Oracle: The House War: Book Six (70 page)

“But understanding who she was and how she came to be here is more relevant. I should not have come,” he added. “There is enough, here, to confound my brothers should they do as I have done.”

“And that?”

“Look,” he replied. “Observe.”

“She has not encountered the
Kialli
before. If they are old enough, she might know them.”

“Yes.” His smile was sharp and therefore felt more familiar. “You called her mortal. She is not, however, as you are. She is not as Viandaran is. There is no place in Mandaros’ long hall for one such as she.”

Without thinking, Jewel said, “And her child?”

“That would be the question,” he replied.

“Why did you come?”

“To offer you safe passage, for a time,” he replied.

“You tried to kill me.”

“Yes. As I said, your death, now, would serve no purpose. I
am
of my kin. If your death was painful and extended, it would offer me sustenance—but it is not a sustenance I require. Kiriel is not part of this game.”

“Which game is she part of?”

He smiled. He did not answer.

Jewel
.

I don’t trust him.

Of course not. What he wants, almost by definition, is not what you want. But if he intended to lead you into a trap, you would know. Does he?

...No.
It was a grudging admission.
Not me.

Kiriel is not here. She is not, as he said, part of this particular game. Nothing you say or do at the moment will either protect or harm her.

He will. He’ll do both
. And saying it, even privately, she
knew
it for truth.
He only tried to kill me to hurt her.

Yes. And he is Kialli.

Did you know him?

No. In my youth, the Kialli did not exist.

But you knew Meralonne.

There were very few powers who did not know the four Princes of the White Lady by name, if not on sight. On sight, it was easy to mistake one for the other. If you do not trust him—wisely—he has offered an alliance of a sort. I would consider accepting it.

“What game, Isladar? You serve the Lord of the Hells. Nothing he wants is anything
I
want, and if he perished tomorrow, I’d celebrate with the full financial backing of my House. I’d line the streets with banners and open the stalls in the Common to anyone who was hungry for at least a full three days. I am, in any small way I can be, your lord’s enemy.”

“Yes. And sadly, it is, at the moment, a very small way. I want
war
, Terafin. I want war, and to have a war, there must
be
powers that can stand in opposition. As you are now, you will be crushed beneath my lord’s feet.”

Jewel’s hands formed tighter fists.

“He may—or may not—notice you before your death. That is all.”

“I’ve survived stronger
Kialli
than you.”

Do not let him provoke you,
two voices said simultaneously.

“Yes. You have survived. But we have never been free to act with full power in your mortal city. Here, we are not so constrained.”

“Neither,” Jewel said quietly, “are we. If you have constraints, so do we. We don’t want to turn our city into rubble. We don’t want to kill people who have none of the obvious power that we’ve gathered here. Our hands are just as tied as your own.”

One brow rose as he considered her words. “Perhaps,” he said, the single word smooth and uninflected. “Will you now abandon your companions to their aerial battle?”

The serpent roared, as if in response; Kallandras was no longer singing.

“How are they controlling the serpent?” she asked.

“Carelessly.” Isladar’s frown shifted the lines of his face; he looked colder and far more autocratic. “The serpents are old and wild; they are not, however, earth or air. They can be reasoned with; they are willing to negotiate.”

“What have you offered it?”

His smile, on the other hand, was beautiful. Jewel thought all deadly things were, in their own fashion: they were compelling because they were dangerous. “Freedom, Terafin.”

“He seems pretty free, here.”

“Yes. To you, it would seem so. But these lands are not your lands. It may surprise you, but the wilderness is like an echo of the world in which mortals have been left on their own. Pockets of landscape, pockets of geology, pockets of weather. Each domain its own. Some are claimed, Terafin; some are not. The only place they once met was in the lands you now call the world.

“Those lands were the backbone of the ancient. They were, in their entirety, the crossroads between the various enclaves. The old bindings are crumbling; they have promised the serpent that he will be—finally—free to roam as he pleases, unconfined by the walls the gods put in place before they withdrew.”

