Skirmish: A House War Novel (28 page)

Jewel glanced at the carpet. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m not ready for this conversation, not today.”

“Be ready for it,” was his reply. “The House is in danger. We have been prepared to serve you, as we served The Terafin before you, since you returned. We’ve been waiting for your call to arms. We’ve been under some pressure, as you must expect; we are not inexperienced, and we can deal with that pressure for some small time yet. But it must be a small time, Jewel. The Chosen cannot exist as a headless body for much longer; it will be absorbed, one way or another, in the conflict.”

“Torvan—”

“Find the desire to rule Terafin. Find it somehow.”

“It’s so big.” She was surprised she’d spoken, although her voice was so quiet and small she hardly recognized it as her own. She knew they were words she should never have said aloud. Avandar was silent—but forceful—in his agreement of this assessment.

Torvan, however, nodded. “It was never a small responsibility for The Terafin. You knew her; do you honestly think she was without doubt? Her choices in the long Henden of the Dark Days were, in her later estimation, the wrong ones; we survived. We survived. But the demons have returned; The Terafin is dead. We will bury her, and we will work to install a new Terafin in her stead.”

“And you think that I’m the right person for the job? Or will you do this,” she added, her voice sharpening, “because Amarais thought I was? Do you have no opinion of your own?”

Arrendas raised a dark brow. Torvan raised a lighter one.

“We trusted our Lord,” Arrendas finally said. “As did you. Do you doubt her choice?”

“Every day.”

“And do you not walk this path—even with hesitance—because of her choice?”

“Yes. And because of mine. I gave her my word; it was the
only
thing I could give her, in the end. It was the only thing she wanted from me; the only thing that would bring her
any
comfort.” She looked at Torvan, waiting.

To her surprise, he smiled. “Yes, I have an opinion, Jewel Markess ATerafin. Would you hear it?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

“From the moment you first appeared at the front gates of the manse, I saw a leader in you. Those who followed you were not significant in status or number, but they were unwavering. You were willing to threaten The Terafin in order to preserve their lives—not your own.

“I watched as you worked at her behest. I know why you worked. I know who you worked with, during the darker days. I know what you faced. I know what it cost. And I know that you paid that price, and that you will continue to pay it. I understood what The Terafin wanted for you, and from you, long before you did, and I approved.

“I approve now, Jewel. If The Terafin had chosen Rymark as her successor, as he claims, I would have retired. She chose you. For you, I’m willing to wage the war that must be fought.

“You are not Amarais. She was a woman of steel; a living sword. What she carried in her heart, she exposed to very, very few—but one of those few was you. I do not expect that you will present yourself—to us—as that sword; it is not how you lead. But, Jewel, you do lead. And where you lead, people will follow, even though they risk death. Is this not the case?” He looked across the room at Angel, pinning him there with his steady gaze.

Angel proved—again—that he was no House Guard, no member of Torvan’s Chosen; he offered Torvan a lopsided grin.

“Those who follow are not without fear. Teller, do you understand what you risk?”

“I risk no more—and no less—than Jay does,” was his quiet reply. “But yes, Torvan, we know what we’ll face.”

He turned once again to their den leader. “You don’t lead soldiers. You don’t command armies. But neither did The Terafin. Absent soldiery, absent armies, there is still war, still death. But you inspire loyalty in those who have little ambition; you inspire ambition in them, as well. You will never wield sword in your own defense; that isn’t your job. It’s
ours
. Our job—for which we expect to be paid,” he added, with a sudden grin, “and our privilege. Do you understand?”

She did. But she turned, half-blind, toward the door, and this time, she saw a pair of familiar hands signing. Angel’s.
Agreed
.

You couldn’t have philosophical discussions in den-sign, but Jewel understood the whole of what simple hand gestures couldn’t convey.
Straightening her shoulders, she turned back to the two captains that Amarais had chosen—she understood that now—for her.

“I want—I need—to turn the whole House into my den. Minus the signing. I mean to do that. I would die before I give up my House to Haerrad or Rymark.”

“But not Elonne or Marrick?”

“I don’t understand them as well.”

