Helmat nodded. “The decision was not yours to make. They’re not Wolves.”
Elluvian was surprised by the information he had unearthed: the girl had the marks of the Chosen. He better understood An’Teela’s almost shocking attachment.
The girl did not appear to understand the significance of those marks. The Emperor did. The Dragon Court did. And An’Teela had come to court to lay claim—of kinship, of friendship—to the child. As had several of the Hawks, although the girl was far too young to be employed as a Hawk.
The Emperor had wanted her dead.
He was Emperor; he was ruler. The girl should be dead. She was demonstrably still breathing, and she remained under the protection of the intimidating and ferociously competent An’Teela—a woman who had killed the head of her line, her own father, and then refused to take that line’s name, rejecting the whole of the life she had been expected to lead. Teela was the name of her new line. She had not offered to take the name of her mother’s family. To do so, she would have had to push out the current head of that family. Clearly she felt more respect for her mother’s kin than her father’s.
Teela had always been a mystery to Elluvian—and dangerous mysteries were best kept at a safe distance while one observed, noting weaknesses that might, if necessary, come into play.
* * *
He knew the child’s name: Kaylin Neya. He knew nothing else, and the name itself had come to him only because he had perfectly functional ears. The girl had a temper. She was prickly. She was, however, trying to fit in with An’Teela—whom she called Teela.
Ah, but he knew this one. She did not want to disappoint An’Teela. She was, conversely, certain that she would be nothing but a disappointment. He had seen this behavior often enough that he was surprised he had not immediately recognized it for what it was. But he associated it with training. The child was too young—by law—to be a Hawk. Yet she was clearly involved in Hawk business. She was a curiosity.
It was his natural curiosity, then, that led him to the boy.
If Elluvian had noticed An’Teela—and the girl—first, it had taken some time to notice the boy. That both intrigued and annoyed him; he was a Barrani tracker. He should have been aware of the boy instantly, for the boy was intent in some fashion on the same quarry Elluvian himself was. He was tracking An’Teela.
Elluvian might have excused his lack of observation; might have said it arose because the streets were full of mortals in all shapes, all sizes. Mortals were trivial; he might just as easily fail to notice one rabbit in a colony of rabbits. But that would have been a lie; his pride was pricked. As none but he was aware of this minor failure, he did not attempt to justify it.
He had overlooked the young man.
The young man’s clothing was the clothing of a subsistence thief. It was poor, but some elements were in better repair than others; he had boots, although they had seen better years. His hair was unkempt; some effort had been made, but it was wild and snarled in the back. It would be much better cut and tended, but most things that grew were. His appearance would have been both masterful and impressive had any of it been a deliberate choice. Elluvian was certain it was not.
How long had the boy followed An’Teela? Why had he taken that risk?
He might have told the boy that this was not in the best interests of survival, but the young man appeared to understand this. He kept a good distance. He tracked An’Teela during the hours of city daylight in which the streets would be busy enough that An’Teela would feel constrained by the tabard she wore.
He did so frequently.
Given his clothing and his demeanor, he did not appear to belong to one of the gangs in the warrens, but there was a sense of desperation about him.
Elluvian had time, and time unfolded, but this boy, over the two months that Elluvian had paid attention, did nothing. If he had sold the information he had received simply by observing An’Teela, it had not altered his circumstances.
To Elluvian’s surprise—which annoyed him, because surprise implied a lack of knowledge, a failure to anticipate—the boy who followed An’Teela at a safe distance did not look, often, at An’Teela. No. It took some weeks for Elluvian to be certain that the young man’s target was not the Barrani Lord or even her attendant, but her adopted fledgling.
Elluvian watched the young man, but the young man made no effort at all to speak with the girl; he made no effort to communicate. Doing so in An’Teela’s presence would be exceedingly unwise, of course; the young man was not a fool. But the young man made no attempt to contact the girl at all. And she was not always by An’Teela’s side.
He appeared to watch out of concern; he seemed to relax, marginally, after he had been tailing them for a while, as if he desired the simple sight of An’Teela’s young companion. It was An’Teela he didn’t trust. But Elluvian understood, watching the unpredictable Lord of the High Court, that she meant Kaylin no harm. Would allow no harm to be done to her.
The boy’s understanding of that truth appeared to take longer, but it did settle. He followed less frequently, but he would appear in the crowded flow of mortals from time to time.
Today was no different.
Ah, no. Today would be different. The Wolves had need of a recruit, and the youth had shown skill at both eluding detection and following his quarry, sight unseen. Certainly, on a different field, he would not have escaped An’Teela’s notice, but he was one of a dozen mortals—or more—in the immediate vicinity.
In his condition, age was hard to estimate; he might be younger and worn by life on the streets, or older. He had some basic skills that Mellianne had once lacked, but the rest? Elluvian was uncertain. Eight decades past, he might have been irked to be forced, yet again, to start over, but he was now resigned to it. Even had he been completely successful in his choices those decades past, he would still be required to start over. And over. And over. Mortals did not last.
He was drawn from his thoughts and deliberations by a mortal shout; it was not the type of cry that surprise or panic raised. Inebriation, yes. The poor fool appeared to be attempting to pick a fight with the Hawks. The streets did not empty, but the flow of traffic changed almost instantly: passersby both slowed and moved to the sides of the street. The drunk man did not appear to notice.
Ah, no, he had. “What are you looking at? Hey!”
His belligerence caused the people observing to compress further, but they did not feel threatened. Hawks were in the street. There was only so much damage this angry, drunk man could do before the Hawks intervened. And given that the Hawks appeared to be his target, they felt safe enough watching the drama unfold, as if it were a play performed for their entertainment. If they were wrong, they would pay; Elluvian did not feel any responsibility for the consequence of their choices.
What drew his attention was An’Teela. She ordered Kaylin, by name, to stay out of it. The girl had apparently managed not to hear the words—and it was possible, given her expression, that this was genuine, if appalling. An’Teela, however, did something extraordinary.