The Sacred Hunt Duology (96 page)

“What killed those two,” Meralonne said softly, “must be dangerous indeed. Where did they fall?”

But Kallandras could not answer; his tongue was suddenly thick with the horrible truth that it had uttered.
This
was truly an act of betrayal so profound that the Lady Herself would damn him for eternity with serenity. The killers had already condemned themselves to death by the hands of the Kovaschaii; but the target, the victims—
that
was information that had never in the history of the brotherhood been spoken aloud. There had never been a need, until now.

He thought to explain it, but the mage lifted a hand. “I am sorry, Kallandras. I will not ask further.”

And yet, because he had come this far, he felt he must at least excuse himself somehow. “The Coliseum,” he said, his voice so alien it was not the voice of a bard.

“When?” Meralonne said, so softly that the question should not have carried urgency. It did.

“The deaths were to occur during the month of Veral, mid-month, at a date that was to be made precise as the time drew near.” No bard's voice this. And no brother's. Yet it held its story, its music, its dread.

“I will go,” Meralonne said quietly. “I will go in haste to the Crowns. And you?”

“If Sioban can manage it, I will be in attendance until this affair is resolved.”

The mage nodded quietly. What he did not say, and what they both knew, was that two of the brotherhood lay dead at the hands of their enemies; how difficult would it be to kill one more?

7th Corvil, 410 A.A.

Terafin

“R
EPORT.”

Carver nodded quietly. “She's surrounded by her Chosen all the time now. Had two appointments today, but she canceled them. She's not taking dinner in the dining hall with the rest of the House Council; she's staying in her private chambers.

“But there is one interesting thing. Apparently—and I didn't see them myself—two foreigners and a bunch of their dogs arrived here under heavy guard just half an hour past dawn.”

Jewel's brow furrowed slightly, and then she smiled. “Where are they?”

“Not sure yet. I should know in an hour or two.”

“Good. Angel?”

“Pretty much the same. Her food's being prepared by the ATerafin on staff, and none of the cooks or servants are new. This started today. They're all talking about it, and they're all worried—but I don't think she's in any danger there. If Carver can't find out what we need to know, I think I might be able to dig it out of the cooks' servants if I eavesdrop for long enough.”

“Better.” Her smile deepened. “Teller?”

He shrugged. “Nothing much.”

“Which means?”

“Guards are antsy. They've doubled patrols and started overlapping shifts. But they're not great about it. As long as they recognize you, you're okay.”

“They can hardly be expected,” Ellerson interjected, “to turn the entire building into a prison. That is not their function.”

“Finch?”

Finch's naturally pale cheeks reddened slightly. “Well, I'm not sure. I don't think there's much danger from the valets and the personal servants—but you should hear them talk! I don't think anyone here's got a private life that anyone else doesn't know about.”

“And we don't need to hear about it either. Well, not now.” She looked at Arann. Arann smiled almost shyly. “And you?”

“I don't think there's anything wrong with the House Guard. But I can't really tell. None of 'em trust me yet.”

“Well, no. They wouldn't; it's your first day.” She stopped to really
look
at Arann; he was still wearing the armor that had been laid out for him as part of his pay. He filled it; he had always been big. At his side was a long sword, with the crest of the House in brass as a pommel. It was to be kept clean, Arann had said; everything was.

He was to report for training in the early morning, along with the rest of the new guards—of which there were, she thought wryly, three—and then, the rest of the day was his. Apparently, the new recruits were always put onto the latest shift.

“Are you still all right with this?”

He looked down at his mailed fist and then carefully removed the gauntlets. They were heavy, and overly warm. Everything was.

“Arann?”

“You should see the old man in the drill yard,” he said, staring at the tabletop rather than his den leader. “He's older than Rath. And meaner. I think he almost broke Claris' arm.”

Jewel grimaced. “But you're okay?”

“Me? Yeah.
I
didn't tell him I knew anything about using a sword.”

“Good. You don't.” She reached across the table and caught his unmailed hand; it was sweaty, and not, she thought, just from training. “Was he surprised?”

“About me? I think so. But it was The Terafin's order, and he doesn't question 'em.” He looked up and met Jewel's eyes; there was something in his expression that she wasn't sure she liked. “Jay?”

