Battle: The House War: Book Five (85 page)

Andrei bent and lifted a pair of shears. “Haval, the mess here is almost overwhelming.”

“It is an ordered mess,” Haval replied. “I remember where everything has been laid. I expect no hands but mine to touch anything in this room; it is arranged in a way that is convenient to me.”

Andrei set the shears down. “I am here to examine the right-kin’s personal quarters. He was to accompany me. Will you do the honors?”

“I will—but I expect to be informed of any difficulties you perceive.”

Andrei exhaled, but nodded. “I do this not for access; I have already been granted access.”

“Of course. You will tell me because you are certain that I am one of the very few people in this manse that will understand—and remember—the whole of what you say.”

“Hectore will not be pleased to see you so intimately involved,” Andrei said, as he stepped aside to allow Haval to leave the room.

* * *

Haval said nothing. He led Andrei to Teller’s chambers; the door was not locked. Had it been, he would have opened it. They entered the room together. Haval closed the door at his back, and stood against it, observing the Araven servant as he made his way, with care, toward the office, with its shelves, its more modest desk. He touched very little.

In truth, Haval was not ill-pleased to have Andrei in the Wing. Jewel’s particular abilities compensated for somewhat lax security, as did the plethora of guards with which she was often reluctantly surrounded. The cats were so swift in their response to danger, they reacted almost before she could.

He did not discount the importance of the Chosen, but he did not privilege it, either. He trusted her domicis with the protection the cats might fail to provide; they were not naturally strategic thinkers, in Haval’s opinion.

Had he been certain that the cats would remain as guards for Finch and the right-kin, he might have been less concerned. The cats did not trouble either of the two with their pranks; they did, of course, share their voluble complaints, but not even Jewel escaped those.

Haval was uncertain that the leash that restrained the cats would remain in place if Jewel herself were not present; if they slipped that leash, it would be disastrous. He was not certain that The Terafin was aware of the control she exerted. The cats whined, complained, destroyed carpets and occasional pieces of furniture when they sulked—but they obeyed her. They obeyed her express commands while attempting to maintain the polite fiction that they did so voluntarily.

But they appeared, to Haval’s eye, to understand the commands it did not occur to her to put into words. Shadow had never harmed Ariel. He had never attempted to frighten her. He was content—barely—to allow the girl to pull his whiskers and treat him as a large pillow. She adored the cats.

Jewel didn’t question this. She saw—as she often did—what she expected to see. What she desired to see. Jewel herself was not comfortable with silent and utter obedience. She assumed that the cats were not comfortable with offering it. But in Haval’s opinion, they were. They were perfectly capable of killing for sport or for distraction; they were capable of true menace.

They responded to her. They responded to the unspoken desire for familiarity. Were they more fractious than her den? Yes. And in words, far less mature. But they were not more fractious than the den, in the years of its formation, had been. More deadly, yes, but that, Haval thought, was immutable.

She controlled them the way she had controlled the spirits in her garden: without thought, without conscious word, without the need to express her desire clearly. She did not realize how much of herself she had laid open to the dreaming, to the cats, to the wilderness that she did not understand.

All of the sleepers had been gathered in Jewel’s forest. They were entertained and feted while they waited for her arrival.

All but Hannerle.

How much control was it necessary for Jewel to learn? She was not, now, in full and conscious control of her manse; were she, Carver and Ellerson would not be missing. Haval presumed them dead; Jewel did not. Their disappearance was the only element that now troubled Haval. Hannerle, he understood. He dispensed with anger, compartmentalized it. He knew what had happened.

Andrei had paused for too long at the side of Teller’s desk.

“I have tested the ink,” Haval said.

“I don’t know why you waste your time on these gambits, Haval; Hectore is not present. My concern is not, as you suspect, with the ink; I have not bothered to check it. Had I known you to be in residence here, I would have dispensed with this visit entirely.”

“And that would have been a misfortune,” was Haval’s smooth reply. He approached the desk. “You have seen the library.” It was not a question.

Andrei nodded.

“Understand that it became as it is in minutes.”

The servant did not reply.

“Did you inspect the library at all?”

“In a desultory fashion.”

“Did you detect magic there?”

Andrei was silent for a long moment. “No.”

Haval was surprised. He allowed some of this to show. “Nothing?”

“I was not given leave to peruse the environs at my own whim—but no. There was no magic upon the gate that led to the dining room, and no discernible enchantment laid against the wrought-iron arch through which the rest of the manse is accessed. We were not invited into The Terafin’s personal chambers; if there is enchantment there, I am unaware of it.”

“There is almost certainly some.”

“The House Mage?”

“Or the domicis.”

