Skirmish: A House War Novel (19 page)

“So you are saying that you intend to utilize assassination as a tool?”

She rose. She couldn’t stop herself. This was the discussion that she desperately did not wish to have with Devon. Or with anyone.

Devon didn’t press her, which was a small mercy; it was also brief. “Let me return to your hypothesis. Your reasons for naming Haerrad and Rymark so openly seem sound on the surface, and in the political context of a House War, there
will
be deaths. I am unconvinced, however, that your acceptance of the necessity in these two cases is not personal.

“If I remember correctly, Teller was injured by Haerrad; it was meant to serve as a warning.”

She said nothing at all.

“But Rymark has caused your den much less…distress. Why Rymark, Jewel? Answer carefully, and do not attempt to lie; I will merely find it insulting, rather than convincing.”

The fear left her. Anger was all that remained, and it wasn’t any weaker than Devon’s. “Rymark,” she said, in a cool, even voice, “killed The Terafin. If I do
nothing else
in this miserable war, I’ll see him dead. I don’t care how. I don’t care when.”

She watched his expression freeze in place. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“I was not present at the moment of The Terafin’s death, but from any intelligence gathered, neither were you.”

Of all the things he had said so far in this small and suffocating room, this was the worst. But she couldn’t flinch from truth just because it hurt her; she had to be stronger than that. “I didn’t see the blow that killed her. I was there when she died.”

“And yet you make your statement with complete conviction.”

“I do.”

Devon rose; he was inches away from her before she thought to move. The thought, she crushed. If she stepped back, she’d damn well do it by choice, not reflex. “I know what happened during the Dark Days, Jewel. If you seek to play games, no matter how costly, you
will not
play games with demons.”

“I’m not the one playing them.”

“If you have information of this kind, and you withhold it, you
are
. Why do you say that Rymark was responsible for The Terafin’s death?”

“Because he was.”

Jewel,
Avandar said.
Have a care.

I am. Don’t interfere.

“Finch and Teller were there.”

“And?”

“They saw Rymark. They saw the rest of the Council, but they were watching Rymark.”

“Why Rymark?”

“Haerrad wasn’t present.”

He opened his mouth to speak, snapped it shut, and nodded. It was a fair answer, and even in anger, he was willing to acknowledge it.

“Rymark didn’t appear to be surprised. And unlike anyone else in the Council Hall, he wasn’t afraid of the demon at all. Finch thought he knew it would come.”

“That is not proof,” Devon said, his voice still sharp and cold, his words much less intense.

“If we play games of assassination, proof isn’t required.”

“I don’t suggest you play those games.”

“I wasn’t aware that I needed your approval.”

Devon took a step back and then returned to his chair, motioning stiffly for Jewel to do likewise; she demurred.

“After her death, after the death of the demon, Rymark announced that he had in his possession the legal writ declaring him as heir to the Terafin Seat.”

“Again, that is not proof.”

“No. But he lied, and we both know it. He would have had to have the time to prepare a well-forged writ. Alowan was assassinated prior to the attempt—by days—in order that The Terafin be without her healer.”

Devon nodded.

“And an attempt on Haerrad’s life was made at the same time as the attempt on The Terafin’s.” Jewel’s voice made clear which attempt she wished had succeeded. “If you’re accusing me of being emotional, I am. I’m even being irrational. But in this case, irrationality and rationality coincide.

“I think the demon was the last resort. Had the Twin Kings not been present, I don’t think most of the House Council would have survived. Had Celleriant not arrived, the Kings themselves might have died.”

“That would be your…newest servant?”

She nodded. “Someone in the House had to be responsible for her death.”

“Why do you say that?”

Irritated, she said, “You know it yourself.”

He said nothing, waiting. Devon, she knew, could wait for hours without any sign of flagging.

“No one else would benefit from Haerrad’s death. Assassinating The Terafin could be a potent weapon if one wanted the Empire to be in turmoil—but assassinating the Kings or even the Princes would have a much more powerful effect. The Terafin’s death would require a successor. If someone allied in some way with the demons could be that successor, her death would be useful and even necessary. Killing Haerrad would remove one of the most difficult impediments in the struggle for the seat.”

