Skirmish: A House War Novel (40 page)

“I don’t know.”

“Do you not? Do you have no suspicion at all that might lead us to an acceptable answer?”

She could have said no, but that would have been lying—and pinned by the lambent golden eyes of the god-born, lies seemed very, very unwise. “Some of my talent expresses itself in dreams,” she finally said. “And our encounter with the tree earlier in the afternoon implied—strongly—that dreaming was involved.”

“And you are versed in lucid dreams?”

“No. Just ones that come true.”

He raised a graying brow at the edge in her reply, and she had the grace—just barely—to duck her head in apology. She was tired. No, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to hobble back to the West Wing, and fall over into the nearest bed. She didn’t much care whose the nearest bed was, at this point.

“Something someone said implied that the dreaming here was a…space. A physical presence. That I could walk into it, because in some way, I do that already. In my sleep,” she added, aware that the words themselves were both true and…stupid. “I had to try.”

“You’ve said that you were driven to this extreme by instinct. What, then, did you find on the hidden path?”

Jewel had so hoped to have this part of the conversation in the privacy of Gabriel’s very magically protected office—because it meant she could offload the resulting difficulties onto shoulders that were quite accustomed to the patriciate and its politics. She now surrendered that hope. “A demon.”

More silence.

Turning to the very rigid Gabriel ATerafin, Jewel said, “Regent, I think I understand how the demons arrived in Terafin.” The regent looked as if he hadn’t slept in three days; he also looked aged by about a decade. Neither of these were an improvement. He was, in theory, the ruler of the House; in practice—a practice Jewel understood well, even if she sometimes resented the hell out of it—the Exalted had precedence. But there were some things that the ruler of the House, even if temporary, had to be told first, in Jewel’s opinion, and this was the only safe way of making that opinion known.

It wasn’t, however, Gabriel who answered.

“ATerafin.” The Lord of the Compact stepped forward. He even bowed, although it was entirely perfunctory; there was certainly no respect in the look he gave her as he rose. To be fair to Duvari—which wasn’t the first item on Jewel’s list of social necessities—he also looked as if he hadn’t
slept and had aged prematurely. On Duvari, however, Jewel had no doubts that both states were temporary.

“Lord of the Compact,” she replied, in a tone just as friendly as the one he’d used. He raised a peppered brow, and then nodded; he offered her the edge of a very cool smile. She swore, but not out loud.

“Please feel free to expand upon the information you have just offered the regent.”

“I think they walked here from wherever it is they now reside.”

“Explain.”

“The Exalted spoke of a hidden path. I think this,” she said, lifting a palm to touch the living tree, “is on that path. The demons can walk it.”

“And you believe they infiltrated the House by walking
through
the tree?” It was clearly not an answer to Duvari’s liking. Duvari had a practical mind. A practical, paranoid mind.

“Not through the tree, no. But to it.”

“I will not belabor the obvious by asking about the nature of this specific tree; I can see that it is not…entirely natural. Will the demon return?”

“Not that way,” she replied.

“And you are certain?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She really disliked Duvari. “Because it’s
my
tree, in the middle of
my
lands, and I don’t want him here. Any other demon that visits will have to come in through the doors.”

“These lands have always been Terafin lands,” was his quiet reply. It was quiet in exactly the wrong way. “Are you implying that previous rulers of the House ceded entry to the demons?”

Really, really disliked Duvari. “No. You’re inferring it.” By pulling it out of your—she stifled the thought. Barely. “The previous rulers of Terafin couldn’t walk that path; they couldn’t touch it. What they couldn’t touch, they couldn’t make their own.”

“And you—”

“Yes. It’s mine.”

“I…see.” He glanced pointedly at the heights of the tree above her head. “And if you can accomplish this—which a host of gardeners going back centuries of Averalaan history could not with all of their combined skill and knowledge—what else can you accomplish, ATerafin?”

“I can keep demons from gaining entrance to Terafin using that particular back door,” was her grim reply.

