The Riven Shield: The Sun Sword #5 (33 page)

“It is clear that our enemies have some understanding of this condition. Clear, at least to Duvari, that they intend to manipulate such conditions to their full extent.”

“But why our House?”

“Why indeed?”

“You don’t think it’s only House Terafin.”

He said nothing. She realized that he would continue to say nothing.

“Devon, why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think it is something that you have failed to understand.”

“Why is it necessary that I understand it?”

“You are a member of the House Council,” he replied grimly.

“You don’t approve.”

“The choice was not mine to make. And although it may seem strange to you, Finch, under other circumstances, I would do more than approve. I have some understanding of the den, and I trust it entirely. You have been tested in ways that most people—with luck—will never be tested, and you have passed those tests, and survived.”

“But it’s not ‘other circumstances.’”

“No,” he conceded.

“And in these ones?”

“I think she risks your lives needlessly.”

Finch grimaced. It was a prettified version of what she herself thought. “We have to trust her,” she said quietly.

“Yes. You do. But it is not lack of faith in The Terafin that prompts my visit. While she presides over Terafin, there is no question of her loyalty.”

“It’s the others.”

“It is, as you put it so quaintly, the others.”

“Does Duvari trust Jewel?”

Devon considered his words with care. Finch, who had learned only late in the game to do the same, envied him his poise. “Duvari considers the attack upon Jewel ATerafin to have been a genuine attempt upon her life.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said, giving up, “that he trusts her because our enemies clearly want her out of the way.”

“You told him.”

Devon did not reply, not directly. But he continued to speak. “He is willing to support her rule, if it comes to that.”

“The others?”

“Are being investigated. Understand that that investigation is hampered; it does not, in theory, exist.”

Finch nodded, because she did understand it.

“Understand that we, too, watch.”

“Watch?”

“The others,” he said quietly. “And the den.”

“I won’t spy for you, if Jay won’t.”

He nodded. “I know.” Rose. “And I would not ask it. Not directly.”

“Indirectly?”

“Indirectly, I ask that when you take your guards with you to the House Council meetings, you accept one of my choosing.”

“The House Guards are chosen by The Terafin.”

“Yes,” he said softly, “and no. She will accede to your wishes if they are clearly stated; she has done so with each member of the House Council. This is not House Kalakar; the House Guards are not, by virtue of their position, accorded the House name. They earn it, or they fail to earn it.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“What do you think, Finch?”

Finch grimaced. “She knows.”

“Very good.”

“Who is this guard?”

“An associate of mine.”

The words were met by silence. She absorbed them, turned them over, understood that, unlike the letters she struggled with, they would never be consigned to anything as permanent as paper. “I’d have to meet him. Or her.”

“Of course.” He walked to the door and swung it open silently.

“Gregori,” he said.

“Devon—”

“ATerafin?”

“I meant—later. I mean—”

A man stepped into the room. He was dressed in Terafin House colors, but his movements were subtly wrong for a House Guard. His hair was dark, his eyes dark, his face slender. He bowed as Devon closed the door behind him.

“Finch ATerafin,” Devon said gravely, “I would like to introduce you to Gregori ATerafin, the newest member of the Terafin House Guards.”

Finch looked up; she had to. He was tall. Taller than Devon. “Are you Astari?” she asked him bluntly.

One of his brows rose; he looked at Devon, and Devon nodded.

“I serve the Kings,” the stranger replied, his voice slightly higher than Devon’s. “And I serve the House.”

“You can’t serve both.”

“No? You serve the House, and you serve Jewel ATerafin.”

“In case you’ve failed to notice, she
is
Terafin, so it’s a stupid example. And anyway, Jewel ATerafin would never do anything to harm the future of the House.”

He smiled. “Perhaps. You think I would, ATerafin?”

“I—”

“Think carefully before you answer,” Devon told her. “If the House Guards are not always chosen directly by The Terafin, the members of the House are.”

Gregori
ATerafin
. ATerafin, same as Finch. She knew what she’d done to earn it. Wondered what he had. Remembered the woman who ruled the House. “I . . . I guess not.”

Gregori’s smile was sardonic. “I have never made a vow with intent to break it. What I have offered The Terafin, she has accepted.”

Finch hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said at last, speaking to Devon. “Jay makes all the decisions.”

“Jewel is not here,” Devon told her quietly, his hand upon the edge of the open door. “You are. She trusts you; think about what has been said here, and decide.”

It was late.

Sleep eluded her only because she held it at bay with lamplight and company. That company watched her quietly, his hands behind his back, his shoulders an exquisitely perfect line.

“Well?” She prodded the edge of her desk with her left toe; her shoes were somewhere under the bed.

“It is not a decision I can make for you,” Ellerson replied. “What is your own feeling in the matter?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Then refuse.”

She shrugged, restless. “I don’t want to make Duvari angry. Or suspicious.”

“You are unlikely to make him angry,” Ellerson replied. “And he is already suspicious. Nothing you can do, short of joining the Astari, will allay those suspicions; they are at the heart of his chosen vocation.”

She nodded. “What would you do if you were me?”

He smiled. “I am not you, Finch ATerafin. I am merely domicis, and matters of such a political nature are not a part of my duties. Why do you dislike the idea?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I like him.”

