“I am afraid,” An’Sennarin said, “I do not know your name.”
“I am Severn Handred. Private Severn Handred.”
“Yes. You are a Wolf.”
Severn nodded.
“Do you see the shadow you cast across the table in this drawing? I believe it reflects your service.”
Severn had noticed. He didn’t expect anything Random produced to be literal. But he noted that neither Ybelline nor An’Sennarin cast any shadow at all—or not that Random had chosen to capture.
“I have agreed to meet you here,” the young lord said, “to ask you to abandon your investigation.”
Ybelline said nothing. Her pallor was off.
“That is not a request I can fulfill,” Severn replied. “I serve at the command of the Emperor.”
An’Sennarin nodded, as if it was the answer he had expected; his eyes darkened, but still contained more green than blue. “As do we all.” He turned to Ybelline.
She said nothing, but reached out—almost in spite of herself—to offer An’Sennarin a hand. He took it without hesitation.
Elluvian joined them, taking the seat beside Severn. “An’Sennarin.”
Now the Sennarin lord’s eyes became Barrani blue. “Lord Elluvian.”
“While the private has no direct channel to the Emperor, I do. The Tha’alani were greatly harmed by the crimes committed decades ago. The criminals were brought to justice in a fashion; the presence of a lone Barrani man at the edge of the mob went undetected until very recently.
“It is out of concern for the Tha’alani that this investigation—this hunt—was called. It was assumed, as it must be among our kin, that you took the title and then caused the deaths as a way of overwhelming any information about the Barrani that the Tha’alaan might contain.”
“And that is not your assumption now?”
“The dates,” he finally said. “The murders began before you took the throne. Had you been older, had you been more significant at court, it is safe to assume that what happened to the Tha’alani was part of your plan of ascension. But you were newly come to the title. I am not certain any of us were aware of your significance until after you inherited.”
“You are not perhaps aware of my significance now,” An’Sennarin replied.
“Anyone who can rise from your former position to your current position is worthy of note.”
Ybelline said, “I was sent here by Adellos.”
An’Sennarin shut his eyes briefly. “You have not seen what he has seen.”
Her brows rose in some surprise; when they fell, her eyes were narrowed, their color darker. “No.”
“He asked you to come in his stead for a reason.” An’Sennarin rose, pushing his chair soundlessly back as if to escape its confines. “He has no need to visit in person if he wishes to speak with me.”
Silence, then. Utter stillness from both An’Tellarus and Elluvian.
Without thought, Severn reached for Ybelline’s hand. He understood what Random had given Tessa. So, too, did she. And it was fear of that oracle, that peculiar gift, that had caused everything that had followed.
As if aware of this, An’Sennarin turned to An’Tellarus. “Yes,” Ollarin said, although she hadn’t spoken. “Adellos holds my name.”
“Speak less,” was An’Tellarus’s sharp reply. “You are now in the presence of Imperial Wolves.”
An’Sennarin nodded. “If he has my name, he can control or destroy me. If he dies, the name will be lost—but he has not died.”
“And if the deaths of the Tha’alani were meant to draw him out?”
“They failed. I am not a threat to the Tha’alani.” He turned away. “I was never a threat to them.” But these words were softer. Thinner.