Michelle West - The Sun Sword 03 - The Shining Court (8 page)

"There's a reason most scouts are well-paid and highly pensioned."

She laughed bitterly. "I'll be highly paid, all right."

"Jewel—"

"You're captain."

"Pardon?"

"You're captain. You're
my
captain. When the Chosen lose their leader, make them follow
you
."

She saw his eyes narrow. Blade's edge now; all frivolity, all humor, gone. "You're speaking about the death of The Terafin."

Gods, the words were
cold
. She wanted to cry again, standing here, in front of the man who had opened the House to her. Instead, she drew her shoulders back, achieving her full height. That brought her up to his shoulder. Almost.

"What," she said softly, "do you think we were arguing about? You knew what she wanted from me." It was an accusation, and it was the truth. It was also a surprise; a touch of gift that she hadn't even been reaching for.

He was very, very stiff.

"I haven't slept for nine days. I am
so tired
of this. If I had known what I know now when I first came to your gates—"

"You would have let Arann die?"

She looked at him, hating him for just that moment. "Gods, are you all sons of bitches?"

He surprised her. "Yes." There was something in his expression that she couldn't quite define to her satisfaction, but it replaced the cold anger that had framed the words that included Terafin and death. That had to be an improvement. "Answer the question."

She started to answer, to say something flippant, but the words got mangled by the emotion she was so bad at suppressing.

"Isn't that what I'm risking anyway?"

"Is it?"

"I'm leaving them behind." She looked at light's unnecessary reflection against the surface of the table. Easier than meeting his eyes.

He wasn't one of hers; he didn't touch her. He waited more or less patiently until she looked up again. "I'm leaving you behind."

Waited. Grim now.

"I'm deserting
her
."

"She can take care of herself."

His turn to flinch. She shook her head. She said, "You're the captain." Past caring now. "You're the only one who'll have prior knowledge. Start preparing." Her hands were fists. She didn't notice until she lifted them and forced them to unfurl; her fingers were literally shaking.

"Torvan—"

"Yes?"

"Protect my den."

She stood, ending the interview.

He said formally, "ATerafin."

"What?"

"Who will she leave this information with?"

"Damned if I know. That's one of the few things that isn't my problem."

"You've never been involved in a House War," he replied softly. "If it's not secure information, it will be far more your problem than any other worry you have now."

"Me."

"As interested party, your word will count for less than nothing."

"Torvan," she said, her voice as quiet as it had been all morning, "don't take this personally, but
get out
."

He shut up. He left.

And one of the few good things she was certain about as she watched his back disappear was that he wouldn't take it personally.

One more. Only one more to go.

16th of Maran, 427 AA

Avantari, Averalaan Aramarelas

"Wait outside."

Avandar frowned. "Jewel—"

"This won't take long. I won't be in danger. And as far as I can tell—for the usual reasons—the Astari hate you."

"The usual reasons being no reason at all, I assume."

"Right the first time." Although to be fair—which she wasn't going to be—they seemed to hate everyone who had displayed even a trace of magic, and Avandar had certainly done that.

"Jewel—"

"It's only Devon," she said, before she had to hear the rest of the lecture.

"You don't seem to understand, all protestations and anger aside, that he serves another master."

"Oh, I understand it, all right."

"Jewel—"

"But maybe he serves another master just as obediently as you serve me."

That shut him up for the ten seconds she needed. She slid past him and into the office of Patris Larkasir's adjutant.

He rose at once, his eyes widening ever so slightly. That was Devon's version of unguarded surprise.

"Jewel?"

"ATerafin," she replied, setting the tone of their meeting with the formality of his title. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"It depends on who you ask. Patris Larkasir would consider these important." His hand touched a large pile of officially sealed documents.

"I'd like to speak to you in private for a moment."

"George. Please leave us."

The young man who was Devon's only obvious assistant bowed at once. Jewel privately thought he was one of the Astari, but she' d never asked. It didn't really matter. He left them alone, and that was all she wanted from him at the moment.

He waited until the door had closed, although from the way his eyes flickered over the frame, Avandar was practically standing
in
it.

"Why have you come?"

"To deliver a message."

"From The Terafin?"

"Sort of."

He waited. She was silent.

"Jewel, it's not like you to play waiting games."

"It's not a game."

"What is it?"

"Loss of words. I don't know what to say. No, not true. I don't know how to say it."

He waited.

She said, "I'm leaving."

"Pardon?"

"I'm leaving to go South."

"I'm aware of that. Unless," he added quietly, "you don't mean with the army."

"No, I don't mean with the army."

"What's happened?"

"It's not what has happened, it's what will happen. It's always what
will
happen with me. Birth defect."

"What will happen?"

She laughed, looking away.

He didn't.

"Jewel."

"End of the world. That sort of thing."

"You'll pardon me if the humor falls a little flat."

"Probably."

"Jewel, why
did
you come here?"

"Gods alone know. I want you to do me a favor."

"Have we had this discussion before?"

"Not exactly the same one, no."

"But this is House business."

Damn him. "What else?"

He leaned casually against the edge of his desk. Any other man would have hit the pile of Larkasir's documentation—it was close enough to the edge—but Devon knew exactly where to sit. She longed, just once, to see him clumsy. Gods knew he'd seen her trip over nothing more than her own two feet on several occasions.

"I'm going South. I'll join the army later."

His smile was thin and dangerous. "You aren't going South with the permission of the Kings' armies."