Jewel
, Avandar said. He was very aware of how little she liked this silent form of communication, and only used it when he deemed it necessary.
Do not antagonize Duvari unless you
plan
to do so.

Which wasn’t something she needed to be told, on most days. Clearly she needed to be told that tonight.

“Lord of the Compact,” the Exalted of Cormaris said, “I believe it is late, and the young ATerafin requires some sleep and some time to gather her thoughts. She has already made clear that she acts on instinct.”

“Instinct is not—”

“—And for the moment, until we have the chance to confer with our parents—which I assure you we will be doing before the dawn—I do not believe there is further information to be gained. There is, of course, hostility—but while that suits your particular style, it does not suit hers. There is no need to back her into a corner.”

“The Kings, the Queens, and the Exalted will be in attendance for the first day of The Terafin’s funeral rites,” was the clipped and very cold reply.

“We are aware of that. So, too, will all of The Ten, saving only Terafin, for whom a successor has not yet been chosen, all of the guildmasters, and all of the Sacred of the rest of the churches within the city. I understand that they are not your responsibility, but they serve a necessary function within the domain of the Kings that are.”

“What Terafin successor will now be willing to countenance the existence of a woman who can literally manipulate reality in their own backyard?”

“That is, as you are well aware, an internal matter; it is not for any of us to decide what the next Terafin can—or cannot—countenance. We judge that the Kings and the Queens will be safe from this particular threat; the Kings themselves would not ask for more.”

“And you will give reassurances—”

“Lord of the Compact, I already have; if you fail to find them reassuring, may I suggest you reconsider?”

Duvari fell silent. Jewel recognized the silence; it was one she herself employed when it was absolutely necessary not to offend the person who was busy offending
her
. She enjoyed it a lot more when Duvari was forced to use it.

And that much petty was almost too much. “Lord of the Compact, I
understand your concern. If I could answer your questions, I would. But I can barely put two coherent words together. As Member Mellifas is currently a guest in my wing of the manse, any further conversation on our part will delay her much-needed rest.”

“Very well. Regent,” he said, turning abruptly to face the very silent Gabriel ATerafin, “I request an appointment to speak with you on the morrow. I also request that Jewel ATerafin be in attendance.”

Gabriel nodded. “It will not be first thing in the morning; given the difficulties encountered both this afternoon and this eve, some juggling of the schedule will have to be done. Understand that we are aware of the gravity of the situation; we are also aware of the dangers should any harm befall the royal family. The Chosen are already in motion as we speak.”

Duvari nodded. “And the
Astari?
”

“The
Astari
are necessary for the protection of the Kings. Any action that they take while in House Terafin, however, must go through the Chosen. No reasonable request will be refused.”

“And you are the arbiter that defines what is reasonable?”

“It is House Terafin, Lord of the Compact,” the Exalted of Reymaris now said. He had not spoken a word so far this eve—or rather, not a word meant for any ears other than the god-born’s.

Jewel, however, was looking at the shade of indigo the sky had become. She turned to her domicis with a pleading expression. “Can you go and see if Haval’s waiting?”

Avandar nodded. Turning, he left the grounds—and he could; he wasn’t, as a servant, required to interact with the rest of the people gathered near the base of the tree. He was supposed to be invisible, lucky bastard.

Duvari frowned. “Haval? The dressmaker?”

“Yes. I know it seems insignificant to you, and it probably is—but three members of the House Council will have nothing to wear for the first day rites if he doesn’t finish his work; he had very short notice, and—”

Duvari lifted a hand. “Guildmaster,” he said, to Sigurne. “Regent. I have much to consider and much to arrange, and I will leave you to your…own tasks.”

The Winter King vanished before Jewel left the grounds, but she didn’t really mark it, because when she left, Gabriel left, and they were obviously going to the same place. Sigurne, however, did not; although she had allowed
the meeting to be called to an end because she was in theory exhausted, she remained with the magi and the Exalted.

