Skirmish: A House War Novel

by West, Michelle

  “Exalted,” Jewel said.

  The older woman, her golden eyes ringed by lines and lack of sleep, dredged a smile out of somewhere and offered it. Jewel cast a warning look at the cats, who sat at her back in perfect silence. It couldn’t last, but if it lasted just long enough, she promised to remember to be grateful.

  “ATerafin. We are happy to see that you have returned safely. The guildmaster felt it prudent to summon us—in haste—when you disappeared. Although it is clear you are safe, we do not feel that she was in error.” The Exalted then indicated, by dip of chin, that Jewel was to move out of the way, and Jewel had been raised by old women; she moved.

  The cats moved with her, eyeing the Exalted in a way that made Jewel’s heart skip a beat. She placed one hand on the tops of the heads of the white and the black cats.

  “Do you know the history of these trees?” the Mother’s Daughter asked as she approached the girth of the trunk. It was significantly wider than it had been scant hours ago, and a hell of a lot more healthy.

  Jewel frowned. Did she? She’d heard stories about the trees, of course—anyone who grew up near the Common had. “No, Exalted.”

  “Ah. There is—was—only one place in the whole of the Empire that these trees are said to grow. They were called Moorelas’ trees, in the lays of old.”

  That, Jewel hadn’t heard. “Were they his?”

  “I think not. They were also called Summer Trees, and Winter, depending on the teller, and I think the heart of that is closer to the truth. It is not all of the truth.” She hesitated, and then glanced at the silent Exalted of the other two churches.

  The Exalted of Cormaris nodded, and she raised a white brow. He began to speak.

  “Some decades past, ATerafin, you were responsible for drawing our attention—and the attention, indirectly, of our parents—to the crypt in which the Sleepers lie.”

  Jewel nodded.

  “The crypt lies under the shadow of Moorelas, a reminder of death—a reminder of the cost of waking those who must sleep.”

  She nodded again, but this time more hesitantly.

  “That crypt is on the mainland. It is within the bounds of the City proper, within the hundred holdings.”

  Everyone knew this. She waited.

  “It has long been believed, by at least Teos, Lord of Knowledge, that the trees grow in the City because the Sleepers lie here.”

  “But—”

  “But?”

  “They’re just trees.”

  “Indeed, ATerafin. It is why Teos’ beliefs in this matter have been given little credence; they have also been given little play for other reasons. The location of the Sleepers has long been known to the gods alone. In time, it will once again be a matter of myth and children’s stories, although perhaps that is the work of decades.” He glanced at the tree, but did not approach.

  “Now, it appears, there are new trees. We have taken no time to consult with our parents,” he added. “Nor will we until we can more coherently report on this night’s events. From where did these trees come?”

  Jewel glanced at Sigurne.

  “I cannot answer,” Sigurne said, also drawing the attention of the Exalted. “For my part, I witnessed only the first half of this singular transformation, and I have already told the Exalted what I saw.”

  “Indeed, indeed, Guildmaster.” The Son of Cormaris turned back to Jewel. “Sigurne AMellifas saw you vanish. You walked to the tree, you touched it, and you simply ceased to exist in any way that her magics could detect.”

  Jewel nodded. “That’s not quite what it looked like to me—but I did walk. I walked down a path into a forest.” She glanced at her hands; they were full of cat, but otherwise empty. The leaves she had received the second time had taken root as well.

  “One of your guards went with you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that guard?”

  She gestured at Arann and he stepped forward. He was no longer a boy; even in the presence of the Exalted, he was as neutral as Torvan in expression and bearing.

  “Your name?”

  “Arann Cartan.”

  “Of the Terafin House Guard?”

  “Yes, Exalted.”

  “And you saw what your master saw?”

  “Yes, Exalted. We walked down a path. I didn’t see forest as clearly as she did; I was watching her and the edges of the path. It was dark,” he added.

  “But it was definitely forest.”

  Arann nodded. There was no hesitation in the nod. No description either. Whatever was said, Jewel would say, or no one would.

  “Sigurne,” she said, “I took the leaves into the forest. They took root there.” All hesitations were hers here. “There were trees of silver, gold, and diamond on the path by the time they’d finished.”

  Sigurne glanced at the silent cats.

  “The cats came after the trees grew.”

  “And they are yours?”

  Jewel winced. “They’re cats,” she said, as if that explained everything. “But bigger, and with wings.”

  The Exalted exchanged a glance, and then gathered by the base of the great tree. And it was a great tree, now; it was taller, wider, its branches higher, than any tree that otherwise graced the gardens.

