Oracle: The House War: Book Six (53 page)

“But you have always,
always
, encouraged me to be cautious of men in power; to do otherwise, with you, would be an insult that I will not tender.”

His expression cracked as he laughed; the ice melted. Finch did not react—but she did, once again, sip tea. “I take it back; you
are
wasted here.” The smile once again fell away, but the chill did not return. “Demons?”

This time, she set her cup down in the saucer and grimaced.

“Finch. You cannot expect that I would have
no
idea, surely? The manse
is
my residence—when I am not forced to ride herd on the short-sighted and mendacious.”

“At the moment, while demons are, of course, a pressing concern given events this past week, I am worried about Duvari.” She was certain the distaste the name produced was not feigned.

“If you must mention that name in my office—”

“Our office, surely?”

One brow rose in a white arch.

“. . . Or not.” She laughed. “I am certain actual poison could not produce the expression on your face right now. I almost want to call Lucille in.”

“I am certain actual poison would be far less difficult and far less dangerous—at least to me. I would,” he added, in a slightly more plaintive tone, “rather hear about demons. Duvari is one element of the entire Merchant fracas that I have managed to be adroit enough to avoid.”

She rose, restless, and began to walk the edge of the carpet that fronted the two desks.

He tsked behind her back. He considered pacing to be an almost political failing; it showed worry or impatience, either of which could be a besetting sin. Since Jarven was often whiny and petulant when impatient, Finch thought this unfair—but Jarven correctly pointed out that
his
foibles were disguises. Hers were not.

“How important do you consider Duvari to be?” she asked.

Silence.

“Jarven?” She turned and almost missed a step.

“I have, as you often point out, taught you. I have, in my opinion, taught you
well
. Not even the most foolhardy and aggressive of my early protégées could have asked me that question with a remotely straight face. And yet, here you are. I believe I am
almost
disappointed—but I am certain there are extenuating circumstances which you will, in all haste, explain.”

She folded her arms, but stopped pacing. “It was, in its entirety, a serious question. You can complain about Duvari for hours—I’ve heard you do it, admittedly in front of the right audience. I have seldom heard you speak of Duvari in terms that are not derogatory. I have,” she added, “seldom heard anyone of note speak of him in a remotely complimentary fashion. I do not interact with Duvari often.”

“You do not,” he replied, “interact with Duvari
at all
.”

“We are not going to have that option.”

He exhaled. “Sit. Watching you pace is making me dizzy.”

Finch sat. She tried not to fidget with the skirts of the dress she so disliked.

“I have taught you to play games; many of those lessons were indirect; I forced you to observe, and I have allowed you to draw your own conclusions from those observations. Where necessary—in my opinion—I have encouraged you to think more deeply; to see the advantage to be gained in any situation, even the most dire. You have, of course, no such experience with Duvari.

“I tell you again, Finch, you will not interact with the Lord of the Compact.”

“And who will, in The Terafin’s absence? You? Teller is set to call a House Council meeting in five days—or perhaps three, if the situation becomes too complicated. At that time, we will introduce you as a provisional Council member; we expect complaints, and some measures to stifle them have already been put in place.

“But even so, Duvari accepts the hierarchy of the House; he will, in the absence of The Terafin, defer—if he even understands the word—to the right-kin.”

“To your Teller.”

“Yes.”

“And why should this be a problem?”

“Demons. I meant to tell you,” she added, which was half true. “But I thought we might wait on Hectore; he is to visit this afternoon.”

“He will be late.”

She frowned.

“As, I’m afraid, will I. The Merchants’ Guild is under investigation by the Magisterium and the Mysterium, and we are to speak with the Guildmaster of the Order of Knowledge.”

“Was the head of the Merchants’ Guild ever found?”

“Given the urgency of the request, I believe the answer is yes. My own concerns are, unfortunately, more mundane. More than a dozen of the guild’s guards—in guild tabard, no less—were working in concert with the creature that almost destroyed the membership.”

“And they would need to be paid.”

