The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,25

must stop.

The Imperial Service doesn’t worry.

No. But they are not Tha’alanari. We are. I will concede, however, that he seems an unusual boy.

He is no longer a boy, Scoros.

You are a mere slip of child, to me. I do not think you will do the harm you fear to do; you have his permission. And permission, child, is everything. Continuing without it is the greatest harm to you, to us, that can be done in the end.

Throughout this, Severn had been silent. Can I ask a question?

Clearly, Scoros replied.

I’m worried for her.

We are all worried for her. Are you worried enough to abandon the possibility of becoming a Wolf?

Yes, if it comes to that. I’ve never dreamed of being a Wolf. I wouldn’t have come here on my own. Elluvian brought me.

And you want to be a Wolf, do you? Scoros, with as much forbearance as he usually demonstrated, had taken over the conversation.

I want to have a reason to be in the Halls of Law.

Do you understand the Wolves that stand in Shadow?

They’re assassins.

Yes, that’s exactly what they are. Do not, however, use the word when speaking with Helmat. It annoys him.

Scoros, Ybelline broke in, that is unfair.

Helmat believes there’s a difference because Helmat has to believe there’s a difference. But my jaundiced eyes can’t see one.

Assassins kill for money, Severn offered.

Do you think he occupies that office of his for free? Scoros countered.

I don’t know.

He doesn’t. He’s paid, and paid well, for his service.

As are we, Ybelline said. This silenced Scoros. Ybelline did not believe that silence would last for long. What Scoros meant to say was simply this. If you are a Wolf, you might be called upon to kill. Those who do kill are required to face us every single time. Their jobs are dependent on the reports we then give the Wolflord. And Severn? Unlike today, those sessions are mandatory. You will be a Wolf, and you will be under Helmat’s command.

Will it always be you?

Garadin laughed. Scoros grimaced. Neither of these could be seen, but both could be felt. Severn was merely embarrassed.

I can’t guarantee that it will always be me. You’ve seen, from today, that different members of the Tha’alanari must sometimes retreat from service.

Has there ever been a time when you’ve told Lord Marlin not to hire someone?

Yes, Scoros said.

Did he listen?

Garadin laughed again.

Yes. He wasn’t happy about it, but then again, he never is. And regardless, the appraisal and the recommendation won’t be mine. It will be Ybelline’s.

But...

But we see what she sees?

Severn’s nod was a ripple, not a gesture.

We do not see all that she sees. No more does she know all of what I see, or all of what Garadin sees. We will have the gist of it, no more. It is how we function. At the point where we cannot keep our sanity, cannot keep our internal walls intact, we must stop.

Why are you explaining this to me?

Because you asked, boy. When we are drowning in darkness and pain and cruelty, we reach instinctively for our kin. But as with any drowning person, grip too tightly, grip in the wrong way, and all that is achieved is two deaths, not one. It is a pity that you are not seeking to be a Hawk. I believe we would find the experience far less taxing, were you. Ybelline, decide. The boy is clearly willing.

* * *

Ybelline said yes.

She said it wordlessly. She returned to the silence of her own thoughts, disentangling herself from the Tha’alanari, the familiar voices of Garadin, of Scoros, of the others. Here, in the remaining hush, she was as close as she could come to a human experience. She felt the isolation keenly, as she always did. But humans experienced this all the time. They had no choice.

There was an element of trust in Severn’s apprehension, an element missing from those whom the Imperial Service wished to interrogate. Scoros had taught her—taught most of them—that regardless of the emotions of their subjects, the Tha’alanari must be worthy of a trust that would never be offered. They must touch only those things that were relevant, and if they stumbled, if they were sucked, by the vortex of fear and rage, into other memories, other thoughts, they must never, ever speak of the things that were not relevant.

Humans feared the Tha’alani because humans required secrets.

But the Tha’alani feared human secrets almost as much. She wondered, as she sometimes did, what the world would be like if all