  “ATerafin,” the Mother’s Daughter said, “Do you understand the nature of the forest in which you walked?”

  Jewel was silent. “No,” she finally said. “It’s not—it’s not completely real, to me. It’s like a conscious dream; I understood it while I stood on the path. I understood what it meant, how to walk it, how to hold it against all enemies. But now?”

  “Can you return?”

  Jewel took a deep breath. “Yes. I can.”

  “Was it night there?”

  Jewel nodded.

  “Is it night now?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure I understand the question,” she added, glancing pointedly at the moon. “It’s night here.”

  “Very well. We will be present two and a half days from now; we will ask you that question again at that time.” She turned to the guildmaster. “Sigurne.”

  Sigurne approached, and to Jewel’s surprise, the Mother’s Daughter held out both of her hands; the mage took them carefully—and it seemed, to Jewel, gratefully.

  “You needn’t worry that you have roused us for no purpose. We judge the trees in the garden safe, for both the funeral rites, and those who might come to view them. It is not these trees, however, that are now in question, and you have alerted us to a possibility that the wise had not foreseen. Rest easy, if indeed you can; you have expended no political capital, and it is possible we may be in your debt.”

  “In a matter of this nature, debt cannot be accrued between those who hold the interests of the Empire at heart.”

  “I fear, in the end, the interests that you speak of will encompass far more,” was the Exalted’s quiet reply. She withdrew her hands when Sigurne released them, and this time, she approached Jewel.

  “You seem a very ordinary girl,” she said, after a long moment of silent inspection. It wasn’t quite what Jewel had expected, and had anyone else said it, it would have been just this side of rude. The wrong side. “Tell me, ATerafin, why did you step upon that path? I will not ask how. It is not a question I believe you can answer.”

  “It seemed necessary, at the time. I’m sorry, Exalted; I don’t have a better explanation. It was instinctive. I’ve learned, with time, to trust my instincts.”

  The Exalted of the Mother nodded kindly. “Your instincts, we have been informed, are very…certain. What did you find on the path, ATerafin?”

  “The heart of a tree,” Jewel replied, knowing how stupid it would sound. “And more. I think—” she shook her head. “I found House Terafin. I found the hundred holdings. I found some part of the city I’ve known all my life.”

  “That is not all.”

  “No, it never is—but they were there. They are there. I don’t know how. But it’s not the first time
I’ve walked a path like that.”

  “And the last time?”

  “I met the Winter Queen.”

  Silence.

  The silence couldn’t last. Jewel, who rarely valued silence—because it was so synonymous with emptiness—regretted its passing. “It is as we suspected,” the Exalted of Cormaris said. He spoke with his usual quiet authority. “She has traversed the hidden paths.” He turned to Jewel. “The Exalted of the Mother has said she will not ask you how you could step upon that path, but I must. How, ATerafin?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you not? Do you have no suspicion at all that might lead us to an acceptable answer?”

  She could have said no, but that would have been lying—and pinned by the lambent golden eyes of the god-born, lies seemed very, very unwise. “Some of my talent expresses itself in dreams,” she finally said. “And our encounter with the tree earlier in the afternoon implied—strongly—that dreaming was involved.”

  “And you are versed in lucid dreams?”

  “No. Just ones that come true.”

  He raised a graying brow at the edge in her reply, and she had the grace—just barely—to duck her head in apology. She was tired. No, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to hobble back to the West Wing, and fall over into the nearest bed. She didn’t much care whose the nearest bed was, at this point.

  “Something someone said implied that the dreaming here was a…space. A physical presence. That I could walk into it, because in some way, I do that already. In my sleep,” she added, aware that the words themselves were both true and…stupid. “I had to try.”

  “You’ve said that you were driven to this extreme by instinct. What, then, did you find on the hidden path?”

  Jewel had so hoped to have this part of the conversation in the privacy of Gabriel’s very magically protected office—because it meant she could offload the resulting difficulties onto shoulders that were quite accustomed to the patriciate and its politics. She now surrendered that hope. “A demon.”

  More silence.

  Turning to the very rigid Gabriel ATerafin, Jewel said, “Regent, I think I understand how the demons arrived in Terafin.” The regent looked as if he hadn’t slept in three days; he also looked aged by about a decade. Neither of these were an improvement. He was, in theory, the ruler of the House; in practice—a practice Jewel understood well, even if she sometimes resented the hell out of it—the Exalted had precedence. But there were some things that the ruler of the House, even if temporary, had to be told first, in Jewel’s opinion, and this was the only safe way of making that opinion known.

  It wasn’t, however, Gabriel who answered.

