Battle: The House War: Book Five (11 page)

He stared at her.

“They’ve killed no one who wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“True. But had at least one of those people remained alive, we might have been able to retrieve information from them.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t bring them back. Avandar—the cats—”

Meralonne exhaled. It was like a loud sigh, but adorned with smoke, which he then blew into rings. “They are only foolish, Terafin. They are not suicidal. But they will not return this way.”

“We should have just left the darkness—”

The Winter King and Celleriant turned to stare at her, and she failed to finish the sentence.

“I am still,” Meralonne said, “by contract, the Terafin House Mage. If you will allow it, I will remain in service to the House.” He glanced once again at the tree of fire.

“I will, if the terms of employment don’t radically change.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want to pay through the nose for the services of the magi at the present time. And I know how much the Order of Knowledge raises its price when they believe the situation might be ‘difficult’ as they call it.”

His brows rose and then he laughed. It was not a quiet laugh.

Celleriant, at his side, was smiling. It was clear to Jewel that they knew each other. They had both been in the South. But there was something about their proximity now that implied, strongly, that the knowledge was older than the war in the Dominion. How old?

“I believe,” Avandar told her, voice dry as autumn leaves, “that you are in the unusual position of being able to bargain the Order of Knowledge down in price, not up. The magi are free to accept legal employ—with the guildmaster’s permission, of course—at their own convenience. If you attempt to secure his services for
less
than the Order is accustomed to receiving from the House, and you succeed, it will be a point in your favor in the newly constituted House Council.

“The Order may react poorly to the attempt, but they cannot reject it out of hand; Member APhaniel is a First Circle mage, a member of the magi; should he desire to do so, he could remain as the Terafin House Mage for free. It is entirely in the hands of Member APhaniel.”

“I rather think,” Meralonne said, although he was clearly still amused, “that such a tactic would not stand
me
in good stead.”

“And this is a concern of yours?”

He shook his head. “No. Sigurne is likely to be unimpressed, but she will accept it—if I do.” His eyes narrowed. “Your tenure is not, in your opinion, secure?”

“That’s a bold question,” Jewel replied, striving to attain a patrician tone of voice.

“It is, indeed. Your status may have changed; mine has not. If you recall, I was not perhaps the most politic of The Terafin’s many servants.”

“How could I forget?” She shook her head. “But you would never have dared to ask The Terafin
that
question.”

“No; she was who she was. You are who you are. My history with your Terafin was not—is not—my history with you. If you prefer, I will defer to the general rules that govern interaction with the head of a House.” He blew another large, lazy smoke ring.

Jewel remembered, as it rose, just how much The Terafin had hated his pipe, and she laughed. She couldn’t help it. How many hours had she been trapped in a room with this arrogant, mercurial member of the Order of Knowledge? She had crawled through the dirt by his side for so long she couldn’t clean it from beneath her fingernails without an hour’s worth of soap, water, and Ellerson. How many meetings between The Terafin and Meralonne APhaniel had she been forced to attend, where she huddled as inconspicuously as possible out of the range of their wrath?

“No, I think I’ll pass. I would appreciate it if you failed to mention that decision to any member of my House Council.” She glanced at Avandar. “And my domicis, but I suppose it’s too late for that.”

The corners of the mage’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Does that mean you will answer the impertinent question, Terafin?”

She swept one arm in a wide circle that encompassed one tree of fire, one tree of diamond, two of gold, and one of silver. “What, by the way, are the tall trees called?”

“The tall trees?”

“The natural ones. The ones that grow in the Common.”

Meralonne glanced at Celleriant, whose expression was so neutral it had to be forced. “I am not entirely certain that you deserve
entry
to this forest. But I find myself hungry, and would be obliged if you offered refreshments while we are here.”

She hesitated, her demeanor changing. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Oh?”

“We should go back to the Common. If the demon—”

“Ah. No. Your ploy was, if unexpected, both wise and successful. Had Darranatos been more certain of your vulnerability, he would have taken the time to cut a large swathe through the patriciate of this fair city before he abandoned the Common in pursuit. He was not. And, to be fair, ATerafin—”

Avandar glared.