Avandar, is this true?

It is not the whole of the truth—but the whole of the truth would take you years to understand; it is materially correct.

Then how in the hells are we to
find
the Hidden Court? How are we to reach Ariane?

As if he could hear the question she would not ask out loud, Isladar said, “I am here. To venture here, I came from lands you yourself might once have traversed; to leave, I will return to them—as will you, if you survive. If I am not mistaken, you will seek other remote locations in the wilderness.

“Understand that they are not all one thing, and not all the other—but to find them, you will have to touch—at least peripherally—the lands in which mortals now reside. Once,” he added softly, “before the worlds were sundered, all lands overlapped.” His smile was cold and unpleasant. “But when they did, mortals perished. Their existence was confined to small enclaves; they were pets. Much like the pets mortals now keep—your cats, your dogs, your birds—they were cherished by those who sheltered them. Those that were not so lucky died.

“And died, Terafin. Only in the Cities of Man did mortality flourish—but even there, life for those on the ground was difficult and short.”

“Not much different in our own cities.” Jewel was stiff, now. Bending would have probably broken her.

“It was very, very different. Men lived, in those days, by the rules that govern all races.”

“Power,” was her flat reply.

“Indeed.”

She had seen, in Avandar’s dreams, some of the Cities of Man, and she didn’t doubt him. She thought she would have
hated
those cities, had she lived during their reign.

This amused the Winter King, who agreed with her assessment.

“What will you do? You have come to find the Oracle. My brethren have come to stop you.”

“Do they know that they’re hunting me, personally?”

“Yes. You were unwise in your display of raw power in your capital. They do not believe that you can stand against them unless you undergo the Oracle’s test. They do not,” he added, “understand the test itself.”

“And you?”

“I believe that you could, indeed, thwart us without confronting the Oracle. I have studied mortals for much of my life; I understand why, as a body, they are insignificant, but it is never wise to dismiss them all out of hand. They believe that the Oracle will give you what you require.”

“And you do not.”

“No.” He bowed again, which surprised her. “If reports are to be believed—and I am not privy to the reports directly—you are Sen, Terafin. I believe that my brethren have miscalculated here. They do not want the Cities of Man to rise again. Effort has been expended—fruitlessly—to make certain that does not happen. You are aware of one such failure.”

She said nothing.

“But they do not understand
why
your ascension would serve as an advantage to us. They think that they can stop the Sleepers from waking.”

She was cold. She was so cold.

“Ah, yes. You are aware that your fragile, mortal city will not survive such a waking. We, of course, do not care. But the Sleepers were a danger when they walked the world; they will be a danger if they walk again. The Cities of Man were proof against even gods at the height of their power. Or some of the Cities were; you will not, of course, know of those whose ambitions overreached their abilities.

“Nor is it relevant. I believe you have the ability to protect your city should the Sleepers wake in its midst—but it will be costly. I do not believe you can do
that
without the Oracle’s guidance. You hope to avoid paying her price,” he added, and again, he smiled. “You are mortal. You have lived in a barren, powerless world—and that is changing, even as we speak.”

The serpent roared again.

Shadow hissed.

“You disagree, Eldest? I mean to give her warning, no more. I am
Kialli
. You will, of course, fail to trust me; all of my words will be suspect. But I offer advice—and no comfort. Power in the ancient world always demanded a price. Mortals were oft foolish in their attempt to transfer their accrued debt. I believe some of your stories still exist, but if you will not seek them out, let me tell you that those attempts did not work out well—either for the mortals or those they hoped to sacrifice in their own stead.

“Power has a price. See it. Pay it. Or walk away from the power you require.” He bowed again.

“Why are you doing this?” Jewel demanded. “What advantage do you hope to gain?”

“I did not lie; I want war. We will be enemies in the future, as we have been in the past; my goals and your goals can never, in the end, be the same. But I am in your debt.”