  “ATerafin.” The Lord of the Compact stepped forward. He even bowed, although it was entirely perfunctory; there was certainly no respect in the look he gave her as he rose. To be fair to Duvari—which wasn’t the first item on Jewel’s list of social necessities—he also looked as if he hadn’t slept and had aged prematurely. On Duvari, however, Jewel had no doubts that both states were temporary.

  “Lord of the Compact,” she replied, in a tone just as friendly as the one he’d used. He raised a peppered brow, and then nodded; he offered her the edge of a very cool smile. She swore, but not out loud.

  “Please feel free to expand upon the information you have just offered the regent.”

  “I think they walked here from wherever it is they now reside.”

  “Explain.”

  “The Exalted spoke of a hidden path. I think this,” she said, lifting a palm to touch the living tree, “is on that path. The demons can walk it.”

  “And you believe they infiltrated the House by walking through the tree?” It was clearly not an answer to Duvari’s liking. Duvari had a practical mind. A practical, paranoid mind.

  “Not through the tree, no. But to it.”

  “I will not belabor the obvious by asking about the nature of this specific tree; I can see that it is not…entirely natural. Will the demon return?”

  “Not that way,” she replied.

  “And you are certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  She really disliked Duvari. “Because it’s my tree, in the middle of my lands, and I don’t want him here. Any other demon that visits will have to come in through the doors.”

  “These lands have always been Terafin lands,” was his quiet reply. It was quiet in exactly the wrong way. “Are you implying that previous rulers of the House ceded entry to the demons?”

  Really, really disliked Duvari. “No. You’re inferring it.” By pulling it out of your—she stifled the thought. Barely. “The previous rulers of Terafin couldn’t walk that path; they couldn’t touch it. What they couldn’t touch, they couldn’t make their own.”

  “And you—”

  “Yes. It’s mine.”

  “I…see.” He glanced pointedly at the heights of the tree above her head. “And if you can accomplish this—which a host of gardeners going back centuries of Averalaan history could not with all of their combined skill and knowledge—what else can you accomplish, ATerafin?”

  “I can keep demons from gaining entrance to Terafin using that particular back door,” was her grim reply.

  Jewel, Avandar said. He was very aware of how little she liked this silent form of communication, and only used it when he deemed it necessary. Do not antagonize Duvari unless you plan to do so.

  Which wasn’t something she needed to be told, on most days. Clearly she needed to be told that tonight.

  “Lord of the Compact,” the Exalted of Cormaris said, “I believe it is late, and the young ATerafin requires some sleep and some time to gather her thoughts. She has already made clear that she acts on instinct.”

  “Instinct is not—”

  “—And for the moment, until we have the chance to confer with our parents—which I assure you we will be doing before the dawn—I do not believe there is further information to be gained. There is, of course, hostility—but while that suits your particular style, it does not suit hers. There is no need to back her into a corner.”

  “The Kings, the Queens, and the Exalted will be in attendance for the first day of The Terafin’s funeral rites,” was the clipped and very cold reply.

  “We are aware of that. So, too, will all of The Ten, saving only Terafin, for whom a successor has not yet been chosen, all of the guildmasters, and all of the Sacred of the rest of the churches within the city. I understand that they are not your responsibility, but they serve a necessary function within the domain of the Kings that are.”

  “What Terafin successor will now be willing to countenance the existence of a woman who can literally manipulate reality in their own backyard?”

  “That is, as you are well aware, an internal matter; it is not for any of us to decide what the next Terafin can—or cannot—countenance. We judge that the Kings and the Queens will be safe from this particular threat; the Kings themselves would not ask for more.”

  “And you will give reassurances—”

  “Lord of the Compact, I already have; if you fail to find them reassuring, may I suggest you reconsider?”

  Duvari fell silent. Jewel recognized the silence; it was one she herself employed when it was absolutely necessary not to offend the person who was busy offending her. She enjoyed it a lot more when Duvari was forced to use it.

  And that much petty was almost too much. “Lord of the Compact, I understand your concern. If I could answer your questions, I would. But I can barely put two coherent words together. As Member Mellifas is currently a guest in my wing of the manse, any further conversation on our part will delay her much-needed rest.”

  “Very well. Regent,” he said, turning abruptly to face the very silent Gabriel ATerafin, “I request an appointment to speak with you on the morrow. I also request that Jewel ATerafin be in attendance.”

  Gabriel nodded. “It will not be first thing in the morning; given the difficulties encountered
both this afternoon and this eve, some juggling of the schedule will have to be done. Understand that we are aware of the gravity of the situation; we are also aware of the dangers should any harm befall the royal family. The Chosen are already in motion as we speak.”