Skirmish: A House War Novel (6 page)

There was no joy to be had at this homecoming. Not for Jewel. Not for her den. The enormity of two deaths—three—lay between them, around them. The woman who had given them the names that defined all but one of their number was gone.

Jewel’s den was silent as she walked to her chair; silent as it scraped in its familiar way along the floor. She sat heavily, folding her arms across the table in front of her. By dint of will she didn’t allow her head to sink into them. But her throat felt swollen and thick and she sat there in silence for far too long. Her hands were sun-dark; she knew her sojourn in the South had reddened her hair. She felt as if she had stepped out of the wrong season—the wrong world—and the passage had taken the hope of homecoming from her.

She glanced at Arann. They had all taken wounds today, but most of those were figurative. Arann’s, as part of the House Guard, were more.
No,
she thought, numb now. He was not just a House Guard. She recognized the subtle change in insignia; he was Chosen. Somehow, in her absence, he had made his personal vow to The Terafin. What would happen to him now? What would happen to
any
of the Chosen? They had failed in the only charge they valued; she was dead.

Arann’s wounds had been tightly bandaged, but blood had seeped through those bandages; in the dim light of the kitchen it seemed a much darker red.

Celleriant did not take a seat at the table; nor had she expected it. He walked to the wall behind her chair, and stood there in perfect, forbidding silence. She was more aware of his presence in the kitchen than she had been for weeks. She swallowed. She could see brief hand and finger gestures, and realized with a pang that they weren’t meant for her.

And she was not the only one who had brought newcomers, although newcomers had always come to the den through her. Quietly seated, his shoulders curling toward the ground in almost exquisite embarrassment, was a boy she—to her shock—recognized. Adam. Adam of the Arkosa Voyani. He glanced at her, but when her eyes met his, he looked away instantly, paling. That stung.

“Adam,” she said, falling into the Torra that now came so effortlessly.

He looked up instantly. She smiled at him, hoping her smile had no edges; it was a genuine smile. He was alive. He was alive, he seemed healthy, and he was—against all odds and hope—with her den. She wanted to ask him how, or why, but he seemed so nervous she was afraid it would sound as if it were an interrogation.

“He was at the Houses of Healing,” Finch said quietly—in Weston.
“Levec had him there. It was Adam who told us you were still alive. Levec cares about him,” she added, “but Adam wasn’t comfortable there.” She swallowed and then continued. “He’s staying with us at the moment. It’s been a bit awkward.”

“Awkward? Why? Is Levec causing trouble?”

Finch shook her head. “In the last couple of weeks, there’s been a new plague that’s spread through the city.”

“It’s the wrong season for the Summer sickness.”

Finch nodded. “It’s not—I don’t think the healers believe it’s entirely natural.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Adam is healer-born. Levec said—” She shook her head. “Adam’s healer-born.”

“And he let him stay
here
?”

Finch smiled ruefully, her face relaxing into the familiar expression at the octave change in Jewel’s voice. “I don’t think he was happy with the decision—and it’s been difficult. Adam is new to the city. He’s new to the Empire. His Weston is only barely passable.”

“How barely?”

“He can buy a few rudimentary things and ask very simple directions. His Torra’s not street Torra, either—but he understands most of it. Levec’s lost younger healers before. He
hates
to let them out of his sight.” Jewel didn’t blame him. “It’s not that Levec wanted him here—but Levec let him choose.”

“And Levec’s been checking up on him ever since?”

Finch shook her head.

“Tell me.”

“This sickness—they call it the sleeping sickness, the dreaming sickness. People fall asleep and they just don’t wake up.”

“At all?”

She nodded; Jewel caught the hesitation in the gesture. She waited. Finch finally said, “Adam can wake them. They don’t stay awake,” she added in a rush. “But… Adam can wake them for a while. He’s the only one who’s been able to even do that much. So he’s necessary, in the eyes of the Kings and the Houses of Healing.”

“I’m surprised Levec doesn’t have a room here as well.”

Finch and Teller exchanged a glance. It was Teller who said, “He has a guest room.”

“…So what you’re saying is I might accidentally wander across Levec—not the world’s friendliest man on the best of days if you didn’t happen to be born a healer—at any time?”

