Oracle: The House War: Book Six (42 page)

“Not ours, no,” Teller replied—when no one else did. “We expect that Duvari places his spies within each of The Ten Houses; probably further. I would like to know why Vareena was not dismissed if the Master of the Household Staff was certain—but that’s a problem for the future. The problem for now is that we have a twelve-year-old
Astari
who probably wants both herself and her healer dead. That, and the possible presence of a demon who is attempting to wave a huge banner which proudly proclaims his existence.

“Jay will lose all her hair if the Master of the Household Staff quits before she returns. Or quits at all. I don’t actually see Jay being upset about Vareena-as-
Astari
.”

“She will not,” Haval interjected, “be best-pleased.”

“No. But she wouldn’t have the girl killed; she might have her tailed, and she might put her in the way of disinformation. If,” Jester added darkly, “she had ever been informed.” No one at the table thought that that information would have been forthcoming from the Master of the Household Staff.

Finch’s eyes narrowed. She was on the edge of exhaustion; she was not at her best. “Jester.”

He met, and held, her gaze.

“There’s something else.”

“Yes. There is.” He smiled. It was a lazy smile. “If it’s true that Sabienne was likely responsible for the poison—and would have therefore been responsible for Vareena’s death without intervention, something makes no sense to me. I told you that Master of the Household Staff told me, in no uncertain terms, that she considers us all incompetent. She didn’t give me a plan for avoiding future ugliness; she didn’t make clear what she thought that ugliness would be. I assume she’s concerned with Duvari’s possible reaction.

“But the thing that makes no sense,” he said, given the subtle shift in the line of Finch’s mouth, “is that Rymark ATerafin approached the Master of the Household Staff and pretty much laid claim to responsibility for the girl’s death. He knew she was
Astari
as well.”

 • • • 

“Rymark ATerafin.” The word dropped like a stone—a big, ugly stone—into still water. Arendas stiffened in his chair; he refrained from speaking. If he wasn’t here as Chosen, he wasn’t here as den; he occupied a space between the two.

“Rymark,” Teller said, “would never claim responsibility for a death if it didn’t give him a strong political advantage.”

“No. And there’s no advantage to be gained by this. And the girl’s not dead.”

“Is he aware of that?”

“Apparently he wasn’t when he spoke with the Master of the Household Staff; she didn’t choose to enlighten him, either.” He shrugged. “She may have accepted his claim of responsibility; it’s unlikely Vareena told her anything, so she’s unlikely to have other feet to lay it at. She was about as happy as you’d expect.” Jester rose. He paced along the kitchen wall.

“So: Sabienne knew that Vareena was
Astari
. And Rymark knew. That implies that either Sabienne has switched allegiance and is now working with Rymark, or that both Haerrad and Rymark had the same source of information.”

Finch nodded, but withheld her opinion on which was more likely. It was very seldom that she saw Jester think. He frequently claimed that thought was too much work—and for the most part, in Jester’s life, it was. But he had always been observant.

“I think it unlikely that Sabienne would choose to support Rymark’s faction at this point in the game. Faction is too strong a word; there
is
a sitting Terafin, and given the obvious presence of demons, she’s a compelling one. She can’t, to my mind, be killed by the common—or uncommon—assassin. Elonne and Marrick have accepted that.

“Haerrad and Rymark have not.”

“Neither has made any open or overt moves since she took the chair.”

“No. If someone who was considered trustworthy were to approach either Elonne or Marrick with the information that Vareena was
Astari,
I very much doubt they would have acted. They may—or may not—have chosen to share that information with The Terafin.”

“Who isn’t here.”

“Who isn’t here. They would not, to my mind, have had her killed.”

“You think someone gave that information to all of them?”

“I think it’s possible. Haerrad and Rymark are the only two who might have taken the bait.” Yet he frowned as he said it. “But—it doesn’t make sense. Neither of them would have slaughtered her in an obvious, horrific way.”

“Let’s go back to the demon hypothesis,” Finch said. “Assume that there is at least one demon within the manse. He would have to have arrived before Jay returned, or after she left again. But I think it has to be the latter.”

“Why?”

