Battle: The House War: Book Five (16 page)

“ATerafin,” she said quietly, and then, “Gabriel.” She took a seat behind her desk, and indicated that he might, should he so choose, take one of the chairs that fronted it. He accepted the offer. His eyes had the gaunt, sunken look of a man who’s chased sleep for nights without managing to catch it. He had come from the Common, and splinters still adorned the left arm of his jacket, as did the gray overlay of spread ash.

“Terafin.” He lifted his head, straightening his shoulders.

She hesitated. She was aware that Amarais would not now hesitate—and that the hesitation was not, in the end, a kindness to any save herself. “I wish your advice, Gabriel, as a man who has served most of his tenure in this House as right-kin.”

He nodded.

“Teller has served in your office, and under your auspices, for almost the whole of his tenure as part of the House. In your opinion, is he capable of assuming the duties that you undertook with such grace for so long?”

Gabriel met—and held—her gaze. “In my opinion, and inasmuch as all men feel they are irreplaceable, he is.”

“Good.”

“The timing for your question is unusual, Terafin. May I ask why it is of pressing concern at this moment?”

He knew. She was suddenly completely certain that he knew—everything. Embarrassment at having been caught investigating his personal accounts warred with the fact that the accounts merited the scrutiny. She wasn’t certain how Amarais would have handled this because Amarais would never have
had
to handle it: Gabriel had been above suspicion.

“You know,” she said, deciding. “You know why.”

He met her gaze unblinking for a very long time, and then he looked away.

“I will not ask you for an explanation, Gabriel, if you do not choose to offer one. I will make no demands. If you are aware of the ongoing investigation, you are also aware of the ways in which it might be either aided or hindered, and I will not command you, in this.”

The stiffness left his shoulders and his neck, draining slowly away into the silence that followed her words. “And if I ask—”

“Can you? Can you now look at me, in this office, and ask me to drop the investigation?”

He glanced at a point just beyond her left shoulder for a long, long moment, and then he surprised her: he smiled. It was a weary, tired smile, but it was genuine. “No, Terafin. No, I could not. Not in good conscience, and at my age, that has become significantly important. I cannot, however, offer you the aid you will not demand. You have my gratitude.”

“I would keep you, Gabriel. I would keep you as right-kin.”

He said, “No. You cannot. Not now.”

“And failing that,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “I would keep you on the House Council. But that would not, I fear, be a kindness to you—only to me.”

“It would be no kindness, in the end, to you either. It would not have been a kindness to your predecessor; it is always painful to watch a friend fall—and fall, if I remain, I must.” She thought he would rise or leave; he did not. Instead, he seemed to relax into the chair, as if he intended to occupy it for some time.

“Amarais chose you,” he finally said.

She did not mention the claim—and the document—his son had presented to the House Council, proclaiming Rymark as the chosen heir. Nor did he.

“I understand why she did, and in the end—in the very end, Terafin—I did not counsel against it. I did not, perhaps, see the proliferation of the demonic, but the demons had already begun to cast their long and subtle shadows over the House. It is my suspicion that it is not just in
this
House that such a danger dwells.”

Jewel nodded.

“Let me ask a different question. What will you do with Barston? He has worked tireless and thankless hours for decades now, and I would see him—”

“I will retain Barston. He is—as you well know—capable of speaking for himself, and in this, he has indicated a desire to remain in an office that I desperately need functional.”

“Then you will appoint Teller as right-kin.”

“Yes. Is it mention of Barston’s disposition that makes you so certain?”

Gabriel chuckled. “It is, indeed. Teller is more malleable than I, even in my younger years—but when he disagrees with Barston, Barston finds little purchase for actual argument, which both confounds and impresses him. I have done what I could to prepare Teller for this eventuality.”

“Have you spoken with him directly about the possibility?”

“No. I have tried, in subtle ways. I have tried in less subtle ways. When I made clear my intent to retire and leave the whole of House politics well behind me, I attempted to enumerate the tasks my successor would be required to undertake immediately. He listened only until the point I attempted to make clear that I desired that he himself be that successor.”

“Surely that decision is mine?”

“It is, Terafin. But if we are not to dissemble and proclaim ourselves witless or unobservant fools, it is clear to all involved what the most likely decision would be. I have watched your den, and while they are all loyal to you—inasmuch as they can be—there are few who have the necessary experience, or even inclination, to undertake the role. Teller could. I believe, in time, Finch could—but only in an emergency; you would have to deal with both Lucille and Jarven otherwise, and Jarven is not a man you wish to cross.”

“Jarven? Surely you mean Lucille.”

“Do I?” He lifted a brow. The conversation, and its finer points, had engaged him, and he looked—for the moment—like Gabriel of old. It was both a joy and a sorrow; she clung to the joy, because the sorrow was likely to remain on its own. “Teller would not countenance that discussion; I believe if it were possible he would nail my feet to the floor of the office and keep me confined behind its desk.”

“He thinks highly of you, and always has.”

“He will understand, in time, why his respect is both valued and incidental. Yes, Teller is ready. Will you take him to
Avantari
on the morrow as right-kin?”

“That was my intent.”

Gabriel nodded, lost in thought. “And will you assent to my suggestion?”

“Which of the many?”

“Jewel.”

“Apologies. If you mean will I give Jarven the spot on the House Council that you will vacate in your retirement, I have not yet decided. He is not a man I distrust, but he is not a man I trust, either—he is clearly not Haerrad. He has no ambitions that I can see.”