Jewel folded arms. She did not, and would never, trust the man who stood, silent and without the obvious arrogance that graced most immortals—even the stag—but he wasn’t lying. “You are so not in my debt.”

“I had nowhere else to leave the child.”

“How did she even—”

“It is of no material consequence. She came into my keeping; I agreed to keep her safe. I could not, in the end, achieve that in the Shining City. I could not take her to Kiriel, for reasons that I am certain are obvious. I could leave her nowhere else.”

“Why do you care?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He met, and held, her unblinking gaze. “Understand that the
Kialli
do not condescend to truth; it is a vulnerability, a weakness.”

Jewel waited.

“I am not like my kin. I remember, Terafin. I remember much. I do not know why it is of import to me; I have no plans for the child, and see no future for her but the future that plagues the mortal races; she will age, she will die, and she will be unremembered. She will make no mark of greatness in the future. She will influence no great powers, and play no role in the war to come. She is unlikely to survive that war at all, as it currently stands. She is missing fingers. She was, from all accounts, the scion of poor, but free, clansmen.

“There is nothing in her that is relevant at all.”

“You saved her.”

“Yes.” He smiled. The smile did not suit the cast of his features; Jewel found it disturbing, although she couldn’t say why. He looked, once, again, toward the sky, as lightning changed its color. “I told you: mortals, your distant kin, were very much like the pets adopted by mortals now; they are like your horses. No, they are like your cats. They have no utility on the surface—and possibly no utility beneath it, as well. The most powerful of mortals might own such creatures; they are irrationally fond of them, for no obvious reason.

“It is my suspicion that Ariel is much like a cat, and I, like the mortals who might own them in your lands. I cannot, however, say with any certainty; I studied mortals, but I did not attempt to imitate them.”

“So your answer is: you don’t know.”

“Indeed.”

She exhaled. “Ariel doesn’t belong with you.”

“No. That is why she is currently in your keeping. Or in the keeping of your den. You will not take her on the road to war while your home is left standing. Does it surprise you that I have a similar inclination?”

It did. Nothing about the
Kialli
lord in front of her made sense to Jewel. Not even the fact that, inasmuch as her gift could determine, he spoke truth.

“Let me
eat
him,” Shadow growled.

“You won’t like the taste. He’ll just turn into dust and ash in your mouth.”

The great, gray cat snarled. In as low a voice as he ever used, he said, “But he will
bleed
first.”

“Doesn’t matter. The rest of it will be ash, and you’ve tried that once.”

“That was
Snow!
Snow is
stupid!
”

Isladar raised a single brow. Although he didn’t appear to be watching the cat, Jewel was certain he was aware of the movement of every, single one of Shadow’s whiskers. “Yes,” she said quietly.

Shadow yowled in outrage. “We don’t
need
him!”

“Do you mean the Sleepers to wake?” she continued, over the caterwauling of angry cat.

Isladar joined her, but began to walk. “Can you speak with your companions in the air?”

“I can send Shadow.”

“I won’t
go
.” This verged on growl. He did not like Isladar.

The serpent roared. The ground shook. The tremors continued when the roar itself was no longer even an echo. Shadow fell silent, then. Everyone standing on the ground did.

“Please don’t tell me,” Jewel said quietly, “that the earth is waking.”

Isladar’s smile was cool. “It is not yet awake. But if you will accept my help, we must leave this place. I can no longer safely fight on the ground—nor can any of my kin.” He glanced once at the sky. “The serpent is not
Kialli
. He is not of the dead. The wilderness hears his voice when he chooses to speak with it at all.

“It hears ours,” he added, as he picked up the pace without apparent effort, “and it attempts, where it can, to destroy us; we are no longer of this world. The elements took our choice as desertion and betrayal—and they are not the only ones.”

“It is possible you will not be the safest of guides,” Avandar said.

Isladar smiled. “If I cannot cajole the earth as I once did, I can speak in such a way that the earth does not immediately attempt my destruction. It was,” he added softly, “the work of silent decades.”