“Ah. And if it were Devon ATerafin who offered his services, would you accept them?”

She thought about this, or tried; she was very, very tired. “Yes.”

“Because?”

“I know him.”

“Do you?”

Thought about this. After a moment, she shook her head. “Ellerson?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

He was silent.

“I want to know.”

“I think you already know.”

“Okay, I want to hear it.”

He sighed. “I think,” he said quietly, “that it is likely that The Terafin will die. As she is aware of this, she has gone to some length to protect what she values in the House she has built. You are all that remains of that protection at the moment; you, the den, and your absent leader.

“If the Astari cannot protect you when such protection is required, I cannot think of anyone who can.”

“Jay,” Finch replied.

“Jewel,” Ellerson told her gently, “is not here. It is to be hoped that whatever holds her in the South will release her in time.”

In time. Finch closed her eyes. “Is it always like this?” she asked him, in the darkness behind her lids.

“It is often like this,” he replied. “Come, ATerafin. It is late. You have a meeting with the House Council in the morning. I have taken the liberty of choosing your clothing.”

She nodded. But she wasn’t allowed to sleep yet. There was one more duty to attend to.

Captain Torvan ATerafin waited in the kitchen.

Finch joined him there. Although the operations of the den had been moved over the last few weeks into the heart of the rooms she occupied, there were some things that were best done where they had always been done.

The table was bare; the lamp was the only source of light in the room. Windows were shuttered, but moonlight appeared through the cracks of wooden slats, half turned to allow its entry.

Of all of the House Guards, it was Torvan she most trusted. Torvan ATerafin, one of the Terafin’s Chosen, had been the first man to show them mercy when they had stood outside of the gates of the manse. Had it not been for his intervention, for his instinctive trust, Arann would be dead. Jay had never forgotten the debt.

Nor had any member of her den.

He looked up as she entered the room, and waited in silence while she made herself comfortable. Or tried.

His smile was gentle. “ATerafin,” he said, the formality of the word eased by its warmth.

“Angel and Carver are going to join the House Guard,” she told him.

He nodded. “We were given that much warning.”

“They’ll attend us at tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Jester?”

“I think the quartermaster thinks he’s too short,” she replied.

Torvan laughed. “He is too short to be suitably attired on short notice, yes.”

“Is there anyone else we should take? We’re allowed four guards.”

“Have you any you wish to second?”

“You.”

His smile faded. “I am honored by the request,” he said gently, “but it is not a request that I am capable of fulfilling”

“But—”

“The Chosen serve The Terafin. I cannot serve you in that capacity, although I assure you I will be present.”

“But we’re taking Arann.”

He nodded. “I am . . . aware of that.”

“He’s been Chosen.”

Torvan nodded quietly. “He has. And among the Captains, this is known. The Terafin knows it as well. But the House itself has not been apprised of this fact.”

She snorted. “And you think the others won’t know?”

“I believe that if they care to do so, they can find the information; she has been discreet, no more. But his presence by your side will raise no brows. He is already considered to be one of Jewel’s people.”

She had expected as much, but had to ask. “Have you met Gregori ATerafin?”

He was silent. After a moment, he said, “Why do you ask?”

“He has . . . offered . . . to serve in the capacity of House Guard.”

“Ah.”

“Torvan?”

“It is not my position to advise you, ATerafin; you are a member of the House Council, and, as such, are deemed worthy of ruling.”

She snorted. “Enough. Enough already.”

His smile was genuine, although it was worn with care. “I have met Gregori ATerafin. I did not realize the capacity he would choose to serve in, but having met him, I approve.”

“You trust him?”

“That is not entirely what I said,” he told her gravely, reaching for the lamp. “It’s late, Finch.” He lifted the light; it swayed in the crook of his palm. “Sleep, if you can.”

“That is just what I was about to tell her,” another voice said.

Ellerson. Finch lowered her head to the surface of the kitchen table, and then she rose.

9th of Corvil, 427 AA

Terafin Manse, Averalaan Aramarelas

“A demon?” Teller said, as he adjusted the buttoned shirt that Ellerson had laid out for his use. It fit perfectly; there was nothing at all that needed adjustment. The colors, a deep blue with gold edges and a pale green insignia, were adorned by a crest in House colors.

Finch, fussing with her own dress, nodded.

“What’s being done?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“No, I didn’t ask.”

Teller shook his head. His hair had been tended by Ellerson, but he was unused to such care, and ran his fingers through it, leaving furrows that refused to fall back into place.

“I’m sorry. It was late, and I wasn’t really thinking. I didn’t expect to see Devon,” she added, trying to keep the defensive tone from her words. It was a dismal attempt.

The knock on the door was firm.

Finch answered it; saw Ellerson on the other side. He looked as perfect as he always did. But to her great surprise, so did Carver and Angel. And Angel looked pretty darned unhappy about the transformation. His hair, his one vanity, had left its awkward spiral; it had been pulled back from the angular lines of his face and knotted, warrior style. Strands had escaped, but they were few; Ellerson had done his work well.

Carver’s dark hair had been parted in the center, and pulled back over his face; Finch couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to clearly see both of his eyes. The long, silver scar that adorned his jaw was plainly visible.