The Sacred Hunt Duology (63 page)

Jewel was silent. At last, she smiled. “You know a lot about dens for one of The Ten.”

“Knowledge is my business. You haven't answered my question.”

“No. No, I didn't have to kill. I—I gathered. I found kids that were like me, people I could trust. I took them in, and organized them, and found them a place to live. Taught them how to avoid magisterians.”

“I see. What did you do?”

She shrugged, uneasy. “What any den does when it doesn't have a lot of muscle. Steal what we could from the market or from people in the street.”

“I suppose,” The Terafin said, raising a hand to forestall any reply, “that you'll claim you had no other choice and no other way of surviving. I'll not dispute it at this time.

“But if you had another option, would you take it?”

It was a trick. Had to be. “Depends. We don't kill for money and we don't have experience robbing manor houses.”

She raised a dark brow. “If,” she said, her voice quite chilly, “I wished someone dead, I would not hand the task to a young woman who is barely adult with no experience and no . . . knack for the skill.”

“Fair enough,” Jewel said evenly, although the blush was in her cheeks. “We'd consider another job, yes. But we won't agree to anything without knowing what it is.”

“Very wise.” The Terafin placed both of her hands against the top of the table and rose, pushing slowly against it. She closed the book on the desk almost as if the action were an afterthought.

In the room's light, Jewel could see that the title was in gold inlay, with a leather relief that had been worn with the passage of time. But she could not read the words that she saw; they were not in a language that she understood—or if they were, they were in words so complex that she had never been forced to master them. And Old Rath, while he let her speak as she wanted, had always been a taskmaster. Old Rath . . .

“Did he teach you?” The Terafin asked.

Jewel looked up, aware of what could be read on her face, and not even concerned enough to hide it. “He was my second teacher. My father was my first.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“I tried to rob him.”

She looked very surprised.

“He was an old guy, walking slowly down the street. He was better dressed than any of the rest of them. He had what looked like a money pouch. I hadn't eaten in four days, or I hadn't eaten enough in four days.

“I was ten. We'd had nothing but rain for seven days. The rent my father paid had vanished, and I'd managed to lie low for two months in the old apartment until the owner found me out.” She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. “So I was desperate, and not very good at being a thief. Most of the kids younger than me were much better at it—but my father had a real job, and I was expected to have a better one.

“Rath sort of took me under his wing—after he blackened my eye.” That elicited a smile. “I told him about everything. Didn't realize how lucky I'd been because I hadn't seen enough of the streets by then to know it. He told me. And told me. And told me.”

“How did Rath occupy his time?”

“Not sure,” Jewel replied evasively. “He'd done some time as a merc. He knew how to fight. Read. Write. Stuff like that.”

“You aren't telling me all of the truth.”

“No,” Jewel replied.

“And if I wanted to hear it?”

“If I thought you wanted to hear it, I'd tell you.” It was a risky answer, but it was true.

“I'm the lord of my House, Jewel. If I ask a question, I want the answer.”

“But it isn't a matter of your House.”

“Isn't it?” The woman's smile was cold and sharp. “Perhaps it wasn't; but the mage was summoned, two of my rooms are in ruins, my—Ararath is dead, and the cost to repair what has been done today will come out of the House books.” But she turned her back to Jewel. “However, perhaps you are right. We had our differences, he and I, and I would not be surprised to learn how far back, and for how long, they extended.” She paused. “There will be no funeral.”

Jewel had already said her good-byes, and funerals were for the wealthy—or at least for those who could manage to scrape up enough money on top of what they needed to eat. She shrugged.

The Terafin turned again, her hair a curtain that slid slowly off her shoulders at the motion. “You showed a great deal of bravery, to come here.”

“He told me to come here,” Jewel replied.

“True.” The Terafin's first completely genuine smile. “That he did. Have you read all of what you gave me?”

“All of it.”

“Very well. This afternoon I sent out my own private investigators. I wished to be able to confirm some of what Ararath had written. It's quite extensive.” She picked the book up from the table and walked over to one of the many shelves that lined the honeycomb walls. It was almost as if she could not—at this moment—sit still, or be idle. “They discovered nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jewel furrowed her brow. “But what were they looking for?”

“Any of the entrances to these so-called tunnels of which Ararath wished me to be warned.”

“But he didn't tell you where any of the tunnels were.”

“You're wrong,” she replied, and her voice was shadowed. “He did. In those lists, in the words that he chose, in the way that he put them on the page. Handernesse had its own hidden codes, and even after years away from that family, I have not forgotten them. Had I, I would not have learned what he wished me to learn—and I would not have known for certain that those texts were genuine. He told me much, Jewel. He even mentioned you, although not by name.”

“Did he say anything good?”

“About you?” Another flash of smile. “Yes, or I would not have summoned you. But we have more serious things to discuss.

“I sent my people to the apartment that he called home, and explored the basement. There was no subbasement. Even using magical means, we were unable to detect one. In the end, my people were reduced to digging, both with magical aid
and in the normal fashion. We worked with speed and as much discretion as possible. But there was no entrance into the tunnels of which he spoke. None.

“I do not believe that we will find any of the tunnel entrances to which he alluded, although teams of my people will explore those areas of which he wrote.”

Jewel felt a tingling up her spine. “There was an entrance into Old Rath's place. I've used it. A lot.”

“I don't doubt it,” The Terafin replied. “But at this point we can only surmise that whoever it was who summoned the creature responsible for Ararath's death was also a mage skilled at gleaning information from an unwilling source.”

Jewel waited for the rest, but the rest was long in coming; The Terafin's face was pale, except for the shadows in the hollows of her cheeks. Had she eaten or slept since the attack? Jewel was certain the answer was no. “Why do you think that?”

