Severn once again took over Elluvian’s desk. He spent the rest of the afternoon struggling with Records; twice he asked Elluvian to intervene, because the information was locked behind a series of words the private didn’t know.
Elluvian’s research could not be accomplished so easily. Cassandre had offered information of a kind, but no Barrani Lord of any worth relied on information provided by a single source. The value of information was always weighted by context, and the games the lords played provided that context. Most of the games were hidden, and some, hidden well.
Ollarin, as he had chosen to be called, was a context he was attempting to understand. Ollarin was young. Even by Barrani standards, he would have been considered no wiser, stronger, or more powerful than any of the privates of Elluvian’s recent acquaintance. He had not been born within Elantra; he was an import from the West March.
He had no obvious connection to An’Tellarus, which was to be expected; he had no hidden connections to An’Tellarus, either, or none that Elluvian had found with careful digging. None of that digging now occurred at court; Elluvian had been forbidden the High Halls without the private as escort, and while he did not care to follow all of Helmat’s mandates, he understood that this one was supported in its entirety by the Eternal Emperor.
Many members of the court did not have the resources to live in the High Halls. These would be the most junior members of that court. Those who made Elantra their home without taking the test that granted status as a Lord of the High Court did not dwell in the High Halls either, except as servants or guards.
An’Sennarin had very tentative alliances with other lords. Ollarin had become An’Sennarin, and those families who had chosen to ally themselves with the former lord had not yet abandoned him. His rise to power was so sudden that they could not discount his strength, even if little of it was otherwise displayed. Elluvian privately thought that it was only a matter of time. If Ollarin was responsible for the spate of murders decades past, he would meet the fate desired by the Emperor without the intervention of Wolves.
An’Tellarus, however, complicated matters. She had no close allies in the traditional sense of the word, but the alliances she did have were solid. Once you entered her orbit, for however short a period, you never fully escaped it. And it was never wise to anger her.
It was never, of course, wise to anger any Lord of the High Court, but one might safely dare the anger of An’Sennarin; one did not dare the anger of An’Tellarus. How public was her declaration of support? How well-known was the alliance she had claimed so baldly?
These questions occupied his time for the remainder of the day. They occupied his time for all of the next three, during which Severn studied Records and attempted to glean information from the Hawks. This information required Elluvian’s presence, and it was therefore gleaned slowly.
Elluvian did not speak with An’Sennarin at all. If An’Sennarin was not a half-wit, he was now well aware of Elluvian’s interest. He was not enough of a power that people were terrified at the mention of his name—but the name of the line did give pause to those like Corvallan. Dread of a particular type took centuries to firmly entrench, and the young An’Sennarin had not had the time required to build that.
The reaction was therefore due the previous title holder, or so he assumed. If An’Sennarin of old had been that terrifying, his death was almost inexplicable. Perhaps, Elluvian mused, that was the focal point of this investigation. The current An’Sennarin had taken the seat only upon the death of the ruler and his chosen heir. There were bound to be other deaths, other examples set, and the history was so recent, they could not be fully hidden.
On the fourth day of Elluvian’s intermittent presence in the office, Severn left. He required permission to visit the Tha’alani quarter, and the Wolflord was unamused enough that were Severn a different person, he would have simply failed to acquire that permission. He was, however, on probation, and his furious studies of the Wolves, their various cases, the likelihood of both survival and success, had not yet given him the certainty about the nature of both inquiries and cases.
He relied to a greater extent on Rosen. She was willing to discuss—often at length—previous missions; she preferred to discuss those that had been successful, but given the recent thinning of the Wolves, had been willing to discuss the failures. She had also, less happily, discussed the internal office squabbles that had led to that thinning.
He had some sense of what had caused Darrell’s death. He didn’t understand Mellianne’s rage, but rage—when confronted with things that were immutable and could not be changed—had never been his first reaction. Nor had revenge.
He made no attempt to engage the Barrani—those outside the High Halls—at all, but his foray into the various Records, and his discussion with Ybelline, had given him some idea of where those Barrani might be found. The information was useful if one wanted to avoid interacting with them entirely.
The majority of the cases the Hawks—and Swords—dealt with involved humans. There were, however, scattered cases in which the criminal was Aerian or Leontine. The Leontine cases tended toward aggravated assault, sometimes leading to death; the Aerian cases, like the human cases, covered a range of crimes.
The Barrani didn’t make their way into Records either, unless they were the author of the Hawks’ reports. There were, however, cases that had been logged in Records, in which suspects—not criminals—were Barrani. They always appeared to end in one way: a Barrani corpse was found shortly after the name had been logged. Sometimes the corpse was found on the front stairs of the Halls of Law; sometimes it was found in the Ablayne. Twice the corpses had been discovered in the warrens.
No Barrani had been arrested; no Barrani had been sent to trial.
Finding information about Barrani informants—because such informants did exist—was not more difficult than finding information about human informants, but there was no easy way to list them. They gave information to the Hawks investigating various crimes; they were part of the budget the Hawks were granted. They weren’t officially involved with the Halls of Law in any other way.
This made sense. Severn, in his early days in the streets of this city, might have made coin by offering information—if he had had information of worth—but he would never have wanted to be fingered as the person who had provided it. There was a layer of politics in any interaction between two people; even those who barely kept a roof over their own head or food in their mouths. No one wanted to be sold out, no matter what their activity.
The Tha’alani occupied more and more of his attention. They were never, as far as Severn could determine, criminals. No matter how central the Tha’alaan was in their lives, people were people. Tha’alani criminals must exist.
But Tha’alani Caste Court laws were not inscribed into Records Severn could access. He needed to speak to Ybelline.
The Wolflord very grudgingly made the call to the Tha’alanari. Ybelline was not the person who answered that call, but according to the Wolflord, she never was. No, it was Scoros, looking hazel-eyed and extremely tired. His answers to the Wolflord’s questions had been monosyllabic. He didn’t ask questions, and he made no argument on behalf of Ybelline.
A lot of nothing was said; the Wolflord’s expression, by the end of the very short mirror call, was as dour and grim as Scoros’s. “You have permission to visit Ybelline. She will not come here unless you intend to ask questions that require Imperial Service answers.”
“I don’t.”
“I want,” the Wolflord continued, “a report on your progress in this case. Preferably before you leave, but given the time, it can wait until after. Immediately after.”
Severn nodded.
The guards who greeted Severn at the gates to the Tha’alani quarter were green-eyed to a man, but he now expected this. When they asked his purpose, he said, “I have an appointment with Ybelline Rabon of the Tha’alanari.” When they demanded to know the reason for that appointment, he failed to answer. There was no politic way to do so. The investigation was the reason, in the end, for the creation of—and the separation of—the Tha’alanari from the rest of their kin. The guards weren’t Tha’alanari.
He knew that he wouldn’t gain access to the Tha’alani quarter without an escort. He expected Scoros to be sent. Or possibly Garadin. If he was lucky, Ybelline herself would come—but Severn doubted that she anticipated his arrival with any joy whatsoever.
The gates, however, did open with the intervention of the guards. These gates, unlike the gates that fronted many of the richer mansions, were not a grille; no one standing in front of them could now peer through to catch a glimpse of the people protected by their existence.