“He is one of the most observant men you will ever meet. It is not entirely comfortable.”

“Second.”

“Second?”

“Second most observant, I think. The House Council seat that will be vacant could be used as incentive to strengthen my own position within the House. I might offer it to Guillarne ATerafin in his stead; Guillarne is possibly the most successful of our Authority negotiators.”

“He is certainly the most flamboyant—and at his age, that is not necessarily a good thing.”

“He is not
old
, Gabriel.”

“Nor is he young, any longer. I feel, at his age, some conservatism should be practiced.”

“I understand that. But if Guillarne’s lack of conservatism continues to serve him well, it will also enhance the standing of the House at a time when it would best suit me.”

“And if it does not,” he countered, “it will tell against you at the time when it will
least
suit.”

“Also true. I will take that under serious consideration. But the Council seat is one of the very few incentives I have to offer someone like Guillarne; I would not be at all surprised to hear that he had already been offered it by at least two others, contingent on his support for their successful bid. Given the fact that there were four new employees at the Terafin Merchant Authority Offices within a week of The Terafin’s death, I can well imagine that he was offered that seat by all of them.”

“You have not asked?”

“No. Will you at least remain in residence in the manse?”

His smile was pained but gentle. “You understand why I cannot.”

“I don’t. Jarven lives here and he has been neither right-kin nor Council member.”

“Jarven is the head of the Terafin’s Merchant Authority operations, and a very real part of the House position among The Ten. As of tomorrow, Terafin, I will not be a very real part of anything but the House history.”

“Our foundations are our history.”

“They are.” He glanced at his hands as they lay in his lap. “I cannot remain here, not in the near future. It will not aid you in any way, and my sudden departure may work in your favor. With your permission, I will return to the office to inform Barston. There are a few personal possessions within the office which I would like to take with me.”

“Gabriel you don’t need to pack up and leave overnight.”

“No, of course not. With your permission?”

She nodded and he rose. Before he left the office, he turned to Torvan. Torvan turned to Jewel, silently asking her permission. She nodded, although she didn’t understand everything that lay behind the silent exchange.

Gabriel
, Avandar said,
has requested an escort of the Chosen.

Why?

They are frequently the guards situated at his door—and in his office, should the need arise. That is not, however, the reason why he wishes this particular escort. You said yourself that he knew the difficulties you now face. He does, Jewel. He understands them very, very well. The Chosen will supervise his retreat from the office he has occupied for decades.

She rose in outrage, and Avandar stepped into her path before she could follow Torvan and Gabriel out the doors.

“He is correct,” the domicis said, retreating into the speech Jewel found more comfortable.

“I don’t suspect him of anything! I won’t have him treated as if he’s a criminal in his own—”

“It is no longer his office. You offered him as graceful a retreat as it is possible to offer someone; he is offering, in reply, a similar gift. He asked the Captain of the Chosen, obliquely, to serve as his escort. Torvan understood what he asked, and he assumed that you understood it as well. You may, if you feel it necessary, burden Torvan with your anger; it was, however, a decision he left up to you.”

And I didn’t understand it.
She heard her Oma’s very clipped
ignorance is no excuse
, and accepted it as her due.

“It will no doubt be a long day, Terafin. Shall I arrange for lunch?”

“No. I’ve arranged for dinner; dinner will do.”

Avandar stood in her path until it was clear that she would not rush out the doors guarded by two impassive men in armor.

* * *

Teller—accompanied by a pale Finch—arrived twenty minutes later. Neither had taken the time to change; nor had they taken the time to eat. They were immediately granted entrance into the office by the Chosen who had been informed of their possible arrival, and Jewel once again wished that she could simply empty the room, because she could see that Teller was angry. Finch, like her namesake, fluttered, looking from one anchor point in the room to the other. Her hands flew in den-sign; neither Teller nor Jewel’s hands rose in response.

Teller did not shout; he didn’t rage. He never had. But his expression and the tight line of his mouth made his feelings plain if one knew him. Jewel did. She didn’t take her seat behind the broad desk. She sat on its outer edge instead, palms gripping the desk’s edge for balance.

“I’m sorry,” she said, in a voice as tight as Teller’s lips. “I found out this afternoon.”

“The investigation didn’t start this afternoon.” Of the two, he had the more even voice.

“No.”

“How long have you suspected this?”

“I didn’t suspect it at all, as you must know.” She waited; it wasn’t easy. After a long pause, in which Teller refused to carry the burden of conversation, she continued. “The information was brought to me upon my return from the Common.”

“And you’ve checked this report for accuracy?”

“No. I trust its source.”

Teller opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. He didn’t pace. Jewel would have, which is why she had chosen to literally cling to the desk.

“Gabriel was removing his
paintings
from the office walls.”

“They
are
his personal paintings.”

“Yes. He was doing so under the surveillance of Torvan and three of the Chosen.”

Jewel clenched both jaws and hands. “He requested that escort.”

“Jay—” Finch began. Jewel did lift a hand, then, and Finch fell silent.

“If you trust the source of the information that has caused this—” Teller stopped himself from speaking again, and she was glad she’d told Avandar she’d skip lunch. She felt as if there was no ground beneath her feet—and what did remain felt an awful lot like falling. “Gabriel deserves
better
than this.”

“Gabriel has never made clear that Rymark produced a forged document in the Council Hall minutes—
minutes
—after The Terafin’s death. He knew. He said nothing. Not then, and not later.”