“What?”

“You told her you wanted me in with the guards?”

“I told her,” Jewel said, “that I thought you would make a good House Guard; you've the size for it, and the strength—and what you lack in training, you make up for in loyalty. Even I didn't think she'd react so quickly.” It wasn't the truth, but it was truth of a sort. “Why?”

“They'll count on me,” he said quietly. “To stand and fight if we need to. To protect the House at all costs. Stuff like that. And they don't care what I used to do. They don't care where I come from. They didn't even ask. They just asked me—asked me to take up arms and take the—the oath.”

“So?” Angel said. “Take the oath.”

“Shut up, Angel. You wouldn't know an oath if it kissed your—”

“Carver. Angel.” They both subsided as Jewel's grip on Arann's hand tightened. “What do you want to do?”

“I don't know,” he said again, and again he dropped his gaze. “But—but they
said, if I serve well, and if I—I distinguish myself, I can
be
ATerafin. And more than that—if I serve the House well enough, I might one day be one of the Chosen.”

Angel snorted in disgust. “When the Sleepers wake!” He slapped the table with both palms, hard.

Teller drew a sharp breath, and everyone else winced. They knew that Jewel didn't like the phrase; something had happened to her and Duster a year ago. Wouldn't say what, but she'd made them stop using it. Angel flushed, avoided meeting the gaze of his den leader, and continued. “Like any one of us is ever going to be ATerafin. Use your head.”

“Angel,
shut up
.”

“Well, what's the problem anyway? Take the god-frowned oath and—”

“Angel.”

Silence. “Do you want to take the oath, Arann?”

“I don't know.” He looked strained by the question; it was obvious from his tone that he'd done enough thinking and more. “I can't take it if I can't keep it,” he told her quietly. “But if I take it—”

“You don't serve me anymore.”

His shoulders slumped as she said it—as she said what he—and no one else in the room—had already considered.

“All right,” she said softly, but not to Arann. “Get out of here—go back to watching. I have some things to think about myself.”

Everyone stood quietly, and everyone stared at Arann, who in turn stared groundward with a fixed determination.

“Oh, I forgot. Finch and Jester.”

“Jay?”

“Put them back.
All
of them. Now.”

“Put what back?”

“Don't give me backtalk, just do it. We can collect household items later, if we have to fly the coop. But it's
later
, and only at my say so. Understood?”

Jester pursed his lips and made a very wet sound; Finch kicked him in the shins. “Yes, Jay,” she said meekly, but there was a twinkle about her eyes that said more. “You know what they say.”

“No. What do they say?”

“You can take the girl out of the street, but you can't take the street out of the girl.”

“Out.”

• • •

“Well?” Ellerson said, when the room had been emptied for five minutes and it became clear that Jewel had no intention of moving.

“What?”

“Can you take the street out of the den?”

“Why don't you do something useful?” she said softly.

“At your command.”

“Get lost.”

He cleared his throat. “I will of course, give you privacy should you desire it. But might I also say that there are members of Terafin who serve other organizations, just as The Terafin herself serves the Crowns?”

Jewel nodded quietly. After another silent moment, Ellerson left the room, letting the doors swing on well-oiled hinges in his wake. When she was certain he was gone, she finally let her elbows collapse and slide along the surface of the table. Her cheek touched the cool, waxed wood, and her eyelashes brushed her cheek; she was tired, and the night to follow didn't look like it was going to be any more restful than the last had been.

Arann wanted to take that vow.

He knew what it meant, and he didn't want to ask her for permission—but he
wanted
to take that vow and be counted as one of the fancy-dress guards of Terafin. And why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't he want to be part of guards that used real armor, real weapons, and served a real purpose? Why shouldn't he want to be shoulder-to-shoulder with people he could trust, people who would serve the same cause that he did?

He'd never have to steal again, that's for sure. And he'd never have to fight in the middle of a den war, with nothing but a few coppers and half-coppers as a reward for survival.

Isn't that what you wanted? He'll be safe. He'll be safer here than he ever was with you.

But she felt a terrible pang, and worse. Arann was, of all her den, the most loyal—the most protective. He wasn't simple, but he was direct; he protected his friends, and he followed his den-leader. Carver and Duster always argued, and sometimes, in the heat of it, things could get dicey. Angel was just as likely to disobey you after he'd agreed to whatever it was you demanded. But Arann—he was special.

