"This House—it is not me. But while I live, it is mine. I have been told by others with the particular experience I lack that my feelings are not unlike a parent's ferocity of affection for her child." She looked up; the stained glass was dark in the quiet night. From this vantage, the heavens weren't unreachable; they simply ceased to exist.
And it was not from the gods that she would make the only demand that would ease her.
"I had hoped that you would come to me. And you have." She looked across the table at the stricken younger woman.
"Terafin—"
"You know what I ask of you."
Jewel's mouth opened. Closed. She nodded.
"Offer me farewells, if that will ease you. But offer me something that will ease me. I have never asked it, Jewel. But this is the point of no return. When you leave, when you walk through the gates with your domicis, the ties between us are sundered although no one else will know it. I have given you all that I can give, and I have been pleased, even proud of what you have achieved.
"But what you have achieved pales against what you must achieve.
"This House—"
Jewel backed away from the table.
The Terafin thought she would flee. Was surprised at how much it cut when she did, in fact, walk quickly and stiffly toward the doors.
Was surprised at how much it meant when she stopped there, her hands on either side of the crack between them, her forehead pressed against the heavy wood. She lifted her head. Turned.
Her cheeks were wet with tears.
This, this, was why she had demanded, and received, privacy. Because The Terafin could not be seen to be weak, no matter how unnatural such a facade was.
She said, "I don't want you to die."
The Terafin said nothing.
"I don't want to accept what you offer because accepting— accepting it means that I've accepted your death."
"It is not an offer, Jewel. Make no mistake. It is a plea. It is a command. It is a responsibility. But an offer? No. Nothing so simple."
"Terafin—"
"No."
"Amarais."
The Terafin bowed. "Yes. Here, in this room, between us, that is all I am. I have no idea how I will die; I accept that I will, in your absence. It pains me. I confess a certain fear, a morbid curiosity, an unsettling anger. I will, of course, fight it. That is my nature. But I will have your word, here, or I will have your name."
It took a moment for the threat to sink in. She was patient. Wished that she could be more patient—but the time for waiting had passed. I had hoped, she thought, staring at this woman who, born into power, might have been her younger self, that you would come to me on your own.
Ah, well.
"This House means many things to me. But it stands for something. The Sword is Justice, and it is the House Sword."
"What do you want from me?"
"Everything. Protect Alowan. Preserve my Chosen, if they will it. Preserve my House from the war that will divide it if they do not. Become Terafin, Jewel. Become The Terafin."
"You're The Terafin. I know no other."
It was spoken so quietly The Terafin could have chosen not to hear the tremor in the voice, the break, subtle and slight, between syllables.
"You will know no other while I live," she said quietly, stating the obvious because Jewel ATerafin needed to hear it. "Isn't that what this is about? In you, tonight, I see my death. I hate it." The vehemence of the word surprised her. She swallowed. Looked away. Looked back; she owed Jewel that much. "But I also see life, of a sort. The life of my House. You are not who I am. But we value the same things. You will never destroy what I have built."
The younger woman was weeping now, silent and open-eyed. It was painful to watch. She watched, however; those tears were both for her and cried in her stead.
"Jewel Markess ATerafin, I name you my heir. You will serve the House and you will serve the Sword, and if the gods will it, they will serve you."
The tears were slow to stop, but they stopped.
"I will make no announcement. The House is already divided; the war is already in motion. But my death will deliver the news to the four least likely to accept it."
"To the five," Jewel said faintly, attempting to smile. The humor did not fall flat; Amarais accepted it for what it was. "Avandar will be so pleased."
"Yes."
"Morretz?"
She looked away. "He is not what you require. He will not, I think, serve another. Not for years, if at all. The option is open to teach, and many men who choose a life of service, rather than the contracts that are more common, often retire to teach others when the life of their chosen master is abruptly ended.
"Jewel."
The moment stretched out until it was so thin something had to break.
Jewel ATerafin slid, by painful inches, to one knee. "I give you my word," she said softly. "The House will be Terafin, and I—" silence.
Amarais waited.
The tears stopped completely, although their tracks lit her face in wide lines.
"And I will rule- it."
Avandar was waiting for Jewel. The doors to the hall outside of this library had never seemed so heavy, and flight from them so necessary, in all of her years of service. From the first day, struggling for the perfect control that would give her the key to the House if she impressed the cold, forbidding woman on the other side of the table, to the weekly meeting called among the quiet walls of books, this had been the private recess of The Terafin, the place of judgment, the citadel of strength.
Gone, of course.
She wished, desperately wished, that The Terafin had chosen any other room in which to give her orders. In which to make her pleas.
"Jewel."
She'd been avoiding his gaze.
His gaze, she could. He served her, after all. She shook her head, looking at the floor as it passed beneath her moving feet.
