Oracle: The House War: Book Six

by Michelle West

  “On?”

  “The drink and the length of the interview. My wife is not particularly pleased with me today, and this is not the only appointment to mar my day’s productivity.”

  “Teller told you I’m seconded as adjutant to Finch on the Council?”

  “He did, indeed, make that clear. He feels that your clothing is not appropriate for the position.”

  Jester shrugged. He lifted a bottle of fortified wine from the cabinet, considering it for a long moment. “If I were there for anyone but Finch, I’d refuse to change.”

  “Yes. I believe he is also aware of that.”

  “And you?”

  “I am aware that clothing does not make the man. Do you have any particular preferences, or will you trust my sensibilities?” Jester retrieved two glasses. He set them down, poured, and lifted them. He had none of the fluid elegance—or the starch—of the Household Staff, and accepted the lack; he sauntered over to where Haval stood, observing him.

  “If it’s good enough for Finch, it’s good enough for me. I don’t care for fussy skirts, though.”

  “No. I don’t believe they would suit. There are certain shades of color it would be best to avoid, as well; most of the blues the House requires will work with your hair.”

  “You don’t appear to be carrying a measure.”

  “No.”

  “You know my measurements.”

  “Yes. The knowledge is inexact; it is based in its entirety on observation.”

  “And you had me summoned because you wanted exact?”

  “No. I wish you to answer a few questions before we proceed to the measurements—or, more precisely, the fittings.”

  Jester shrugged. Questions didn’t bother him, no matter how pointed. They were just words. He could slide out from under them by answering. His answers, however, weren’t generally heavy with meaning. “Fire away.”

  “What, exactly, do you do here?”

  “I see you’re starting with the easy questions first.” Jester smiled. It was bright and lazy. “As little as I can get away with.”

  Haval didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. His expression was smooth as stone, and it gave just as much away. “How little is that?”

  “These days? Finch expects me to deliver three messages—in person—this afternoon. Without giving offense to their recipients.”

  “I believe you have it in you to manage that.”

  Jester handed Haval a glass; the older man accepted it without comment. “In at least one case, yes.” He walked to the largest couch in the room and sank into its center as if his spine were melting.

  “It has come to my attention that you’ve been spending some time in the garden, with the groundskeeper.”

  Jester drank. “And?”

  “While I laud your ability to play host to a new employee, you’ve been spending time with Birgide Viranyi.”

  “I happen to enjoy her company.”

  “You are aware of who she is?”

  “One of the most famous botanists in the Empire. The Master Gardener has been at great pains to threaten me personally in the hopes of keeping my behavior on the up and up.”

  “I imagine he has. Have you found her company instructive?”

  “I still have dirt under my fingernails, if that helps.”

  “Let me ask you the question again. What occupies your time in the Terafin manse?”

  Jester drank, regarding Haval as if seeing him for the first time. Smiling, he said, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Without waiting for a reply, he sipped his wine. Jester’s lazy smile bounced off Haval’s face.

  “Birgide?”

  “She’s Astari,” Jester replied. Haval did not appear to be surprised by the accusation. He barely appeared to hear it. “For reasons I trust I don’t have to explain, I don’t trust the Astari. If the Kings aren’t here, they shouldn’t be either.”

  “You have not asked her about her botany?”

  “I’ve asked her questions she couldn’t answer without some research,” Jester replied. “Not many, though. Whatever she does for the Astari, the botany’s real.”

  “You feel you are now enough of an expert to make that judgment.”

  “After weeks in Birgide’s company? Damn right.”

  Haval’s lips twitched. “It was not one of my more stellar inquiries. What do you think her role in the Astari is?”

  Jester hated, on point of principle, discussion. This, on the other hand, could barely be considered that—it was an interrogation. He could just get up and leave, but he was curious. Curiosity was not one of Jester’s obvious, public failings. It was, however, a weakness. He generally satisfied curiosity by observation. Observing Haval, on the other hand, was like watching rock grow.

  Teller had made clear that he considered this appointment significant, and had all but begged Jester not to screw it up. What Jester wanted to know at the moment was why. He therefore chose to answer Haval’s questions. He knew it was a bad habit to develop. “Poisons.”

  “Very good. Does she keep them here?”

  “I doubt it.” He didn’t. “She’s been studying the big trees in the back. She tried to take a couple of silver leaves, and the branches moved. They don’t apparently like to be studied.”

  “Interesting. The other trees?”

  “Same effect. She’s made no attempt to touch the burning tree.”

  “No. She is not a fool.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “I know of her. My role as clothier to the powerful and well-placed does not often put me in the path of a botanist, however well-regarded.” Haval lifted his glass to his lips. “Do you understand what is about to occur in this House?”

  Jester nodded. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “It is.”

  “And the clothing?”

  “A lesser part of my responsibilities. It is not, however, optional. You will attend Finch in the Council hall, and you will do so in a fashion that does not embarrass her.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  Haval’s lips twitched again, and this time, he surrendered a smile. “Very well. You will embarrass her in ways that do not reflect poorly on me. You have managed to answer very few of my questions. Even Finch is more forthcoming.”

