“Not you.”
“I am certain that makes us both much happier. These are not, however, public offices, and we are not equipped to handle visitors of note.”
“No mortals are,” she replied. “And yet, welcome is extended regardless. You may rest more easily; I have no interest in you whatsoever.”
“I would take considerable comfort from that sentiment if you offered it from your own chambers in the High Halls.”
“A pity. It is not your comfort that is my chief concern. Nor is it your safety. I feel that you are old enough and—should you choose to be, which happens lamentably seldom—wise enough to see to your own safety.”
“Severn is my concern, not yours.”
“So I had assumed. It is not, however, for either you or Severn I have come, and I have come in some haste. I am certain some eyes will be upon me when I leave this building, should we leave it the usual way. I am doubtful that I escaped detection while entering.”
“What game do you play now?” The closed door opened at Elluvian’s back. Of course it did. An’Tellarus was significant enough that Helmat couldn’t remain on the wrong side of his door.
“More than one, of course. I find it marvelously diverting, given the alternatives. What have I told you in the past?”
“Since you are well aware of what you said, and I could easily be as aware should I choose to do so, I fail to see the relevance.”
“Perhaps,” Helmat said, “You might explain what you do consider relevant, An’Tellarus.” He did not offer her even the curt nod Elluvian had offered. He was not amused.
“Very well.” Her eyes were the same shade of blue they had been on sighting Elluvian. “I have been asked—as a favor to one who is less experienced and less powerful than I—to serve as escort for a mortal visitor to the High Halls.”
The silence that followed seemed to remove all of the air from the office. She knew. Helmat did her the courtesy of acknowledging this. “The visit will be forbidden.”
“I do not believe that will be the case,” An’Tellarus replied. “Difficult situations require flexibility. The rules that confine the castelords of various races have been given that necessary flexibility.
“You have no say, Lord Marlin. Nor does Elluvian. According to his own laws, your Dragon Emperor cannot intervene in the perfectlylegalactions of a castelord. Or perhaps I have failed to understand the laws?”
“She is not castelord.”
“Is she not?”
“En?”
“Adellos is castelord.”
“I believe you will find that that is inaccurate, at least in tense. Adelloswascastelord. He is not castelord now.”
Helmat did not return to his office. He marched, instead, to Rosen’s abandoned desk and barked at Rosen’s mirror. It flared instantly to life, as if it were terrified of the Wolflord’s temper. “Garadin.”
The image of Garadin’s face—pale and green-eyed—instantly filled the mirror’s frame. “Who is the castelord of the Tha’alani?”
“Adellos Coran’alani.”
“And is Adellos intent upon leaving the quarter to visit the High Halls?”
“Adellos is currently indisposed. It is highly unlikely that he will visit the High Halls in the near future.”
“Good.” Helmat waved the mirror to stillness and silence.
Severn had already moved toward the Wolves’ outer office doors, as if instinctively drawn there. He opened those doors when he saw a shadow of movement on the far side.
Ybelline was waiting.
Severn offered her both of his hands, rather than stepping out of the way. She stiffened before she closed her eyes and laid her palms across his. Leaning into him, she touched his forehead with her antennae.
The Wolflord is not happy, he told her.Elluvian is not happy.