Skirmish: A House War Novel (13 page)

He therefore bowed to Barston as he entered. Barston, of course, knew who it was. He looked up from his ledger of appointments. In the pale light that was not quite dawn and not quite night, he looked exhausted. “ATerafin,” he said briskly.

“Barston,” Teller replied. Barston could seldom be moved to use Teller’s actual name. He had done so on some occasions in the past, but there was a comfort that had gone out of the House with The Terafin’s death, and it wouldn’t return until a new Lord took both sword and seat, if then.

“There have been several requests for appointments, ATerafin.”

Teller frowned. He now had an office—a small one—of his own within Gabriel’s domain; it had two doors, with some detailed carving at the height, and a window which was habitually open to let light enter. The glass could even be raised, to let breeze through. It was not raised at this time of year. His office was not so fine as Gabriel’s, and it was not nearly as important, but Teller had, over the past five years, been ceded some small part of Gabriel’s duties. He met with outsiders and visitors, often visitors of note, and he conveyed the gist of his many conversations to Gabriel. On occasion, when Gabriel deemed it necessary, Teller had reported to The Terafin directly.

“Am I a fool to hope that those requests come from people outside of the House?”

Barston raised one iron brow.

“I’m sorry. If I weren’t on the House Council, Barston, I wouldn’t have absented myself from the office yesterday. But neither Finch nor I have any clothing appropriate for a funeral of this import.”

“You have failed to ask who made those requests,” was Barston’s response.

Because the office contained only Barston and Teller, Teller said, “How long can I continue to fail?”

“In safety?” Barston replied, surrendering. “Until the day after the funeral services. You will not, however, want to avoid all of the requests.” He lifted a few papers—they looked, on brief inspection, like letters—and handed them to Teller. “Gabriel wishes to speak with you as well.”

“He’s here?”

“No.” This was said in a distinctly chilly way. “But he should be here very soon.”

Teller nodded. He turned toward his office, and then turned back. “Barston, a question. If it is too bold or too naive, tell me.”

“I am not the right-kin,” Barston replied. “My opinion, and I judge it likely that you wish me to give one, carries very little weight or significance. Remember that.”

Teller nodded as if he believed any of it. He didn’t. But Barston did.
He was not, in the parlance of the young in this House, an ambitious man. The whole of his ambition was this office and its running. He was very like a domicis that way.

“Gabriel has said nothing about his hopes for the occupant of the House Seat.”

“He cannot, as regent.”

“Who would you favor, of the four likely contenders? Who would you advise us to offer our support to?”

Barston was silent for a long moment. Too long; Teller was certain he wasn’t going to answer. He did not, however, remain silent. “Have you asked Jewel ATerafin who she intends to support?”

“Yes.” Technically, this was true.

“And her answer?”

“She doesn’t have a good one.”

“And she has been part of the House Council for well over a decade. If she does not have a suitable answer, then you cannot expect one from me.”

Teller nodded.

Barston surprised him. “Who do you intend to support?”

“I don’t know. If Gabriel would declare himself, we’d throw our support behind him in a second.” This was also true. It pained Teller to lie to Barston.

“Gabriel will not.”

“Why?”

“I believe,” Gabriel ATerafin said, “that I made my reasons clear on the floor of the Council Hall.”

Teller hadn’t even heard the door open. He had the grace to redden; Barston didn’t even blink. “ATerafin,” he said, transferring his attention to the man who commanded the office, “there are a number of issues we must deal with.”

“I notice you’ve lost an assistant,” Gabriel replied, without pausing.

“He was not a suitable candidate given the current situation within the House,” was Barston’s rather severe reply. “And I feel that this is a very poor time to replace him.”

“I can help,” Teller said, before Gabriel could answer.

They both looked at him. Barston’s glare held very strong disapproval.

“The opening of mail is
not
an appropriate duty for a member of the House Council, unless that mail is entirely personal.”

Gabriel grimaced. “He is correct, of course. He is
always
correct. Come,
Teller; we’ve a few minutes before the office is open, and I’m unlikely to find any other time in which to converse.”

