She lifted her antennae, and then, after another pause, opened her eyes and lifted her hands. She stepped back. As she did, Severn bowed. He held that bow until she bade him rise.
“A carriage,” Elluvian said, “will take us to the Oracular Halls.”
“An Imperial carriage?”
“Helmat insisted.”
Helmat had not, of course, insisted, but the window of time granted them was closing, and the carriage would be faster at this time of day than the longer walk. It would also make protecting the Tha’alani agent almost trivial. People would see the Imperial crest, not the passengers—and if they did see the passengers, the one they were likely to note was Elluvian. Ybelline had drawn a hood up and across her face. A second look would, of course, make clear that the shape of the hood’s fall was wrong.
The guards at the Oracles’ gates did not stop the carriage at all.
The guards at the doors looked both annoyed and relieved; they allowed all three to enter the front doors. Master Sabrai was standing impatiently, all but glaring at an ornate clock; he transferred that glare to the visitors. He did not, however, accuse them of being late.
“This way,” he said, speaking to Severn and Ybelline. “Not you,” he added, in the vicinity of Elluvian. “You were not mentioned and the appointment does not cover Barrani visitors.”
“Severn Handred is a Wolf,” Elluvian began.
“I have cleared the lack of a partner with Lord Marlin. You are to remain either in the waiting room or in the carriage, with his blessing.”
“Am I to receive refreshments of any kind while I wait?”
“That, certainly, can be arranged; I am in need of a drink myself and would be delighted to keep you company.”
“You are not part of the interview?”
“No. My absence has been requested by the Oracle.”
“And you accepted this?”
“She is not one of the children,” Master Sabrai replied. “And does not require my intervention in the same way. The Oracle believed that Severn and Ybelline would know both the rules of the Halls and the location of the meeting—and it appears that she was correct.”
It was strange to climb these stairs on his own feet, behind his own viewpoint. The first time he had climbed them, he had had three sets of eyes, and they each noted slightly different things. The stairs and the halls hadn’t changed much in the intervening years.
Random, however, had.
He didn’t recognize her; felt almost embarrassed that he had expected to. He, Severn, had nevermet her. But the meeting between the Tha’alani children and Random in her youth had felt so real to him he felt dislocated, momentarily uncertain of who he was.
She didn’t seem to suffer from the same dislocation, but she was older. Older than either Severn Handred or Ybelline Rabon. He thought her forty; he’d thought her thirteen when she’d dragged the three Tha’alani up the stairs to see the amazing Dragon and her private room.
He couldn’t imagine this woman dragging those children up those stairs. Time changed everything.
“They died,” the woman who had been the child called Random said. “They died. I could not prevent it. I did try, when I understood. But it was late by then. Late.”
“You called us here,” Severn said.
Ybelline touched his arm gently. He nodded. “You knew that we would learn what had happened that day.”
Random inclined her head. She was dressed in much the same fashion as Ybelline. She held out her hands, the same way Severn had done at the gates of the Tha’alani quarter, but her eyes were glimmering. Ybelline walked to where she sat, and carefully took both hands in her own.
“I knew you would remember,” Random said, the glimmer becoming tears. “I knew you would both remember.”
“When did you know this?” Severn asked, softening his voice.
Random didn’t seem to understand the question. Or perhaps Ybelline had asked the question in a different way, because Ybelline was now touching Random’s forehead with her antennae—just as, years or decades ago, Tessa had done.
Random didn’t speak. Not in a way Severn could hear. Nor did Ybelline. Severn turned his back upon them as they sat in the chairs Random had decorated for today’s appointment. There was a chair with his name painted across the back, but he didn’t take it.
He turned to the door, and he watched it. There was no other way to enter this room.