Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) (20 page)

“Oh, really?” Terian asked and kept his anger under wraps. “Such as?”

“Did you really think your father was going to let me stay permanently dead?” Her smile trod the line close to a sneer but stopped short.

“Personally, I wouldn’t have risked it if I were you,” Terian said, “but I suppose I know him better than you.”

“You know nothing,” Sareea said. “This is how the game is played.”

“I don’t see a game,” Terian said.

“Then perhaps you are a fool indeed,” Sareea said as the crowd bustled around them. “This is all a game, every bit of it. The rules are part of it. Sacrificing things of worth is never done pointlessly, it is always done for a reason. Your father knows how to play this game well, which is why he is now sitting at the left hand of the Sovereign. He calculates. He weighs the odds, weighs the alternatives, considers his actions to greatest effect. Why would he pointlessly kill a new knight sent to him when he can find use for her?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Terian said with a sneer, “but I’ve seen him do it before.” He made to brush past her but this time she interposed her body against his, their armor clacking against each other’s as she leaned close and whispered in his ear.

“You’ve seen him make calculated sacrifices,” she said, “seen him do things to profit himself and his house. You’ve watched with the emotion of a child while he put aside emotion to make choices that vaulted him upward. Your father is not a fool, and you would do well to remember it. My resurrection after my sacrifice was as assured as him ordering me to kill you afterward.” He could feel her hot breath on his neck, on his ear as her warm whisper carried past his cheek.

She’s crazy.
She just smiled back at him, motionless, with that same slightly unhinged smile of cold pleasure. “You’re putting your faith in the wrong man,” he said. “Or to put it in your words, when the calculation turns against you, when you are no longer of service to his plans, your resurrection won’t be assured. Only your death.”

She never flinched. “That’s part of the game here.”

Terian leaned closer to her, and his every word came out with burning heat. “This isn’t a game to me.”

She did not stop smiling. “Then that is why you will lose.” With that, she removed her arm, and he passed her by, not taking his eyes off of her.

Chapter 28

What. A. Witch. And I don’t mean the kind that casts the good spells, either
. Terian’s anger burned blindingly bright as he threaded his way through the crowd, avoiding hip checking guests out of the way only because Guturan’s command about not dueling was echoing in his head. The smells of the buffet table grew strong as he approached, drawing him like a beacon of comforting light in the dimness of the ballroom.
I don’t know why I’m coming over here; I’m not even hungry.

The scent of chicken and fish from the surface, along with beef and pork was nearly overwhelming.
The strongest smell in our house is that mushroom mess that my father eats.
He swept along the edge of the buffet table, passing fattened party goers, gorging themselves on the House of Shrawn’s culinary treats.

Terian found himself lingering next to a tray of chicken drizzled with some thick, creamy cheese sauce. He took a breath and the smell was almost intoxicating in its richness.
A far cry from what I was eating in the boarding house on my guard pay.
A steward brushed past holding high a tray of crystal glasses filled with some wine of foreign import, and Terian grabbed one in his gauntleted fingers as it passed, slugging it down before placing it delicately back on the tray.

“Another, sir?” the steward asked.

“I’d better stop at one,” Terian said, turning his attention back to the buffet. He grabbed one of the
 
aromatic chicken and cheese creations and slipped it into his mouth. It was rich and warm, a flaky crust undergirding the little hors d’oeuvre. The whole thing seemed to dissolve in his mouth, spreading the flavor all over his tongue.
That’s more delicious than anything I’ve eaten since I left Sanctuary.

“It would appear you’ve found your way to the best company in the room,” came a voice from Terian’s left. He turned to see a man in a fine grey coat bearing a long black walking stick. It was no dueling cane; this one was actually used for walking, he could tell by the scuffing at the tip. He stared at the man who carried it, blinking at him.
I know his face, but damned if I can remember his name …

“You don’t recognize me,” the man said. “That doesn’t happen very often, but I suppose you’ve been gone a long time. My name is Vincin Ehrest.”

The third most powerful man in Saekaj.
“Of course I remember you,” Terian said with a quick bow of his head. “Kahlee’s father.”

Vincin Ehrest let escape a small chuckle. “I’m not often remembered by my daughter, though I suppose she does catch a few more eyes nowadays with the blue hair.”