Arann stayed by Jewel’s side; Torvan sent the other two Chosen away, but likewise accompanied her. She decided she didn’t care for his work face; it was grim and impenetrable, and it did a whole lot of looking past wherever it was she happened to be standing.

Sadly, the cats found it amusing, and she couldn’t ditch the damn things. She tried. They mocked her. They bit each other. They attracted the attention of the night shift. The guards would have gaped, but Torvan was present, and it wasn’t worth their jobs.

“Jewel,” Gabriel said, when they were well away from the grounds, “do you understand the significance of this day’s events?”

It wasn’t the question she wanted him to open with; it was, however, the one she’d more or less expected. “To be honest, no.”

This drew a slender smile from the regent. The smile faded as he walked, hands behind his back in a loose knot. “Be less honest, in future.”

She stopped walking. She dearly wanted to get home, where she could eat—if Haval hadn’t arrived—and possibly relax for a few minutes. Instead, she turned to Gabriel. “I don’t want to live in a House where I can’t even be honest with you.”

He raised a brow, and the smile flitted back to the corners of his mouth. “I, too, am weary; I was not perhaps being exact in my advice. Be less honest with outsiders.”

This, she could accept. “I know the tree was significant. I mean, the dreaming tree. I know what it could have done to most of the significant powers in the Empire just by standing where it stood.”

“It is not, oddly enough, of that incident that I now speak.”

“Then what?”

“You have now placed a tree that the experts know cannot exist in the soil of Terafin. I will attempt to control word of the source of its arrival—but, Jewel, you must know how effective that will be.” He gestured down the hall and began to walk; she fell in beside him. The cats allowed it, but not quietly. He looked down at their heads. “You will keep them?” he finally asked.

They all turned wide-eyed stares on him.

“I don’t have much choice, at the moment. Until I understand why in the Hells they’re even here, I don’t think I have any hope of sending them back.”

“Sadly, I concur. You would do best, within the House, to keep them
hidden if it is possible. You would, of course, do best to refrain from riding your stag, as well.”

She was silent for the length of the gallery. When she reached its corner, she said, “How bad did it look?”

“Bad is not the correct word, ATerafin.”

She sighed. “Inappropriate?”

“A better use of language, but it is not the correct choice in this case. There is no appropriate or inappropriate where matters of magic are involved. But magic, for most of us, is in the realm of gods and the mage-born—and it separates those who are touched or tainted by it. You look like Jewel ATerafin, but in the context of these creatures, you also look dangerously other. It is not a look you would do well to cultivate.”

“Gabriel—”

“The House Council meets after the funeral—if you are fortunate.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again before words escaped.

“The day’s events—and the appearance of the Exalted, not to mention the large number of magi—will, of course, be of concern to the House Council. I will do what I can to keep the meeting in its current scheduled time slot, but I cannot guarantee success. Do not, however, be unprepared.”

“For an earlier meeting?”

“Of a type. They will be worried, Jewel. It would not surprise me if a series of more personal, and impromptu, meetings occur during the three days of the funeral rites themselves.”

She failed to curse; it was close. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How do you feel about me, now?”

His smile was subtle. “You are Jewel ATerafin. Do you understand why the servants have always favored your den in some small part?”

“Carver.”

“If you think Carver is the only young man to lurk around the serving girls—”

She lifted a hand. “Never mind. You obviously understand; tell me.”

“You came to the House as an urchin; you came with a pack of orphans, all as underfed and poorly dressed as yourself. Yet you saved the life of The Terafin, inarguably the most significant person in the House. You work; they note it. They knew, when she sent you on your earliest missions, the hour of your departure and the hour of your return; they knew how long your days were.

“Had you complained, they would have known that as well; you bore up under the weight of The Terafin’s expectations. You were given a wing of the manse out of which to operate—a privilege afforded to very, very few—and they accepted it. Some of the more senior members of the Council were less enamored of The Terafin’s decision, but because you had been instrumental in saving her life, they had to swallow the majority of their complaints.