Skirmish: A House War Novel (62 page)

Jewel almost laughed. “Not yet, Snow, Night. Not yet. Unless...” She glanced at Devon.

Devon’s brows rose. “You cannot be serious.”

“Can’t I? I can’t have the cats as guards. Not in public, not yet. I can have Avandar, because I’ve always had Avandar. I’ll take Arann. I’ll take Angel. I’ll even take Torvan and Arrendas if I have to. But if I want to gain acceptance, I can’t be surrounded by immortal, magical creatures. Not yet.” And maybe not ever.

“And you expect the regent to be able to do so?”

“More easily than I can. Inasmuch as the Council members are willing to trust any man, woman, or child, they trust Gabriel. If he dies—if he dies before we can even
convene
—anyone whose concern is the House will suffer.”

Devon rose. “Haval,” he said, and offered him a very deep, very formal bow. “My apologies for delaying your necessary work. If you have no objections, I will take Jewel with me now, where we might continue our discussion of logistics.”

“Please be my guest. If you would, however, return, I believe you and I have much to discuss”

Jewel did not, as it turned out, have much time to speak with Devon, because Torvan, Arrendas, and a dozen of the Chosen appeared at the door of the wing. Ellerson, accustomed to Torvan’s presence, bid them enter, which was not an entirely orderly affair.

He then fetched Jewel, who met them, Avandar in tow, at the door. Both of the captains tendered her exact—and perfect—salutes.

“You’re just the people I wanted to see,” she told them. “Wait here.”

* * *

“What are you doing?” Avandar asked, when they were mostly out of earshot.

“Making an executive decision,” was her crisp reply. She headed to Haval’s room, opened the door, and called the cats out. Night and Snow ambled into the hall, looking slightly bouncy. She hesitated a moment, and then decided against fetching Shadow; Shadow was with Adam and Ariel.

Ariel, whom she’d barely had the time to visit in the long, long couple of days since she’d arrived home, was comfortable with Shadow. She’d seen the cats take down one of the Arianni in the Dominion of Annagar; she was well aware of the fact they could be both vicious and deadly when bored—but Jewel wasn’t all that attached to the Arianni. Which was beside the point; she knew that the child was safe with Shadow. Ariel was still hiding from her own reflection. It was best for all concerned to leave them together.

She hoped Shadow saw it the same way.

Cats in procession, she headed back into the halls where the Chosen were now waiting.

“Ellerson, has Gabriel been moved?”

“No, ATerafin.”

“Good.” Turning to Torvan, she said, “The regent is in the great room.”

“Alone?”

“Teller and the healer are with him.”

Torvan was pale and grim. “The healer?”

“Levec. Probably presenting the House with the bill for his services.” She nodded to Ellerson again, and he opened the door. As she walked into the room, she glanced at the lines of his familiar face, and realized with a pang that no matter how deserted she’d felt, no matter how angry she’d been, she was
home
when Ellerson was in the wing.

“If you can find Angel and Carver—”

“They have not yet returned.”

Where in the hells were they anyway? If they’d gone drinking, Jewel was going to have both of their heads as kitchen table decorations.

“Torvan, where’s Arann?”

“He is in the regent’s office.”

“Alone?”

“No. He is with Lord Celleriant.”

She started to say she wanted him here, but thought better of it; she wanted him there, because that’s where Gabriel would be, and she trusted Arann. “Night, do
not
scratch the door. I don’t care if you’re bored.”

Snow hissed laughter, and Jewel glared at him. She could almost feel Avandar’s faint smugness.

The Chosen fanned out in the room as Gabriel rose from the lounge chair. His clothing still sported a new, red slash, and he was pale, but he was otherwise whole. She walked straight to Gabriel, Night to her left and Snow to her right.

“Gabriel, you’ve seen Night and Snow.”

Gabriel nodded; he looked dubious, but not surprised. “I have, ATerafin. Admittedly not at this distance.”

“They are almost impossible to kill; I’ve seen it tried by people who can give the demons a run for their money—and enjoy it, too.”