“He doesn’t use it often.”

Jewel almost laughed. It would have been wild and raw—but better by far than tears. Adam was alive. So many people weren’t—but Adam was, and he was here, and that was an unlooked for gift. She looked across the table at where he was trying to look smaller.

“Adam.”

He looked up instantly. Glancing around the table, he then said, “Matriarch.”

It took Jewel a few seconds to realize he was applying that title to
her
. “Adam, I’m not—”

“I didn’t know,” he continued, in uneasy Torra. “I didn’t know what you were when we met. I apologize if I gave any offense.”

“Adam, I’m
not
a Matriarch.”

“These people are your kin,” he replied gravely. There was the tail end of a question in the words.

“Yes. But not in a way that your sister, Margret, would understand. We weren’t born to the same parents. We weren’t born to related parents, either.”

“But you are all ATerafin.”

She glanced at Angel, who couldn’t understand what they were saying. “Almost all, yes.”

He digested this in silence. After a long pause, he said, “My sister?”

“She is well. Adam—the Arkosa Voyani have left the Voyanne. They now dwell in the City of Arkosa, in the Sea of Sorrows. She’s alive.”

“My cousin?”

“Alive as well.” More than that, she did not offer.

“And the Serra Diora?”

Jewel couldn’t help but smile at that. He was fourteen years of age, and the Serra Diora was possibly the most beautiful woman Jewel had ever seen. The most beautiful mortal woman. “I left her in the camp of the Kai Leonne. She is alive, she is well.”

The door swung open; Avandar entered the kitchen. After a moment, so did Ellerson. They stood on either side of the doors, watching; neither domicis had ever joined them at the table. Jewel looked at Ellerson and then looked away.

“Avandar, how is Ariel?”

“She is sleeping.”

“Naturally?”

He raised a brow. “She was both frightened and exhausted. Ellerson has seen to a room for the child; I am not certain that she is best left on her own.”

Jewel nodded. She almost rose to go see the girl herself. But she couldn’t decide if leaving to check would be an act of concern and affection or an act of rank cowardice, and she suspected it was the latter. She stayed in her chair.

Everyone was watching her now. She was acutely aware that the first person she had spoken to was Adam. But it was hard to face her den, because The Terafin was dead. She was dead and Jewel’s return had not saved her.

Teller said quietly, “Jay.”

She swiveled to look at him.

“She knew. She knew you had to leave. I think she understood why.”

Jewel nodded.

“You don’t believe you had to be—wherever it was you went.” It wasn’t a question. Teller knew her so well. “But
she
did.”

“Teller—I was there. I was there, and I’m not even certain if I was necessary. The war in the South isn’t over. We need to
win
it.”

“How bad will it be if we don’t?”

“Henden bad. Dark Days bad. But if we lose and the Dark Days come again, there won’t be a Veral. There will never be a spring.” Her hands became fists on the table. “And I’m not
there
for that. The army’s almost in place, but I won’t see the battle; I won’t be able to help there. And the Commanders are going to be furious. With me. With the House.

“I’ll miss the battle. I arrived too late for The Terafin.” She pushed herself out of her chair.

“Jay,” Finch said, also rising, but with less force. She glanced toward the door, at Ellerson. Jewel’s gaze was dragged there as well.

“Why is he here?” She spoke softly, as if there was any hope that Ellerson would fail to hear the words.

“We needed him,” Finch replied.

“
I
needed him sixteen years ago, but he still left.” Gods, the words. The words just fell out of her mouth. She wanted to grab them and swallow them whole. And she wanted to scream or shout or rage—not at Ellerson,
although he was part of it. At the world. At death. At the demons and the Lord of Night and The Terafin, whose order had killed Morretz for
no reason
. He had come South, using a magic that he did not have—and had never had—the power to survive.

For what purpose?

Rymark had, in front of the
Twin Kings
, claimed legitimate right to the Terafin Seat in the Hall of The Ten. He had implicated Gabriel, his father, in his lie; he had produced a forgery of a document that he claimed was signed by The Terafin
and
the right-kin. Gabriel had not spoken a word. Jewel wasn’t even certain what he would have said—he was rescued by Haerrad. Haerrad, clearly injured, had survived what was an obvious attempt on his life to contest Rymark’s claim.

