Skirmish: A House War Novel (27 page)

“And now?”

“Now, ATerafin, unless you wish to engage in a public and entirely unbecoming argument, you will graciously accept it. I will play no further games; I will not seek to force you to come up with an offer that is not
insulting simply to make you aware of the concessions you must otherwise consider. But you will accept my support, Jewel.”

She swallowed. This Devon, she hadn’t seen for a very long time. This one, she trusted, even though she knew he was a small part of the Devon ATerafin she had come to know over the years. She nodded.

“Very well.” Her agreement didn’t seem to please him. He surveyed the grounds again with disgust. “Duvari will not be pleased by the turn of the day’s events.”

“No one will be pleased, Devon.”

His smile was grim, but not devoid of humor. “I wish you as much joy of the House Council—and the regent—as I will have of Duvari.”

Teller took one look at Jay when she entered his office—via a somewhat agitated Barston—and forgot what he’d been working on. He rose, almost knocked his chair over in a rush to escape the wrong side of his desk, and ran to where she stood in the open door. She grinned. It was a very lopsided grin. “Can we come in?”

Barston had her back, and not in the traditional sense of the word; behind Barston stood a nervous Angel and a grim Avandar. Angel didn’t exist in Barston’s hierarchy of importance, as he wasn’t even ATerafin; Jewel, however, was a member of the House Council proper. Teller nodded frenetically at the older man. But Barston’s lips were a pinched, whitening line.

“Master Teller,” he said, reverting to a form of address that had been appropriate when Teller had first been his assistant what felt liked decades ago. Teller cringed inwardly. Outward cringing met with Barston’s severe disapproval. “There is some concern at the moment among the House Guard, and word is traveling to the Chosen even as we speak.”

“Understood. Jay, does your…appearance…have anything to do with the House Guard?”

“Not directly,” she replied, in a tone of voice that held out very little hope for Teller. “We need to speak with Gabriel, though.”

“You need to go to Daine in the healerie. Your hands are—”

“They’re scratches. I’ll get them looked at
after
we’ve had a chance to give Gabriel a heads up.”

Barston cleared his throat. Loudly. Teller acquiesced. He wanted a moment in private to ask Jay what in the hells had happened—because it wasn’t just her hands that were a mess; her clothing was rent and torn in
places and her skin looked almost frostbitten—but he wasn’t going to do that now. Maybe they’d have time after work—if work ever ended today; new emergencies tended to be added to the pile of merely stale ones.

Barston ushered them instantly toward Gabriel’s office.

“Doesn’t he have appointments?” Jay asked.

“I have cleared them,” was the curt reply. “But I would appreciate it if you would be brief. If your appearance is any indication, there will be a small army of House members who will demand immediate action.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and admitted that there had already been half a dozen.

“They don’t even know what happened,” she pointed out.

“They don’t need to know anything to make demands. I’m surprised Teller has not made this clearer to you.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply because Gabriel looked up as the doors opened.

Avandar slid into the room and took up his customary position by the wall, hands at his sides; Angel stood by the wall on the opposite side of the door. That was unusual.

“Jewel?” Gabriel said, rising. He was much more graceful in his show of concern; for one, he didn’t have to catch a falling chair when he left it.

Jay headed toward the desk as if unaware that she’d left both of her shadows behind. She probably was. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t need to be den-kin to know that the news was bad. “Why are you injured?”

“We had a little problem on the grounds.”

“The grounds.”

She nodded. “I think the pavilion is more or less standing, but the tenting has been ripped beyond repair.”

“The…tenting. Please tell me that you are not referring to the area in which the reception is to take place three days hence?” He also pinched the bridge of his nose. Gabriel was subject to headaches when things were enormously stressful; Teller thought he’d been suffering from one for a week now. Or more.

“I can’t.”

“Very well. What happened?”

“We’re not entirely sure. No, sorry, we’re sure about what happened—but we’re not sure how or why. Sigurne—”

“Member Mellifas was present?”

“Yes. There was a very obvious magical disturbance. You know the old tree that overlooks the pavilion?”

“Yes.”

“It’s mostly dead, now. But before that, it was mostly not a tree anymore. The House Guards were called by the gardeners; the gardeners were in a panic.”

“How exactly does this involve you?”

“One of my retainers discovered the inimical nature of the tree,” she replied, with a perfectly straight face. Jay wasn’t much of a liar, but if she could find a truth somewhere to hide behind, she put up a good fight. “Sigurne and Matteos arrived; the House Guard summoned them at my request.”

“Your injuries?”

“They’re minor. My retainer was more heavily injured in the fight.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened before they narrowed. “This retainer of whom you speak—would he happen to be the man who killed the demon responsible for The Terafin’s death?”

“The same.”

“He was not injured in that fight.”

“No. He didn’t consider the death of the demon to be much of a fight at all. This was different. Are you going to convene the House Council?”

Gabriel looked as if he would rather cut off his own hands. He grimaced. “We cannot rearrange the timing of the funeral rites,” was the grim reply. “Let me accompany you back to the site to see the extent of the damage. We have
no
time, Jewel.”

“Yes. I’m sorry,” she added again. “But the tree was enchanted, and it must have been enchanted with the funeral in mind. Everyone’s going to be there—it would have been a disaster in the best possible case.”

“In the worst?”

“A slaughter.”

“Then perhaps I must thank you. Believe,” he added severely, “that I am nonetheless finding it difficult.” He opened the door. “Barston!”

Barston was seated at his desk in front of Gabriel’s pressing appointment schedule—and another, larger, set of papers that Teller recognized as a guest list. “Regent.” He rose.

“Send for the Captains of the Chosen. Now.”

“At once, Regent.”