“Does the domicis otherwise interfere with magical protections?”

Haval considered this for a moment. “No. He is not a man who lacks confidence in his own abilities. Nor does he doubt hers.”

“You have personally cleared the servants.”

“I have not thoroughly done so, no. I am here as a
tailor
, Andrei. That is not completely a front.”

“I wish to have the desk replaced.”

Haval nodded. Andrei left the desk and approached the bookcases. Teller kept many volumes in his personal rooms. He was the only one of the den to do so; he had an affinity for books that his den-kin did not share. Andrei stiffened.

“You would like to replace the bookcase?” Haval asked.

“Haval, I find this entire visit something of a trial. Please do not add to it.”

“He is very attached to his books.”

“I imagine this is a well-known weakness. There are three volumes here that must be removed immediately.”

Haval froze. “Can you remove them safely?”

“Two, yes.”

“The third?”

“I am not certain.” Andrei did not touch any of them. “Leave them for the moment; let me check his room.”

Haval remained in Teller’s office, considering this new, and unwelcome, information. He did not doubt Andrei. But it added a layer of complication which would have to be dealt with. He considered Hannerle. He considered her anger. He considered the ways in which he might approach her, if he wished to remain involved.

He loved his wife, and understood her well; he knew her weaknesses and her strengths. He could, with little effort, step back to examine them all as if they were a topographical map and he was considering the movement of armies across its surface.

“Haval, remember to move on occasion.”

“The room?”

“There is very little in the room; it is, in my estimation, clean. There are two capes which appear to be enchanted; the enchantments, on second glance, are minor protections—against rain, perhaps. Finch’s rooms?”

“The books, Andrei.”

“I believe I will require the aid of the domicis or the House Mage for the third volume. I could remove it; I could not remove it with any finesse or subtlety.”

Haval nodded.

* * *

Finch’s rooms, in the end, were relatively clean. There were two items that Andrei considered suspect, one a necklace and one a bracelet. Finch had very little in the way of jewelry, given her status as a House Council member.

“At least one of those is a gift from a merchant,” Haval said. “He currently presides over one of the mining concerns.”

“Is the merchant ATerafin?”

“Yes.”

Andrei closed his eyes. “Ludgar?”

Haval nodded.

“Haval, that is
not
what I wished to hear.” Andrei grimaced and pocketed the necklace. “The bracelet was a gift from a similar source?”

“Almost certainly. The Terafin’s closest advisers have not yet mastered the art of ostentation. They did not come to the offices they hold with any measure of wealth. They tend to hoard, rather than spend, where it is at all practical. Take the bracelet. Evaluate it at leisure. If I am not mistaken, Finch wears one necklace and no bracelet. The necklace was a joint gift from Lucille ATerafin and Jarven for one promotion or another.”

“That does not make me less suspicious.”

“No, of course not. But if Finch is in danger from Jarven, there is very little you will be able to do, in the end, to preserve her.”

C
hapter Twenty-six

A
T HAVAL’S INSISTENCE, Andrei did not stop with the two suites. He was not asked to thoroughly inspect Haval’s workroom, but did not seem concerned. Nor did Haval lead him to the room in which Hannerle now slept, although he considered it with care while Andrei inspected the rooms of the other den members. There were very few men who were as thorough as Andrei; there were very few who were as suspicious.

Andrei did not suffer from the natural arrogance of the mage-born. He did not consider his own skills to be up to any conceivable task. He often made the mistake of assuming too much competence on the part of erstwhile enemies, but one rarely suffered from errors of that nature.

Haval was not pleased to discover that all of the rooms—with the notable exception of Jester’s—contained items of concern. None were as egregious as Teller’s books, but the fact that they existed at all was troubling. Only Ellerson’s much sparer quarters were pronounced completely clean.

Hannerle
.

Haval was not a notably sentimental man; he had seen too many to their deaths, and if his had not always been the hand that killed them, it signified little. He had known, the day Ararath had left his store that he would never return. But he had known, on that day, that very little could dissuade his friend. Haval did not expend effort where it was fruitless.

Hannerle frequently did, but that was her nature; she was, in spite of her temper and the frequency of professed disappointment, a
hopeful
woman. Haval exhaled.

* * *

Angel’s rooms were, like Jester’s, sparse. Like Jester’s, the closet held very little in the way of formal clothing—but not none. Angel was frequently Jewel’s companion of choice. He did not seem to appreciate the clothing he was forced to wear when his den leader had inherited the title, but he kept his complaints largely on the correct side of his mouth.

One of the few differences between the rooms of these two men was the weaponry. Jester had daggers. Angel had those, but also owned a short sword, a long sword, and an ax that had seen better decades, in Haval’s opinion. Given the expression on Andrei’s face, he concurred.