Jewel could no more declare herself the legitimate heir—the only one—than she could bring the dead back to life, not unless she wanted to join them. At this very moment, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

The
only
reason she had been summoned back was to fulfill her promise to the woman she had served for all her adult life—and she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

It was Angel who rose next. The movement was slow and deliberate; he abandoned his chair and then took the time to tuck it neatly under the table, a signal that for him, Kitchen council was over.

“Jay,” he said quietly as he approached her, his hair in its familiar spire, his expression oddly gentle. “We don’t have to do this tonight.” He lifted his hands in clear den-sign, asking for a vote. One by one, her den nodded. Jester, utterly subdued and silent, Carver, grim and pale, Teller and Finch in silent concern. Only Arann hesitated; Arann, injured in the battle in the Council Hall. Daine’s consent was given quickly, perfunctorily; he rose—they all did—and headed
straight
for Arann, who was trying very, very hard to put him off without drawing Jewel’s attention.

She didn’t speak—not aloud—but she gestured a short, curt command. Arann’s shoulders slumped as Daine took both of his hands and held them tightly. “Come to the healerie,” he said.

“The healerie?” Jewel said sharply.

Daine glanced at her. “I was in training with Alowan,” he said. “And I’m all there is for a successor.”

She blanched. “Alowan—”

“I’m not Alowan, Jay. Most of the House isn’t aware of what I can—and cannot—do. But the healerie was important to Alowan Rowanson. It’s the
only thing he left behind. I want to keep it running. I want to keep it going. The House needs a healerie. And it’s the only thing I can do for him, now.”

“Levec will have my head.”

“Probably. He wasn’t happy when I told him.”

“Daine—”

But Daine smiled almost bitterly and shook his head. “It’s my risk to take.”

She opened her mouth again, but this time no words came out.

Daine didn’t have that problem. “Do you understand why Alowan served The Terafin?”

She swallowed. Nodded.

“I serve you in the same way, for the same reason. You can’t forbid it, if you’re smart. You need me here.” Pursing his lips in a way that was at odds with his age, he frowned at the much larger Arann. “So do the rest of you. You’re not dying, Arann. It won’t hurt.” He led Arann away, and Arann followed.

Angel approached Jewel while the doors were still swinging behind their vanishing backs. “We can do this in the morning,” he told her.

“But there’s so much—”

“It’ll still be here in the morning.” He smiled; it was a brief, pained grin. “And gods help you, Jay,
you’d
better be here as well.”

She heard what lay behind both the words and the smile, and flinched. “Angel, I didn’t mean to leave that way. I didn’t mean to—”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done. But, Jay—never do it again. Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“Can I promise to try my best?”

“No.”

Avandar was already gathering the lamps. Around her, in silence, the den drifted through the doors, allowing Angel to speak for them. It was Angel who led her to her room, Angel who opened the door, and Angel who threatened to sleep on the floor in case she suddenly vanished again. It was Angel who drew the curtains, Angel who approached the magelight that sat cradled in its burnished stand. No lamps now. He whispered the stone to a warm glow; it made his hair look gold. Like a very odd crown, she thought.

“They’ll call a Council meeting in the morning,” she told him, as if this had only just occurred to her.

He shook his head. “Let them. At the moment, there’s no one in charge.”

“They’ll have to call Council meeting, Angel. The Kings
were there
. They wouldn’t interfere if The Terafin had been poisoned or stabbed or shot—but she was killed by a very large, very deadly demon. House Terafin can’t claim this as an entirely internal affair anymore. Not after that Henden. We’ll need to come up with a plan to deflect Imperial control, or the House will be crippled.”

“Not more than it already has been.”

She couldn’t find words to answer him.

Avandar waited by the door in silence. Only when Angel left did he move. His robes were familiar Terafin robes, and he lifted a familiar chair, dragging it across the thick, dark carpets until it rested within plain sight of the illuminated bed.

“No,” she told him softly. “You’re exhausted. You need sleep more than I do.”

He sat. That was all. It was his most effective way of disobeying an order that she only barely wanted to give.