The mirror’s reflective surface swirled as if going down an invisible drain. What was left in the center were marks like those in the sketch, on a canvas that was distinctly flesh colored. The mirror didn’t speak. Helmat, however, had turned from the mirror to the sketch. “She’s older,” he said. “Five years, maybe ten years—she’s older. En?”
There was far less gold in Elluvian’s eyes now, but it remained; he was surprised. “Were it not for those marks, I think there is no chance at all that she would be wearing that dress.” When Helmat failed to comment, Elluvian frowned.
“The style is unusual,” Helmat said, “but I fail to see how the marks dictate the clothing.”
“The style is singular,” Elluvian replied. “As is the fabric. It is not a dress in the sense that your mortal lords wear dresses. Nor is it a dress in the fashion our lords at court do. It is a...ceremonial dress, and it is worn in only one place.”
“The West March,” Helmat said.
“You were always perceptive,” the Barrani Wolf replied. “But it is caste business, Helmat. I would ask that these images remain outside of Records. It is clear that there is an informant or spy within the Halls of Law, and were either of the last two sketches to come to light, the consequences for at least our private would be fatal.”
“And for the girl?”
“She is not a Hawk. She is no official part of the Halls of Law.”
But Severn had already abandoned his neutrality. He grabbed the picture of the girl—of one Kaylin Neya, who had been installed within the ranks of the Hawks as a...mascot. His own—and therefore his own future—seemed almost irrelevant to him.
“Private?”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“The Oracle does not agree.”
Severn said nothing.
“It’s possible that this is a warning offered to you for her sake. Are you willing to take the risk of hiding it?”
Severn continued in silence, but he put the drawing back into the pack.
“If she is in danger now,” Elluvian said, “she will die.”
Severn’s hands were white where they gripped the strings of the pack’s top.
“She is under the care of An’Teela. An’Teela is old enough to be a power at court.”
“She’s a Hawk.”
“Yes. And An’Teela is powerful enough tobea Hawk against all objections of either her kin or the lords of the court. If she cannot keep one fledgling mortal safe, no interference on our part can.” Although he spoke to Helmat, the words were meant, in part, for Severn. “I agree, however, with Severn’s contention.”
“How so?”
“Her age. I have studied mortals for far too long; she is older here than she is in our current reality. Severn is almost the same age in the sketch the Oracle made of him. If the West March figures prominently in Severn’s future—and therefore in mine—it does not figure prominently in hers for some time.
“And perhaps this image only exists in order to encourage us to consider the West March and its environs.”
“Yet you don’t believe the West March or its court is involved in the Tha’alani murders.”
“No. It’s possible that Kaylin—as she is called by the Hawks—will travel to the West March, but that travel is in a future more distant than Severn’s visit.”
“Severn’s visit?”
“I do not expect to have any reason to take Severn to the West March; the West March is not part of the Empire.” Elluvian exhaled. “Oracles are notoriously inexact, their meanings opaque—at best.
“But this sketch involves the West March in some fashion. If I cannot see a reason for a pilgrimage to the West March, that is lack of foresight on my part. In Elantra, Severn’s existence renders laws of exemption meaningless. There will be no such protection for him in the West March; it is not Imperial Law that rules there.
“Regardless, I do not believe the West March is relevant to Ollarin and the Tha’alani murders. I believe the oracle is relevant to Severn, and the various physical creations offered him overlap because the investigation, the ground hunt, is also relevant to Severn.”
“You’re certain?” Severn’s voice was quiet.