Gabriel was not a fool. He was, inasmuch as the right-kin could be, an honest man. “ATerafin, I am whole and uninjured, thanks to the intervention of your domicis and Levec.”

“Yes, and I’d like you to remain that way. I want the cats to be your guards.”

Torvan coughed, and she turned to face him. “Did you look at the bodies?” she asked, her voice breaking only slightly.

“We did.”

“Tell me that they weren’t Chosen. Tell me, and I’ll believe you.”

“ATerafin—”

“Or don’t. We can’t afford to have Gabriel die; not before the funeral, and not before a new leader is chosen for the House. I trust you. I trust Arrendas. I can name the other Chosen that I would also trust with my life—or with his. But I clearly can’t trust all of them.”

“ATerafin,” Gabriel began again.

“The cats don’t need sleep,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “They don’t need food—”

“We
like
to eat,” Night broke in.

“They don’t shut up, it’s true. But they’re capable of dignity and silence when it’s necessary.”

Torvan coughed again. This time, however, Gabriel offered Jewel a tired smile. “What the Captain of the Chosen is not saying is that the choice is not yours.”

She had the grace to fall silent, and to redden. He was, of course, correct; she was tired and running on instinct, which never played well with etiquette in dire situations.

“The assassination attempt was disturbing. It is catastrophic at the moment for the Chosen—something their captains are also not saying. But, ATerafin, there is perhaps a third thing that is not yet stated, and I will ask the Captain of the Chosen to speak his mind plainly.”

Torvan then turned to Jewel. “There are protocols with which your cats are almost certainly unfamiliar.”

“They don’t have to be his
only
guards,” she shot back. “I don’t care who else you have on his detail. But the cats are fast, and as far as I know, much harder to kill. If something similar happens, Gabriel won’t be defenseless.”

“He will not be defenseless, as you put it, again,” was the grim, cool reply.

Avandar watched Jewel carefully—and in silence. Gabriel was now at her back; she wasn’t certain whether or not he’d
have
her back, but at this point, she didn’t care.

“Are you mine or not?” she asked, voice flat and hard.

Torvan’s brows rose.

“Answer me: Are you mine? The Chosen were not disbanded.” Without turning to the former right-kin, she said, “Amarais asked that you preserve the Chosen?”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

To Torvan she said, “And you knew and agreed?”

This time he nodded; it was a controlled nod.

“You are not the only Captain of the Chosen.” She turned a few inches toward Arrendas. “Captain Arrendas.”

He saluted; it was sharp and loud. But his expression was shuttered, as if he now wore a mask or a visor. “ATerafin.”

“Did you accede to Amarais Handernesse ATerafin’s final request of her Chosen?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me repeat my question to both of you. Are you mine, or not?”

* * *

Torvan met and held her gaze, and then he smiled. It was a scant smile, harder and harsher in form than most of the smiles she saw on his face. He dropped to one knee and bowed head to her, and Arrendas followed suit in silence.

“Your answer, ATerafin,” Gabriel said quietly.

Jewel nodded grimly. “You’ll take the cats,” she told him, still watching the Captains of the Chosen. “If you’re not comfortable with two of them, take Night. I can’t,” she added. “You know why.”

“And you have no care for my reputation.”

“I have, as you put it, a great deal of care for it; I just happen to value your life more.”

Night snickered.

“Night, Snow—I want him alive. If anyone attempts to harm him, I don’t care what you do with them.”

Snow was practically preening. “However, in all other regards, you are to listen to both Gabriel and the Chosen. You’re to obey them in any other matter.”

Both cats’ eyes widened in dismayed shock.

Jewel had not yet finished. “How many of the other Chosen chose as their captains did?”

Silence, but it was a different one. “Get up,” she told them both. “Looking down at your heads just feels wrong.” They rose, making clear that they did it at her command. She thought it might get tedious in the very near future, but held her tongue. “Were they offered the same choice?” She could hear echoes of her Oma’s voice: Don’t make me ask again.