“Because she claimed she could sense demons on her land, and Vareena was killed—was almost killed, I’m sorry, Daine—on her land. If the demon had been here before she chose to meet with the Oracle, I think she would have known.”

Teller nodded.

“Which means the demon would have arrived only after her departure. Jay’s departure isn’t public knowledge, yet. It will be; there’s no way to avoid that—but it’s not open knowledge. Had this occurred three weeks from now, it would trouble me just as much—but confuse me less. The demon is almost certainly a new arrival. But he is a new arrival who could ask for, and expect to receive, the ear of at least two members of the House Council.

“And that, at the moment, terrifies me. Jester, stop pacing or I’ll start. We’ve faced this before: the demons can, and do, look human. They can—and have—occupied living people, using them as a disguise. The person in question could well have been a loyal and upstanding member of the House Council—of the House itself. If the demon were at all careful, there would be no suspicion. And Jay’s not here.” Jay could see the strangeness.

“I could tell you,” Daine said quietly, “who the demons are. I would need physical contact with them.”

Finch shook her head. “We have a House Mage for that. You can be decapitated in an eyeblink—and Meralonne can’t. I’m not sure death would take him if he offered himself, weaponless, with open arms.”

 • • • 

“That is harsh,” the mage in question said. He was standing, unlit pipe in hand, in the doorway; no one had heard the door open.

Finch managed, with effort, not to glare at his pipe as he lit it and sauntered—there was no other word for his movement—into the kitchen. Jester resumed his seat. Finch indicated that the mage should take a chair, but without much hope. Meralonne was, in all ways, like a cat. He did as he pleased; you could possibly cajole him or bribe him or distract him—but command? No.

Meralonne surprised Finch; he sat. “To my thinking, you have overlooked one possibility.”

“I’ve probably overlooked two dozen.”

“None of any significance.”

“How long have you been listening in?”

“Only long enough—thanks to the impatience of your captain—to hear the last string of suppositions.”

“Do you believe a demon could be planted here?”

“Yes; they have already demonstrated that ability.” He blew smoke rings as he tilted his chair back on two legs and propped his slippered feet on the table. “Consider this scenario: Rymark is aware that the demon is present. It is just possible that Rymark is attempting to claim responsibility for the death because he is afraid of compromising either himself or the demon in question.”

“What would the demon gain?”

Meralonne smiled. “Pain. Sustenance.”

“Not from that death,” was Daine’s quiet, intense rejoinder. “She was unconscious throughout.”

“Ah, now that
would
be frustrating. There have been no similar deaths?”

“None.” None yet, Finch thought, grim now.

Haval exhaled. “Very well. You have always suspected that it was Rymark who was responsible for the demon that killed Amarais Handernesse ATerafin.”

No one in the room spoke for one long beat. When someone broke the silence, it was Jester. “We didn’t suspect,” he said. “We
knew
.”

“It would not, then, be a stretch to say that Rymark is aware of—possibly in league with—demons?”

“None.”

“Do you assume that Rymark is the summoner?” Haval’s question was flat, unadorned.

“We don’t exactly know much about demonology—it’s a
forbidden art
.”

“I believe Finch is attempting to keep Terafin on the right side of Sigurne’s famous vendetta against the ancient arts of summoning and control,” Meralonne said.

“Finch,” was her reply, “is merely being honest.”

Meralonne raised one platinum brow, which had the effect of making him appear to be even more dismissive. “A pity. If you are certain that the demon who assassinated The Terafin was there at Rymark’s behest, than Rymark was the summoner.”

“He could have been working with—”

Meralonne waved pipe smoke in her direction. “Do not mince words. What should, at this point, be your chief concern is this: Rymark would not have chosen the manner of attack that
was
chosen. Either he has summoned a demon beyond his control—which would in almost all circumstances cause his death—or he is not the summoner.

“But he is aware that the demon is present—and he does not wish its presence to be revealed. It may be that he has chosen to serve The Terafin, and to cut ties with former allies.” His smile was slender; he was amused. “And he is discovering that those ties are binding in ways he had not foreseen. If he does not control this creature—and it seems clear to me that he does not—who does?