It's your own fault
, she told herself, balling her hands into fists and then forcing them, slowly, to relax.
I told her I wanted him in with the House Guards for a few days.

Still, she felt betrayed by The Terafin, because no matter what her decision, things with Arann would never be the same; she would always know that in his heart he wanted to serve a different cause, a different master.

A few days.

What had Rath said, years ago, when she thought him crazy and addled? It was always the honest ones that would break your heart.

The door swung open again; it was Ellerson. He was quiet. “Go away,” she said tonelessly. Then she stopped. “Ellerson?”

“Jewel?”

Funny. All her life, the name had been a joke. Only her father had ever used it seriously. But in Terafin, the only people who called her Jay were those she'd pulled from the streets and dragged here. She should've minded it more. “You said that you serve me.”

“That is my function.”

“But you said that you were chosen by The Terafin?”

“Indeed.”

“And if The Terafin chose to order you to cease your service, would you do it?”

“I? No,” he said gravely. “But The Terafin understands this well enough. The only choice I have, besides the choice of vocation—that of service—is whether or not I will take a given master. I believe,” he added, with a rare smile, “that I underestimated both the master and the difficulty when I chose to accept you.

“However, once I have made my decision, it is made—and it is only unmade in the event of my death, your death, any unusual change in circumstance or the expiration of any contractual period of time.”

“What?”

He smiled obliquely. “Some people will ask for the service of a domicis for a period of time—say, three years—and at the end of that time, I would then be free to leave.”

“What about the change in circumstance?”

“If, for instance, you were somehow to become Terafin—or rather, to become
The
Terafin, that would warrant a shift of service.”

“You mean, if I became
more
powerful, you'd leave?”

He nodded, and his expression was if possible graver. “To serve a person with power is a difficult task, and it often requires power. Few of the domicis understand the nature of power, or great power; it is brutal, gentle, and subtle.
I
do not, nor would I claim it.”

She was quiet a moment, and then her shoulders sagged again. “I don't have any choice, do I?”

“You always have some choice,” he replied.

“What?” The single word was bitter. “I can't keep him. I just can't. He doesn't want anything that I don't. He wants—” She laughed, but it was a choked laugh. “To be ATerafin.”

“Many, many boys dream of joining one of the great Houses.” There was something odd about Ellerson's tone, and Jewel looked up for the first time. His eyes had a faraway expression, part wistful and part something else that she couldn't identify. “You don't have to lose him, you know,” he told her as he turned for the door.

“What do you mean?”

“Many, many are those who dream of joining a great House. How many truly dream of leading one?” He was gone.

• • •

Magic had a certain feel to it, a slight wrongness, a quiet discordance; it had a scentless smell, an unseen shade—something. Devon was not always aware of it; he was not mage-born, nor in any way talent-born. He recognized it when he saw it in use, and he knew how to fight certain branches of the art—but only rarely could he detect it when it had no visible component.

He rose from his desk, nonchalant; he walked across the stretch of open carpet that led to the fireplace and the window bay. His muscles corded, shins tensing and shoulders curling slightly inward as he reached for the door to the balcony.

ATerafin.

He froze and then slowly turned to view the empty room. An aide ran in and out, looking harried; Patris Larkasir was preparing for a three-week river journey to the city of Cordova in the Valley Terrean of Averda, and the strain of meeting his deadlines showed on the staff of young men and women.

I have word for you, and it will not wait.

Magic, indeed. Something about the faceless voice was familiar, but he could not immediately place it. “Go on,” he said softly.

It concerns the brotherhood.

At that, Devon turned and deliberately spat to the side.

The voice continued; it was clear that whoever spoke did not, and could not, see him.
An attempt at their hire was made recently. They refused the kill they were offered.

I wish you to know that the kill they were offered was no less a target than the Twin Kings.

“I'm listening,” Devon said, his voice measured and calm in the waiting stillness.

The deaths themselves were to occur during the month of Veral; I do not know why, although it has become more of my concern than you can possibly imagine to find out. I believe that it is no longer safe to travel so openly to you, and besides that, it is not efficient.