The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,52
in action. They are similar to any form of territoriality. I have spent little time in the fiefs, but I’ve scouted the warrens from time to time. You will see gangs rise and fall in the streets that comprise the warrens, and you will see the posturing of those who have power and wish to maintain it; you will see the maneuvers of those with less power who wish to have more of it.
“There is little subtlety in either: the gangs are not known for delicate words or the small turns of phrase that might be otherwise used at court. In the High Court, lives and their fates are decided with the simplest and politest of words.”
“But people still die.”
“Yes. The death sentence, however, is given long before the actual sword falls, and the hand that wields the literal sword is seldom the hand that commanded the death.”
“Like the Emperor.”
“Indeed, very like the Emperor.” Elluvian nodded at the man who was in the process of rescuing his clothing from Severn’s hands. “Those will do. We will, of course, be back; it is quite likely that my young companion will need a far wider range of clothing in the near future.” Elluvian did not offer the man money; the man did not seem to expect it.
Having followed Elianne through the streets of this city, Severn knew that this was not the norm—not for Elianne or her Hawks.
“To be fair,” Elluvian said, when they were once again enclosed by the open streets, “the Emperor’s reason for having the Wolves is not the same as the reasoning of those Lords of the High Court. If the Emperor is charged with the execution, whole city blocks will perish as he carries it out. Dragons can be astonishingly subtle in many ways—but when they descend to dealing death, there is nothing subtle about it. He has us because he wishes to be surgical in the implementation of his decrees. He does not wish the innocent to perish in his pursuit of the guilty.”
“And the Lords of the High Court?”
“They wish to maintain the appearance of innocence.”
“But you don’t believe they are?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then they’re failing.”
Elluvian chuckled. “Innocence is the wrong word, my apologies. They wish to remain above the fray, where they are also beyond reproach. We do not expect the Barrani to act as the Emperor desires his subjects to act. We are not a credulous people, and trust is a word that only barely exists in my mother tongue. Trust, love—these are the remnants of a childhood that we managed to survive by abandoning either.”
Severn said nothing.
Elluvian expected silence, but something in Severn’s silence annoyed him, judging by the darkening of his eyes. “You have survived. Did you do so by being trusting?”
“No.”
“And love?”
Severn observed his feet as they crossed the cobbled stone. “I survived,” he said, voice low, “because I had something I wanted to protect. I don’t know what love means to the Barrani. Maybe it means nothing. But everything I’ve done for most of my adult life—”
“You are hardly adult.”
The Wolf on probation didn’t dignify that with an objection. Nor did he finish what he’d started to say.
“You know, boy,” Elluvian said, when the silence had made clear that no further words would be forthcoming without prodding, “I have the oddest sensation that my opinion in this regard means nothing to you.”
Severn continued in silence.
* * *
Helmat looked up when Severn entered the office. The Wolflord was not alone; a young woman, near to Severn in age, stood to one side of his desk, her hands behind her back, her expression forbidding.
“No, don’t leave. You aren’t interrupting anything. Mellianne, this is Severn.”
Mellianne’s frown was instant, changing the contours of her slender face. She was shorter than Severn, but not by more than a couple of inches; her hair was as dark as his, but straight. Her eyes were a brown that was close to black, her skin sun-darkened and even. “You’re Severn?”
The Wolflord’s face was chiseled in neutral lines.
“A bit fancy for us, don’t you think?”
Severn shrugged. “What we think doesn’t matter, does it?”
The Wolflord’s brows rose slightly before they settled into an almost unbroken line.
“How have you found working with Elluvian?” Lord Marlin asked.
“He’s Barrani,” Severn replied, the shrug implied in the words.
Mellianne snorted. “You’ve been dumped on Elluvian?”
Severn’s smile was pleasant; it revealed nothing.
She cursed. “You really have, haven’t you?”
“You don’t like him.”
“And you can say you do?”
“He’s Barrani,” he repeated. This time he did shrug.