“—Terafin. It is not an intentional slight, Viandaran. I have had years in which the
polite
form of address was the one I just misused. You have my word that if we were in more grave circumstances, I would—”

“
More
grave?” Jewel’s voice rose in pitch. It was a trait that she had all but abandoned in her dealings with men—and women—of power.

One silver brow rose with the smoke, although it didn’t fly free. “You are not dead. If I recall those creatures correctly, you will now have a few moments of peace and privacy. And,” he added, as he began to walk away, “you are excused an afternoon of tremendous tedium in the company of preening nobility.”

“I have to—”

“You could not defend yourself, Jewel. Go back to the Common, and what guarantee have you that Darranatos, or his kind, will not return?”

“I’m seer-born. I’ll have warning.”

“Ah, yes. You’ll note that I did not say he would kill
you
.”

C
hapter Three

7th of Fabril, 428 A.A.
The Terafin Manse, Averalaan Aramarelas

T
HE SERVANTS WERE NOT HAPPY to see Jewel. They were, however, ATerafin, and their shock and concern did not show. It would, however, travel faster than fire through the back halls and the servants’ quarters; she was certain most of the manse would know that she was not in the Common by the time she reached the West Wing.

Lord Celleriant did not choose to accompany her, and she knew why. He was injured. He tended his injuries in isolation; he could not abide even the mention of the healerie. The Winter King likewise remained in the forest. But Avandar and Meralonne did not.

She found the walk to the West Wing almost disturbing in its silence; only the sounds of their feet accompanied them. On a normal day, Snow would have walked by her side, and since Night and Shadow had also been present, there would have been the usual snarling, hissing, and misplaced paws; the walk would have taken longer. She shook herself. When had the disruptive and annoying behavior of unruly children become normal?

But she glanced over her shoulder, looking for a glimpse of the cats, aware, as she did, that Amarais would never have done the same. At sixteen, Jewel had been certain that The Terafin hadn’t
had
emotions. Now, she knew that she must have. She had given everything to the House, in the end, even her life; no one who was devoid of emotion or humanity could have done what she did.

It was only a matter of hiding it. Of protecting it. Of keeping it so private, people could assume that its absence meant strength. And why, she thought bitterly, was that how strength was defined? Why was it wrong to show some part of what you felt if you felt it
anyway
?

It is a display of will, Jewel
, the Winter King replied. She hadn’t meant to radiate the silent question so loudly.
The desire for expression is strong; it is, in part, the desire to communicate. It is fundamental; it is true.

So is lying.

She felt the momentary warmth of his silent chuckle.
Yes. The desire for approval is also fundamental. The canny and the wise understand this; they can bend it to their use, as if it were any other more corporeal tool. But think: if you display yourself and your truths so easily, you hand those tools to your enemies—or your allies; there is frequently very little that separates them.

She thought of her den. It annoyed the Winter King.

Strength means many things. Your Terafin was strong enough that she could—and did—choose what to reveal. And when. You will learn to do likewise
.

She failed to answer. They were approaching the West Wing. Chosen stood outside the entrance, but only two; there would be four on the interior, no doubt roused by the servants and warned of her unexpected arrival. It was not, however, the Chosen who were her chief concern.

Ellerson was waiting as the doors opened. “Terafin.” His tone was smooth, cool, and entirely uninflected; she had brought a guest. His brows, however, rose as he pointedly looked at her right sleeve. Her own gaze followed his as if dragged, and she winced. Blood had, indeed, seeped through the cloth.

“There was some difficulty at the Common,” she told him, resisting the impulse to shove the arm behind her back.

“I see. Shall I send word to the healerie, Terafin?”

“No. The wound was slight, and it has long since ceased to bleed. We will take tea in the great room.”

Meralonne lifted his chin.

“Or very early lunch, if that is acceptable.”

