It was the first new thing he had wanted in months. Years, maybe.
He considered polite questions, pretty words, and in the end discarded them all. He would ask them to do what he wanted them to do. Leaving was not an option.
“I want you to look through the Tha’alaan,” he said.
“The Tha’alaan is not like your Records—” Scoros began.
Ybelline lifted a hand. She was not—yet—the castelord of her people, but clearly as heir she was accustomed to command.
“To what end, little Wolf?”
“The murders that, even now, destroy your people, occurred within the span of a little over a year two decades ago. I wasn’t born. You were a child.”
She nodded evenly.
“If Barrani were involved, they were involved for a reason.”
She was silent, utterly still, her eyes open. They were green.
“Barrani were involved,” Scoros said. His eyes had also shaded to green.
Severn nodded. “The Barrani are, at heart, a political people. Ruthless but pragmatic. There have been exceptions; they’ve been dealt with by the Barrani. I’m not sure the Emperor intends to let this one be resolved in the same way. Had the victims been Barrani, he would—by his own laws—have no choice. They weren’t. They were Tha’alani.”
“Go on,” Scoros said.
“I assume that there was a reason for the killings. And the killings imply heavily that the Barrani in question—or a Barrani—understood how the Tha’alaan functions. They chose these deaths because they wanted to flood the Tha’alaan with memories so dire your people might refuse to look at them at all.”
She nodded.
“Buried among those memories, at around the same time—or just before—I think it possible that there was some connection between a Tha’alani citizen and one of the Barrani.”
“You think that a Barrani citizen touched the Tha’alaan?” Scoros said, outrage increasing his volume.
“Yes.”
“It is forbidden, by law, to make such a contact.”
“Yes. Imperial Law. The Tha’alani don’t touch the Immortals.”
Ybelline’s eyes almost defined the color green. But her expression as she studied Severn’s face was neutral, remote. Scoros’s was anything but. She didn’t speak, and Scoros didn’t speak in a way Severn could hear—but he’d no doubt the Tha’alanari were now discussing his request among themselves. Given Scoros’s reaction, he was certain that the Tha’alanari were now counseling rejection of Severn’s request.
He wasn’t surprised when Scoros rose, vacating his chair; his glass was empty. Severn thought he intended to refill it, but no—he opened the closed door and walked out of the room, his steps heavy with what appeared to be anger. The door slammed behind him, reinforcing that appearance.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Yes,” Ybelline said, when the silence returned in the wakeof that closing door. “You have been informed that I am the future castelord. You can be forgiven if your understanding of that is minimal—the Emperor does not wish his people to fully understand the Tha’alani. Given the crimes committed two decades ago, it is not hard to fault his protectiveness, but I believe ignorance is a breeding ground for fear.
“Most of the older members of the Tha’alanari agree with the Emperor’s stance.”
“You don’t.”
“I understand it. The one thing the Tha’alaan gives us is the ability to understand the views and contexts of people who are not us. But it cannot force us to agree with them. Some of my kin are deeply religious. Some do not believe in gods. They exist side by side, and the belief in gods has not caused war or strife. But it is made possible because the Tha’alaan exists. They can understand the reason for different choices and different beliefs; they cannot use their lack of empathy to make accusations. Or worse.
“I understand it, but I believe the Emperor is wrong. Regardless, Scoros has now removed himself to appeal to the castelord. In no other circumstance would he seek to undermine me in this fashion. But they believe I am too young, or too inexperienced.”
It was Severn’s turn to frown.
Ybelline waited.