It was not, therefore, any of these weapons that drew his attention; it was the pole arm that rested against the wall beyond the clean—and clearly unused—writing desk. Haval noted it immediately; he generally noted everything in a room immediately. Andrei came to it a few minutes later.

But Andrei’s eyes widened; his lips parted. No words escaped and as Haval moved to better see his expression, he realized no words would. He had never seen Andrei so discomfited; the Araven servant could not take his eyes off the weapon.

“Haval—where did this come from? It was not in the Terafin armories.”

Haval did not reply.

Andrei hesitated before he inhaled and found his customary poise. He approached the weapon, reached for its haft, and stopped. “Haval.”

“You recognize this weapon?”

“Why is it here?” He spoke almost to himself.

“Andrei. The weapon?”

The servant turned. “Do you know where this weapon was obtained?”

“Yes.”

Andrei’s brows rose. “You had something to do with its acquisition?”

“I had nothing whatsoever to do with it. I know where it came from because I heard its owner—its current owner—discussing the fight in which it was blooded. Is it dangerous?”

“It is
lost
, Haval. You are not concerned because you do not understand what this weapon
is
.”

“I am now concerned,” was the mild reply, “because you apparently do.”

“It cannot be what it appears to be. It cannot.”

“It appears to be a bladed spear to my eyes.”

Andrei reached out and gripped the haft. He released it almost instantly. The smell of burning flesh slowly permeated the otherwise still environs of Angel’s room. The servant did not speak for a long moment.

“It is protected.”

“Yes.” Andrei glanced at his hand. “The burn is not serious; it is merely a reminder. Did The Terafin give him this weapon?”

“He chose it; he needed a weapon with reach.”

“I will speak with The Terafin.”

Haval stepped between Andrei and the door. “Do not assume she is an enemy, old friend.”

Andrei lifted one brow. “I make no assumptions. But this is the most unwelcome news I have received in over a decade. I would ask Hectore to withdraw if I thought he would listen.”

At that, Haval chuckled. He was alarmed by the servant’s reaction, but felt no need to share. “There is very little chance of that. If you wish to force him to abandon The Terafin and her stray ducks, you would best be served by hiding the entirety of your concern.”

Andrei shook his head. “You do not understand Hectore.”

It was slightly insulting, but Haval accepted it. He did not entirely understand Andrei; Andrei’s master was not difficult.

* * *

“We are not yet done, Andrei. There are two other suites I would like you to examine.”

All of the obvious frustration had drained from the Araven servant, leaving a remote and silent man in its place. Haval preferred the irritation; he knew, in Andrei’s case, it was genuine.

“You may, of course, bill The Terafin for your time.”

Andrei’s eyes narrowed. “The suites, Haval. Hectore is no doubt giving away half of his fortune and all of his secrets in my absence.”

Haval chuckled. He led him to the room Adam and Ariel shared, and knocked on the door. “This room is currently occupied.”

The door opened and Adam peered into the hallway. He recognized Haval, which Haval expected; he recognized Andrei, which he had not.

“My pardon, Adam,” Haval said, dispensing with the need for secrecy. “We wish to search your rooms. We will touch and take nothing without your knowledge.”

“Who
is
it?”

“Haval,” Adam replied, opening the door to allow the two men entry into his rooms. “And Andrei.”

Ariel was seated beside the great gray cat on the floor; she was leaning into his side. Shadow did not therefore move. “Why are
you
here?”

“We are looking for traces of magic,” Haval replied.

“Why?”

“There are, of course, enchantments throughout the manse—and throughout the Wing; these are expected. There exists the possibility of less acceptable enchantments, and we wish to ascertain that there are none.”

The cat glanced at Andrei. A low growl started in the back of his throat; Andrei did not appear to hear it.

“He is here with The Terafin’s permission. If you have concerns, Shadow, you must speak with The Terafin. She will not be pleased if you injure Patris Araven’s servant.”

The cat hissed. To Adam, he said, “Go and tell her we don’t
want
him
here
.”

It was the second surprise of a long day. Haval weighed both with care. “What is the nature of your concern?” he asked the cat. Adam had made no move to leave the room. “You were not notably fond of Adam when you first arrived, but The Terafin accepts both his presence and his aid.”

Shadow’s hiss extended for several beats. He said, to Adam, “Touch
him
.”

Adam’s brows rose and fell. In Torra, he said, “I can’t just touch him. He’s a guest. If he were dangerous, the Matriarch would
know
.”

“She is
stupid
,” the cat said—in perfectly audible Weston. He growled and added, “So are
you
.”

