The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,63

replied. “You will find that all living beings will spend much of their labor and time to acquire or become things of beauty.”

“Do you find them beautiful?”

“I? No. They are a statement, of course. You know that green, in the eyes of my kin, denotes happiness, comfort, perhaps joy. Indigo is its opposite. To pass between these flowers is to accept that broad spectrum of Barrani emotion.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“It seems like more of a warning.”

“Ah.”

“You might cause the one or the other. Both are possible.”

“I almost regret offering you to the Wolves. Yes. The middle path—the path we now walk—is the safe path. It is possible that you might be the bearer of tidings that invoke happiness, contentment—but I have never seen either in An’Tellarus’s eyes.”

“And the short trees?”

“They are a signal that all beauty, in the end, is a matter of will and design; that one can be both alive and sculpted into something better or more interesting.”

“The tapestries?”

“Do not spend time gazing at them. They are meant to draw and hold the eye in an endless way; they imply pattern, but there are inconsistencies in the flow of the design that challenge the viewer. Would you have preferred armed guards?”

Severn shook his head. “But armed guards are far easier to understand.”

“They offer an obvious warning, not a subtle one, but they can be seen as a sign of respect for another’s power.”

“That’s not what guards meant where I grew up.”

“No? No, perhaps not. But in the warrens, they are not referred to as guards by those who are not residents of those streets.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Elluvian offered Severn no warning as they reached the tall and forbidding doors—doors meant to imply lack of height and therefore lack of significance of the visitors who approached them. Or so it had always seemed to Elluvian.

Severn did not seem to feel the implied condescension.

Even his interest in the adornments An’Tellarus had chosen, admittedly unique in Elluvian’s experience, had been absent the taint of any apprehension; he was curious enough to ask questions, but he did so without fascinated dread. He was willing to own that curiosity openly—something even the youthful Barrani of Elluvian’s acquaintance would not have done, for fear of exposing their ignorance. But he understood that the time for questions had passed.

Elluvian waited. The doors did not begin their outward roll. Grimacing, he said, “Do you have any experience with door wards?”

Severn shook his head. No, Elluvian thought, ignorance for Severn was a simple fact. The denial did not seem to cause him discomfort.

“They are common in the city. They are common within portions of the High Halls.”

“They’re locks?”

“Of a kind, yes. But locks can easily be picked or broken if they are purely mechanical in nature.” Elluvian lifted a hand. Lowered it. “The central element of the pattern carved in the wood of the right door is a ward. If one desires entry, one places one’s palm against it, and waits.”

“It’s a magic that’s designed to be touched?”

“Yes.” Letting his hand fall to his side, he gestured to Severn.

“Does it matter which hand? It’s on the right-hand door, not the left.”

“No.”

Severn stared intently at the pattern—a spiraling relief of vines and leaves—and then lifted his left hand and placed his palm firmly against the ward.

“Is it that time already?” a disembodied voice asked. “Do step back. I would not want the doors to hit you when they open.”

Severn stepped back, as if such voices had been an everyday occurrence in his life. He returned to his position at Elluvian’s side and one step behind; the opening doors framed them both. No one was waiting behind the doors that opened into a wide, airy gallery, as if they were a simple barrier in the public halls, and not in private quarters.

No guards, but An’Tellarus did not require them. Lack of guards was its own statement, but context was required to decipher meaning.

Severn waited on Elluvian’s lead, as well he should. Elluvian allowed himself no more than a brief hesitation. This visit had nothing to do with the current investigation for which Severn’s services had been considered necessary. Had it been possible, Elluvian would have declined the invitation and returned alone. He had considered it, but was now old enough to accept a fate that could not be changed without outward struggle.

Inward struggle was a simple fact of life.

He had instructed Severn about the High Halls, its relevant factions, and the people with whom they had made their appointment; he had not mentioned An’Tellarus