The Riven Shield

by Michelle West

  She nodded.

  “It is considered possible that the attempts were unrelated, but we believe that they were part of a larger war. It is for that reason—and that alone—that the armies were sent to the South.”

  Finch nodded again. She understood what the significance of loss in that war meant: She had lived through the Henden of the demon voices, and she would never, ever forget it.

  “It is not in the interests of the Kings to play favorites among the candidates a House fosters for its succession,” he told her quietly. “Nor is it in the interests of the Empire. How much of the history of The Ten do you know?”

  She shrugged. “As much as anyone does.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The Lady Veralaan was the sole surviving child of the ruler of the Empire. Her brothers had killed each other, somehow, and her father was dead. The Blood Barons thought to gain her hand in marriage, and with it, the Empire. But her father had given her into the keeping of the Mother, and in the halls of the temple, she had been trained as a priestess. So she knew what that marriage would mean for the people who weren’t born to power.”

  “Go on.”

  “She prayed. She asked for help. And the Mother interceded, summoning her into the Between, where she met the Lords of Wisdom and Justice. Time passes differently there, and she stayed with them. In the Between, the Twin Kings were born to Veralaan, the heir to the Imperial throne.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Although she was gone a few days—or a few months, the story isn’t always the same here—when she returned, the sons she bore were of age. They were presented to the assemblage of the patriarchs, the scions of the Blood Barons. She abdicated her throne to her sons.”

  He nodded.

  “The Blood Barons weren’t really thrilled. But the people were. Veralaan’s sons, Cormalyn and Reymalyn the first, made it clear that they were willing to wage a war for control of the Empire which was theirs by right of birth. They traveled the Empire, and survived many attempts on their lives, seeking the support of the nobility in their war. In the end, ten of the most powerful of the families who governed the Empire chose to lend them their support. The Ten,” she added softly, “who rule now. They came from the West, and the East, from the North and the South, and they came bearing arms, at the head of small armies, to lay their swords at the feet of the god-born.

  “The Kings accepted their pledges of allegiance.”

  He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. He didn’t seem to blink at all; his eyes were luminescent in lamplight, in darkness.

  “We celebrate those vows every year,” she told him quietly.

  “Indeed. In Henden, in the darkness, and in Veral, in the Spring. But understand that the offer of The Ten was not so simple an offer as the High Days make it out to be in story; that if it involved nobility of purpose—and it must have—it also involved the brokering of power.

  “The Kings accepted conditions to the rule of The Ten when it accepted their pledges. The Ten were to be first among equals in the new world; they were to have their seats of power within the grounds of Avantari; they were to be left to their own devices in ‘internal affairs.’ In essence, the Kings were to allow them rule of their own. The laws that bind the Ten and the laws that bind the rest of the Empire are somewhat different.

  “It is not, as you might guess, to Duvari’s liking.”

  “Nothing is.”

  He smiled. She had forgotten, until then, how handsome he was. Finch, like Jay, distrusted handsome men. “The oaths that were made to The Ten were binding. They are recorded, even if they are not examined often. In a House War, the Kings’ hands are tied by those pledges; they will not intervene unless the war itself is of such a magnitude that it encompasses those who are not allied with the Houses.”

  She nodded.

  “If The Terafin chooses to kill you,” he said evenly, “and you are incapable of defending yourself, the law will not intervene on your behalf.”

  She nodded again.

  “And if a member of the House chooses the same course,” he continued, “the same law applies.”

  “But—”

  “There is no but.”

  “But—”

  He smiled. “There is a reason that the death of Alea, among others, was not reported to the magisterial guards.”

  “But there have been cases, in House history, where members of the House have been turned over to the magisterial. Uh, the magisterial guards, I mean.”

  “Indeed. On all occasions in which the crime committed has been committed outside of the jurisprudence of the House. If a House member murders an outsider, or commits an act of treason, the House member forgoes the protection of the House. This, too, is written in the covenant between The Ten and the Kings. But in cases in which the wrongdoing is entirely internal, justice is an internal affair.

  “The Terafin, in order to ask for Royal intervention, would have to cede to the Kings what has never been ceded in the History of the House: her sovereignty. I understand that you grew up within the warrens of the hundred holdings; that the force of law does not therefore seem sacrosanct to you. You have lived with the limitations of men, not the rule of the law, for the whole of your life. But the theory of your life in the holdings and your life here are different.”

  “Does it matter? It’s all just words.”

  “It matters,” he said softly. “We believe that the first would-be assassin did not intend to make the death of The Terafin obvious; that he in fact intended the opposite: To replace her, to assume her form and her role.”

  “If that had happened, the Kings would—”

  “The Kings,” he said softly, “would rely solely upon the Astari.”

