Oracle: The House War: Book Six (69 page)

Avandar looked down at the gray cat. “They will know,” he said quietly.

Shadow snorted and looked up at the sky. “They know we’re here
anyway
.” He glared at Jewel. “Why are you
standing
there?”

“We’re not alone,” she replied.

Shadow growled and turned in the direction that had once been guarded by a wall of fire. Standing ten yards from the great cat was a lone man.

 • • • 

“You are not terribly difficult to find,” he said.

Shadow bunched and gathered. Jewel quickly ran forward to place a hand on the top of his head. “What
now?
” he demanded.

“Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him yet.”

The cat yowled in outrage.

And the man’s brows rose. “Well met, Jewel ATerafin. Well met.”

“Are you in command of the serpent in the sky?”

“And perceptive, although that is less of a surprise. I am not, as you guess, its captain at the moment. Nor is it entirely happy to serve those who control its flight.”

Avandar was almost instantly beside Jewel; she saw the flash of orange light that spoke of protection; bands of blue overlay it. She couldn’t remember immediately what blue meant—it had never been used against her in any combat that also involved magic. Nor, she knew, was it relevant now. She recognized the
Kialli
lord who stood, waiting.

“And Viandaran,” the man said. “Well met, indeed.”

“Isladar.”

“Terafin. You have had much success since our last encounter.”

“If we don’t count the dreaming, the last time we met, you tried to kill me.”

“Indeed.”

“I could forgive that,” Jewel continued, her hand pressed into the top of Shadow’s head. “I can’t forgive the child you victimized to draw me in.”

“Or the man who serves you?” He glanced at Angel, and away. Angel, whose distinctive hair was now like any other hair. Jewel was surprised Isladar recognized Angel. And yet, at the same time, unsurprised.

“The child,” she replied, “had no choice. Angel was foolish; he did.”

“He saved your life.”

Jewel shrugged. “I’m aware of that. If the serpent is not yours, why are you here?”

“I wished to speak with you,” he replied.

“And not to assassinate me?”

“Greater hands than mine have made that attempt in recent mortal months, or so rumor implies. No. The harm I feared you might do has already been done; I cannot undo it by the simple expedience of your death. Viandaran, do not make the attempt.”

“If the Terafin is willing to forgive, I am not.”

“You were never a forgiving man. In your youth you were the epitome of its opposite. But she is your master, and if she does not desire my destruction, you will not make the attempt.” He spoke coolly, his voice shorn of doubt.

“
I
might,” Shadow said, voice low.

“Eldest,” Isladar replied, “I ask that you grant me mercy.” He bowed—to the cat. If Jewel’s jaw had not been attached to the rest of her face, she would have lost it.

This mollified Shadow—but not by much. Jewel could feel the tension beneath her palm.

“Eldest, I did not know that you would become her companion. I would not have raised hand against her had I understood her import.”

He was lying. Jewel knew it immediately; she was certain Shadow did as well. But the cats were particularly vulnerable to flattery. Shadow, the tactician, was no exception. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I did not lie. I am here to speak with you, for however long you allow. You are aware that you are in danger here—although it was never danger to yourself that formed the core of your intent. Kiriel is not with you.” It was not a question.

Jewel answered it anyway. “No. She was AKalakar, not ATerafin, but she remained in the South at the end of the war.”

He nodded as if this was not a surprise; Jewel doubted it was.

“Do you see it, Viandaran?” Isladar asked, looking up to the sky, his lips curved in a smile that was too cold to be nostalgic, but implied nostalgia anyway.

Avandar did not reply. Jewel glanced at Angel; he was armed with a dagger. An ornate, consecrated dagger. What Jewel was willing to forgive, Angel was not. She signed. His hands remained still; his expression made clear his intent. But she trusted him; he would not move unless she commanded—or at least allowed—it.

Isladar frowned. “Is that Calliastra?” His voice was sharper, the edges more apparent.

“It is,” Jewel replied.

Her voice pulled his gaze from the vault of sky. “You are still determined to shelter the children of your greatest enemy.”

“Calliastra isn’t Kiriel. She doesn’t need shelter.”

