The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,55

do not take well to condescension or pity when they are the target of either.”

“Given your presence, I doubt people will have much time to pity me.”

* * *

Elluvian did not entirely understand Severn. He did not, if he were being fair, understand most mortals, and the understanding he had developed over the passage of decades had been of a practical bent. The boy had presence, but it was difficult to pinpoint the reasons for it. He was slightly taller than average; his skin, with the exception of one scar, youthful; his eyes were a lighter shade than his dark hair implied. He spoke seldom, but he did not appear to resent words; he simply offered few of them.

He did not seem to desire either attention or approval—and approval was something Elluvian understood well. It was a lever that drove many people. He himself, in his distant youth, had been one of them.

Mellianne desired approval. Darrell had been more complicated. Severn, while of an age with both, was like neither of them. He seldom allowed his emotions to dictate his behavior. No subtle attempt to annoy him had apparently succeeded, Elluvian observed. That would have to change, in some small fashion, but Elluvian was content to observe this new recruit in return. It would certainly be a day for such observations.

He regretted the necessity. If Rosen was not at home with the Barrani, she understood both her role and Elluvian’s, and she could, without comment, make herself so invisible she became just another nameless servant, even given the handicap of mortality.

He was not yet certain that Severn could do the same.

Certainly, his reaction upon seeing the High Halls was in keeping with Rosen’s later reactions; he glanced at the entry, at the larger than life statues that girded the pillars, at the stone steps that seemed immune to the simple passage of time. He did not crane his neck, nor did he otherwise attempt to take in the intimidating architectural splendor; it appeared, to Elluvian’s eye, that Severn found the High Halls as important as the shop in which they had procured the clothing he now wore: different, but not awe-inspiring.

No, the boy’s eyes seemed to take in movement, people; his gaze focused only when the distance was slight. You know where they are, he thought, surprised. He shouldn’t have been. Severn had tailed An’Teela for some time without alerting her; he had not caused difficulty in the distant crowd in his attempt to keep the Barrani Hawks in sight.

He meant to remain unseen. Here, that would not be possible.

Elluvian took the stairs that led into the High Halls. Severn followed, to the left and behind, keeping pace at a distance of perhaps a yard. Elluvian recognized most of the men and women within the sparsely populated halls; none were of concern. They noted him, as he had noted them, but chose not to address him or acknowledge him.

In a distant youth, it might have stung. The thought irritated him, coming as it did from nowhere; he glanced once at Severn. No, not nowhere. Who are you, boy?

Severn’s assumption—that he would be insignificant in comparison to Elluvian—was proved both true and false. Elluvian did garner immediate attention, but Severn, being mortal, came very close. There was an edge to the curiosity, a desire to ascertain whether Severn was somehow important enough to Elluvian that he might make an effective lever, however ephemeral. Elluvian offered no instructions and no subtle warnings. When he wished to break visual contact, he simply continued on his way, forcing his servant to follow.

Only once did this fail to have the desired effect.

Once was more than enough.

* * *

“Elluvian! I had heard you had returned, briefly, to court, and I hoped it was not a singular event.”

Elluvian’s smile was glass. He was not outcaste, but was considered a pariah. Only those with enough power could freely interact with him in public. The adoption of the expression hid nothing as he slowed, turning in the direction of the speaker. Severn slowed as well, keeping pace with his supposed master.

“And I see you’ve brought a guest.”

“An’Tellarus,” Elluvian replied, surrendering movement and the brief daydream of speedy escape. He offered the woman a deep bow, allowing himself the time to more gracefully smooth his expression. Severn had ceased to walk; the shape of his shadow implied that he had not instantly folded into a similar bow.

He had given the boy instructions about necessary etiquette for servants, and had made