  “The Astari? I . . . I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” he told her gently. “It is why I came this eve. I thought it might be preferable to a visit from Duvari.”

  She nodded.

  “Had the control of the House devolved in such a fashion, the Kings would rely upon Duvari and the men and women who serve him. They would rely upon shadows, Finch; upon a war waged in those shadows. In order to move openly against the House itself, they would have required proof of a type that would be hard to obtain, if not impossible, without the direct consent of the other Nine.”

  “But surely The Nine—”

  “No. That is what you must see, and see clearly. The Nine would know, when approached by the Kings, that by granting them this tacit permission they would be endangering their own power in the future. Even if the House itself were aligned with the worst of our enemies, they would turn a blind eye until it was impossible to do otherwise. If the City itself were under siege, if the armies of the enemy were at the gates, the Kings would have their full cooperation.

  “But until then, they would insist that the matter reside within the power of the Houses, by the laws written at the beginning of the Kings’ reign, centuries ago.”

  She absorbed this quietly. After a moment, she said, “But if the Astari moved against the House, The Nine would know.”

  “Indeed. They would know. But unless they were forced to acknowledge it, by some clumsiness on our part or some threat on the part of the creature who ruled Terafin in human guise, they would turn a blind eye. They understand the necessity of such a delicate operation.

  “It is clear that our enemies have some understanding of this condition. Clear, at least to Duvari, that they intend to manipulate such conditions to their full extent.”

  “But why our House?”

  “Why indeed?”

  “You don’t think it’s only House Terafin.”

  He said nothing. She realized that he would continue to say nothing.

  “Devon, why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I think it is somet
hing that you have failed to understand.”

  “Why is it necessary that I understand it?”

  “You are a member of the House Council,” he replied grimly.

  “You don’t approve.”

  “The choice was not mine to make. And although it may seem strange to you, Finch, under other circumstances, I would do more than approve. I have some understanding of the den, and I trust it entirely. You have been tested in ways that most people—with luck—will never be tested, and you have passed those tests, and survived.”

  “But it’s not ‘other circumstances.’”

  “No,” he conceded.

  “And in these ones?”

  “I think she risks your lives needlessly.”

  Finch grimaced. It was a prettified version of what she herself thought. “We have to trust her,” she said quietly.

  “Yes. You do. But it is not lack of faith in The Terafin that prompts my visit. While she presides over Terafin, there is no question of her loyalty.”

  “It’s the others.”

  “It is, as you put it so quaintly, the others.”

  “Does Duvari trust Jewel?”

  Devon considered his words with care. Finch, who had learned only late in the game to do the same, envied him his poise. “Duvari considers the attack upon Jewel ATerafin to have been a genuine attempt upon her life.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” he said, giving up, “that he trusts her because our enemies clearly want her out of the way.”

  “You told him.”

  Devon did not reply, not directly. But he continued to speak. “He is willing to support her rule, if it comes to that.”

  “The others?”

  “Are being investigated. Understand that that investigation is hampered; it does not, in theory, exist.”

  Finch nodded, because she did understand it.

  “Understand that we, too, watch.”

  “Watch?”

  “The others,” he said quietly. “And the den.”

  “I won’t spy for you, if Jay won’t.”

  He nodded. “I know.” Rose. “And I would not ask it. Not directly.”

  “Indirectly?”

  “Indirectly, I ask that when you take your guards with you to the House Council meetings, you accept one of my choosing.”

  “The House Guards are chosen by The Terafin.”

  “Yes,” he said softly, “and no. She will accede to your wishes if they are clearly stated; she has done so with each member of the House Council. This is not House Kalakar; the House Guards are not, by virtue of their position, accorded the House name. They earn it, or they fail to earn it.”

  “Does she know you’re here?”

  “What do you think, Finch?”

  Finch grimaced. “She knows.”

  “Very good.”

  “Who is this guard?”

  “An associate of mine.”

  The words were met by silence. She absorbed them, turned them over, understood that, unlike the letters she struggled with, they would never be consigned to anything as permanent as paper. “I’d have to meet him. Or her.”

  “Of course.” He walked to the door and swung it open silently.

  “Gregori,” he said.

  “Devon—”

  “ATerafin?”

  “I meant—later. I mean—”

  A man stepped into the room. He was dressed in Terafin House colors, but his movements were subtly wrong for a House Guard. His hair was dark, his eyes dark, his face slender. He bowed as Devon closed the door behind him.

  “Finch ATerafin,” Devon said gravely, “I would like to introduce you to Gregori ATerafin, the newest member of the Terafin House Guards.”

  Finch looked up; she had to. He was tall. Taller than Devon. “Are you Astari?” she asked him bluntly.

