Skirmish: A House War Novel

by West, Michelle

  “No; she’s almost sane. Clearly, however, some of that sanity is superficial. Very well. You mentioned cats?”

  “You’ll hate them.”

  “No doubt. I do not like anything you’ve mentioned this eve. This…difficulty…with the tree is the reason for Sigurne’s presence?”

  “Technically? No. I think Duvari is the reason for her presence.”

  “Ah. Of course; the Kings and the Queens will be present for the opening rites. Let me then return to the tree. How visible was the difficulty you’ve mentioned?”

  She flinched.

  “Never mind. How many witnesses were there?”

  “The first time? Only a handful.”

  “…the first time.”

  “The second time, the Exalted were present. Duvari was either present or well-informed.”

  “And your…winged cats the size of large ponies?”

  “They came the second time.”

  “With you.”

  “…yes.”

  “Jewel, do you even understand what the word subtlety means?”

  She was silent.

  Haval would not have been, but as he opened his mouth, there was a knock at the door.

  Ellerson opened it at Jewel’s quiet word; he was alone. He bowed very formally to both Jewel and Haval. “Forgive the interruption, ATerafin,” he said quietly.

  “Sigurne’s back?”

  “Ah. The guildmaster has indeed returned, but it is not the guildmaster who requests a moment of your time.”

  “Who, then?”

  “Council member Haerrad.”

  “I’m not interested in speaking with Haerrad.”

  “No, indeed. It has been a very long, and very eventful day. I did attempt to make this clear; the Council member in question is not known for his ability to accept denial.”

  Jewel frowned. “It doesn’t matter whether or not he accepts it. Does it?”

  “Perhaps not. I merely felt you would wish to be informed; he is in the waiting room with four of the House Guard and he is unwilling to leave.”

  She grimaced.

  “Avandar, however, is now encouraging his departure.”

  Her eyes rounded. “I’ll go,” she told Ellerson.

  He nodded.

  Chapter Eleven

  JEWEL COULD HEAR NOTHING as she approached the closed door at the end of the hall: nothing but the sharp sound of her own breath. Of the House Council members, there was no one—past or present—that she hated the way she hated Haerrad. If Haerrad were revealed as a demon from the Hells, it wouldn’t materially change her feelings.

  Even the fact that she was almost certain Rymark had arranged The Terafin’s death did not unseat him from his most-hated position, although it did give him some company in the inner circle.

  Haerrad was the only one who had gone out of his way to injure—not kill—one of her own just to prove a point. Teller had spent weeks recovering from his broken limb; Jewel had never recovered.

  She paused a few yards from the closed door and stared at it, hard. If Avandar killed the bastard, things would get ugly. But would they be uglier, in the end, if he didn’t? Standing in the hall, waiting, she heard someone cough. It was the type of polite and wordless command that only one man could utter, and she glanced over her shoulder to meet Ellerson’s steady gaze.

  “He had Teller’s arm broken,” she told the domicis quietly. “Because he wanted to encourage my support.”

  “And you are wondering how much more he will do in the near future?”

  She nodded grimly.

  “Avandar is not a member of the House,” was his quiet reply.

  It was all he needed to say. If Haerrad died at Avandar’s hand, it wasn’t, and couldn’t be, an internal affair. Not with Duvari—and his Astari—skulking around the House grounds.

  “If I go out there, he gets what he wants.”

  “Yes.”

  She hated it. Hated it, but opened the door anyway.

  Because she hated Haerrad so desperately, she thought he would be the first—and maybe the only—thing she saw in the room; he wasn’t. Avandar was. He stood closest to the door that Jewel had opened. She could only see his back and the stiff, straight lines of his shoulders; she could see his arms by his sides, his hands empty and in appearance relaxed. He wore the robes he always wore in service; they were dark, long, and functional; they were also very fine. The years had made slight changes to their fall, to the line of their shoulders, because fashions changed and Avandar understood the importance of fashion as a wordless statement.

  That Jewel herself did not was a source of frustration between them; Jewel understood that all her clothing matched, that it was in perfect repair, that it was perfectly clean. She understood when the function for which she was being clothed was important; she understood, for instance, that the funeral dress was not about the funeral. But for everyday wear? More than that still seemed an incredible waste.

  But Avandar, in his everyday wear, cast a long and sudden shadow; he was cold, as the nights in the desert had been—and just as dangerous. He was also angry.

  She walked into the room; the silence didn’t change.

  “Avandar,” she said, when she reached his back.

  He nodded. He didn’t turn, didn’t glance at her. She knew he wouldn’t until Haerrad—and she had no doubt it was Haerrad he was staring at—looked away first. A momentary irritation at the games men played came and went. Everyone played games—and everyone thought the games they didn’t play were stupid.