“There are others.”

Jewel nodded. “I don’t care what you think, Devon. I’m not wrong.” She looked with longing toward his closed door. “You don’t have to answer the question I came to ask. I’ll ask someone else.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?”

He ran his hands over his eyes and through his hair. “Jewel. Sit.”

As if compelled, she obeyed, making a great deal more sound than he had.

“You understand that my loyalties have always been divided.”

Had they? Jewel glanced over her shoulder at the painting of the Kings. “No,” she finally said, although the word was soft. “I never thought they were divided. You served The Terafin when her interests didn’t diverge from the Kings’.”

“I respected—and admired—The Terafin.”

“Yes. She was worthy of both. I wasn’t around for the House War that made her what she was—but you were. If I had to guess—if anyone ever asked—I’d say that The Terafin was considered the best of the contenders by the Kings, or by Duvari. I don’t know if you supported her bid—”

“I did.”

“—But if you did, you did it with permission.”

“You’ve grown less kind.”

Jewel shrugged. “She accepted it. She accepted you. I understand why.”

“And would you?”

“Accept you? It depends. What would you be offering that would require my acceptance?”

“You are still angry.”

There wasn’t any point in denying it. “Yes. You could have interfered, Devon. Not in The Terafin’s death—there’s no way you would have let her die. It wouldn’t have served the Kings’ interests, not when the army is fighting its distant war. But you could have saved Teller from Haerrad, that time. I’m certain of it. You didn’t.”

He didn’t disagree. She almost wanted him to because he was right—there were some angers that slept without dying. When she touched them, they woke, and they burned as if they were still new.

“You understand why.”

“Yes. I understand why. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t enrage me.” She wanted to pace the room, but she managed to remain in her seat. Avandar had moved toward the back of her chair and stood there like shadow. “Why are you keeping me here?”

The line of his shoulders relaxed. “This is not the conversation I thought to have when you first appeared at the door, ATerafin. If you will not drink, allow me the opportunity.”

“You don’t drink when you’re working.”

“Ah. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I will, however, drink now.”

Avandar was at the bar before Devon could stand. He poured something rich and golden into a short, squat goblet; this he carried to Devon and placed on the table in front of him. Devon stared at the glass for a long moment before he lifted it in the palm of his hand. Jewel watched, almost fascinated, as he began to drink.

“Before you left—and in such a dramatic fashion—you offered Amarais the only comfort you could offer her. I do not know what occurred in the South, although rumor has it that Commander Allen was…less than pleased at your disappearance.”

“How would you know?”

“The magi have ways of communicating over long distances, and the Commander had already received permission to second your services for his war. I believe he communicated with Sigurne through one of the magi that now accompany the army.”

Jewel had the grace to cringe, no more—the army was in the South, in a different country. But she? She was no less at war.

“She called you home,” he added, staring at the liquid as if it were a mirror. “And you are home, now. Four of the House Council members are on the move; in truth, they have been on the move for months, possibly years. Yet you, Jewel, are not.”

“Am I not to be allowed to bury her?” was the bitter reply. “I’ve never been able to bury my dead,” she added, her voice low.

“You are not personally responsible for the burial, and you are not a child; you understand that she is dead. What happens to her corpse is a grace note, but it will not bring her back; nor will it alter the situation in which you find yourself. You hesitate, Jewel. You stall for time. You know that you cannot afford this. Were it not for the manner of her death and the unexpected presence of the Twin Kings, the leadership of the House might already be decided.”

He drank again, slowly and steadily. “You were not the only person to offer her comfort before her untimely death.”

This surprised her.

“Do you think she had no understanding of either who or what you will face? Demons, certainly, she did not expect—not initially. But she was canny, and she knew how to fight.

