expected this. When they asked his purpose, he said, “I have an appointment with Ybelline Rabon of the Tha’alanari.” When they demanded to know the reason for that appointment, he failed to answer. There was no politic way to do so. The investigation was the reason, in the end, for the creation of—and the separation of—the Tha’alanari from the rest of their kin. The guards weren’t Tha’alanari.

He knew that he wouldn’t gain access to the Tha’alani quarter without an escort. He expected Scoros to be sent. Or possibly Garadin. If he was lucky, Ybelline herself would come—but Severn doubted that she anticipated his arrival with any joy whatsoever.

The gates, however, did open with the intervention of the guards. These gates, unlike the gates that fronted many of the richer mansions, were not a grille; no one standing in front of them could now peer through to catch a glimpse of the people protected by their existence.

This also made sense. Severn waited.

The gates weren’t fully open before they halted in their figurative tracks. The guards made haste to offer a very visible obeisance to the man who stood in their partial frame. They then rose and finished what they had started, although it was hardly necessary; the gap in the partially opened gates was more than wide enough for either Severn or his escort to fit through.

Even had the behavior of the guards not been unusual, Severn would have recognized this man, although he hadn’t yet put name to him.

He was the Tha’alani castelord.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Severn had not, in his brief time as a Wolf, had cause to interact with any of the other castelords. He now knew the names of the human and Leontine Caste Court leaders; he knew what the castelord of the Barrani High Court was called by those who were not Barrani. He knew nothing of the Tha’alani Caste Court or its structure.

But he had two things: a sketch and a carved figure, if carved was the right description. This man was older than Ybelline, his hair white; some small hint of iron gray implied that it had not always been so. He wore robes of green and blue, and a carelessly tied sash that implied that he, unlike the Barrani nobles, was responsible for the state of his own clothing.

And he had not let the gate guards know—before the gates opened—that he would serve as Severn’s escort.

His entire carriage and bearing spoke of age, of the weight of age; his eyes were darkly circled, his beard slightly wispy and unkempt. His eyes were green.

The man nodded to Severn. Severn offered him a very correct Barrani bow of respect in return. He rose when the man cleared his throat.

“I am called Adellos by those who speak with me in the fashion of outsiders. Adellos Coran’alani.”

“I am called Severn Handred,” Severn replied. It was superfluous; he was absolutely certain this man knew his name.

“Yes. Come. You have asked to speak with Ybelline; she is momentarily occupied and