most efficient way possible so that people shied away from the terror of those memories and the time period that surrounded them.
This made sense to Severn.
He pulled up the Records of the murders. He looked at the dates. Frowned. He recalled the conversation—the end of the conversation—with An’Tellarus, and his frown deepened. He could make a mirror connection to Ybelline, but if he did, it would be logged and it was highly likely to be overheard.
They had been commanded to find the person responsible for the deaths of the Tha’alani that had preceded Severn’s birth. They had not been commanded to kill—or rather, Severn had not. He was almost certain that Elluvian had been handed a writ of execution. But if his understanding of the application of laws of exemption was correct, Teremaine was a dead man walking, and the Emperor had not commanded them to find Teremaine.
Severn had seen the Barrani man in the crowd. Elluvian, who would not submit, ever, to the touch of the Tha’alani, had not. Severn was to identify the man he’d seen second-and third-hand, and only upon positive identification was Elluvian empowered to act. None of that was relevant. Teremaine was the person spotted in the crowd. Teremaine was not the intended target.
If, indeed, the man in question was Teremaine.
Severn frowned. Elluvian had made that assumption. All of the information he had levered out of Corvallan, Cassandre, and An’Tellarus depended on that assumption.
Severn didn’t understand the politics of the Emperor, the High Court, or the human caste court. He understood the Tha’alani Caste Court better; he was almost certain that the Tha’alani Caste Court was comprised of members from the Tha’alanari. He’d been assigned to Elluvian because Ybelline had let him glimpse what she herself had seen in Timorri’s mind—and Timorri’s information had come from a human criminal.
A human criminal that the Imperial Service was questioning.
That criminal was not one of the four witnesses that Severn had discovered by searching Records.
The Tha’alani were not called into the Halls of Law for many cases, relative to the number of legal infractions the Hawks dealt with. The investigations in which they were considered necessary involved crimes that weren’t considered petty. They didn’t call Tha’alani to pick over the thoughts of pickpockets. The Hawklord, the Wolflord, and the Swordlord had discretion in the calls they made.
Employment in the Wolves—as opposed to Hawks or Swords—required vetting by the Tha’alani. This probably meant that the Wolves were known to the Imperial Service in a way none of the other officers of the Halls were.
“What has captured your attention so thoroughly you fail to hear a visitor?” a familiar voice said.
Severn transferred his gaze from the mirror to the door; he rose slowly, the desk between an extravagantly dressed An’Tellarus and him.
* * *
“It is not, that I’m aware, your duty to greet visitors,” she said, glancing at the mirror with a mild expression of disgust.
“We don’t have unannounced visitors often,” Severn replied. “The offices of the Wolves are not open to the general public as a rule.”
“I have seldom considered myself a member of your general public,” An’Tellarus replied. Her eyes were blue, but a blue green that was as close to green as he had seen them. “I cannot believe Elluvian calls this his office,” she added, with obvious disdain. “It is practically a coffin.”
“Coffins for mortals,” Severn replied, “are generally far less extravagant than their Barrani equivalents must be.”
“Clever boy,” she said, her eyes darkening slightly. He thought the half smile genuine, but she was Barrani. “I believe the shouting has stopped.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long, even given mortal time. I dislike the lack of sunlight and the lingering smell of blood.”
He abandoned both mirror and desk, and offered her a more correct bow.
“I cannot believe that you have learned your manners from Elluvian; his are dreadful.”
* * *
The last person Elluvian wanted to set eyes on in the next decade was waiting, like a grim specter, when Elluvian emerged from Helmat’s office. The door had not closed quickly enough that Helmat could fail to notice the unannounced visitor. He considered closing the door from the inside, but half suspected that An’Tellarus would open the door one way or another, and if Helmat was forced to replace doors again in such a short period of time, the Imperial Order of Mages was likely to demand his head.
He therefore walked down the hall toward An’Tellarus. He offered her a curt nod, rather than a formal bow;