“And we would live,” she said, “with the knowledge that you might disturb or harm the Tha’alaan, if what you have just said is true.”
“Yes.”
Ybelline released his hand. “I am not the Emperor. I am not—yet—castelord, as you have pointed out. It is not I, in the end, who must judge you, if judgment is what you require.”
Severn said, “We were tasked with finding the Barrani responsible for the murders. We’ve completed our mission; that man is dead. He was brought to justice before I was born.”
“And the witnesses?”
Severn said nothing. He wasn’t certain how those men would be handled now. The Emperor’s Law was the Emperor’s Law.
That didn’t seem to concern An’Sennarin—and perhaps it would, in time. He was, by Barrani reckoning, Severn’s age, although he had lived in Severn’s estimation at least four times as long.
“Did An’Tellarus see this sketch?”
“Yes.”
“And the others?”
An’Sennarin looked away from Ybelline for perhaps the first time in minutes. He smiled; it was almost rueful. “Yes.”
“May I see what she saw?”
“It will not have the same meaning for you as it does for us; you have never been to the West March.”
“I haven’t,” Severn replied. The future was foreign territory.
“Let me consider your request. An’Tellarus has not forbidden it, but she is unpredictable, and I do not wish to anger her.” He turned back to Ybelline. Met, and held, her gaze.
Ybelline rose. “Tell Adellos that I will speak with him soon.”
An’Sennarin nodded. He then held out his hands—both of his hands—palm out before her, turning his body so that Severn couldn’t see his expression. The expression, however, wasn’t necessary. The color of his eyes had become, in that gesture, irrelevant.
Ybelline looked at his hands, hers almost stiff by her sides.
But Severn knew what she would do. Both Ybelline and he were caught in some fashion by Tessa’s early life, Tessa’s early hope. What Tessa wanted was what they wanted. Perhaps that would pass. Perhaps it would not.
Ybelline bent and placed both of her hands across An’Sennarin’s. She hesitated briefly, and then the line of her shoulders sank as she leaned forward and placed her antennae gently against An’Sennarin’s forehead.
Severn waited, head bowed.
Only when he heard the sound of weeping did he lift his chin. He could see Ybelline’s face; it was wet with tears, but her tears were silent. An’Sennarin’s, unseen, were not. Severn’s hands became fists, reflexive fists. He understood. He could not feel fear of the Tha’alaan, of the Tha’alani, because Ybelline had offered it the first time; there was a warmth, a sense of belonging, a sense of acceptance that he had found almost nowhere else.
An’Sennarin would never have valued Tessa so highly if he had not, in some fashion, wanted that.
Elluvian was waiting. Severn had no difficulty finding either Elluvian or An’Tellarus; they were shouting at each other, and their voices were carried by the acoustics of An’Sennarin’s rooms.
He must have grimaced, because Ybelline chuckled. “It is seldom that Barrani are so...demonstrative. There must be some trust between them.”
“If this is trust, I’d rather be suspicious of everyone for the rest of my life.”
She laughed, as Severn had intended. “What will you do?”
“I doubt the decision will be up to me.”
She stopped. “I don’t.”
“Do you believe that the witnesses we pieced together from the Halls of Laws Records were part of the mob that committed those murders?”