The sash, on the other hand, was worth more than the dress, and he helped her into it, tied it tight, and made sure she knew how to sit without destroying the lovely four-point flower he made of its length at her back.
“Nervous?”
“Shut up,” she replied, scowling into Jester’s smiling face.
He shrugged. “Hey. I was just going to say you look great.”
She snorted. “I look like someone we’d try to rob, idiot.”
“Given how hungry we’ve been this year,” Angel added wryly, “that is great.” He lifted the skirt and ducked as she whacked him soundly across the top of the head. “I was looking at the shoes! The shoes!”
Ellerson allowed them to continue their childish behavior for at least another minute before he pointedly cleared his throat. This subtle sound could probably be heard over the cries of merchants in the farmer’s basket during a mild trade war.
“The Terafin has sent Torvan to escort you to her quarters,” he said gravely. He said everything gravely, so it was hard to tell from his tone of voice whether or not he thought it was trouble. “You do not keep her waiting.”
“Ellerson,” she said, shoving Angel over and assuming a more dignified stance, “just because we’re poor doesn’t mean we’re stupid.”
“Of course not, ma’am.”
Teller caught her on the way out. “Kalliaris’ smile,” he whispered. He was worried, which meant that it was obvious to him that she was. She didn’t even try to hide it.
“She’s straight,” she said, taking his shoulder and turning him back toward the dining hall. “She won’t do anything to hurt me.”
“Then why can’t any of us go with you?”
She didn’t have an answer to that, and with Teller it was never smart to come up with an off-the-cuff lie. “Go on,” she said, but he forced her to meet his gaze as he stared over his shoulder. After a minute, he nodded and let her go. Or rather, let himself be pushed away.
• • •
“What does she want?”
“I don’t know,” Torvan said, his voice neutral, almost officious.
“Can you guess?”
“Yes. I’d guess it has something to do with the events of the afternoon.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a big help.”
The sound of his heels filled the arches above before he spoke again. “Jewel, she isn’t a monster, and she isn’t a magisterian; you don’t have reason to fear her.”
“She’s one of The Ten!”
“She’s the House, yes. But she’s no threat to you if you haven’t harmed the House.”
“What have you told her?”
At this, he smiled. “The truth.”
“All of it?”
“I’m hardly likely to lie to my Lord.”
“I mean, did you tell her about the—”
“About my suspicions of your talent? Yes. She is my Lord, Jewel.”
“Then what am I supposed to say?”
“The truth.”
One of these days, she thought, as she hid a fist in the gathers of her skirt, I hope I rule this House so I can hit you. “Is she—is she upset?”
Torvan glanced at her. “Jewel.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “You may not know much about the Houses and The Ten. Let me explain, briefly, what I can. None of us—none of The Terafin’s Chosen—were born to Terafin. The Terafin herself was not ATerafin at birth.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Sure. If someone’s good enough at what they do—and if it’s a trade that’s useful—then one of the Houses might sponsor them in. They get a home, a place to work, and the protection of the House—and they also get the name.”
“Yes. And if you understand that, then you understand that many of us—most of us—have other families, and other parents, although we are adopted into this one. We aspire to greatness, to become a part of this House, with its history of nobility and strength in the face of forces that threaten the empire. And when we finally achieve that destiny, if achieve it we do, we owe our loyalty to the House. We have the family of our birth and the title of our House, and between them, were we forced to choose . . .” He shook his head almost sadly. “Coramis is proud to have its son be ATerafin.
“Not all of us are urchins, not all of us are bastards. Some of us come from houses of minor nobility, and some from houses of great riches. Some of us are artists, some warriors, some mages; some of us are farmers and merchants and carpenters. And a very few of us are leaders.
“The Terafin is a leader. But she was not adopted to be The Terafin; she was adopted to aid the house in its political course. She became the heir because she was our best.
“My name is Torvan Coramis ATerafin. Coramis was the family of my birth, and Terafin, the House of my choice. The family name will be mine until I die; the House name mine unless I commit an act of treason or disgrace myself in the eyes of The Terafin. The first is an accident, if you will, the second, an honor.
“Her name is The Terafin, but fifteen years ago, her name was Amarais Handernesse ATerafin.” He turned sharply and began to march down the long hall in silence.
Jewel could think of nothing else to say.
• • •
The room that she was led to was not the first room that she had seen, and certainly not the wreckage that had been made of the receiving room; it was a small room on the uppermost level of the mansion itself, in a hexagonal area that jutted out almost to the edge of the street below.
Everything about it was clean and simple, but nothing was modest; the carpets were heavy, and the rugs upon them of the highest quality; the curtains were of a material that was not even sold in any of the shops that Jewel loitered in or around. The mirror—the single mirror along the wall of what looked like a sitting or dressing room—was gilded, although it was not ornamented; it was silvered perfectly and did not distort the face.