But dammit, she was angry, and there was no one else to take it out on. She wheeled on him, disappointed for once that he'd kept his distance. "You wanted to serve a person of power," she said, surprised she could force the words from between her teeth, "so you'd better bloody well be up to it."
His gaze was cool. Condescending, in fact.
Just in case she missed this—and to give him his due, she often did—he said, "Are you finished yet?"
She almost slapped him.
"If I am to serve a person of power, Jewel, you had better be prepared to become one. This… display… is unbecoming, even in a person of the rank you have now."
She was silent because he was right. She'd even forgive him for it someday, although the aggregate of his offenses had piled up enough over the years that it didn't have to be any time soon.
"Let's go," she snapped, turning on her heel. "If we're leaving tomorrow, we've got a lot to do before we go."
"We do." He was quiet a moment. "I must speak with Morretz before we leave."
"Morretz?"
"I believe that's what I said."
"Why?"
Avandar didn't answer. He wasn't going to. He never answered questions about his past. But the futility of asking seemed comfortably familiar. She asked.
His silence, stony and completely impenetrable, made his annoyance plain. She shrugged. "Fine. Go talk with Morretz. I'm going back to the den."
To tell them what?
She froze a moment, hovering between choices that all seemed bad.
And because she froze, she was close enough to hear him.
"Jewel," he said softly, "I am sorry."
Torvan ATerafin came to her.
She had requested his company because she hadn't the right to command. Not yet.
But he came as if the request was a command, damn him.
"Jewel?" he said, as he came to a stop in the narrow doorway of her kitchen. A lamp was burning, even though the day was bright through the windows.
"Don't tell me. I look awful."
"Awful wasn
't the word I was going to use."
"Oh?"
"It's politer." He frowned. At the lamp. Gods, he didn't miss a damn thing.
"Yes," she said, because she knew he wouldn't ask. "It's magicked. Avandar's little gift. What I have to say to you I can't afford to have anyone else hear."
"Where is Avandar?"
She was silent.
He matched her silence with a frown. "I heard that you went to speak to The Terafin."
"I did."
"I heard that you'd argued."
"Good."
"She hasn't revoked your name."
"No."
"Or your crest."
"No."
"Jewel?"
"Yes?"
"You didn't argue."
"We did, but it wasn't much of one. She has all the cards. I don't even have enough left over to make a bet."
"Why did you want to speak with me?"
"Because," she said, rising, "I'm leaving. Tomorrow."
His brows furrowed in confusion; she might have been speaking Torra. She could.
"We'll save the fond farewells," she said, after five minutes had elapsed and the oil had noticeably diminished. "I was to go South with the armies."
"I'd heard that. I hadn't heard they were moving."
"Well, now I'm going as… advance scout."
"There's a reason most scouts are well-paid and highly pensioned."
She laughed bitterly. "I'll be highly paid, all right."
"Jewel—"
"You're captain."
"Pardon?"
"You're captain. You're my captain. When the Chosen lose their leader, make them follow you."
She saw his eyes narrow. Blade's edge now; all frivolity, all humor, gone. "You're speaking about the death of The Terafin."
Gods, the words were cold. She wanted to cry again, standing here, in front of the man who had opened the House to her. Instead, she drew her shoulders back, achieving her full height. That brought her up to his shoulder. Almost.
"What," she said softly, "do you think we were arguing about? You knew what she wanted from me." It was an accusation, and it was the truth. It was also a surprise; a touch of gift that she hadn't even been reaching for.
He was very, very stiff.
"I haven't slept for nine days. I am so tired of this. If I had known what I know now when I first came to your gates—"
"You would have let Arann die?"
She looked at him, hating him for just that moment. "Gods, are you all sons of bitches?"
He surprised her. "Yes." There was something in his expression that she couldn't quite define to her satisfaction, but it replaced the cold anger that had framed the words that included Terafin and death. That had to be an improvement. "Answer the question."
She started to answer, to say something flippant, but the words got mangled by the emotion she was so bad at suppressing.
"Isn't that what I'm risking anyway?"
"Is it?"
"I'm leaving them behind." She looked at light's unnecessary reflection against the surface of the table. Easier than meeting his eyes.
He wasn't one of hers; he didn't touch her. He waited more or less patiently until she looked up again. "I'm leaving you behind."
Waited. Grim now.
"I'm deserting her."
"She can take care of herself."
His turn to flinch. She shook her head. She said, "You're the captain." Past caring now. "You're the only one who'll have prior knowledge. Start preparing." Her hands were fists. She didn't notice until she lifted them and forced them to unfurl; her fingers were literally shaking.
"Torvan—"
"Yes?"
"Protect my den."
She stood, ending the interview.
He said formally, "ATerafin."
"What?"
"Who will she leave this information with?"
"Damned if I know. That's one of the few things that isn't my problem."
"You've never been involved in a House War," he replied softly. "If it's not secure information, it will be far more your problem than any other worry you have now."