“She trusted you. In the end, I do not think you will betray her trust. But you have never seen what must unfold now. Yes, you’ve seen the politicking that occurs between merchants, both aligned and unaligned with the House; you’ve seen some hint of the violence that might occur. You’ve seen the assassination of Alayra; you’ve seen the deaths of Alea and Courtne, and were it not for those deaths, you might not now be in the position you
are
in. But those? Those were trivial games in comparison. Those deaths hurt Amarais immeasurably, but they did not deprive her of the House.” He set the empty glass on the table, and Avandar, like a cold shadow, retrieved it.

Jewel hated—had always hated—the taste of liquor. But she liked the color, and wondered, watching Devon’s stiff expression, if it might not one day come in useful. He took the glass that Avandar had refilled in silence.

“Devon.”

One dark brow rose. “I had wondered if you had lost your voice.”

“What did you promise The Terafin before she died?”

The other brow also rose. “I should have expected that,” he replied, with a slight, but pained, smile. “You’ve always been perceptive. Not always, sadly, predictably so.

“What did she demand of me? Very little, Jewel. Very little that she didn’t expect would naturally occur. One of the few fortunate things about imminent death is the lack of debt incurred. She was, of course, aware that
some interest would be taken in the struggle for the House Seat. She was also aware that some preference might be given, discreetly, toward some of the claimants. She was
certainly
aware that one or two would find no favor at all.”

“With Duvari?”

Devon didn’t answer.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you are new to this. If you were not, Jewel, you would ask for my support. Not all of the candidates know that I serve the
Astari
; it is possible that none of them do. I expect to speak with all four before the week is out. They will offer concessions in return for my visible support.”

“You’re not a House Council member.”

“No. But the House Council is small, and it is not the whole of the House. I occupy a visible role within
Avantari
, and the merchants know me.”

“What would they offer you for your support?”

“A better question. I am not entirely certain. I believe it’s possible they will offer me the Merchant Authority office.”

“But that’s already occupied by Jarven.”

“Indeed; they will also curry favor with Jarven.”

“What would they offer him?”

“At his age? A settlement, in all likelihood—and at that, a valuable one. He is close to an age where retirement would be expected, and indeed such retirements often occur during the changing of the guard.”

“I can’t offer you that.”

He raised one brow. “No?”

She snorted. Pushed hair out of her eyes. “You don’t know Jarven.”

“Ah. As it happens, I
do
know Jarven. It was Jarven who introduced me to Amarais, and it was Jarven who sponsored my first application into the House. I do not believe you’ve had much interaction with Jarven, however.”

“I haven’t.”

“Ah. Finch?”

It was Jewel’s turn to be silent. She knew he already knew the answer, and sometimes these silences seemed like stupid, pointless games. But people played them for a reason.

“Very well. You cannot offer me that, and between us, it is not a position I could accept. I am unlikely to make that clear to any of the other four. You will know.”

She nodded. “I’ve nothing to offer you,” she told him softly, “except this: I’ll keep you. I’ll keep your secret. I won’t give you orders that you can’t obey. I won’t expect your service to the Kings to come second to your service to me.”

“And will you resent it less, this time around?”

She looked at a point just past his shoulder, refusing to drop her eyes, but unable to meet his. After a long pause, she said, “Yes. Yes, because it’s to
me
.”

“And you value yourself less highly than you value your den?”

“Is there any point to that question? Short of starting a dissection of my character I’ve no intention of participating in, what do you hope to gain?”

He drank. “Nothing. My apologies, Jewel. I want more, however, than just that concession.”

“I’ve nothing else to offer.”

“Not yet. But if you become Terafin, the vast resources of the House will be yours.”

“No, they won’t. They’ll be the House’s. I can’t promise you anything until I know what they actually are.”

“Ah. How, then, do you intend to pay your prospective employee?”

“What?” She shook her head; he had brought the awkward conversation around again, leaving her struggling to keep up. After a long pause, she said, “I have some money; I have nowhere near as much as the rest of the House Council.” Enough. “Devon—you probably know to the copper what I can access; you almost certainly know better than I do. What do you want, and what do you intend to do?”