“Meaning you’ve yet to clash with them.”

She smiled. “Pretty much exactly that, yes. I would trust Gabriel with the House; in that, I’m different from her. She believed—and because she did, we did—that she was the only person for the House Seat. Good intentions or ill didn’t matter. I’m not that person; I don’t have that certainty of vision.” She grimaced, knowing it was an unfortunate choice of word.

“Gabriel is not willing to take it. If it puts you at ease at all, his reason is simple: he is not willing to kill his son.”

“I don’t think his son would suffer the same reservations.”

“No. But that is not a matter to ever discuss with his father.”

Jewel nodded.

“Gabriel cannot support you now,” Torvan continued.

But Jewel understood what he didn’t say. “He summoned you both to this room—with cause—because I was in it. He understands that I don’t want attention or hostilities yet, but he gave us the opportunity to speak. He can’t support me; he can help.”

Torvan nodded gravely. “If I am not mistaken, he will assign us to guard you.”

“On what grounds?”

“Your hands, Jewel. And, if I am not mistaken, the gravity of the destruction in the grounds.”

“No one’s going to believe that once I declare my candidacy.”

“No. Not then. But every one of them understands that you are valuable to the House. They also understand that you are not experienced in this type of political game, and that you don’t have the stomach for outright slaughter. At least two of the House Council will preserve you if they can do so without loss.”

“Elonne and Marrick?”

“Yes.”

“I believe,” Arrendas added, “that Rymark and Haerrad will attempt
to do likewise; they will sacrifice you earlier, however, should the need arise.”

She was silent, considering all of the words—spoken and unspoken—trapped and contained by magic in this spacious room. “Torvan?”

He nodded.

“Do you think Gabriel will be happy if Rymark takes the House Seat?”

The Captains of the Chosen exchanged a glance.

Jewel exhaled. “Do you think he means for me to take it, even if Rymark has declared himself the designated heir?”

“What we know,” Torvan finally said, “is that Amarais made clear her intent. No more, or less, than that. You must decide for yourself, based on his actions, both in the present and in the future.”

She hesitated, as if that wasn’t enough. “Do you think, if I do manage against all odds, to succeed Amarais, that he would consider staying as my right-kin?”

Silence. It was broken not by words, but by the opening of the door; Gabriel had finished whatever task he had fabricated in order to give them privacy.

But he exposed some part of his power—or the power of the bookend that served to squelch traveling noise and discourage eavesdroppers; he replied. “No, ATerafin.” His voice was grave, his posture formal. But his eyes were ringed with shadow, and his face seemed paler and older than it had.

Remembering everything she’d said about his son, she almost blanched; he walked toward his curtained windows and pulled those curtains wide to let in the clear, blue skies of this cold Henden. “I am not,” he said, his back toward them all, his hands gripping the curtain edges, “the Chosen. In my youth—or perhaps in my prime, depending on whom you ask—I admired Amarais. I admired the intensity of her vision. I admired her perfect sense of justice, and her desire to extend that justice, even beyond the boundaries of the House.

“I served her. I served her before she became The Terafin, and I served her after. I accepted the position of right-kin with some reluctance, but I did accept it. Do you know why she offered it to me?”

Jewel shook her head, and then, realizing that he couldn’t see the motion, answered. “No.”

“Because I was a man with very little ambition. I desired what she desired,
for the House. I could run it, could oversee it, because our goals were in lockstep. I have very little pride associated with position.”

“You don’t need it; you’ve got Barston.”

He turned then, one brow rising. Teller reddened. But Gabriel smiled. “I have Barston, yes. He preserves what
he
feels is the dignity of this office.” He let the curtains go. “I am proud of what we achieved. I am proud of what Amarais accomplished. I am bitterly angry that her death was not peaceful. She had earned at least that much.

“But what I felt for her vision, I cannot feel for yours; you are too young, to me. You are unfinished. What Torvan sees, I see, but I am no longer certain that it will be enough.” Before Jewel could speak, he shook his head. “I’m aware that what I saw in Amarais in my youth would certainly not seem enough to the man I’ve become, either; I want safety. I want certainty. Security. I understand that these things are illusion, but even understanding that, I am weary.