“And fed, and clothed, and housed, yes. Were it not for the Order of Knowledge, we might have had one or two of these men in custody, where we might question them at our leisure. As they were careless—”

“They
were
somewhat occupied with a demon.”

“As was I,” he countered. “And I would not have made that error.”

“You never believe you can die.”

“On the contrary, Finch, I believe I can die at any time. I have not recovered from steps taken to insure that I survived in the halls behind the guild’s lamentable kitchen. While it is true I emphasize my age to my advantage, it is not all pretense.” He winced.

“That, on the other hand, you did not purpose.”

“Yes. It is useful to blend truth with our fictions; it makes the whole much more convincing. And you are, of course, attempting to change the subject.”

“I am thinking the subject through. Were these guards hired by the guildmaster?”

He smiled. “That would be my current supposition.”

“Was the guildmaster not himself?”

“That would also be my supposition; confirmation will have to wait upon Sigurne Mellifas—as difficult and shrewd an old woman as any I have ever met. She shows an alarming interest in The Terafin.”

“Who is not, as you’ve pointed out, present. I am unwilling to let Teller navigate Duvari on his own.”

“I think that wise. No, do
not
start pacing again. I happen to be fond of that carpet; it deserves better. Sit.”

Finch inhaled. “Did you have much personal experience with Alowan?”

“The former healer? I did.”

“His assassination was tactical.”

“Of course. You are concerned for your Daine? Finch,
please
make a fighting attempt at self-control. I will begin to feel guilty if you do not.”

“I would almost like to see that. Is there anything you don’t know?”

“There is much that I suspect; suspicion outweighs evidentiary proof. I am, however, content with suspicion, where it is reasonable and where it fits available fact. Daine is an open secret, among senior members of the House; he is certainly an open secret among the Household Staff.

“I fail to see how this relates to Duvari.”

Probably, Finch thought uncharitably, deliberately. “No, you don’t.”

He watched her; she met—and held—his steady gaze. “You are making more work for me.”

“You’re aware that a random servant was attacked; you’re aware that the results were messy and completely obvious. Whoever attacked the girl thought her dead—and they wanted the entire House to know it. They wanted news of their butchery to travel—and Jarven, it has. The entire Household Staff is on edge—and they should be. It was a savage, brutal attack. The girl should not have survived. She was possibly lucky: she was discovered by someone who kept enough of her wits about her that she sent—immediately—for Daine.

“Daine was able—at cost—to save her life.”

She expected some petulant complaint; Jarven offered none. He watched her, fingers beneath his chin, his expression remote.

“The girl was not a random target.”

“Ah.”

“She was a member of Duvari’s
Astari.
” When Jarven failed to comment, she continued. “We are relatively certain she was chosen because of that affiliation. What we cannot ascertain is how that information was gained. Some preliminary investigation has been done.”

“Results?”

“Not promising.”

“Terafin was not the only House to suffer such an attack, then.”

“No. It may not be widespread; we have had only a few days, and inquiries of this kind have to be handled with care.” Or, in Jester’s case, with alcohol. She failed to mention this. “We know that at least two other Houses suffered shockingly similar deaths and dismemberments—but in both cases, the victims died. There was no chance at all that they could be saved; even had a healer been on hand—and I am not familiar with the disposition of the healer-born in other Houses—they would have been unable to preserve the victims.”

“Which means the knowledge of the Terafin girl’s survival is known to the assailant.”

“That is the supposition we are now working with. We cannot, of course, be certain that the victims in the other Houses were also
Astari
.”

Jarven nodded. “You suspect that they were.”

“None of the victims were inherently powerful; none occupied positions of note within their Houses. They were the type of desultory spy that one expects Duvari to place all over the Empire as a matter of course.”

“Which is not an answer.”

“We would have suspected nothing of the sort, had the Terafin servant not survived. We would have had other concerns, of course. We have already launched an internal investigation. It is . . . not going smoothly.”

“And this is why you are concerned.”