“And why was it sent here?”

“It was sent,” Arann said quietly, “Because Jay’s not here.”

“Yes. If they are attempting to destroy the economic wheels of the city by killing all of its significant merchants, they are no longer attempting to hide their presence; they have come in force. Now.”

“Because Jay is absent?”

“That is my supposition. I will look for your demon. It seems clear to me that, if you desire that information, the fastest way to get it is through Rymark ATerafin himself.”

Finch shook her head. “Haerrad had that information. Which means that the demon will—no doubt—be masquerading as someone Haerrad is willing to trust.”

“Haerrad,” Jester said, “trusts no one. He may consider the source of information reliable.” He rose.

“Where are you going?”

“Drinking with Marrick,” Jester replied. He did not look like he was in much of a mood for carousing. “If Marrick was given the same information, it will have come from the same source—and we’ll know that they were targeting specific individuals on the House Council. The ones with significant power.

“If Marrick doesn’t know, so much the better. Haval, will you do as Finch requested?”

Haval nodded quietly. “I am concerned,” he said at last. “I feel that you have been intellectually thorough, given the information at hand. Demons are very like the mage-born in their abilities. The West Wing—and its kitchens—are secure; no information will escape into the wrong hands from here. Not magically. But the servants clean, and they require access.

“The information therefore comes from somewhere. Vareena was not a normal child. Duvari doesn’t allow untrained children into his service. She would therefore be both pragmatic and careful; it is unlikely—in my opinion—that she was to do more than listen to servant gossip while doing her duties as a junior maid.”

“She wasn’t a maid,” Daine said.

“Apologies.”

“She was too junior.”

Finch winced, and caught one of Daine’s hands in hers; he crushed it. She focused most of her attention on Haval. “In other words, her duties as a probable spy were very, very light.”

“Yes. I believe the first order of business is to find—and dispose of—the demon, if it exists.”

Meralonne blew rings. Concentric rings.

“The demon’s presence here is more problematic. The demons, however, are straightforward. I assume that he is to prepare for Jewel’s return, and to kill her the moment she sets foot on these grounds.”

Finch exhaled; she was almost out of patience. “It’s been tried, Haval. And given the guildmaster’s reaction—the Guildmaster of the Order of Knowledge—if the last big demon didn’t succeed, nothing will.”

“Yes. That is my concern.” He turned to the very indolent mage. “Member APhaniel?”

“I will attempt to ferret out your demon. If you are asking in a roundabout way why the demons might expect, with preparation, to have greater success this time, you fail to understand what Jewel is, and where the manse itself is situated. This is understandable; I do not believe Jewel herself fully realizes it. It is willful, expensive ignorance.

“She is not invulnerable. If control, however brief, can be wrested from the absent Terafin, what she faces will not be a single demon, no matter how powerful; it will be a small army.

“It is not clear to me that Rymark ATerafin is fully ignorant of these plans. He is a man who is concerned with both his own survival and the power he can accrue while accomplishing it. He is aware of the power that a god—even a hobbled one—wields. He may—”

“Wish to commit to both sides, and await the outcome of that battle?” Finch asked. Her hands were shaking.

“It would be the prudent course of action.” Meralonne’s smile was slender and cold. In spite of this, it was clear that he found Rymark amusing.

Finch didn’t.

“You are angry, ATerafin.”

She said nothing.

“You are not the only one whom this attitude angers. It is my guess that Rymark has been given the opportunity to fully commit. If he fails to make that commitment in a fashion that satisfies his former allies, they will force him to do so by revealing his connections to the demons, thus giving him little choice. He is unlikely to survive for long if Sigurne has any proof—at all—that he has too great a knowledge of the forbidden arts.

“He has survived thus far because he has been adept at keeping these activities hidden. Should a demon wish to threaten Rymark, this is how he would do it.” Meralonne frowned.

Probably because Haval was.

“The demon is not preternaturally omniscient. If we assume that demons do not require food, shelter or sleep, they are nonetheless wed to physical form. They cannot—without magic—pass through walls; what I have seen or heard of demons implies that if they did, there would no longer be a wall. How, then, did this possible demon have the information about Vareena?”