“We are the Captains of the Chosen,” Torvan finally replied.

“Yes, you are. I’m not arguing that. But the Chosen are offered a
choice
when they’re asked to serve. They made their vows to
her
. I’m not her. Give them the same choice now. They’re not forsworn if they choose not to serve me—I’m not, I’ll never be, her.” She paused, shook her head, and said, “That’s not the way it works, is it?”

Silence.

“Fine. Assemble the Chosen in the back at the House shrine.”

Torvan’s brows rose. “We have not yet—”

“Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take Shadow, I’ll have Avandar and Celleriant, and most of all, I’ll have
myself
. I can buy a few minutes of life
if someone tries to kill me, and if the Chosen are assembled, they won’t last long—even if they come from the ranks of the Chosen themselves.”

“Jewel,” Gabriel said quietly, “Perhaps this is not the day. You have said that you will wait to declare yourself—but this action, more than any other, will serve in that stead. If there are, indeed, members of the Chosen who now owe their loyalty to other members of the House Council, your intent will be instantly known.”

Jewel almost laughed, but it would have been the wrong laugh. “Yes. Yes, it will. It seems I’m not even to be allowed an appropriate gesture of respect for the woman who—” She broke off, lifting her hand momentarily to her eyes as she turned away. “Assemble the Chosen,” she said again.

This time, the only answers were two sharp salutes. “The right-kin?”

“If he’s willing, he can stay in the great room with the two cats for the moment; when we’re done, his new detail can start. Gabriel?” She turned to him.

Just the hint of a smile touched his lips, although his eyes were shadowed; he looked older. “I will be pleased to remain in your wing under the tender ministrations of your cats and your den’s domicis. I would ask that some further word be sent to Barston, but I understand the difficulty.”

Teller, silent until this moment, said, “I’ll take word if it’s necessary. Barston knows you’re alive; he would never prize reassurance over an increased risk to your life.”

“Send Jester to fetch Celleriant,” Jewel told him. “Tell Celleriant to meet us at the House shrine.”

“And Arann?” Teller asked.

“Arann will receive word with the rest of the Chosen.”

J
EWEL WENT DIRECTLY to the Terafin shrine. She paused at the steps that led down to the garden of contemplation, to stare at the great trees of the Common that now towered over the rest of the grounds in the back of the manse. Morning and afternoon had not erased their presence, although a small army of gardeners had done much to tidy up everything else.

Shadow paced behind her back; Avandar ignored him. He waited, watching the heights of those trees with something very like anticipation. It was silent, but it was strong. “Lord Celleriant is waiting,” he told her.

“How did he know to come to me in Gabriel’s office?”

“You must ask him that yourself, if you cannot answer the question.” His tone made clear that he thought the answer should be obvious; perhaps it was. But she had felt nothing at all, had made no attempt to summon him; she wasn’t even certain how she would go about doing any such thing.

She descended the stairs and set foot on the path that wound its way through the shrines of the Triumvirate before reaching the only shrine that truly mattered to her at the moment. Even in the fading light of evening, it was clear that the shrines had been cleaned so well they now gleamed beneath the loose, hand-shaped leaves that had fallen from trees that were at once a day old and ancient. The Mother’s shrine had an offering basket that looked simple; it wasn’t. Gold and gems and reddish rock had been laid atop the ceremonial stalks of wheat, the harvest of the House under the stewardship of Amarais Handernesse ATerafin.

And so it went: Cormaris’ shrine was likewise spotless, almost sparkling, flanked by magestones encased in globes. The eagle, rod in claws, looked almost alive in its stone flight; Jewel suspected that mages had been hired to produce this effect for the three days of the funeral. She paused at Cormaris’ shrine; Avandar remained at a distance, on the path. It occurred to her as she knelt that she had never seen him bend knee or head to any of the gods in prayer. But it didn’t matter. If he felt himself wise—and clearly, he did—his was not a wisdom she wanted for herself; it was cold, hard, dismissive.