“No. I had thought you wiser than this. She will be your death, or the deaths of those you protect.” He paused, and then, to Jewel’s surprise, said, “What of Ariel?”

It was easy to forget, in this winter place, the maimed Voyani child Isladar had abandoned on the edge of the Sea of Sorrows. Adam had taken care of Ariel, and Shadow had tolerated her remarkably well—but she remained in the Terafin manse, under the watchful eyes of the rest of the den—men and women who did not have a single child between them.

“She is safe.”

Shadow growled, then. Before Jewel could finish drawing breath, he lunged for the
Kialli
lord who had almost broken Kiriel di’Ashaf. Kiriel, Jewel thought dispassionately, who had both hated and loved him. She
knew
then that Isladar’s fate was not in her hands, but in Kiriel’s. Jewel’s near-death was not personal in the sense that Isladar cared one way or the other about it; it was merely another tool in a demon’s arsenal.

He had meant to hurt Kiriel. To hurt her and, in a perverse, demonic way, to protect her.

Isladar was not a fool; he was yards away from where Shadow landed, and he moved damned fast.

“She is not
yours
,” Shadow growled. He had crushed snow and broken the branches that sheltered beneath the winter blanket.

Isladar looked genuinely surprised. “Ariel is mortal,” he told the great, gray cat, as if that fact would not be obvious to him.

“She is
not yours
,” the cat replied, and leaped again, without visible warning.

Isladar leaped as well. All of his movements were defensive; he made no attempt to harm Shadow. All of the aggression at the moment was squarely in the gray cat’s court. “This is unwise,” he told Shadow, as Shadow once again broke the crust of ancient snow and ice with the full force of his landing weight. “I am not your enemy here, but enemies gather; they search. You were clever; the fire is gone, and there is no clear direction for the breach—but they will find you if you continue.”

Above, the serpent roared.

“They will
not
,” Shadow growled. “There is
too much
noise.” He gathered himself again, but this time, Jewel had had enough.

“Shadow!”

The cat hissed his displeasure.

“He is not wrong. We do not know what we face here—but we’d like to avoid it. You’ll survive. Some of us won’t.”

Shadow’s expression immediately sank into the exaggerated lines of cat sulking. He tossed his head back and forth and expelled a litany of sibilants, most of which were wrapped around the word “stupid.” This, Jewel could live with.

Isladar could live with it as well; he didn’t even seem to be surprised by it.

I agree with your cat
, Avandar said grimly.
This is not wise
.

You think he’s lying?

No. I think truth, in this case, is irrelevant. Of the Kialli, he is the most opaque, to me. He cares little for the dignity that even Calliastra maintains; he is willing to bend—to bow—to your cats. I do not think it would matter which of the three. He is willing to speak with you, treat with you, as if you were an equal. You do not understand the threat in this.

No, I really don’t.

He would be considered dangerously insane by his own kin.

“Lord Isladar, I will speak with you if you will answer one question.”

“And that?”

“In the air above us, in which the combat so far has been largely contained, there is a woman upon the back of my white cat. I do not know if you can see her from this distance.”

“With effort—and without the intervention of your gray cat—I can. Your question?”

“Do you recognize her?”

Isladar glanced at Avandar. “Did you, Warlord?” His question was cool, casual.

“No.”

“And yet, your lord expects that I might?”

“I have not asked; I am not privy to all of her thoughts or her moods.”

“But you suffer them, regardless?” Isladar’s smile was thin, but genuine. “I understand mortals as well as any of the kin.” The kin, Jewel thought. Not my kin. “I raised one from birth.”

She stiffened. The words that came to mind, she kept to herself, although it was hard. She could not imagine a demon raising a mortal child—even a child like Kiriel. And yet, Kiriel was demonstrably alive. She understood why a demon might—just might—keep Kiriel alive. But Ariel was, as he himself told Shadow, a mortal child. There was nothing about her at all that made her remarkable; she might be food for demons, but no more.

And yet, Ariel was also alive.

“Yes,” Jewel said quietly, “you did. You did not raise Ariel.”

“No. I . . . found her. She was surprisingly costly, to me. Tell me, Terafin, would you throw away your House to protect the life of a cat?”