* * *

When the doors to the great room closed, Meralonne APhaniel sat—heavily and gracelessly—in one of the large chairs closest to the fireplace. Avandar stood to Jewel’s left. She resisted the urge to tell him to sit down, although he looked exhausted.

“Jewel,” the mage said, tapping ash from his pipe, “do you understand what you have done here?”

“Maybe. What do you call the trees?”

He looked momentarily astonished at the question. Shaking his head, he said, “they are called many things in many different languages.”

“The Weston word?”

He all but snorted in derision. “The Kings’ trees, the god trees, The trees. They have more formal Weston names; you will have heard none of them.”

“If I had, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“You have not asked your Master Gardener?”

“No.”

“And yet you presume to ask a First Circle mage of the Order of Knowledge?”

“Clearly.”

His smile sharpened. The Winter King was right. People wanted approval.
Jewel
wanted approval, even the small scraps this arrogant man occasionally threw. “Very well. One of the oldest words for those trees is
Ellariannate
. It is not a word in common use; the word is often abbreviated. Ellarian.”

“It sounds . . . like a name. I mean, a person’s name.”

“As you say.” The pipe, filled, was lifted to lip, where it paused. It was his punctuation. “But you were wrong in one regard.”

“Only one? I’ve improved.”

“Indeed. You called them natural trees. By that I assume you meant they were not magical in nature.”

“They’re not.”

“As I said, you were—and are—wrong in that regard.”

“Meralonne, I can
see
magic.”

“Clearly you can, as you crudely put it, see
some
magic. There is a reason the
Ellariannate
grow only in the Common. And here,” he added, as she opened her mouth. “I leave it to you to divine the reason, and perhaps that is unwise.” He closed his eyes. “You do not understand what you have done here.”

“No. Not in a way I can put into words.”

Eyes still closed, he leaned back against the chair, his hair spilling down his arms. No wind moved it, but in the light, it gleamed in a way that implied color. “The stability of your leadership?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

“As you’ve no doubt heard, I’ve had some difficulties. This counts as the fifth attempt on my life in the last two months; it’s certainly the most public, and easily the most dangerous.”

“All of the assassins were demonic?”

“As an adjective, yes, but in the physical sense, no. Three of the five—if you count the Common—were demons.”

“They worked alone?”

“Yes.” She paused and then added, “To the best of our knowledge. It’s probably more accurate to say they made the attempt alone.”

“And the other two?”

“Men. Four men in the uniform of the House Guard—they were not House Guards. One woman.”

“Your investigations?”

“Are internal. I am willing to discuss what I’ve learned; I am not willing to compromise my own.”

“Very well.” Pipe smoke, like fire, could be strangely comforting. She wondered what her Oma would have made of the mage were she here; she was certain that there would be two pipes burning in this room, not one. “You require a House Mage.”

Which he knew. “I do.”

“I will, for a concession, add in some small way to the political stability of your House.”

She considered Celleriant’s continual offer to do the same, and wondered darkly if this were similar. But Meralonne was a member of the Order of Knowledge, and he served Sigurne Mellifas; a woman less likely to slaughter the difficult parts of the House Council could not be found. Certainly not in this room, on this day. “Your concession?”

“You are free, of course, to refuse. The Order will second one of the First Circle to these duties—but if you refuse, Jewel, it will not be me.”

She tapped the arm rest of her own chair impatiently. “APhaniel, your concession?”

One pale brow rose. “I am to be granted access—at times of my own choosing—to the Terafin grounds.”

She waited. When it became clear that he had no intention of adding further words, she rose. She was, not unexpectedly, exhausted. She wanted word sent to the Common, but knew it was unlikely to be heard; although the demon had followed her, he had caused damage, and the resulting chaos, where it involved the Kings, would be the primary concern of everyone present.

Everyone except Teller, Finch, and Angel. The Chosen as well. She desperately wanted to know that everyone had survived—but Meralonne APhaniel was not the man to ask. She considered asking Avandar to go to the Common and discarded that option; if Meralonne was an acquaintance of long standing, he was also an unknown. She could not afford to give Avandar a public order that he would refuse to obey.