Teller rarely entertained Gabriel in his small office; if there was a matter of import Gabriel wished to discuss, he discussed it behind his own desk. But Teller had long since given up being nervous in the presence of the right-kin. Barston could make him more nervous. Teller had two chairs in front of his much smaller desk; he offered one to Gabriel, and Gabriel sank into it as if standing were truly painful. Teller took the other chair.

“You have appointments with other members of the House Council,” Gabriel said, when Teller was seated. It wasn’t a question.

Teller grimaced. “I don’t.”

The regent of Terafin raised one brow.

“Barston hasn’t made any appointments, given the funeral.”

“Those were your instructions?”

Teller’s brows rose, and Gabriel offered a tired chuckle in response. “I suppose that was an unfair question. Asking Barston for advice, however, is likely to be unproductive.”

Teller had the grace to redden. And the strength to say, “Can I ask you for the advice that Barston considers inappropriate to offer?”

Gabriel looked down at his hands, which Teller took as a no. He was therefore surprised when Gabriel spoke. “Has it not occurred to you—collectively and individually—that you are in just as good a position to offer that advice as to receive it?”

“I’m so new to the House Council I don’t—”

Gabriel lifted a hand. It wasn’t den-sign, but it might as well have been. “You’ve worked in this office in one capacity or another since you came to the manse. You’re not the youngest member of the House to be appointed to the Council.”

No. That was Jay.

“Finch has likewise been heavily involved in the economic concerns of the House since that time. She’s worked under both Jarven and Lucille, and while I wouldn’t wish Lucille on anyone, Lucille is sharp, canny, and observant. Finch occupied Jewel’s role in merchant operations during Jewel’s absence, and did so both quietly and competently. It is not as if you come to the Council with no knowledge. You both understand elements of the patriciate and elements of the political entanglements that come with either ambition or monetary concerns.

“I have told you why I will not throw support behind any of the Council members who desire the seat, but I will repeat myself now. I am old enough to have no desire to take the helm, and I am trusted—inasmuch as any member of the Council can be trusted by any other member of the Council. I served Amarais Handernesse ATerafin. When she declared herself as a contender upon the death of the previous Terafin, I declared myself as her supporter.” This was not what Gabriel had said in the Council Hall.

“She is dead. And I? I am tired, Teller. If I had one hope, one wish, even a week ago, it was that I not outlive her. Thus, the hopes of men who have power.

“I want the House to continue. There is no other man or woman who could have been acclaimed regent in my stead, or I would have declined. Alliances, such as they are, are forming even as we speak. They are also breaking in the same fashion. The merchants are now jockeying for position; I believe some handful have hopes of replacing Jarven; he is older than I.”

“He’s not notably more weary,” Teller told Gabriel quietly.

“No. I do not discount either Jarven or the influence of his support. As regent, I do not have a right-kin, but the duties I previously performed cannot be neglected. All of the time I have is now devoted to both of the roles I have undertaken. Were I to support any one of the contenders, what do you think would happen?”

Teller said nothing.

Gabriel was not content with silence. “Teller?”

“You wouldn’t survive.”

Gabriel nodded. “If I die, what do you think will happen?”

He hadn’t thought about Gabriel’s death at all. He didn’t want to start now, but he saw clearly that silence was not an option. He compromised. “Your regency buys us time.”

“An interesting way to word it. Yes. It buys time. If I am very lucky, I will survive to pass the House to the man—or woman—who emerges as The Terafin. How do you think that will happen?”

Teller looked down at his own hands. When he looked up, he met Gabriel’s steady gaze. “I think at least two of the current obvious contenders will be dead first, and their supporters will be forced to choose among the survivors.”

“And?”

Teller looked away. Then he rose and began to pace, a habit that would have deepened every unhappy line in Barston’s face. “If one of the surviving contenders has an obvious advantage, the House will fall in behind them. The other survivors will remain on the House Council, possibly enriched in one way or the other simply because they’ve survived.” He hesitated, and then said, “If everyone is reasonable.”