There were chairs here that seemed be to made of a single piece of wood, and that a heavy, dark one; there was also a table, low and long, that seemed to be grown, rather than carved, into an intricate flatbed with reliefs of wide, flat leaves to lift and carry it. The lamps on the wall seemed to contain the heart of fire itself, and the glass that restrained those flames seemed liquid caught in the motion of pouring.
Jewel recognized the artifacts of the maker-born, and she knew that she was looking at the end effect of more money than she had ever seen in her life, even if she added up every copper, half-copper, or lunarii that had passed through the hands of her den-kin as well.
“Are these her rooms?” she whispered to Torvan. He nodded, and if he was amused by her uncomfortable awe, he did nothing to show it. Instead, he came to the edge of the archway that opened, doorless, into the outer rooms of The Terafin’s chambers.
As if his movement were a signal, a perfectly dressed man stepped into view. Jewel recognized him at once; he was Ellerson, only younger and a little less stuffy looking. His uniform was a study in simplicity; a long, pale cream robe with a gold-strand belt worn over house shoes. His hair was pale, more brass than gold; his eyes were dark. If he knew that he was under heavy scrutiny, it did not bother him at all. He bowed. “I am the domicis of The Terafin. She is waiting for you.”
Jewel looked at Torvan. Torvan shook his head. “There are no guards within the chambers of The Terafin unless they are summoned in emergency. She will have no weapons and no hint of turmoil within her personal quarters.
“I wish you luck, Jewel Markess. I hope—” He stopped speaking abruptly and drew his forearm across his chest in salute. Then he turned and walked away.
“If you will follow me.” There was nothing at all rude in the tone or the words, nothing forceful, nothing threatening. But Jewel knew an order, even if it was phrased remarkably like a question, when she hea
rd it. She nodded, cleared her throat as unobtrusively as possible, unclenched her aching hands, and walked in his wake. He led her to a small library.
Above the room was a large, oval dome in which lead, like a web, held stained and painted glass. The sunlight was passing the horizon; by the end of the late dinner hour, it would be gone. Jewel almost wished it were midday, when she might see the ceiling in its full glory. She shook herself and looked down again.
There was no large desk in the room; there was a table as long and tall as a dining table, but darker and much heavier in build, surrounded by shelves placed along the walls. The Terafin was seated at it, book in hand; her hair was no longer bound, but hung at her back like a straight, dark curtain. She wore a simple shift, but again it was not inexpensive. Like the domicis’, it was a cream color, with highlights of gold. She set the book aside as Jewel entered the room.
“Terafin,” the domicis said.
“Thank you, Morretz. That will be all.”
He bowed gracefully and gravely, and then stood, turning suddenly to meet Jewel’s inquisitive gaze for the first time. She gasped, because his eyes were a blue that seemed too bright and shiny, and she had seen too much that was unnatural for one day. But the light faded into a trick of the imagination and he smiled, if a touch coldly, before he stepped out of her way.
Implicit in his gaze had been a threat; Jewel wasn’t certain what it was, or why it was offered. She didn’t have a chance to ask. He left her alone with The Terafin in the lofty confines of the library.
“Come, Jewel Markess. Join me.” She raised a hand and pointed, palm up, to a chair that had obviously been arranged for the interview. Jewel approached it as if it were a cage.
“Do you read?”
“Yes. Some.” It was hard to keep the defensiveness out of her voice, but she managed. She knew that something important was riding on the outcome of their interview. She didn’t know what it was, of course—but she didn’t want to blow it.
“Good. Have you done, or do you deal, with numbers?”
“Some.”
“Have you handled a house, or the affairs of a house?”
She hesitated a moment before she answered, deciding on truth. Lies were complicated; Jewel had learned to use them sparingly, and to blend as much of the truth as she could into the mix. Truth had its own sound, its own special feel, and only a good liar could mimic it well. Jewel was not a good liar.
“No. I—I’ve handled the affairs of my den.”
“Den.”
She nodded.
“How long have you taken responsibility for these children?”
It was not the question that Jewel expected, but then again, The Terafin was so far from what she’d expected that Jewel was only a little surprised, and not taken aback at all. “For almost three years, by my count.”
“Did you have to kill anyone to take your position?”
“Pardon?”
“In some holdings, and in some dens, leadership is decided by the demise of the previous leader.”
Jewel was silent. At last, she smiled. “You know a lot about dens for one of The Ten.”
“Knowledge is my business. You haven’t answered my question.”
“No. No, I didn’t have to kill. I—I gathered. I found kids that were like me, people I could trust. I took them in, and organized them, and found them a place to live. Taught them how to avoid magisterians.”
“I see. What did you do?”
She shrugged, uneasy. “What any den does when it doesn’t have a lot of muscle. Steal what we could from the market or from people in the street.”
“I suppose,” The Terafin said, raising a hand to forestall any reply, “that you’ll claim you had no other choice and no other way of surviving. I’ll not dispute it at this time.
“But if you had another option, would you take it?”
It was a trick. Had to be. “Depends. We don’t kill for money and we don’t have experience robbing manor houses.”