Devon, you are such a bastard
. She smiled. "It's confidential; I prefer not to discuss it."

"I'm sorry, ATerafin. That wasn't a question."

Of course not.

She trusted this man. She knew it not because of the safety she felt when she was with him—it had been years since he'd offered her shelter that she could accept—but because of the anger.

Her smile didn't happen. She got it halfway up her mouth and let it drop. "Don't play stupid games with me, Devon."

He said nothing.

"Does The Terafin know that you spy on the House? Does she know that you—"

"Of course she knows it," he said, the snap in his words as obvious a sign of either anger or weariness as he had ever shown. "She's not a child."

"And I am?"

Again, he retreated to the sting of silence.

When he took up his words again, they were measured. Careful. He was, of course, no less angry. "The Terafin knows I spy on the House. It's one of the ways in which she proves her loyalty to the Crowns. Make no mistake, ATerafin. This
is
my calling. I
am
Astari. She could have released me from her service and taken back my name; it would have damaged my ability to hold visible royal office, and it would have changed the role of my life outside of the Astari, but it would not have changed my decision."

She was shocked into silence of her own, which had happened just enough recently that she almost instantly resented it. She worked off the discomfort her anger produced by walking across the room and yanking the curtains shut. The light that filtered through them anyway was muted, reddened; the material in her hand was stubbled like raw silk. She pried her fingers loose.

"You've never said that to The Terafin." The words, like the light just beyond her hands, were muted.

"The Terafin," he replied coolly, "is far too politic to ask. What do you think I am, Jewel? I am her peace offering; I am her pledge of allegiance. I am her willingness—in tangible form—to cooperate with the man whose life is the protection of the Kings.

"And in return for this, she partakes of the information I receive as a member of the Astari."

"You tell her nothing."

"I
tell
her nothing, but she is not naive enough to believe that the value of my service is dependent on open words. Can you separate your knowledge, your experience, from yourself in any meaningful way? Can you act upon things that you know as if you don't know them, and never have?"

The silence lasted a full thirty seconds before she realized it was a question he meant her to answer.

It lasted a little bit longer before he accepted the fact that she wouldn't.

"No," he replied. "You can't. No more can I. You can, if you desire, lie about your knowledge."

Her lips thinned.

"The Terafin was always wise enough not to put me in the position of having to lie; she understands the politics of what she does—and doesn't—choose to do." He turned. "And perhaps that's not true. She has forced the issue once or twice in my tenure as part of Terafin. And each time I've managed to balance. The House is of value to me. The Terafin is a woman I admire, and she acts, in as much as any ranking member of the patriciate can, with conscience. Perhaps more so than Duvari." He shrugged. "Is this what you came for?"

Silent, she shook her head.

"So. You will go South without the army. But you will not go without the permission of The Terafin."

"No."

"And you will not take your den."

"No."

"Jewel, I fail to see—"

"I came to tell you that what one woman accepts with ease, another might reject."

"Were we speaking of women?"

His smile slid off the mirthless ice of her expression. "Here's something you can give to that bastard."

He knew she meant Duvari.

"You don't have to thank me. I imagine you'd find out anyway, in time. Does he have members of other Houses doing the same dance?"

"Of course. I am the only open member; the only ranking member. And to be honest, he does not put much of his effort into the Houses. They war amongst each other, but they have never had any pretensions to either of the thrones."

"True enough."

"Your information?"

"I know who The Terafin will make her heir."

"I hope she doesn't intend to announce that information prematurely; it certainly didn't extend the life of the previous heir."

Her laugh was an angry laugh, ugly with harshness, something that shouldn't have been able to go on as long as it did, it sounded so forced. She shoved her hair out of her eyes, catching strands of it in her House ring. Hurt, as she pulled them out. "The life of the heir is almost never at risk. Not this heir."

He was absolutely silent then.

"That's right," she said softly. "It's just me, Jewel the power monger. I guess I've gotten what I wanted."

"Jewel—"

"And what I
want
, what I want from
you
, patris of the fence-sitters, is commitment."

"Then ask," he said, and she thought he was paler although it was hard to tell, "when you take the title."

She hadn't thought she'd continue. Would have been smartest not to. But her words were tumbling faster than she could catch 'em; she couldn't shut up.

"I won't
be
here to ask. I'll be in the South, searching among the slaughtered for gods only know what. And you know what? It'll make what we found in Cordufar look pretty. It'll be—"

He caught her. Shook her. She didn't fight.

But she didn't stop. Flow broken, the words took a moment to reassert themselves. "Gods, worse; I can hear it now, and I'm not even on the road. And while I'm not here—while I'm not here, everyone will come
this
close to death—but I can't see who will cross over. I can't see whose bodies are lying in the wake of the Terafin War. And I want—I don't want—I can't save—"

"Jewel."

"I'm sorry, Devon," she said, her voice breaking, growing quieter and smaller in the wake of the command he had made of her name. "But I don't want her to die. And I can't stop it."

He said, "She knows." It was a question; he so seldom asked them it took her a moment.

She nodded.

"She knows." He stood, his arms on her shoulders, his face perfectly still. And then he said, "I'll do what I can to protect them."

"And if it's not in the best interests of the Astari?"

"Let your den know. Tell them that when I send word—or bring it—they're to follow that word to the letter."

"Devon—"

"Don't say it. Don't ask it." He turned to look out the window she had covered with fabric. Stopped. "We had better win this war," he said softly at last, "and it had better be worth the cost."