Gabriel nodded, watching him. “Do you think that everyone will be?”

“…no.”

“How so?”

He hesitated again, and this time, he wasn’t certain he
could
speak. Gabriel waited. Teller had never been so aware of the passage of time. “Gabriel—”

“I ask for a truthful opinion, Teller. No more. But certainly no less. What you say will not leave this office.”

Teller closed his eyes, drew breath. “Marrick has made a lot of connections outside of the House. He’s…friendly. He seems harmless. He listens well. He has a sense of humor. The merchants—at least the seafaring ones—like him; he can drink most of them under the table.”

“Not exactly a quality one would laud in a ruler.”

“No. But he can do more than that. He owns lands within the hundred holdings, and he owns one ship, that I know of, which flies under its own flag, not Terafin’s. He can speak both fluent Torra and some Rendish. But he’s canny. I don’t think he’ll flinch from violence; he’s not afraid. But he knows when to cut his losses. If he stands at the end of all this, and he hasn’t accumulated enough support, he’ll fold more or less gracefully.”

Gabriel nodded.

“If Elonne is alive, so will she. She also owns properties across the holdings; I’m not as certain how many. She owns the lease for at least two of the actual stores in the Common. She doesn’t own a ship, and she doesn’t have Marrick’s connection with the Port Authority because of that; she does own some land outside of the city, and I think she owns one mine. She isn’t Marrick, but neither was The Terafin; she’s more severe and less approachable.

“She also numbers the Queen Marieyan among her personal friends, and through the Queen, she maintains some access to the ears of the Kings.”

Gabriel raised a brow.

“Of the four, she also has the closest personal ties to the priests of Cormaris
and the Mother. Some significant part of her personal wealth is donated to both churches every year. She is very like The Terafin in outward appearance.”

“Do you think she is very like the former Terafin in other ways?”

“I don’t know. She has the grace and the elegance.”

“The ruthlessness?”

“She’ll do what she has to do, but if she feels she doesn’t have the resources necessary to take the House without destroying large parts of it in the process, I believe she’ll concede victory to those who do.”

Gabriel nodded.

Teller continued, ill at ease. If he’d had any idea that this conversation would happen, he’d’ve talked to Jay before he left the wing. “Haerrad has the closest ties with both the Kings’ armies and the House Guard. He’s almost the opposite of Marrick in every social respect; he’s neither friendly nor comfortable. He served in the armies in his youth, and everything about his bearing is military. If he were to take the seat, he would almost certainly have the support of The Berrilya.”

“Which would guarantee he’d have no support at all from The Kalakar.”

Teller nodded.

“Haerrad’s power within the House, because of his connections with the House Guard in general, is probably the most dangerous for any of the contenders. He’s not well-loved by the merchants, but he
is
respected. In the previous two trade wars, he was the first to condone use of lethal force in defense of the caravans on the trade routes, and he made certain that any of the caravans on any routes he was responsible for were heavily guarded.”

“This did not endear him to the Kings.”

“No. It didn’t. But Haerrad is aware that he gains nothing from their approval. The House knows that he will pause one half step short of open defiance of the Kings in defense of House Law or territory. Like Elonne and Marrick, he has a number of properties within the holdings; like Elonne, it’s not clear what those properties are.” Jay had some suspicions, and those suspicions enraged her; Teller thought it good that their ability to investigate hadn’t revealed anything solid. “But Haerrad would have to be dead—and probably in pieces—before he’d concede anything. I don’t think he’d care if he destroys large parts of the House in the process; those parts would not be loyal to him, and they therefore wouldn’t be of value.
I’m pretty sure he’d feel confident that he could rebuild anything he destroyed—and he’d be happier because he could rebuild it in a way that suited him.

“If he’s one of the members left standing, he’ll be The Terafin.”

“And you think the chances are good?”

“Someone tried to kill him the same day The Terafin died.”

Gabriel nodded. “He’s accused no one.”

“Publicly, no.”

The new regent raised a brow in genuine surprise. “What have you heard?”

“Rumors, no more. We believe they originated with Haerrad.”