The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,42
not committed by a single person; a crowd of mortals engaged in the torture and degradation of their victims.”
Helmat nodded.
“The Hawks determined this much. What they did not determine, however, was that the crowd was not composed entirely of mortals.”
“There was a Barrani present,” Helmat said, voice flat.
“There was a Barrani present, yes. This is not proof, of course. But the memories of our criminal made absolutely clear that the Barrani was not simply present; he had engineered both the kidnapping and the creation of the mob that carried out the crime. All of the crimes,” he added. “This is one of the few cases of serial murder in which we are absolutely certain we know the names of all of the victims. Not that the perpetrators made any attempt to hide their crimes.
“Our detainee did not provide us with a Barrani name, but we believe Elluvian might at least recognize the target if he is shown what Timorri witnessed.”
“Be that as it may, Elluvian does not speak with the Tha’alani in that fashion. If you have issues with that, take them up with the Emperor.”
En cleared his throat. Loudly. “Gentlemen. While I find it oddly comforting to listen to the two of you, if your target is Barrani, you waste time we do not have.”
Saidh nodded. “We wish to impart information about the target to you in the most efficient fashion possible.”
Elluvian’s smile was slender. He chose to ignore Saidh’s wishes. “Tell me where the bodies were found. Do not force me to make inquiries of the Hawks. It will spoil both my day and theirs.”
The location—which Helmat could also easily access—appeared as an overlay in a grid across the image of Saidh in the mirror; the street appeared directly between Saidh’s eyes and nose.
“Are we to apprehend?”
“This is an execution, not a standard ground hunt. We have more than enough evidence for the Emperor to make a decision.”
“Dragons do not historically require much in the way of evidence,” Elluvian pointed out. Helmat snapped his name, and En fell silent. “Very well. Log the date and the time.”
“You do not know who you are hunting.”
“And that,” Elluvian replied, before Helmat could, “is not your problem.”
Helmat shut the mirror down, denying Saidh the opportunity to reply.
He then turned to the Barrani Wolf. “There are still forms it’s essential to maintain—and criticisms of Dragons are never politically wise.”
“They are, however, expected.”
“From you, yes.” Helmat took the seat behind his desk, and once again gestured at the mirror. This time it revealed a very familiar office, at the center of which was an equally suspicious Rosen. “Send Severn in. And send Ybelline in, as well.”
“She’s no longer in the office.”
“She’s probably waiting outside the doors.”
* * *
Ybelline was almost outraged. Almost. She was—as most of her kind would be—exhausted and grief-sick. She required the comfort and safety of her physical home, a reminder that her life was not, and would never be, the life of the person whose thoughts she had briefly but deeply touched.
Instead, she got Rosen’s suspicious face, and an invitation to the interior of Helmat’s sparse, cold office. And, for good measure, Scoros’s and Garadin’s simultaneous intrusion through the Tha’alaan, neither of whom were pleased for, or with, her.
Garadin was faintly condescending: What else did you expect? You wished to go in my stead. And now you will have to deal with the consequences of that decision. Behind the faint condescension, however, was a mixture of fear and guilt.
The seeds, she knew, of madness.
Scoros was older than Garadin, older by more than Ybelline. He had been part of the Tha’alanari for all of Ybelline’s living memory. But the Tha’alaan remembered more, and more deeply.
This is not for you, Ybelline. Understand that. This is not for you. We have seen what Timorri saw.
Timorri was absolutely silent.
Yes, Scoros said quietly. I am with him, and one other. We will not leave him in the dark alone. But he cannot yet bespeak even the Tha’alanari. It is not safe for us. Do not fear for him. And do not attempt to speak to him yourself. It is not a command, but a request, Ybelline. Consider it a plea.
The Lord of Wolves has called me.
Yes.
Do you know why?
No, no more than you, but you are not, and have never been, foolish. You have studied the Halls of Law; you understand the Imperial Security Service. You understand what Timorri saw—we all saw it, briefly. Tell me what you think your role will be.