met, and held, her gaze. “I consider it a practical question,” he finally said.
“How so? In what way is it practical, given your audience? It might be considered dangerous or foolish, but practical? No.”
“You will either answer, or you will not. If you do not answer, it means that you consider an answer disadvantageous. Or you consider the person asking beneath you.”
“And the offense I might take at the question?”
“The question would be offensive to you if the association was one you wished to remain in shadows. You’ve already declared your support—your recent support—for An’Sennarin. I am not familiar with the factions at court; I do not know if your connection to An’Sennarin is of value to him. I assume it must be.”
“But you are not so clear on the advantage I gain?”
“In that circumstance, I wouldn’t be.”
Her brows rose. “You can see an advantage for me in the association? It is very, very seldom that I am asked to serve as messenger and bodyguard.”
“The advantage must be strong indeed,” Elluvian added.
“Do not interrupt me,” An’Tellarus snapped.
Severn and Ybelline exchanged a weary glance; it was followed by very slight smiles as they realized they had had the same thoughts about squabbling in the carriage.
An’Tellarus, however, said, “Do not relax yet. I have more information to convey before we reach our destination, and we will not exit my carriage until that information has been delivered.”
* * *
Severn didn’t approach the entrance of the High Halls as a Wolf. As he was already in the presence of An’Tellarus and Ybelline, the subtle warning a tabard provided would be irrelevant. Ybelline would draw all attention. No Barrani who was breathing could possibly consider a Tha’alani’s death a crime subject to caste court exemptions. Severn was beneath notice. He fell into step beside Elluvian, aware that their strides now matched. Aware that they were now here as An’Tellarus’s servants or aides in the eyes of most of the witnesses.
The halls weren’t as empty as they had been either of the times Severn had previously visited. People gathered by alcoves and beneath works of art; they talked in small pockets, their eyes blue as Ybelline walked past them, although he caught hints of a brighter gold in some. She wore no hood, made no attempt to hide her race. Once or twice she turned to speak a few words to An’Tellarus, but none of those words made enough sound that Severn could hear them.
For her part, An’Tellarus wore white and gold to Ybelline’s green and gold; the Barrani Lord looked formal, even regal, as she escorted Ybelline, leading her subtly in the direction she wished Ybelline to go. Or so it appeared at first, but as Severn watched the two women in front of him, he revised his opinion; Ybelline chose the direction.
He watched the halls for any sign of movement; unlike city streets—some of which were narrower than the gallery from side to side—there were no second-or third-story windows behind which an assassin might take a shot at the Tha’alani; there were no crowded corners, no passing wagons. There was no way to follow the Tha’alani castelord—or almost castelord—without being seen.
No natural way.
Severn had played games in smaller spaces than this; had learned to listen for breaths, footsteps, when simple vision was otherwise impaired. He had scoffed—he had been very young—at the preposterous idea that people might somehow have, and waste, magic in order to cross a room undetected. He’d learned, a painstaking and even humiliating task, to be aware of that possible waste of magic.
He had had no such magic, and had also learned the importance of pillars, statues, fountains; he had learned to follow, exactly, the movement of wagon wheels or wagons if he wished to pass unseen in the open streets.
Did he expect that those lessons would come in useful in the High Halls? Possibly, but not today. Still, he watched, his hands empty. An’Tellarus’s feet made no sound at all across the marble floors; her shadow, unlike Ybelline’s, seemed to defy the actual fall of sunlight through the enormous open spaces in the ceilings above.
One glance at Elluvian made clear that if Severn thought attack unlikely, Elluvian didn’t. But Elluvian approached the High Halls as if they were a battlefield of old—one that contained stragglers, carrion creatures, and corpses. He didn’t walk through Elantran streets that way. Then again, those streets were full of mortals, most of whom were irrelevant to his survival.
The turnoff from the open gallery was at