“Why do you require that access?” She knew, before she asked, she would acquiesce. If Meralonne was an unknown, had always been an unknown, she was nonetheless certain that he could do her no harm in the grounds of the Terafin manse. Even the attempt would see him cast out of the Order as a rogue mage—a very, very dangerous one.

“My reasons are my own, Terafin. I mean you no harm.”

“And I mean the Empire no harm.”

He frowned. “Is there a reason that you are stating the almost criminally obvious?” He might have been Haval. Or Avandar.

She swallowed exasperation and gave reign to the amusement the words had also evoked. “You haven’t spent much time with Sigurne since your return from the South, have you?”

“I have.”

“And she’s voiced no concern?”

“Ah, I see the difficulty. You misunderstand me, Terafin. You misunderstand,” he added thoughtfully, “almost artfully. She is aware—most of the Isle is aware—of the unusual circumstances that now surround House Terafin, and in particular its young leader. The magi dislike mysteries as a matter of principle, and they will speak the life out of them if given the smallest opportunity. They attempt, again, given opportunity, to turn magic into rudimentary
mathematics.
”

“And you do not count yourself among the magi?”

“Not in that regard, no. The work is too dry for my taste. You have now wasted minutes of my time at your leisure, and Sigurne has requested my attendance.”

Jewel turned. “When you leave to attend Sigurne, please inform my House Council that the situation is in hand.”

“Very well. Your decision?”

“I think you understand what I don’t,” she replied. “And inasmuch as it affects my House, I require you to share the information you gain from the unlimited access you request.”

“I am willing to tender reports of that nature at your convenience.”

“Good. I also require one of two things in return.”

“And those?”

“You will either indenture yourself—and the entirety of your time—to House Terafin for a period of not less than five years,” which Jewel knew would be flat out impossible, although the words left no impression on Meralonne’s face, “or you come—and go—as your current House contract dictates, without monetary concession.”

Meralonne stared at her for a full minute, and then he burst out laughing. It was a deep, rich sound that filled the whole of the room; it probably traveled up the empty fireplace and out the chimney, where it would startle birds. “The guildmaster will not be pleased.”

“That is not my concern; it is yours.”

“She could order me to refuse the House contract.”

“She could—but she’s never struck me as foolish. You’ll do what you want, Member APhaniel. She’s known you for longer than I’ve been alive; she knows. She may tell you your acceptance of the terms harms the future earning potential of the magi, she may ask that you
consider
refusing it; she may even go so far as to paint it an insult. She won’t forbid it.”

“Terafin, I believe I am genuinely surprised.”

“The demon did not surprise you, the cats did not surprise you, the forest did not surprise you. Even the demands I have made did not surprise you. A single observation about Sigurne?”

“Even so.” He rose, tapping ash out of the bowl of his pipe into the empty fireplace. It was not, strictly speaking, for such ash. “I will deliver the message. Both of them. Word will travel,” he added.

“If you know I’m not dangerous—”

“I did not say that. I merely said that it is obvious you
intend
no harm. You have touched things that even the magi cannot touch; you have demonstrated that you are powerful. You are content—in a way that almost no mage would be—to wander in ignorance. You
are
a threat.”

She was silent as he left.

* * *

He did not return to Sigurne, not immediately. Instead, he followed the galleries until he reached the wide glass doors of the terrace. They were guarded, but loosely; most of the House Council was still absent. Meralonne made certain that the pendant that marked the Order of Knowledge was clearly visible as he approached the closed doors.

One of the guards stopped him.

“The grounds are forbidden.”

“The Terafin has returned from the grounds, and she has given me leave to examine them for magical interference.
I
am not in danger.”

The guard was young. He was not foolish; Meralonne considered many courses of action, but chose waiting. The wait was under ten minutes, and involved a second guard moving with unseemly haste down the hall. In five minutes, a man whose tabard had the subtle marking that distinguished the Terafin Chosen from the Terafin House Guard appeared; he did not run. He was no youth; nor did he appear to be perturbed by Meralonne’s gently spoken demand.