  “If you want a weaker link, try Teller.”

  “Indeed. How much training have you had with weapons?”

  Jester rose and headed back to the cabinet. “About as much as the average orphan from the twenty-fifth holding.”

  “Truly?”

  “No.” He poured. Back toward the clothier, he continued. “I know Jay trusts you,” he said. “I’ve never understood why.”

  “Ah.”

  “You sent her to Lord Waverly.” He turned, glass in hand.

  “No, Jester, I did not.”

  “You had to know what would happen.”

  Haval met, and held, Jester’s gaze. Give the old man credit; he didn’t blink. Literally. “Clever,” the older man finally said. “And perceptive. You have not talked with Jewel about this.”

  “No point. Waverly died. Duster came home with us.”

  “Duster also died.”

  “She was always going to die. The only surprise was why—she bought us time.”

  “You don’t resent Jewel for her death.”

  He didn’t. He was beginning to resent Haval Arwood. This conversation was circling a space where Jester did not go. “Should I?”

  “There is no imperative one way or the other.”

  “The right-kin made clear that this appointment was somehow important. I’ve got maybe five more minutes of good behavior left in me. You want to tell me what you want?”

  “Tell me about the Master of the Household Staff.”

  “I’l
l take that as no.”

  “As you please. What are your impressions of that woman?”

  “She terrifies the crap out of the rest of the Household Staff; she butts heads with the right-kin’s secretary—frequently—and she’d support Iain ATerafin in any position he chose to adopt on the House Council. She is not friendly—she considers it a lowering sin—but she’s consistent. She’s not loved. She is respected.”

  Haval nodded.

  “She has a small plot in the grounds, a flower bed. The Master Gardener is fine with this because he’s just as terrified as any of the under servants. She grows flowers and one or two plants that might or might not produce something edible.”

  “Are they poisonous?”

  Jester laughed. He drank wine, briefly, as if it were water. “Yes.”

  “Has she killed many members of the Household Staff?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “You acknowledge the possibility.”

  “No, I don’t. If she had reason to kill a member of the Household Staff, she would fire them first. It would probably cause the person more pain in the long run. Resigning from a position on staff is one thing; being dismissed in disgrace, quite another. If any member of the House causes difficulties for any member of the Household Staff, she has the pull to have that person removed; she can’t do it directly, but she’s respected.”

  “You do not consider the contents of her small garden odd.”

  “Not as odd as this meeting.”

  Haval smiled. “How did you come across the garden?”

  Jester shook his head. “I’m not answering that one—she hates me enough as it is. If it helps, I don’t take tea with her.”

  “Possibly wise. Do many?”

  “I’ll let you answer that.”

  Haval inclined his head. “Three. She will, on occasion, speak at length with three members of the House Council. One of them is Jewel herself; it is not a meeting that I imagine engenders much joy in either woman. The other is, as you’ve suggested Iain. Iain is a scrupulously careful treasurer; he is also old enough to treat almost everyone with healthy suspicion.”

  “That’s two.”

  “You will have to unearth the third for yourself, although I believe you know of whom I speak.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Jester replied, “I’m about to get drunk. This conversation couldn’t possibly make any less sense.”

  “You will have to drink far more than that. You have a naturally high tolerance for alcohol.”

  It was true.

  “You have several scars on your hands, and one long scar on your left wrist. They are not, to my eye, wounds taken in sword practice.”

  “The twenty-fifth holding was a rough place.”

  “Oh, indeed. I imagine you bear scars from your years there—but the scars of which I speak were not taken in the hundred holdings.”

  Jester shrugged. “I don’t remember where they came from.”

  “I highly doubt that. I will assume a familiarity with daggers and throwing knives. If you had some skill with long daggers, it might prove useful, but it is not entirely necessary. If you are required to kill, it is best to do so in a way that necessitates no obvious weapon and leaves no obvious trace.”

  “I am never required to kill.”

  “A figure of speech. I have known the current Terafin for over half her life. She would not command any of your den to kill.”

  “She wouldn’t command anyone in House Terafin to kill; she’d accept death as an outcome of their duties—but only then.”

  “And so we come back to duties. Tell me, Jester, what are yours?”

  • • •

  Jester glanced at the empty glass in his right hand. He rose. “I think we’re done here.” He walked to the cabinet and set the empty glass down.

  A knife flew an inch to the right of his hand and embedded itself in the rounded lip of the narrow shelf. Jester sighed—loudly—and retrieved the bottle. “. . . or not.” He filled his glass, cupped its crystal bowl in his left hand, and turned. “As a way to keep a conversation going,” he added, grabbing the knife’s slender handle and pulling it free, “that’s not going to get you invited back into many polite houses.”

  “Possibly not. I’m seldom concerned about such invitations on my own behalf, and my wife dislikes patrician company. She doesn’t dislike it enough to refuse their custom, however.” He crossed the room as Jester held the knife out. “Your reaction is interesting.”