She raised a dark brow. “If,” she said, her voice quite chilly, “I wished someone dead, I would not hand the task to a young woman who is barely adult with no experience and no . . . knack for the skill.”
“Fair enough,” Jewel said evenly, although the blush was in her cheeks. “We’d consider another job, yes. But we won’t agree to anything without knowing what it is.”
“Very wise.” The Terafin placed both of her hands against the top of the table and rose, pushing slowly against it. She closed the book on the desk almost as if the action were an afterthought.
In the room’s light, Jewel could see that the title was in gold inlay, with a leather relief that had been worn with the passage of time. But she could not read the words that she saw; they were not in a language that she understood—or if they were, they were in words so complex that she had never been forced to master them. And Old Rath, while he let her speak as she wanted, had always been a taskmaster. Old Rath . . .
“Did he teach you?” The Terafin asked.
Jewel looked up, aware of what could be read on her face, and not even concerned enough to hide it. “He was my second teacher. My father was my first.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“I tried to rob him.”
She looked very surprised.
“He was an old guy, walking slowly down the street. He was better dressed than any of the rest of them. He had what looked like a money pouch. I hadn’t eaten in four days, or I hadn’t eaten enough in four days.
“I was ten. We’d had nothing but rain for seven days. The rent my father paid had vanished, and I’d managed to lie low for two months in the old apartment until the owner found me out.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “So I was desperate, and not very good at being a thief. Most of the kids younger than me were much better at it—but my father had a real job, and I was expected to have a better one.
“Rath sort of took me under his wing—after he blackened my eye.” That elicited a smile. “I told him about everything. Didn’t realize how lucky I’d been because I hadn’t seen enough of the streets by then to know it. He told me. And told me. And told me.”
“How did Rath occupy his time?”
“Not sure,” Jewel replied evasively. “He’d done some time as a merc. He knew how to fight. Read. Write. Stuff like that.”
“You aren’t telling me all of the truth.”
“No,” Jewel replied.
“And if I wanted to hear it?”
“If I thought you wanted to hear it, I’d tell you.” It was a risky answer, but it was true.
“I’m the lord of my House, Jewel. If I ask a question, I want the answer.”
“But it isn’t a matter of your House.”
“Isn’t it?” The woman’s smile was cold and sharp. “Perhaps it wasn’t; but the mage was summoned, two of my rooms are in ruins, my—Ararath is dead, and the cost to repair what has been done today will come out of the House books.” But she turned her back to Jewel. “However, perhaps you are right. We had our differences, he and I, and I would not be surprised to learn how far back, and for how long, they extended.” She paused. “There will be no funeral.”
Jewel had already said her good-byes, and funerals were for the wealthy—or at least for those who could manage to scrape up enough money on top of what they needed to eat. She shrugged.
The Terafin turned again, her hair a curtain that slid slowly off her shoulders at the motion. “You showed a great deal of bravery, to come here.”
“He told me to come here,” Jewel replied.
“True.” The Terafin’s first completely genuine smile. “That he did. Have you read all of what you gave me?”
“All of it.”
“Very well. This afternoon I sent out my own private investigators. I wished to be able to confirm some of what Ara
rath had written. It’s quite extensive.” She picked the book up from the table and walked over to one of the many shelves that lined the honeycomb walls. It was almost as if she could not—at this moment—sit still, or be idle. “They discovered nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jewel furrowed her brow. “But what were they looking for?”
“Any of the entrances to these so-called tunnels of which Ararath wished me to be warned.”
“But he didn’t tell you where any of the tunnels were.”
“You’re wrong,” she replied, and her voice was shadowed. “He did. In those lists, in the words that he chose, in the way that he put them on the page. Handernesse had its own hidden codes, and even after years away from that family, I have not forgotten them. Had I, I would not have learned what he wished me to learn—and I would not have known for certain that those texts were genuine. He told me much, Jewel. He even mentioned you, although not by name.”
“Did he say anything good?”
“About you?” Another flash of smile. “Yes, or I would not have summoned you. But we have more serious things to discuss.
“I sent my people to the apartment that he called home, and explored the basement. There was no subbasement. Even using magical means, we were unable to detect one. In the end, my people were reduced to digging, both with magical aid and in the normal fashion. We worked with speed and as much discretion as possible. But there was no entrance into the tunnels of which he spoke. None.
“I do not believe that we will find any of the tunnel entrances to which he alluded, although teams of my people will explore those areas of which he wrote.”
Jewel felt a tingling up her spine. “There was an entrance into Old Rath’s place. I’ve used it. A lot.”
“I don’t doubt it,” The Terafin replied. “But at this point we can only surmise that whoever it was who summoned the creature responsible for Ararath’s death was also a mage skilled at gleaning information from an unwilling source.”
Jewel waited for the rest, but the rest was long in coming; The Terafin’s face was pale, except for the shadows in the hollows of her cheeks. Had she eaten or slept since the attack? Jewel was certain the answer was no. “Why do you think that?”
The Sacred Hunt Duology Page 58