“I am certain.”
“He has no difficulty lying,” Helmat pointed out.
“He knows that. But if every word uttered is to be treated as a lie, he will not get far as a Wolf.” He was now looking at Severn.
Severn said, “What makes An’Teela different?”
“She is old. She fought in the Draco-Barrani wars. She fought well enough that she earned the right to bear one of The Three—the Dragonslayers created by our greatest smiths in times past. She has spent time in the Arcanum. She unseated the former lord of the line she now rules—and repudiated even his name when she took the seat. If she has decided to take Kaylin under her wing, Kaylin is as safe as it is possible to be.
“Even if there are those who desire Kaylin’s death among my kin, very, very few would be foolish enough to attempt to cause it now; the cost would be far too high for one mortal life, and An’Teela’s grudge is a long, dangerous thing if one becomes her target. She would have to pose a threat far greater than the threat the Tha’alani posed to the person who did orchestrate the murders decades ago.”
Severn kept the sketch.
Helmat growled, wordless, but snapped a command at Records. “I want to know what these tattoos mean.”
Elluvian nodded, which meant nothing.
Severn said, “Have you heard back from the Hawks?”
“About the witnesses? Yes.”
“Did any of them survive?”
“Yes—one, and only barely.” He hesitated and then said, “I believe there may have been some intervention on the part of their mascot; regardless it was the Barrani patrol, with Kaylin Neya in tow, that managed to return one living witness to the Halls of Law. There are no Barrani guards on duty in the cells. Thereareguards, and the cells are being watched very, very closely.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Severn was accustomed to broken sleep during the eveninghours, although months living in Elantra—with its utter absence of hunting Ferals—had dulled his instinctive response to evening sounds. The city itself was never completely silent.
It wasn’t fear of Ferals that had jarred him from what passed for sleep. Nor was it the constant waking from nightmares; nightmares were old, familiar friends. He assumed they would haunt him for the rest of his life, and accepted that.
He also accepted, as he rose and dressed, that the work he’d been offered, the duty he’d undertaken, was unlikely to lead to peaceful, dreamless sleep. If someone were to ask him why he’d taken the Wolflord’s offer, he would have had a hard time answering truthfully. He no longer knew.
Had he accepted the Wolflord’s offer, and before it, Elluvian’s, only because of Elianne? Because he would be part of the Halls of Law she now orbited? He would have said yes. Yes, that was the reason.
If she is in danger now, she will die.
An’Teela. Teela. Barrani and a Hawk. She had what Severn lacked: legitimacy and power. She had been granted—because of valor in war—one of three weapons created to slay Dragons. She had taken an interest in Elianne, and had taken Elianne under her figurative wing.
She was doing, in the end, what Severn himself had done—and she would keep the person she knew as Kaylin Neya far safer than Severn could. Elianne no longer needed him. She had, once, but she was no longer five. He was no longer ten.
Between then and now lay two dead children.
He accepted what Elluvian said as truth. With An’Teela’s marked interest, Elianne was safe. Safer than she’d ever been with Severn. She would be far happier with An’Teela. She would be free to grow as Kaylin.
He had promised Tara that he would protect her daughter. That he would watch over her. But neither his protection nor his watchfulness had mattered. Not in a way that would not haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.
He was on probation. He could walk away from the Wolves. He knew enough now to know that Elianne—Kaylin—would be fine without him.
And yet he found he had no intention of walking away. He hadn’t joined because he wanted to be a hero. Hadn’t joined them, in the end, to atone.
Atonement implied the possibility of some future forgiveness.
As he made his way through the morning streets of Elantra, he planned his day. He wanted the information the Hawks could provide; he didn’t want to be noticed by those Hawks. He had the use of Elluvian’s mirror. It had seemed miraculous when Rosen had first demonstrated its use. In a handful of days, it had become a tool, like a knife or a fork.
He didn’t know if Elluvian’s mirror would log requests made of Records as if they’d been made by Elluvian, and would have to ask. If Severn’s name was attached to the request, there was a chance that whatever peace Elianne had made or found would be shattered.
He considered this as he walked. He knew that the requests he made of Ybelline would cause her nothing but pain; he made them anyway. And she expected that he would put the responsibility of the duties he had accepted before her personal pain.