  Jester shrugged. “You can’t afford to kill me. Not that way.”

  “No.”

  “Which meant you wanted my attention. Now, you have it.” He drank.

  “Remarkable,” Haval said. “I thought you had potential; I didn’t realize how much.”

  “I have, in theory, wasted potential,” Jester replied. He was grinning. “I’m considered a bit of a gadfly, and a general social failure of the type people enjoy.”

  “Meaning you tweak the noses of the powerful in a way that the rest of the Terafin patricians cannot safely do.”

  Jester nodded. “It’s one of the few amusements I have. I’m not fond of patricians. I make exceptions for my friends, and they’ve obliged me by refusing to become what I detest. It’s a delicate balance.”

  “How familiar are you with the layout of the manse?”

  “The only person with a better sense of the labyrinths behind walls is Carver.” Jester grimaced. “We don’t mention his name much. I don’t suggest you bring him up in polite conversation in this wing.”

  “I had noticed that you’ve become somewhat less withdrawn, of late.”

  Jester shrugged. “The cats could cause more of a ruckus—with less consequence—than I could. They’re gone. It’s on me, now.”

  “Yes,” Haval replied. “It is. As you have failed—several times—to answer a simple question, I will assume, as people will, that you have. And of course, that the answer suits my purpose.”

  “What is your purpose?”

  “I wish to employ you.”

  Jester laughed. It was hard to sustain laughter, given Haval’s utter lack of amusement, but Jester had had a decade of practice. “To hire me? I suggest you run that past your intimidating wife. I’m sure she won’t approve.”

  “She will, as you suspect, have a dim view of the prospect; it is, and will remain, immaterial. You will not be an apprentice clothier.” Haval frowned. “I don’t think you have the patience for it; I do believe you have the eye.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “More or less what you have been doing, with a single notable exception.”

  “You want me to report to you.”

  “Indeed. I have a few questions to which I require answers. They are not,” he added, stepping past Jester and reaching for the wine, “direct questions for you. Even I have a limited supply of both patience and time.” He topped up the glass that Jester had given him one abrupt bend in the conversation ago. “Before she left, I spoke with The Terafin. I suggested that you were underemployed in a variety of ways, and she—reluctantly—gave her approval for this interview.”

  “Did she reluctantly give my consent?”

  “No. I don’t believe she considered the matter; were she here, I would perhaps take her to task for that failure. Or perhaps not. She is seldom subtle, and this appears to be a subtle maneuver on her part.”

  “She expected me to say no?”

  “In retrospect, I believe that was the case.” He drank. He did not have Jester’s garrulous energy; all of his movements were economical. “You know how to throw knives.”

  “Yes. And yes, I’ve had some practice with long knives. I tried the sword, but I don’t have the height for it.”

  “Height is not an excuse. With the right weapon—”

  “I don�
��t have the height for the House Guard. Short of that, there was no point.”

  “And the knife-work?”

  Jester shrugged. “Helps me sleep at night.” He swallowed the rest of his wine in one long, acerbic gulp. “I’m not great at it. I’m good enough for my purposes.”

  “I will not ask for an explanation of those purposes as you seem to find it wearying. I will give you three names.”

  “Do they have anything in common with the messages I’m to deliver—without offense—this afternoon?”

  “Very good.”

  “You know the names. You clearly didn’t pick up on the ‘without offense’ part. I’m well-known for some of my unfortunate foibles—but even those won’t be good enough excuse for accidentally finding myself in possession of information that is not, strictly speaking, public.”

  “You do not feel you are up to the task.”

  “I don’t even know what the task is, but given your expression, no, I don’t. I don’t particularly feel bad about it, either.” He set the glass down, and glanced at the mark in what was otherwise pristine, well-oiled wood. “Nice arm, by the way. Especially at your age.” He headed for the doors.

  “You are aware that Finch has already been subject to one assassination attempt.”

  “I’d be surprised if it’s that low,” he replied. But he did not reach for the door’s handle. “When?”

  “If Finch has not discussed this with the den, I am not certain I’m at liberty to do so.”

  Bastard. Jester turned. “I like playing games as much as the next man, but only when I have a shot at winning. There’s no win in any direction here. Are the three involved—in any way—with that attempt?”

  “Two are not, in my opinion. The third is a possibility.”

  “Name the third.”

  “I decline. You are an observant young man, and you are resourceful. You have taken up the task of being the loud and the obvious in any gathering; it allows you to control the image you present, and allows you, further, to hide behind it. I was capable, in my youth, of doing as you do; it is not an avenue open to me now.”

  “You’d need to be consistently—”

  “Obnoxious, yes. I believe you have twice caused House Terafin embarrassment that was not immediately dismissed. Given the years you have been ATerafin, I consider that significant; you have certainly not spent most of your life behind the shut doors of this wing. I should not keep you further. But if, after the events of the day, you wish to entertain my offer of employment, I will not withdraw it.” He then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will, however, insist that you be properly attired. I want exact measurements, now.”