  She stepped around Avandar.

  Haerrad was, to her surprise, seated; his four House Guards, however, were not. They hadn’t drawn swords—which was good, because it prevented her anger from boiling over, and at this point it had been such a long day, she needed whatever help she could get. But they clustered to either side of Haerrad, obviously waiting for his command.

  Haerrad, however, was not a fool. It was one of Jewel’s regrets.

  “ATerafin,” she said, because in spite of the fact she was obviously now in the room, he was still staring at Avandar. When he failed to look at her, she added, “Councillor.”

  She doubted he would have shifted his gaze at all if a knock at the outer doors hadn’t interrupted it.

  Ellerson slid past Jewel and headed down the short hall toward the door as if the obviously occupied waiting room were empty.

  “ATerafin,” Haerrad said, shifting in his chair and surveying the room as if he owned it.

  “I have perhaps ten minutes.”

  He hadn’t been smiling to begin with, so his expression didn’t noticeably change. “Ten minutes, ATerafin? At this time?”

  “It may have escaped your notice, but the first day of the funeral rites is only three days away. I’ve been absent from the House, and I’m not a vulture; I was therefore not prepared for The Terafin’s death.”

  His eyes narrowed. She was grateful that the door had carried Ellerson away; vulture was not a word she should have dropped so carelessly, and she was glad he wasn’t there to witness it. It was, on the other hand, better than the ones it had replaced.

  “I’ve undertaken the hire of a clothier who is—at this very moment—engaged in fittings. He will undoubtedly work well into the night, and possibly the morning, on very little sleep in order to assure that I am suitably attired. Before you point out that he is being compensated, I’d like to point out that it’s not a matter of compensation—it’s a matter of time. Period.”

  “And yet, from all reports, you spent several hours in the Terafin grounds—grounds that have been entirely forbidden to any other member of the House Council. Tell me, Jewel, why were you the only exception?”

  “I was not. The regent was also present.” She folded her arms. This was also something Ellerson disliked.

  His eyes narrowed further; this time he rose. His guards made quiet clanking noises as they readjusted their formation. “You have been absent, ATerafin. I grant that much. Perhaps
you are unaware of the difficulties that have surrounded the House Council in your absence.”

  She nodded; it was a stiff motion. It was also what she could manage, because if she opened her mouth, she’d blurt out Alowan’s name, and her words might never stop.

  “You are aware that Rymark ATerafin has claimed that he—”

  “Is the chosen, and therefore legitimate, heir?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am. I’m also aware that such legitimacy counts for little, in the annals of House History. He failed to bring his signed and sealed document to the House Council meeting; if he failed to present it there, I believe he will never present it at all.”

  She disliked his smile, and he smiled now. “Very well. You were present on the grounds for much of the evening. The Exalted were seen arriving—in haste—as were the magi. What occurred, ATerafin?”

  “I can’t answer that question.”

  “Think carefully before you refuse.”

  “I don’t understand what happened, Haerrad. The Exalted, in theory, will now consult their gods in the hope of receiving the answers that you want from me—and if the Exalted don’t understand it and they were there, you’re asking too much.”

  “And you are playing games with the few minutes you’ve said you have. Only tell me what you saw, and I will be content with the confusion of no ready explanation.”

  “I’m afraid that will not be possible at this time, Councillor.”

  Jewel froze; Haerrad froze as well. They both recognized the voice. Only Jewel had to turn.

  “Lord of the Compact,” Haerrad said, his voice quite chilly. “You are here for the protection of Kings, which is certainly a worthy—and trying—endeavor. I do not seek to interfere in your affairs, and indeed, have proved cooperative where the Crowns are concerned, both in Council and in the manse itself.

  “You are not, however, here to interfere in a collegial discussion with a fellow Councillor. I find it odd that you are here at all.” He glanced at Jewel as he spoke, but his glance contained no suspicion; to Haerrad, Duvari was the greater threat.

  “You mistake me, Councillor. I do not seek to interfere in your discussion, but the security required by the Kings takes precedence until after the funeral, and Jewel ATerafin’s services are required now.”

  “And Jewel ATerafin is part of your security precautions how?”

  Duvari raised a brow. He looked, to Jewel’s surprise, almost bored. It wasn’t an affectation he adopted often; she couldn’t think of a single other occasion. “You play games as well, Councillor. You are aware of the fact that the undereducated ATerafin has value to the Crowns; you cannot possibly hope to claim the House Seat if you have somehow managed to remain in ignorance of the reasons.