  One of his brows rose; he looked at Devon, and Devon nodded.

  “I serve the Kings,” the stranger replied, his voice slightly higher than Devon’s. “And I serve the House.”

  “You can’t serve both.”

  “No? You serve the House, and you serve Jewel ATerafin.”

  “In case you’ve failed to notice, she is Terafin, so it’s a stupid example. And anyway, Jewel ATerafin would never do anything to harm the future of the House.”

  He smiled. “Perhaps. You think I would, ATerafin?”

  “I—”

  “Think carefully before you answer,” Devon told her. “If the House Guards are not always chosen directly by The Terafin, the members of the House are.”

  Gregori ATerafin. ATerafin, same as Finch. She knew what she’d done to earn it. Wondered what he had. Remembered the woman who ruled the House. “I . . . I guess not.”

  Gregori’s smile was sardonic. “I have never made a vow with intent to break it. What I have offered The Terafin, she has accepted.”

  Finch hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said at last, speaking to Devon. “Jay makes all the decisions.”

  “Jewel is not here,” Devon told her quietly, his hand upon the edge of the open door. “You are. She trusts you; think about what has been said here, and decide.”

  It was late.

  Sleep eluded her only because she held it at bay with lamplight and company. That company watched her quietly, his hands behind his back, his shoulders an exquisitely perfect line.

  “Well?” She prodded the edge of her desk with her left toe; her shoes were somewhere under the bed.

  “It is not a decision I can make for you,” Ellerson replied. “What is your own feeling in the matter?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Then refuse.”

  She shrugged, restless. “I don’t want to make Duvari angry. Or suspicious.”

  “You are unlikely to make him angry,” Ellerson replied. “And he is already suspicious. Nothing you can do, short of joining the Astari, will allay those suspicions; they are at the heart of his chosen vocation.”

  She nodded. “What would you do if you were me?”

  He smiled. “I am not you, Finch ATerafin. I am merely domicis, and matters of such a political nature are not a part of my duties. Why do you dislike the idea?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I like him.”

  “Ah. And if it were Devon ATerafin who offered his services, would you accept them?”

  She thought about this, or tried; she was very, very tired. “Yes.”

  “Because?”

  “I know him.”

  “Do you?”

  Thought about this. After a moment, she shook her head. “Ellerson?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  He was silent.

  “I want to know.”

  “I think you already know.”

  “Okay, I want to hear it.”

  He sighed. “I think,” he said quietly, “that it is likely that The Terafin will die. As she is aware of this, she has gone to some length to protect what she values in the House she has built. You are all that remains of that protection at the moment; you, the den, and your absent leader.

  “If the Astari cannot protect you when such protection is required, I cannot think of anyone who can.”

  “Jay,” Finch replied.

  “Jewel,” Ellerson told her gently, “is not here. It is to be hoped that whatever holds her in the South will release her in time.”

  In time. Finch closed her eyes. “Is it always like this?” she asked him, in the darkness behind her lids.

  “It is often like this,” he replied. “Come, ATerafin. It is late. You have a meeting with the House Council in the morning. I have taken the liberty of choosi
ng your clothing.”

  She nodded. But she wasn’t allowed to sleep yet. There was one more duty to attend to.

  Captain Torvan ATerafin waited in the kitchen.

  Finch joined him there. Although the operations of the den had been moved over the last few weeks into the heart of the rooms she occupied, there were some things that were best done where they had always been done.

  The table was bare; the lamp was the only source of light in the room. Windows were shuttered, but moonlight appeared through the cracks of wooden slats, half turned to allow its entry.

  Of all of the House Guards, it was Torvan she most trusted. Torvan ATerafin, one of the Terafin’s Chosen, had been the first man to show them mercy when they had stood outside of the gates of the manse. Had it not been for his intervention, for his instinctive trust, Arann would be dead. Jay had never forgotten the debt.

  Nor had any member of her den.

  He looked up as she entered the room, and waited in silence while she made herself comfortable. Or tried.

  His smile was gentle. “ATerafin,” he said, the formality of the word eased by its warmth.

  “Angel and Carver are going to join the House Guard,” she told him.

  He nodded. “We were given that much warning.”

  “They’ll attend us at tomorrow’s meeting.”

  “Jester?”

  “I think the quartermaster thinks he’s too short,” she replied.

  Torvan laughed. “He is too short to be suitably attired on short notice, yes.”

  “Is there anyone else we should take? We’re allowed four guards.”

  “Have you any you wish to second?”

  “You.”

  His smile faded. “I am honored by the request,” he said gently, “but it is not a request that I am capable of fulfilling”

  “But—”

  “The Chosen serve The Terafin. I cannot serve you in that capacity, although I assure you I will be present.”