Throughout this exchange, Andrei attended to the room. Like Jester’s and Angel’s, it was sparsely furnished; unlike Jester’s and Angel’s, its closets were neatly divided and contained no clothing of exceptional worth or note.

“Shadow,” Haval said, “this is not the first time you have seen Andrei.”

The cat hissed. “We don’t want him
here
. If she
needs
him, she can talk to him
upstairs
.”

“I will impart your message,” Haval replied gravely. A glance at Andrei made clear that he did not care for the cat—which, given the cat’s manners was expected—and that the room passed muster.

* * *

The last room they entered was Hannerle’s.

“If you speak of this to any save your master,” Haval began.

“There is no need to threaten me. I understand the danger.” Andrei glanced at Haval, and added, “unless, of course, the threat comforts you.”

Haval took the chair beside his wife’s bed. He had been from her side for several hours. There was water here, and a stack of towels that were clean; he began to tend to his wife while Andrei examined the rooms. There were two; Hannerle’s merited a brief inspection, no more. It was the expected result. Haval therefore showed none of the relief he felt; in truth, the relief was embarrassing.

It faded when Andrei failed to emerge from the sitting room. Haval spoke softly to his wife as he continued to drip water between her closed lips; he watched as she swallowed. Then he set the towel aside. He should have asked Adam to sit with her, but he was still concerned about Shadow’s reaction.

Andrei stood in front of a paneled wall. The seam of the hidden door was clearly visible to anyone who looked with care.

“The servant’s entrance is of concern to you?”

“This one is. The others were not.” He frowned. “I have always disliked the idea that servants are to be invisible in precisely this fashion. The entire manse is no doubt riddled with narrow back halls—all of which cannot be guarded.”

Haval inclined his head. “It is a problem faced in
Avantari
, as well. Thus far, the Kings have failed to be assassinated by their servants—or those who attempt to infiltrate their ranks. They have also notably failed to die when assassins have attempted to utilize those corridors.”

“Thank you,” was the unappreciative response. “I assume your career as a tailor means you no longer play in those corridors.”

“I never
played
in those corridors, Andrei. You are concerned, one assumes, for reasons that are
not
obvious to anyone who pauses to think for half a second?”

“I am. The woman in this room is your wife, is she not?”

“She is.”

“Were she mine, I would have her moved.”

Haval offered no argument. “Do you consider the danger theoretical?”

“All danger before the fact is theoretical. If you intend to involve yourself in Terafin affairs, be concerned, Haval.”

“I am now concerned. What do you fear?”

“Let us return to Hectore. I wish to ask The Terafin for permission to open this door.”

Haval did not point out that permission had not been necessary on any other occasion. “The right-kin’s books.”

“Those as well.”

* * *

Hectore, Jewel decided, would be amused and jovial on a
battlefield
. His momentary discomfiture upon hearing that Haval was in residence in the Wing might have been a trick of a tired imagination; he greeted Haval as if he were an acquaintance of long-standing. His was one of the richest merchant houses on the Isle, and he was a powerful member of the Merchants’ Guild. Yet he did not cleave to the social distinctions that both Avandar and Ellerson so prized; not for Hectore the invisible, nameless servant.

“Andrei?”

Andrei, thus named, seemed to favor Ellerson’s school of thought: he winced when Hectore addressed him. Having been thus addressed, however, he could not slide into the comfortable anonymity of a servant. Jewel felt a twinge of sympathy for him; she knew the feeling well. Of course, in her case, she had desired the Terafin title—a position that all but guaranteed lack of anonymity.

He turned to Jewel and offered her a deep, graceful bow. Nor did he rise until she had bidden him do so. “Terafin.”

“Within these rooms, we seldom stand on ceremony,” she began.

Avandar cleared his throat. Loudly.

Andrei bowed in turn to Teller. “ATerafin.”

“Andrei,” Hectore said, with more than a touch of impatience. “What, exactly, have you found?”

“I require your permission—and the aid of either your House Mage or your domicis—to remove three books from the right-kin’s personal collection. I have—without permission, removed two items from the rooms of Finch ATerafin; I do not intend to keep them or destroy them, but if I have overstepped the bounds of the examination, I will return them immediately to your keeping.”

Jewel felt a twinge of unease. She had been off-balance for all of the day, with the possible exception of the last half hour in the meeting of The Ten. She had no vision to guide her—not in this. Never in this. She resented her talent deeply on those occasions when ignorance was a danger.

It was a danger now.

“I also feel that the entirety of the desk in the right-kin’s personal rooms requires replacement. I will—with your permission—arrange for the replacement. In size and shape, the desk will be roughly similar. In function, there will be no notable difference.”