“We’re almost certain there is some demonic or magical involvement. And Jarven? I am done with demons. I could live a hundred lifetimes absent their presence and it wouldn’t be
long enough
.” She lowered her head.

“You are afraid that Duvari will kill your healer.”

“Yes. We have taken some precautions—but I’m unwilling to give up the healer, and Jay—The Terafin—would stand behind that decision with her life.”

“If, by stand behind that decision, you mean she would attempt to neutralize Duvari, she would lose.”

Finch said nothing for one long beat. “I will take the matter to the Kings, if any harm—
any
—befalls him.”

“That would be politically costly, as you well know.”

“Yes. But it is a price I am willing to pay. I will take the matter to The Ten as the Terafin regent, and I will demand justice. I will not play games of proof; I will not dance in the shadows with Duvari and his
Astari
. He is what he is—but he serves, and answers to, the Kings—and I will make the Kings answer to Terafin.”

“You will not have the support of The Ten should you choose to do this.”

“I will have the support of some of them, and if they would be wisely unwilling to attach their names to my petition, they would welcome it. Duvari has long been a thorn in everyone’s side. To see him leashed or muzzled would delight them; they will not stand in my way to curry favor with the Kings.”

“Well,” Jarven said, pausing to snap a biscuit in half, “I better understand your sour expression. You
have
been thinking.”

“I am unwilling to pay that price if it is not
necessary
. But I will demand everything short of Duvari’s death if Daine dies. And Jarven—I mean
everything
. The Ten tolerate Duvari; the Crowns tolerate the laws of exception. If Duvari killed me, if he killed Teller, we would accept it as part of the bitter cost of power.”

“But not your young healer.”

“No. I would accept Jay’s death. I will not accept Daine’s.”

“And you are telling me this because?”

“You asked. I would prefer that this be dealt with through the regular channels, of course.” She exhaled, losing inches and anger as she spread her palms in her lap. She did not take up the cup again because her hands were too unsteady. “Let me ask you again: How important is Duvari? Or rather, how important are the
Astari
, and could they function without him?”

“Given the rest of your speech, I am not certain it is prudent to answer that question. But I will attempt to maintain some faith in you, although I confess it badly shaken.

“The
Astari
are necessary; they protect the Kings. I do not know what the
Astari
would be should Duvari die—but it will not, for the first few years, be pretty. He is strong enough to dispense with both charm and lie; he curries favor with no one. He will not bend—but, Finch, he does not break. I do not think there is an assassin alive who could kill him; there are very, very few of any quality who would accept the commission were they offered it. He is, as you know, a necessary evil.”

“And if the
Astari
have been compromised completely?”

Jarven rose. “You almost make me feel old, Finch. May I point out that I do not enjoy the sensation?”

“Yes.” She rose to pour more tea. Jarven, at least, had been drinking his.

“There is only one way that the
Astari
could be completely compromised.”

“That,” Finch replied quietly, “is what I now fear.”

“You will not take this to the Kings.”

“No. If I am willing to go to war against Duvari, desperation drives me; I am not desperate to preserve either the
Astari
or the Lord of the Compact in a similar fashion. I will, if resources permit, approach such matters through the regular channels. One of which was meant to be my appointment with Hectore this afternoon.”

Jarven sighed theatrically. “We will be here as soon as humanly possible; given the merchants, even I cannot guarantee that we will be on time. I would,” he added, voice softer and vastly less frail, “leave Hectore in control of the Merchants’ Guild if that struck me as the wise option.”

“Hectore is highly respected; he is a merchant of long-standing and credible wealth.”

“All of that is true. He is also better at dealing with the wheedling and the self-aggrandizing.”

“But you won’t.”

“I do not believe, at the moment, that it is in our best interests.”

“Who is ‘our’ in this case?”

“Mine, of course.” His smile was thin. “We are, at the moment, working in grudging lockstep. If Hectore was to take the leadership of the tattered guild into his capable hands, I am not certain that that would be the case. And, Finch, Hectore is no fool. He would just as soon grab fire and hold it in cupped palms, had he any choice.”