"Me."
"As interested party, your word will count for less than nothing."
"Torvan," she said, her voice as quiet as it had been all morning, "don't take this personally, but get out."
He shut up. He left.
And one of the few good things she was certain about as she watched his back disappear was that he wouldn't take it personally.
One more. Only one more to go.
16th of Maran, 427 AA
Avantari, Averalaan Aramarelas
"Wait outside."
Avandar frowned. "Jewel—"
"This won't take long. I won't be in danger. And as far as I can tell—for the usual reasons—the Astari hate you."
"The usual reasons being no reason at all, I assume."
"Right the first time." Although to be fair—which she wasn't going to be—they seemed to hate everyone who had displayed even a trace of magic, and Avandar had certainly done that.
"Jewel—"
"It's only Devon," she said, before she had to hear the rest of the lecture.
"You don't seem to understand, all protestations and anger aside, that he serves another master."
"Oh, I understand it, all right."
"Jewel—"
"But maybe he serves another master just as obediently as you serve me."
That shut him up for the ten seconds she needed. She slid past him and into the office of Patris Larkasir's adjutant.
He rose at once, his eyes widening ever so slightly. That was Devon's version of unguarded surprise.
"Jewel?"
"ATerafin," she replied, setting the tone of their meeting with the formality of his title. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"It depends on who you ask. Patris Larkasir would consider these important." His hand touched a large pile of officially sealed documents.
"I'd like to speak to you in private for a moment."
"George. Please leave us."
The young man who was Devon's only obvious assistant bowed at once. Jewel privately thought he was one of the Astari, but she' d never asked. It didn't really matter. He left them alone, and that was all she wanted from him at the moment.
He waited until the door had closed, although from the way his eyes flickered over the frame, Avandar was practically standing in it.
"Why have you come?"
"To deliver a message."
"From The Terafin?"
"Sort of."
He waited. She was silent.
"Jewel, it's not like you to play waiting games."
"It's not a game."
"What is it?"
"Loss of words. I don't know what to say. No, not true. I don't know how to say it."
He waited.
She said, "I'm leaving."
"Pardon?"
"I'm leaving to go South."
"I'm aware of that. Unless," he added quietly, "you don't mean with the army."
"No, I don't mean with the army."
"What's happened?"
"It's not what has happened, it's what will happen. It's always what will happen with me. Birth defect."
"What will happen?"
She laughed, looking away.
He didn't.
"Jewel."
"End of the world. That sort of thing."
"You'll pardon me if the humor falls a little flat."
"Probably."
"Jewel, why did you come here?"
"Gods alone know. I want you to do me a favor."
"Have we had this discussion before?"
"Not exactly the same one, no."
"But this is House business."
Damn him. "What else?"
He leaned casually against the edge of his desk. Any other man would have hit the pile of Larkasir's documentation—it was close enough to the edge—but Devon knew exactly where to sit. She longe
d, just once, to see him clumsy. Gods knew he'd seen her trip over nothing more than her own two feet on several occasions.
"I'm going South. I'll join the army later."
His smile was thin and dangerous. "You aren't going South with the permission of the Kings' armies."
Devon, you are such a bastard. She smiled. "It's confidential; I prefer not to discuss it."
"I'm sorry, ATerafin. That wasn't a question."
Of course not.
She trusted this man. She knew it not because of the safety she felt when she was with him—it had been years since he'd offered her shelter that she could accept—but because of the anger.
Her smile didn't happen. She got it halfway up her mouth and let it drop. "Don't play stupid games with me, Devon."
He said nothing.
"Does The Terafin know that you spy on the House? Does she know that you—"
"Of course she knows it," he said, the snap in his words as obvious a sign of either anger or weariness as he had ever shown. "She's not a child."
"And I am?"
Again, he retreated to the sting of silence.
When he took up his words again, they were measured. Careful. He was, of course, no less angry. "The Terafin knows I spy on the House. It's one of the ways in which she proves her loyalty to the Crowns. Make no mistake, ATerafin. This is my calling. I am Astari. She could have released me from her service and taken back my name; it would have damaged my ability to hold visible royal office, and it would have changed the role of my life outside of the Astari, but it would not have changed my decision."
She was shocked into silence of her own, which had happened just enough recently that she almost instantly resented it. She worked off the discomfort her anger produced by walking across the room and yanking the curtains shut. The light that filtered through them anyway was muted, reddened; the material in her hand was stubbled like raw silk. She pried her fingers loose.
"You've never said that to The Terafin." The words, like the light just beyond her hands, were muted.
"The Terafin," he replied coolly, "is far too politic to ask. What do you think I am, Jewel? I am her peace offering; I am her pledge of allegiance. I am her willingness—in tangible form—to cooperate with the man whose life is the protection of the Kings.
Michelle West - The Sun Sword 03 - The Shining Court Page 5