The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,48
who gets assigned to Barrani—well, to En, if we’re being technical, because he is our entire Barrani division—makes this mistake at least once. He won’t be angry with you. Ah, no, he will be. But most of his ire will be directed at En.”
“Who isn’t here.”
“Remember: don’t kill the messenger.”
* * *
Severn didn’t open with Rosen’s saying. Lord Marlin didn’t open with cursing, either. He was rigid, and his jaw was set in a way that implied he was only barely holding on to his temper. He asked where the investigation had taken them.
For two days, it had taken them nowhere. Ah, no. It had taken them to the areas of three different murders from twenty years ago. All of the victims had been Tha’alani. But the trail had been cold for long enough, it was impossible to call it a trail anymore.
At the end of today, however, they had gone to Evanton.
Helmat frowned at the name. “Old man, dusty store, looks like nothing has been moved or sold, ever?”
Severn nodded.
“Where did you go after speaking with Evanton?”
“Elluvian spoke with Evanton.”
“You weren’t present for the discussion.”
“Not all of it; some of it occurred in a garden, apparently.”
Lord Marlin cursed. Liberally. Some of the words, Severn didn’t understand, but tone alone made clear what their content probably was. “And after this garden party?”
“I came here, as ordered.”
“Where did Elluvian go?”
“I’m sorry; he didn’t say.”
“Didn’t, or wouldn’t?”
“Wouldn’t. I did ask.”
The Wolflord was no longer seated; he paced. No, Severn thought, he prowled. “Understand that Elluvian is not your commanding officer. I am. When executing the duties of a Wolf, you obey my orders, not his. I will make clear to him that you are not a page or a servant. You are, in this hunt, his partner.”
Severn said nothing. He had no doubt that this had already been made clear to Elluvian.
The Wolflord exhaled and finally returned to his chair. “Very well. There are lessons you must learn. You can, I assume, handle that knife.”
Severn nodded again.
“Competently?”
Competently enough that he was alive. Severn nodded.
“While we wait for Elluvian to return, I will attempt to discern what lessons are the most urgent.”
Severn cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“If I understand what’s happened, the only reason I was assigned to Elluvian is because Elluvian won’t—or can’t—speak to the Tha’alani. What the Tha’alani could give me was a picture of the man Elluvian is now hunting. They couldn’t give him that because he won’t allow it.
“Evanton clearly somehow gave him that picture—which means, as far as Elluvian’s concerned, I’m now useless. My presence is unnecessary.”
“And if Elluvian were Wolflord, that would be relevant. He’s not. I am.”
“Mortals hunting Barrani are—”
“At a large disadvantage, yes. And if I want to hear En’s words, I’ll listen to them from his own mouth. I have my reasons. You are ordered to accompany him. I don’t particularly care if you accompany him to the High bloody Halls. Have I made myself clear?”
Something about Severn’s expression caused another round of cursing, but it was softer. “Let me give you a crash course in Barrani politics and the composition of the caste court as it pertains to the law.”
* * *
Severn had a great desire to be anywhere that was not the Wolflord’s office when it contained both Lord Marlin and Elluvian. Elluvian was angry. Lord Marlin was angry. Nothing Severn could say—or do—would materially affect that. Nor were his words or opinion asked or desired. His presence, however, was.
Lord Marlin opened on the offensive. “Who are we hunting?”
Elluvian said, “I am attempting to determine that now. It is safer for your cub if he does not enter the High Halls.” His tone implied that Lord Marlin already understood this, and that the question was a waste of time.
“Save your lies for the Imperial Service. You know who we want. Give me a name.”
“You have no way of ascertaining the veracity of any name I choose to place on your desk. The criminal subject to the Imperial Tha’alani did not possess a name. Or rather, they did—but it was not a name by which the Barrani criminal would be recognized by his own kin.”
“Barrani recognition is not my concern.”
“But it is mine,” Elluvian replied. His arms were folded.
Severn stood stiffly to the side of Lord Marlin’s desk, nearest the wall; he kept his hands loosely at his sides.
“You went to the High Halls.”
“I am a Lord of the High Court; it is my right to do so.”