“I simply meant that I know her,” Terian said. “I’m sure we’ve met on countless occasions in the past, you and I.”

“Undoubtedly,” Vincin said, nodding as he turned his attention to the chicken canapé that Terian had just taken a bite of. “At these events it’s impossible not to run across the same people over and over. The same conversations, the same recurring themes discussed in infinite detail. ‘Do you remember that time that Madame Yoilotte leaned over the buffet table and it collapsed under her weight?’“ He shook his head. “It would be hard to forget such an occasion, though it doesn’t stop it from being brought up every single time.”

Terian stood there at attention, taking the man’s story in. “I suppose it would be rather hard to forget the sight of a plump woman crashing through a buffet table.”

Vincin Ehrest laughed. “She was married less than a month later. Her weight was taken as a sign of her prosperity, and the fool who married her has only his own idiocy to blame that she ate through her dowry.” Terian shook his head but said nothing. “We live in an idiotic society, do we not?” Vincin asked.

Terian stiffened. “The Sovereign is wise in all his ways—”

“I’m not talking about the Sovereign,” Ehrest said, waving a hand at him dismissively. “I’m talking about the toadying, the favor currying, the ‘throw your neighbor under the vek’tag carriage for a chance at taking his home in the Shuffle’ attitude that pervades our society.”

He speaks the truth but … he could be trying to ensnare me in treason.
“I would agree with you, provided you lay the blame where it belongs—on the people who engage in such ridiculousness, not on the Sovereign.” Terian smiled.

“Of course, of course,” Vincin said. “You can’t blame the source of the river if the stream gets contaminated down the way. All this is the result of the people of Saekaj growing fat and indulgent, drunk on the smell of their own excrement. The Sovereign of course guides us, leads us in paths of discipline and strength.”
He says it fairly convincingly
, Terian thought. “No, my gripe is with the people who carry the competition to a ridiculous extreme.”

Which the Sovereign encourages.
“Of course. Though since I must confess having been absent for the last few years, and never present during a time when the Shuffle was going on, I don’t really know what you’re talking about—”

“Naturally, my boy, quite naturally,” Vincin said, taking stock of him. Cool purple eyes were surveying him.
Does he see I’m indulging him or is he just trying to decide if I’m marking him as a traitor in my head?
“I forgot that you’re young. I’m an old man, and I’ve seen … much. But of course, you would not know. Let me give you an example—Lord Tiskind and his Lady were recently found by the Saekaj militia to have orchestrated the murders of the entire House of Jernarr.”

Terian raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s … shocking.”

“Indeed,” Vincin said. “Of course, the Jernarr were several houses ahead of them in the line, so the murders allowed them to be brought a step closer to favor.”

“Until the truth came out?” Terian asked, reaching idly for another bite of the chicken. The smell was wafting at him.

“Oh, no, the murders had no effect on their rise in standing.” Vincin wore a sliver of a smile. “I believe they got a mild admonishment, but the House of Jernarr had recently fallen into disfavor and were expected to be Shuffled down sometime soon anyway. This merely hastened their downfall and made it a touch more … permanent.”

Terian realized his hand had frozen in front of his mouth, the chicken canapé held mere centimeters from his lips. “You’re joking.”

“Oh, no,” Vincin said, shaking his head. “The message was clear, of course—do whatever you wish to those who have entered disfavor. I wonder how long it will be until a full-scale war between the houses breaks loose.” He turned his head and Terian realized for the first time that his hair was a silver-white rather than the clean white of a young man.
How old is he?
Terian noticed a hunch in his back, the slight stoop of age. “That should be an interesting bit of business, don’t you think? House warring with House, blood in the streets of Saekaj?”

Terian did not answer, still holding the canapé in front of his mouth. “I don’t … imagine that will be much good for anyone.”

“Oh, but it will,” Vincin Ehrest said, shrugging slightly. “See, it will be good for determining which houses are on the rise, which ones have power—and which are on the decline. Nothing lasts forever, not even here in Saekaj.” He tilted his head slightly to Terian. “It’s in the wind, as they say on the surface, and in time it will come blowing our way.” He smiled. “It was nice to speak with you, young man. I think I like you. You still wear your emotions on your face, unlike so many.” He clapped Terian on the shoulder and Terian noticed the veiny hand, wrinkles beginning to manifest themselves.

