The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,59

in them for the duration of the meeting.

“You spoke with some urgency on your last visit,” Corvallan then said. The side doors opened, and refreshments were carried in by a silent man. Elluvian did not recognize him. “I regret that I was otherwise occupied. It may have prevented some difficulty.”

“Misunderstandings cause wars,” Elluvian replied, smiling.

“And this was a misunderstanding. You must know what you are called at court among those who are not your friends.”

Elluvian nodded.

“And you, boy,” Corvallan continued. “Do you know?”

Severn’s silence would not be acceptable here. Elluvian did not choose to command him to answer. He was curious to see how the boy handled himself.

“I do not,” Severn said. “Perhaps it was not considered of sufficient import that I be informed.”

Corvallan’s eyes narrowed. What he would tolerate from Elluvian he would not, could not, tolerate from a mere servant, and at that, a mortal one.

Severn’s expression, however, was diffident; there was no challenge in it. In a different circumstance, it might have seemed apologetic, but absent an actual apology. Unless Corvallan intended to target the boy deliberately, it was hard to find purchase for offense.

As if to underline this, Cassandre chuckled. “It is certainly not of import to your master, and that must, of course, be your primary concern. Loyalty is valued. It is a pity you did not attend Elluvian on his last visit to the High Halls. I would love to know how you came to serve him—but now it is I who am being almost rude. Forgive me.”

Severn bowed his head.

This exchange did not appear to amuse Corvallan. His eyes retained their midnight coloration as he turned, somewhat stiffly, to the tray set upon the table. Empty glasses were arranged in a pattern around a decanter of cut glass; the liquid within was the color of honey.

Food was also placed upon the wide sideboard. An expensive array of delicacies from the West March had been far more artfully arranged; it was meant to impress. It was certainly not meant to be eaten by Corvallan or Elluvian.

“You will join me?” Corvallan said, gesturing to the decanter.

“Given the appointment that is to follow this one, I must decline.”

“Ah. We had heard that An’Tellarus has chosen to grace the Halls with her presence. It is fortuitous timing. Will your servant join us?” The emphasis on the word servant could not be missed. The words, aimed at Severn, demanded an answer.

Severn, however, stepped back, toward a wall, as if he were in truth a helpmate, a public adornment. He did not answer Corvallan, but the tone of the question did not demand a response beyond that; the question had, after all, been indirectly addressed.

The boy was not Darrell, although their early environments had much in common.

Cassandre now took a seat; she also took the drink she was offered and held it in perfectly still hands, her gaze drawn to its surface as if it were a work of art meant to be viewed, not consumed. Elluvian almost regretted his decision to avoid it.

Silence now settled over the gathering. Social skills might have allowed a superficial recovery, but Elluvian did not consider this a social visit. Severn’s presence emphasized that. He glanced at Cassandre, who now chose to sip the amber liquid.

“You have come to my husband with concerns,” she finally said, taking, as she often had in the past, the lead that no one else desired.

“Yes.”

“Elluvian.” Her voice was chiding; the husband in question had not said a word.

“Recall that perhaps two decades ago—in the Imperial calendar—a string of Tha’alani kidnappings and murders took place.”

“Surely the killers were apprehended, given the nature of their victims?”

“Some, yes. Not all. It was mob violence—mortal mob violence—and the dying memories of the victims were not coherent, given the number of aggressors.”

“And this is relevant to us how?” Corvallan said.

Cassandre’s eyes narrowed briefly, the color darkening to a shade that more closely matched her husband’s.

“Very recently, one of the mob who had remained at large was apprehended for a series of much more mundane crimes. As is the Emperor’s desire, the Tha’alani were called to review the details of one of those crimes. I am not at liberty to speak of the nature of the crime itself.”

Silence.

“That man, however—mortal, of course—had one item of relevance to the earlier murders: there was a Barrani man present at the time. The man himself was not a participant in all of the mob violence—but the Barrani man appeared to have been at the scene of