* * *

Barston had cheated; the Captains of the Chosen were already on their way, and it took less than four minutes before Gabriel’s door was subject to the sharp rap of Barston at his most officious. He allowed Torvan ATerafin and Arrendas ATerafin into the office and closed the door at their backs. He didn’t close the door quickly enough; Teller could see that there were now half a dozen people in the office, and he recognized at least one of them: Rymark ATerafin.

Gabriel did not look out the opened doors; he seemed marginally surprised at the speed with which his curt command had been obeyed, no more. But he sat heavily behind his desk, and he touched one of the paperweights that adorned it. Jewel’s expression sharpened as he spoke a single word.

“Captains,” he said quietly. “There has been a disturbance on the grounds.”

Torvan and Arrendas exchanged a glance. There was history in it; a history built on friendship that had been thoroughly tested and hadn’t—yet—broken. They waited.

“I would like you to serve as escort while we visit the site of the disturbance.”

They saluted in perfect unison.

Gabriel rose. “I have a few words to speak with Barston before we leave. Please, wait for me here.”

Jewel was confused. Gabriel had clearly invoked a magestone for the purpose of protecting the privacy of any conversation that occurred in this room—and then he’d gone and left it. She turned to glance at her domicis, but her domicis cleared his throat and looked—pointedly—at the Captains of the Chosen.

Torvan ATerafin looked down at her with some concern. “Jewel, your hands.”

She wanted to pull her hair out in frustration; instead, she shoved it out of her eyes. “They’re just scratched.”

“Let me see them.” It was not a very captainly thing to insist on, not when dealing with a member of the House Council. “Hands, Jewel.”

Arrendas surprised her. He chuckled and shook his head. “Just show him your hands, Jewel, or we’ll be here all day.”

“We won’t. Gabriel will come back.”

They were both, in theory, working—and the work today was deadly
serious. It would be at least as serious tomorrow and the next day, and for the three days that followed, because every member of the patriciate of any note whatsoever would be in attendance for The Terafin’s funeral. The Kings would be here. The Queens. The Princes, but they would attend only one day, and that day didn’t overlap with the Kings. In any case, there’d never been a bigger security nightmare in the House—because the last Terafin ruler that had died hadn’t died at the hands of demons, and in particular, no evidence existed that implied enchanted bloody trees lurked on his grounds, waiting to destroy his visitors.

Jewel relented and shoved her exposed palms under Torvan’s nose. He caught her wrists and lowered them so he could actually see them. His expression shifted instantly. “Where did you get these?”

“Thorns,” she said promptly.

“Someone threw you into a burning bush?”

“They’re
fine
, Torvan.”

“Good. I’ll accept your word, for now. But before you tell us why Gabriel needs an escort to visit the site of the disturbance, we would like to speak with you.”

J
EWEL GLANCED AT THE CLOSED DOOR. From there, her eyes went to the silence stone that Gabriel had so deliberately invoked.

“Jewel,” Torvan said quietly, and with just a hint of humor, “You’ll have to look at us sometime.”

Squaring her shoulders, she did. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “It’s not that I’ve been avoiding you—you’ve been up to your ears in security details, and I’ve been trying to get a dress made.” She grimaced as she said it. Haval would no doubt be short on sleep when he did show up. “I’ve just been thinking as far ahead as the funeral. I want it—and me—to be perfect for her. Even if she can’t see it.” Thinking of what had just happened to the grounds surrounding the pavilion, she cringed. So much for that.

“You have yet to declare your intentions to the House and the House Council,” Arrendas said.

“I know. But the House Council won’t meet again until after the last day of the funeral rites. I thought I had time.”

“And that’s why you’ve hesitated?” It was Torvan, this time.

She nodded. The truth was simpler than that. If she declared herself as a contender for the House, it put everyone in jeopardy, and it meant in an absolute way that Amarais was dead. Oh, she knew it. But some part of her held on—why, she didn’t know.

“The other four have no such compunctions.”

“No. But they’ve made it clear for years that they intended to succeed her.” She looked at the closed door as if the very finely accoutred room was a cell. “I wish Gabriel had chosen to put himself forward.”

“He won’t.”

“I know.”

“Do you fully understand why?”

Jewel glanced at Teller; Teller didn’t so much as lift a hand to help—and in Teller’s case, a lifted hand would have been as good as words, given den-sign.

“…no. I assume it’s partly to do with the fact that his blood son is in the running.”

Torvan’s silence was chillier. Arrendas said, “The Chosen were not asked to stand down.”

“Well, no.”

“Jewel—the Chosen were The Terafin’s. They
are
The Terafin’s. The Terafin selects them, and they serve her. Not the House. Her, directly. They’re counted as part of the House Guard in any other way. It’s common practice to ask them to stand down and return to the House Guard when The Terafin to whom they swore their oath dies. We are, however, still the Chosen of House Terafin.” He stopped speaking.

“Did she ask Gabriel to do this?”

“I haven’t asked him.” Arrendas glanced at Torvan and passed off the conversation.

“What do you think, Jewel?”

“I think she must have.”

He nodded. “She meant for you to succeed her.”

“I know.”

“Jewel, do you
want
the House?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you want it? Do you want to rule House Terafin? Do you want to occupy the Terafin Seat in the Hall of The Ten?”

Jewel was silent. It was the first time she’d been asked that question, and instead of the automatic yes it should have engendered, she had nothing. She found words slowly. “For myself? No, Torvan.”

He grimaced.

“But I can’t think of anyone else I want to serve. Will that do, for now?”

“I don’t know. Amarais wanted the House. From the moment she joined it, she wanted to rule it.”

“I’m not Amarais.”

“No, Jewel, you are not. Nor will you become her. She saw things in
you that reminded her of her own sense of duty and responsibility, and she approved—but she never expected that you, coming from the holdings, would become a woman who was born to the patriciate.”