“Because the entrances are somehow disappearing.”

“They might've done because they knew we'd escaped with that information.”

A dark brow arched as The Terafin looked down. “Jewel, you were valued by Ararath, but the advice that Ararath gave you—to come to me—was sound. Ararath's enemies did not have much to fear from you. Who would listen to you? And who, in the end, would you have tried to speak with? You did not know who to turn to; you came at his command. His last act.” Her smile was bitter. “Ararath sent you here—and one who was not familiar with Ararath, not familiar with the—with our relationship, would never have made the connection between him and me.

“He repudiated his family and his name. He would not mention our connection to anyone—not even those that he trusted absolutely.”

Jewel was silent. Repudiation of family, even among the people that lived in the city holdings, was almost unthinkable. Family—if it was willing to claim you—was half of what and who you were.

“Do you understand now? The creature that became Ararath knew to come here.”

“He might have followed us.”

“True.” She bowed her head. “But nowhere in the letter that Ararath left for you did he mention his relationship to me. He did not, I am certain, mention it to you—although he gave you the order to come here. No one who knew him as Rath knew it; I would swear by the spirit of the ancestor. Yet
this
Rath knew. I have a letter, delivered into the hands of my right-kin, that clearly states it.” Her hands shook a moment; she looked down into them as if reading that letter again. Then the trembling stopped and the face tightened; Jewel was certain, seeing that expression, that there would be no trembling and no hesitance again. “If the imposter knew of our connection—knew that Rath was, in fact, Ararath—they must have coerced that information from him, and they must know much, much
more. Therefore, any information which he imparted in the letter he left cannot be considered a secret.” She stopped pacing very suddenly and turned to face Jewel, who remained seated.

“But not all of the letter was hidden; I read what he wrote to you. You explored those tunnels without his supervision—and against both his orders and his request—and I don't believe that you told him what you found, for possible fear of censure.”

Jewel could add, even if what she was adding wasn't numbers. “Yes,” she answered, her voice soft. “They don't know what I know. They don't know that we know the tunnel entrances to other places.” She took a deep breath. “They'll probably guess that we know all the entrances in the twenty-fifth. If they know what Rath knew, they'd know most of the exits into the basin holdings—but not all. He didn't know 'em all.”

“Indeed. Are you willing to work with my investigators?”

The big question, now. “And what do I get out of it?”

She did not bat an eyelid. This—although the language was far less formal, the nuance replaced by the subtlety of words poorly wielded—was what she did with much of her time. “For the duration of the investigation, you will need a place to stay; I will allow you to remain here. I will pay you at the same rate that the rest of my people are paid.”

“What's that?”

“Two solarii a day.”

Through a great effort of will, and the tickle of Old Rath's admonitions in her ears, Jewel kept her expression completely cool.
She's rich
, she told herself.
Two solarii might be more than we've ever seen for a day's work
—
but it's nothing to her. Hold out for more.

“My den-kin?”

“They're your responsibility. They can remain with you—provided that you take responsibility for their adventures or misadventures while they are under
my
roof—or you can put them back where you found them.”

She bristled. “They're
my
family. They follow my rules, they take orders from me. I don't throw 'em out anymore than you throw yours out.”

The Terafin smiled again, and it was almost a smile of equals. “Very well. If you do as I ask, if you support me and show yourself to be worthy of
my House
, then I will make you—and yours—a part of it in name and in fact.” It was clear from her easy acquiescence and the odd look in her eyes that it was an offer she had already considered—and considered Jewel worthy of.

Jewel could think of nothing at all to say.

“Morretz will see you out now. Consider my offer carefully; I will call for you after the hour of the first meal.”

Morretz appeared like a pale shadow, moving so silently that Jewel was
unaware of him until he appeared at her side. She followed him automatically, hardly aware of the carpet beneath her feet, and then a question rose to mind and lips before she could stop it.

“Why?”

“Why would I consider you as a possible member of Terafin?” The Terafin did not seem surprised by the question; indeed, she seemed to expect it.

“Yes.”

“You wonder if it has anything to do with Torvan's report of your . . . special intuition.”

“Yes.”

“No, Jewel. In the end, it does not. A House is made by more than the ability of its members, and in only a few cases do we sponsor and adopt someone for the sake of his or her ability alone—and in those cases delicate political balances rule. You are not, because of your station in life, one of those cases, although I do confess that, when we have the leisure—and if I have taken your measure correctly—I would like to see your ability trained properly.”

“But—but if not that, then why?”

“First: Because you have information that I desire.”

“You could've bought that. I'd've given you what I had.” Her eyes were very dark. “You know we need the money.”

“Very good,” The Terafin replied softly. “And if you had proved to be different, that is indeed what I would have offered you. But—” She smiled. “A family is made up of its members, no more, no less. You understand that; you show it to me, to all of us, by the way you lead your den, Jewel. Those children
are
your responsibility. Not your serfs and not the victims of your brutality; they are yours. I think—and I am not a poor judge of character—that they would die to protect each other. Because of you.

“There will always be room in my House for people who can instill that, and be worthy of it. You are worthy of your den, and if I am not mistaken you will be, in time, worth more.”

“And if you are?”

“Then there will be no place in Terafin for you. It will not be the first time it has happened.”

• • •

When Morretz escorted Meralonne into The Terafin's presence, it seemed for a moment an odd processional, where the master, white-haired, fair-skinned and richly attired, led the initiate.

The Terafin blinked and the image vanished; she was left with Meralonne APhaniel, looking slightly haggard and somewhat harried, as was his wont. He was a mage of the Order, and more besides, and she trusted him more than she trusted any other mage, which was little better than half.