She is incredibly dangerous, was his quiet, calm reply.She’s just not a danger to us.
And An’Tellarus is?
If you’d asked me this morning, I would have said no. But she’s a very old, very powerful lord; she’s held her seat for longer than Teela.
What aren’t you telling me?
Severn didn’t answer. But his silence wasn’t a wall; it was almost like the surface of the ocean; if she approached, she could see what lay beneath it. She didn’t. Or she tried not to. Severn was Severn. Kaylin was Kaylin. Neither of them had grown up the way the cohort had; to both, privacy was valuable and necessary.
“You might answer her questions,” the Avatar said, sounding ever so slightly apologetic.
Teela’s eyes were about as dark a blue as they could get. Severn’s hadn’t changed, because he was human. “As I am certain you are aware, the information—and therequest we receivedfrom the Lady—are of primary import. We cannot tarry here further.”
This made no sense to Kaylin.
He isn’t escorting us to the entrance, Severn said. Where Teela’s eyes were martial, Severn’s tone was strange—almost, but not quite, long-suffering.
Where is he taking us? And why?
“Be patient, Lord Kaylin. Answers to at least that question will be forthcoming. My apologies, An’Teela, if I have interrupted your very necessary work. But it is possible that the interruption may add detail to the complexity of the investigation you must undertake.”
“I will accept your decision,” Teela responded, as if she had any choice. They were standing and walking within the territory of the Avatar. What he chose was unspoken law. “But I will ask a favor in return. You must be aware of the people who planned the assassination. They cannot be of little note. I am aware that some of the most conservative families on the High Court have never let the training and formation of war bands decline. Foolish, but if the Emperor is willing—for now—to tolerate such military activities, that is his decision.”
“An’Teela, I cannot answer the question you wish to ask, as you must be aware.”
Teela’s eyes narrowed; she didn’t argue. “Politics such as this have been our way of life for as long as I’ve been conscious. People of ambition desire power. People of ambition desire the respect they feel power accrues. Through our history, the rulership of the High Court has changed familial lines very, very seldom.
“But there have been credible attempts in the past, if one is not to consider success the only metric of credibility. You have seen much of our history play out. Are we in such a time?”
“An’Teela.”
Teela exhaled. “Apologies. I have been living with Terrano and our chosen kin, and I have clearly become far too comfortable speaking my mind.”
“You have not spoken your mind once. You seek information I am not permitted to give you. My interference, such as it is, is allowed because of the danger to the Lady. But I am alive, just as you are. I have concerns, just as you have. Inasmuch as I am able, I will protect her, and where possible, allow that protection to skirt the edge of my permissions.”
“That is why you are not escorting us out?”
“I merely fulfill a simple request from a complex, powerful woman. It does not, on the surface, seem political, and it is not you with whom she wished to speak.”
Teela’s frown deepened.
“It is Corporal Handred.”
Kaylin knew Severn had had a life before she met him, but when she was five and her mother still alive, that life hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t been real. She knew he had a different kind of life in the gaps between the last day of her childhood and meeting him again. There had to be. Severn had been aWolf. Kaylin had become a Hawk, lingering around the edges of theHalls of Law as a literal mascot because she’d been too young to legally take the oaths required to serve the Emperor’s laws.
Severn never discussed his work with the Wolves.
She knew it wasn’t over; he could disappear for days at a time at the behest of the Halls of Law—which, in Severn’s case, meant the Wolflord.
He had the weapon chain. It had come from the West March. But the only time Kaylin had visited the March, Severn alreadyhadthe weapon. A Barrani weapon. He’d always spoken perfect—and complex—High Barrani. He seemed to understand the political undercurrents in the High Court far better than his job as a Hawk demanded.
But she’d never really put the two things together properly. His weapon. His social skills. His knowledge of the High Court.
I mean, hehadto get that weapon from somewhere, right?
“The green,” the Avatar said.
And he didn’t go to the green as an orphaned mortal. He must have had backers. Was one of them An’Tellarus? Was that backer calling in a favor? What if the favor was detrimental to the Consort? Severn was aHawk.