The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,16

that Severn had been tailing An’Teela and her two companions and he had been neither caught nor apparently noted. Helmat, clearly, saw something more.

If Helmat had begun the interview with some reservations, they were gone; his reluctant agreement had, with a few words from an otherwise suspicious young man, become genuine approval. Perhaps he saw something of himself in the young man. If he did, Elluvian had not seen it—and he had known Helmat for all of the Wolf’s career in the Halls of Law.

He left the hallway like an incarcerated man leaving his cell; he disliked mortal architecture’s suffocating density, and oft felt like a rat trapped in a maze, albeit a familiar one. Beyond the narrow hall, the office opened up, although the ceilings did not. Here there were desks, and those desks occupied a much larger room than the Lord of Wolves did. At the front of that room was a desk that was meant as a choke point.

“En.” The single syllable traveled the length of a room that was not entirely empty, as the woman at the desk rose and turned.

“Rosen.” He offered her a shallow bow. She was the oldest of the Wolves present, which did not make her old in mortal terms. Injury—her left hand was missing two fingers, and her left leg was not stable without a brace—had sidelined her permanently. Even given those injuries, she could be intimidating. None of the force-of-nature elements of her personality had left her. She disliked her name, and he thought it amusing that she was willing to use Helmat’s diminutive when addressing him. Only the very drunk or the very foolish attempted to call her Rose.

“I’ve a message from Garadin. The Tha’alanari cannot send us an interrogator today. Garadin has suggested we try Draalzyn in Missing Persons.”

“Did we?”

“I did, yes.”

“Your expression implies that he was likewise unavailable.”

Rosen did not hide her distaste. “He asked if it was an emergency, while simultaneously making clear it couldn’t possibly be.”

“To be fair to Draalzyn, it isn’t.”

“It’s none of his business.” She folded her arms, her lips compressing.

“No. It’s not.” Draalzyn and Garadin were Tha’alani. The Tha’alani were natural telepaths. They could bespeak members of their own race with an ease that even the mirror network did not provide. Which was not, of course, why they were feared. They could traverse the thoughts and memories of other races, as well—although that required physical contact.

Every person who served as a Wolf had undergone that examination of thought and memory at least once. The Shadow Wolves, however, were called upon to endure it after the conclusion of each successful mission. Some endured it with a fatalistic stoicism. Rosen had never been one of them.

“Draalzyn would not be in charge of choosing a member of the Tha’alanari for our task. Garadin would be.”

“Garadin didn’t seem to be in a hurry to be helpful.”

Elluvian sighed. “Let me speak to him.”

* * *

Elluvian swept dust off the surface of his desk, pulled his chair out, and sat in it. It gave a comforting creak as it adjusted to his weight. His mirror had suffered less neglect, and the reflective surface swirled away as he called it from sleep. “Garadin,” he said to the mirror. “Now, if he is not otherwise involved in a similar conversation.”

The Tha’alani were, in general, far more rational, far less emotional, than other angry mortals. Garadin’s face did not look particularly placid or calm, but even had it, his eyes were an almost livid green. The thin set of his lips relaxed as his eyes met Elluvian’s. “Is Rosen unaware that we are essentially on call to Imperial Security?”

“She knows.”

“And that the Wolves are not part of those services?”

“She is aware of that.”

“Then perhaps you need to inform her that we are not required to jump to obedient attention the moment she mirrors us.”

“In her defense—”

“Don’t bother. I suppose she told you to mirror.”

“She informed me that there had been some delays, yes.”

Garadin snorted. The antennae on his forehead were almost rigid, which was unusual, even for Garadin.

“What happened?”

The Tha’alani eyes were a dark enough green Elluvian was mildly surprised to see that color deepen. Garadin did not answer. Would not, Elluvian thought. He watched Garadin’s expression freeze in place; watched as the stalks on his forehead eased into gradual motion. “Apologies,” he said in stiff Barrani.

Elluvian answered in kind, without the stiffness. “None are necessary. It appears that our request arrived at an inopportune time. Our needs are not urgent;