No, definitely not Darrell, not Mellianne. Not Rosen, he thought. Not Helmat. Not Jaren. For perhaps the first time, he truly wondered who or what this young man was. And yet, if he asked, the reply he was certain to receive wasSevern Handred. He did not ask; this was not the time for it—and in the end, it was a question whose answer must be teased out by observation and experience. The words themselves would convey nothing.
“Do you believe that Elluvian will keep you safe, boy?” Corvallan continued. Cassandre’s eyes narrowed as she turned in her husband’s direction; her husband failed to notice. The failure was not, in Elluvian’s opinion, deliberate.
Corvallan was canny; he was a survivor. But this momentary lack of control made clear to Elluvian why he was not, would never be, a master of men; he did not have the necessary mastery of himself.
“I am not his offspring,” Severn replied. “Nor am I his dependent.”
“You cannot believe you are his equal—you cannot believe you are the equal of even the lowest of my servants.”
“No,” Severn said, nodding gravely. “But I am, regardless, not his responsibility. If I cannot keep myself safe, I have no useful purpose.”
“You would not be the first mortal to die in his service.”
“It is not Elluvian, in the end, that I serve; it is not to Elluvian that I have sworn my oaths.”
“Boy—”
“You speak excellent Barrani,” Cassandre said, before her husband could continue. Her voice continued gentle, but her eyes were now darker than the eyes of Corvallan. Elluvian’s had not changed. Severn had spoken little, but it was now clear that he had understood all that had been said. How had he described his knowledge of the Barrani tongue?Some.
Severn’s gaze shifted to her. Not for the first time did Elluvian regret the consistent color of human eyes. Eyes were called the windows of the soul for a reason, and this particular branch of mortality denied the phrase utterly simply by existing.
“Thank you,” Severn said, bowing once again to Cassandre. The bow, Elluvian saw, was an indication that he had no desire to be questioned, or perhaps that he would not answer questions, no matter how gracefully they were phrased.
Cassandre perceived this as well; her eyes lightened in color, although they remained an almost martial blue. “Young man,” she said, in the indulgent tone with which one might speak to a beloved pet, “were you of my kin, I would do everything in my power to obtain your service.”
This time, he reddened slightly, although his expression didn’t otherwise change. Elluvian thought that would be the entirety of his response.
“Even were I,” Severn replied, in the excellent Barrani which Cassandre had praised, “I could not serve you. My oath of service has already been given.”
“And if you were released from that oath?”
“How can one be released from oneself?”
Her brows rose. “Definitely everything in my power,” she finally replied. “Which is not inconsiderable.” Collecting herself, she returned her attention to Elluvian, as if Corvallan were no longer present. “You are aware of the identity of the man behind this series of murders.”
Elluvian nodded.
“And you believe my husband to be the person who pulled his strings?”
“Ah, no, you mistake me. I am blunt, Cassandre, but I am not—all courtly criticisms aside—a fool. I have come for two purposes. I desire information, and I wished you to be apprised of my concerns.”
“We are grateful for the warning,” Cassandre said softly. “Are we not?”
Corvallan’s eyes remained indigo. “The man of whom you speak has run errands for me before?”
“He has.” Elluvian rose. “It is not to accuse you that I have come. It is merely to gather information about this particular man. You obviously have little love for the Tha’alani—none of us do. But indulging that disgust in such a public fashion serves no purpose for you.”
Corvallan accepted a drink from the servant who, unlike Severn, remained nameless. His expression was now schooled in familiar lines. “I would need the name of the person you wish to interrogate.”
Cassandre’s eyes narrowed again.
“I will give it—but be aware, cousin, that his subsequent immediate death would not be to your advantage. His actions are, of course, not covered by the laws of exemption; mortals were involved in the commission of a crime the Emperor considers serious—two distinct races. The laws of exemption require both perpetrator and victim to be wholly and entirely Barrani.”
“He will not survive, regardless, if that is the case. The Barrani are not—arenever—to be treated as mortal criminals are treated.”
“No, of course not.”
“You understand our laws, distinct from Imperial Laws.”