  “You are here because you are curious. You are not the only Councillor to have shown an interest in holding such a discussion this eve. You are merely the first. Jewel ATerafin has, however, been seconded to the service of the Crowns for the duration of the funeral rites.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Your audience with Jewel ATerafin is now at a temporary end. After the closing ceremonies, you may resume it in whatever fashion House custom deems acceptable.”

  “By whose authority?” Haerrad’s voice was soft; the words were quiet.

  “By the authority of the regent,” was Duvari’s bland reply. “I am not cognizant of all of the customs of House Terafin,” he added, which was almost certainly a bald-faced lie, “but I believe that the regent’s word, in this case, will suffice.”

  It almost didn’t. Haerrad stood motionless, considering Duvari. Whatever he had said to Avandar—and, more important, whatever Avandar had said to him—was of less significance. How much less, Jewel could only guess. And hope.

  “Very well,” he finally said. “I will speak with the regent.”

  “You will have, I believe, a small wait; if you were the first to come directly to Jewel ATerafin, you will be the last to go directly to the regent. Good evening.”

  Haerrad left five minutes later. They were distinctly chilly minutes. Only when the door closed on his back did Jewel relax—and even then, not by much, because Duvari was still in the room.

  Duvari glanced at Jewel; he didn’t speak. She finally did. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  “No.”

  Nonplussed, Jewel nonetheless recovered quickly. “If you came to speak with the guildmaster, she hasn’t returned yet.”

  “I did not; I am well aware of where the guildmaster is currently situated.” He didn’t move; he occupied the same small space in the waiting room that Haerrad had, without the benefit of either guards or chair. He didn’t need them.

  “If you would care to inform the Councillor of the identity of the person with whom you wish to speak—” Ellerson began.

  “I would not.” Duvari loosely clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Very well, Master Duvari. May we offer wine, water, or light refreshments?”

  Duvari raised a single brow in silence.

  “I can assure you,” Jewel said, before anyone else could speak, “they won’t be poisoned.”

  The other brow rose. After a pause, both brows settled into their normal position; she could almost hear them snap into place. “That will not be necessary.”

  “The refreshments or the assurances?”

  “Either.”

  Jewel turned to Avandar. “Leave him here,” she said, which was pointless because Duvari had already made clear he was going to remain here anyway.

  Avandar had shed some of the don’t-come-near animosity, but he was still both stiff and angry. He managed a clipped nod.

  She turned toward the door that led to her room, and Duvari cleared his throat. She didn’t turn back, but did pause.

  “A word of advice, ATerafin, if you are of the mind to accept it.”

  “It depends on the advice.” She realized, as she spoke, that she was angry as well. It was an amorphous anger. Duvari was not a man she had ever liked, but somewhere along the way, she’d lost some of her fear of him. She wondered if it was something she needed to find again, in a hurry.

  “You are no doubt aware that you must choose your allies and associates with care.”

  Jewel nodded.

  “Perhaps you are less aware of the fact that you must choose your enemies with just as much care, and vastly more caution.”

  She turned, then, her hands sliding up to her hips almost before she could stop them. They were trembling. “And are you telling me, Lord of the Compact, that you are, or will be, my enemy?”

  “If the events of the night play out in an unfortunate manner, ATerafin, yes.”

  A hundred words rushed to leave her mouth in heated fury; she slammed her jaws shut on all of them. “How often,” she finally said, her voice thin, “do enemies invite themselves into my home?”

  “Not often, granted. You will find, however, that there are very few Houses whose doors are closed to me. Even yours.” He nodded as she managed to fail to reply. “I will not further interrupt your evening’s plans, ATerafin.”

  She turned, opened the door, and almost ran into Haval, who, burdened by bolts of cloth around which he’d painstakingly wrapped his clothing-in-progress, failed to see her.

  She managed to steady those bolts, catching them in open palms and pushing against them as Haval rebalanced his weight. He peered between them, looking less friendly than Duvari or Haerrad had.

  “Sorry,” she told him, cringing.

  “Not nearly as sorry as you will be if your hands are anything less than perfectly clean.”

  Ellerson—not Avandar—moved in to help Haval, adroitly navigating between them. Haval allowed the domicis to touch his precious creations, reserving a severely disappointed look for Jewel.

  “Shall I call for a carriage?” the domicis asked.

  “Please.” To Jewel, he said, “I will return first thing in the morning. I will have rather more baggage when I do, and I will require a
room in which to work.”

  “Will Hannerle come?”

  “It is a possibility.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “She is—” and stopped. Straightening, he offered her a short bow. “My apologies, ATerafin. I believe I now understand the reason for your almost inexcusable clumsiness.” He looked through the barely open door.

  “We had guests. Haval?”

  His smile was thin and strange; it transformed his face, and not in a way she liked. At all. “I believe I will ask you to inform me of all of the events that occurred this eve, ATerafin.”