En cleared his throat, and Helmat exhaled. “Yes?”
“Timorri has retired from the Tha’alanari.”
Helmat’s expression and tone shifted instantly into something appropriate for his title. “When?”
“Garadin did not say.”
Helmat did not care for the studied neutrality of the response. “Garadin is not the interrogator today.”
“No.”
“En, I have had a difficult week, and if what you’ve said about Timorri is true, I am to have a vastly more thorny near future. Who, exactly, have they sent?”
“The investigator is in transit now and will be with us shortly.”
“Remind me, have I attempted to stab you recently?”
The Barrani Wolf laughed. “Not recently, no.”
“A pity.”
“Is it?”
“No. But do, please, keep laughing. And do not leave the office.”
The laugh lines still girded the corners of Elluvian’s mouth; they left his eyes. “Oh?”
“Intuition. I believe you’ll be required.” Turning to Severn, he said, “We’ll wait in the conference room. You can ask any of the questions you’ve managed to keep to yourself in relative privacy.”
He suffered no great illusion; he did not expect the young man to speak at all.
“...understand that there are several ways one can hide in plain sight. Many feel that lack of visibility is the only choice; this is wrong.”
“Disguises?”
“Of course. But disguises are not necessarily about hair color, skin color, height, or even sex. They are notaboutthe clothing, either. They are contingent upon your ability to fully inhabit the role you have chosen. Are you a street sweeper? Are you a cantankerous old woman? Are you—” Helmat broke off at the knock on the closed door.
“Enter.” The door faded from view. Severn’s brows rose before furrowing. He understood that this was magic. He didn’t understand how it worked. Or perhaps why. If he stuck around, he’d figure it out. Helmat almost said as much before words temporarily deserted him.
Abandoning his chair—and the subtle authority of the seated position when one’s visitors were to remain standing—the Wolflord crossed the room. He was not a small man, although he had learned how to make both the most and the least of the size he possessed. At the moment, he had chosen to make the absolute most of it. He stopped a foot away from the young woman who stood framed in the nonexistent door and glared at her.
“No.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Marlin,” she replied. Her gaze moved past the bulk of the Wolflord. “And you are?”
“I said no. Not you. You are to return to the Tha’alani quarter immediately. If the Tha’alanari is currently short of investigators, we will wait.”
“My name,” she continued, as if he had not spoken, “is Ybelline.”
Severn had—barely—managed to contain the gawking Helmat would have otherwise expected from someone his age. The boy could clearly see the antennae that broke the smooth skin of Ybelline’s forehead, but there was no hostility in his expression. Suspicion, yes; no one anticipated the advent of the mindreaders with any great joy.
“Ybelline,” Helmat began again.
“Severn,” the young man replied. “Severn Handred.”
Ybelline could not hold out a hand, human style, while Helmat stood in her way. She could, however, offer Severn a sympathetic smile that somehow implied Helmat was a trial to be endured.
“Perhaps you would care to ask the investigator to step inside before you publicly berate her?” Elluvian said, from behind Ybelline. His eyes were almost green; he was amused.