“I will hold the regency until matters are decided.”

“For her?”

He raised a brow and then met Jewel’s gaze and held it until it was uncomfortable for her. “For her, yes. In the end, I wanted what she wanted. I’m still defined by that. I am also,” he added, as the door opened on Barston’s creased expression, “defined by the limitless disasters that seem intent on destroying our last gesture of respect.” Straightening, he turned to the silent captains. “Come.”

He left Teller with an obviously agitated Barston, which was too bad; Jewel would have been glad of his company.

The halls were crowded, but the crowds fell silent, parting around Gabriel and his moving party. Discussion would resume, Jewel was sure, once Gabriel’s back was far enough away, and much of that discussion would be about Gabriel. House Guards stiffened as the regent approached, even though he seemed to look right through them. Jewel remembered that The Terafin had also had this effect on the House Guard, and wondered if she would ever master it herself.

Wondered if she needed to master it. “Gabriel?”

He didn’t consider it necessary that she be invisible. “Please tell me there isn’t another emergency that you’ve failed to mention.”

“No, not an emergency exactly.”

“Good. What is it?”

“Sigurne is staying over at the manse for the funeral.”

“The Sigurne of whom you so casually speak wouldn’t happen to be the Guildmaster of the Order of Knowledge?”

Jewel winced. “Yes.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Jewel could almost hear his silent prayer for patience. “Very well. I will ask Barston to arrange suitable rooms for her use.”

“Oh, she’s staying with me. With us.”

“Pardon?”

“She’s staying in the West Wing.”

He was silent for half a hall. “Was this your idea?” he finally asked.

“No.”

“…I see. Very well.
You
will arrange for suitable facilities. I don’t need to tell you how important a person Member Mellifas is, do I?”

“No, Gabriel.”

“Good.” He said it in the exact tone of voice that implied bad. Disastrously bad. As they turned the corner that led to the largest of the galleries and the doors to the grounds at the back of the manse, he spoke again. “She is concerned, then.” His tone was different; both softer and at the same time colder, as if he had remembered the importance of his rank and had donned it instantly.

“She is.”

“Then it is better for the House to have her present. She is not,” he added, relenting, “terribly easy to offend.”

“She couldn’t be. She works with magi.”

He chuckled, acknowledging her point. That chuckle thawed the rigid lines of his face, softening them. Jewel had never known Gabriel well; Teller knew him best, and even Teller was kept at a respectful distance much of the time. But regardless, she’d always liked Gabriel. If The Terafin had earned a peaceful death, Gabriel had earned a peaceful retirement—if that’s what he even wanted—and Jewel vowed, silently, that he would get it if it killed her.

But the softness of expression didn’t last, for as they approached the doors, they also approached a dozen of the House Guards and three of the Chosen. One of them was Arann. He lifted his hands in very subtle den-sign. Jewel signed back: it’s bad.

“Sentrus,” Gabriel said, and one of the older House Guards instantly
stepped forward and offered the regent a perfect salute. Gabriel weathered it. “Report.”

“The Master Gardener is waiting for you by the pavilion.”

“What?”

“He insisted, sir. Member Mellifas said that the danger was almost certainly over. In his hearing.”

“I see. The rest of the gardeners?”

“He sent them on errands.”

“He is alone?”

“No. His two most senior assistants are also with him.”

“Have you seen the pavilion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you concur with Member Mellifas’ observation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I will go myself.”

This added six armored men to their group, but Jewel had a feeling the Master Gardener’s mood made them necessary. She didn’t envy Gabriel his position, and was starkly aware that in different circumstances, she’d be the one trying to calm the man down. In fact, that’s exactly what she would be working toward in the future.

But the Master Gardener didn’t rant, rave, or scream upon sighting the regent. Instead, he fell to his knees, abasing himself in the very rough dirt. This, Jewel thought, was worse, and from Gabriel’s expression, he concurred. “Alraed, you did not destroy the grounds, and if you fall apart now, they will
never
be ready. We have the rest of today and the next two days, and we have the funding to expedite any necessary materials.”