“I don’t—” Terian said, almost stuttering, “I mean, I don’t mean to—”

“It is not a mark against you, son,” Vincin said, letting his cane click hard against the floor as he started away. “It’s a mark in your favor. Take it as the compliment it was intended.” With a last nod of his head at Terian, he disappeared into the black and white sea of party guests.

Chapter 29

“It sounds as though you had quite the time,” Dahveed said to him, cutting the silence in the carriage.

“Oh yeah, it was a ball,” Terian said as the carriage rattled and thumped its way down the long passage. Terian glanced out the carriage window and saw only a small stream of traffic outside. It was the early hours of the morning, hours after the ball had ended, and they were descending. He’d seen Sovar’s gates pass on his left a short while earlier, the lower chamber already buzzing with activity the way he’d once seen a hive of bees stirred.

And just as likely to sting if we don’t solve this food problem
, Terian thought. He blinked, trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand.

“So, you spoke with Vincin Ehrest at some length?” Dahveed asked, spoiling Terian’s attempt to keep his thoughts on their destination.

“Yes,” Terian said with a sigh.
Dahveed won’t let this journey pass in silence, I suspect.
“He seemed … how do I put this without overstating it? He seemed very critical of the Shuffle and all the fruits it has produced of late.”

“Hrm,” Dahveed said with his usual knowing smile. “Hard to believe that the number three man in Sovar would find fault with a system that has allowed him to ascend so high.”

“I think House Ehrest has actually waned,” Terian said. “Weren’t they number two until my father came along?”

“Oh, yes, you’re quite right,” Dahveed said, looking unsurprised. “How could I have forgotten?”

“You didn’t,” Terian said. “You just wanted to see if I remembered.”

“I can hardly be faulted for testing you now and again,” Dahveed said. “After all, it is a complicated game that is played in Saekaj; it’s hard to keep track of the rise and fall of so many houses, especially so many that are of little import to the overall picture.” He tapped the bridge of his nose idly. “Though you’d be surprised how much of a role they play in the overall scheme of things.”

“No house ascends on its own,” Terian said, stating an oft-spoken proverb, “and none descends entirely of its own efforts either.”

“House Lepos was the first to break that mold,” Dahveed said, “if you recall your history.”

“I recall,” Terian said tightly. “We never needed allies before.”

“Your father has a few now.” There was a bump in the carriage as Dahveed spoke, and Terian braced himself in the seat.

“I’m sure they’re very helpful to him,” Terian said, looking out the window. The iron gates of the Depths peered at him from his right, forbidding and tightly shut. Guards wearing the black, boiled leather of vek’tag skin armor watched the carriage as it passed.
Even the symbol of House Lepos does not spare us from their wary eyes.
And wary they should be, guarding the entirety of the Sovereign’s criminals and undesirables.
Stone towers flanked either side of the gate, and Terian knew without looking that the guards atop them were staring down at their carriage as well.

“They are vital to him,” Dahveed said, breaking Terian’s musings about the security measures of the Depths. “They provide a variety of services, up to and including keeping an ear to the ground throughout Saekaj and Sovar to keep him apprised of things that Dagonath Shrawn might not want to pass his way.”

“If you say so,” Terian said, turning his attention back to Dahveed. The healer sat with one foot up on the bench, looking as comfortable as he was casual, his healer robes draped over him and his sash around his neck. “Seems to me if we could climb to the top of the heap without them, it hardly makes sense to pick up clingers-on once we’re there.”

“I haven’t spoken with your father in depth about the subject,” Dahveed said, “but I have to imagine it’s a different game once you reach the number two house. Before it was only a question of climbing. Now it becomes about trying to climb while maintaining your current foothold. Many a bold misstep’s been made while seeking purchase on higher ground.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Terian said, looking at the dull metal of his gauntlet. He let out a slow breath. The one sip of wine he’d had at the ball had done little for him but make him crave more.
A craving I will keep under control.
He watched his gauntlet shake slightly at the thought of drink.