Shadow growled.

“Eldest,” Isladar replied, bowing. “I speak of mortal cats, as you must well know. Your preservation is not in the hands of The Terafin.”

Jewel said, “I don’t like cats, much. Even if I did, no. No, I would not.” And she thought of Carver, and she stilled. “Not cats.”

Isladar’s gaze fell immediately to Jewel, and it remained there for a long, long beat—as if he knew. And, of course, she thought, he did. He couldn’t know what caused the pain—beyond the fact that it wasn’t him—but he could sense the pain itself. It was what demons
did
.

“You have grown,” Isladar said quietly. “You are not, now, what you were when last we met, and even for mortals, the time between has been almost insignificant.” He offered her the same bow as he had offered Shadow, which struck her, of all things, as funny.

She kept this off her face, as well. “My question?”

With effort he looked away, toward the aerial combat. “It is difficult to see much; I do not believe Calliastra is best pleased to have your cats as comrades.” Once again, he smiled. “But it is rare to see her so unaffected. She lacks caution, here. Any of those who now hunt you will recognize her the moment they lift eyes, if they are old enough. I would not be surprised if she is conversing—in a fashion—with at least one of them, even as she fights. She is not, I think, angry. Not yet.”

“She’s
always
angry,” Shadow said, unwilling to be left out entirely.

Isladar said, “To the
Kialli
, what she feels is not anger.”

“
You
are
always angry
,” Shadow replied.

Isladar raised a brow, although he had not once looked down. His eyes narrowed; his lips pursed in a brief, slender frown. His expression was human and familiar, which put Jewel instantly on her guard.

She remained there when he whispered a single, long word. “Shandalliaran.” But she looked away. She had to look away. Something in his face was too bright, too
open
, to countenance for long.

“So,” he said softly. “It has come to pass.” He lifted a hand, as if in greeting, or as if to grasp this one glimpse of a distant, perfect woman.

“She is mortal,” Jewel told him, gentling her voice.

“She would have to be. Even from this distance, I can see that she is pregnant.” He closed his eyes; closed, he could then turn again to Jewel. “You are unkind,” he said; it sounded like praise. “I would not have thought it of you, when first we met.”

“Is it unkind to give some sort of warning?” she asked.

“Perhaps not. The bearer of bad news, among the kin, offers that news with some pleasure.”

“I don’t consider mortality a besetting sin or weakness.”

“Ah, no. Of course not. You are one. But mortality—to us—means many things. Mortality is loss, Terafin. Mortality is always loss. One cannot capture a mortal in time unless one chooses to kill them, and even then, one discovers that much is lost. It is why those who kept mortals in a time when the Cities of Man were at the height of their power were considered at best strange. What we conquer, we keep—but we cannot keep you for long and every day is surrendered to time.” He lifted his chin, opened his eyes, and said, “I would not be here when she lands—but curiosity was
my
besetting sin. I wish to know how much she has changed; how much she has retained, and how much she has cast aside.”

Jewel said, softly, “Are those who hunt us now
Kialli
?”

“Yes, Terafin. It is possible you will recognize one or two, but perhaps not. Their presence in your world and their presence here differs, often greatly.”

“You appear the same, to me.”

“Yes. I have that ability—but it is not trivial. We were not meant to return. When we do, the plane surrenders form and flesh for our use—but never willingly. We anger the earth, the water, and the air; if we have power and will, we can force them to obedience—but we cannot easily cajole or ask. And that is not why I came.” Almost, he turned to the sky again.

“Would she recognize the
Kialli
?”

His eyes narrowed. “You have spoken to her at length.”

“I have listened where she is willing to speak, yes. She has been willing to speak with us.”

“She seeks the Winter Queen.”

Jewel saw no point in lying. “Yes.”

“You do not understand what you have set in motion.”

“I set nothing in motion. I am not the father of the child.”

Irritation changed the cast of his features. “She is here. You are here. The overlap cannot be coincidental. I do not believe that you understood what you were doing; no more do I believe you understand it now. But you have changed, in one motion, the entire face of one long, long game. You understand only in part who she is.