Skirmish: A House War Novel

by West, Michelle

  Chapter Sixteen

  JEWEL EXITED the great room, leaving Teller in the figurative lion’s den. He was more adept at handling the powerful than she was; he was closer to Gabriel, and he had Ellerson’s quiet, steady help. She had Avandar, but on balance, she’d left Levec. Devon was a neutral, but given his first words, she was probably being too generous. Avandar, on the other hand, was in a foul mood.

  “You cannot honestly believe that the target of that attempt was the right-kin,” he said, in scathing, but measured tones.

  “ATerafin.”

  Both Jewel and Avandar turned; Ellerson was standing by the great room’s door. “Your cats,” he said, “are with Haval.”

  Haval’s work was firmly entrenched across most of the floor, two of the chairs, and the entire window seat. He would probably have commandeered the room’s long couch, but Snow and Night were lounging across its length, heads on paws. They looked bored.

  Only one of Haval’s eyes was visible; the other was obscured by a jeweler’s glass. His frayed hair suggested that he had been running his hands through it at far too frequent intervals.

  The glass, however, dropped as his expression changed. “What,” he said, “have you done to my jacket?”

  Pointing out that it was not, in fact, his jacket didn’t even occur to her. “First, I didn’t do it, and second, it’s only the jacket; I’m fine.”

  Haval’s obvious outrage attracted attention. Snow’s ears instantly twitched, and Night’s head rose. It was Night who got down from the couch, stretching his wings so that one of their tips batted Snow in the face.

  “Do not step on anything,” Haval told Night.

  Jewel was shocked when Night hissed—and obeyed. To be fair to the cat, there wasn’t much room for paws. “She’s cut it,” he said, as he approached.

  “I told Haval it wasn’t me,” she replied.

  “You let someone else cut it?”

  Haval had, by this time, fetched the glass that had dropped from his face; he pocketed it, a sign that he intended to forgo work for at least a few minutes. “Please, ATerafin, do answer Night’s question.”

  “I wasn’t exactly standing still,” Jewel told the cat. “I just couldn’t dodge quickly enough.”

  “And what was the ugly one doing?” This was said in a lower, growlier voice.

  Avandar, however, failed to answer. It was his general response to the cats if he happened to be in the room with any of them.

  “Avandar, which is what the rest of us call him, was saving Gabriel ATerafin’s life.”

  Haval’s expression shifted again; when Jewel glanced at his face she saw neutrality writ large. It made him look younger, but not in a way she liked.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” she said to the erstwhile clothier, “he had Duvari’s help.”

  He didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. “You are aware, ATerafin, that I have yet to complete either Teller or Finch’s attire? I will attempt to work while speaking; you will forgive me if I appear to be inattentive. Please. Tell me what happened.”

  By the time she’d half-finished, Night was lying across the floor, his head in her lap; this occurred only after she’d cleared some space. His complaints about boredom numbered in the handful, which, for the cats, was good behavior.

  “Tell me now what you think occurred.”

  “Haval, this isn’t the time for testing—”

  He glared with one eye; the other was still behind glass. “As negotiations for my fee have not yet taken place, and no agreement has therefore been made, you will indulge an old man.”

  Night snickered. Had he been one of her den, she’d’ve smacked him across the back of the head. She’d never hit a cat, on the other hand, and even one that was larger than many of the den still counted. “I think,” she finally said, “that someone in the House has targeted Gabriel for assassination.”

  Haval stopped work for ten seconds; she could almost hear him count. “Besides the obvious,” he finally said, in a tone that indicated displeasure, “what would lead you to draw that conclusion?”

  “The House Council has always known I’m seer-born. I think whoever attempted to kill Gabriel was afraid that I’d give advance warning—somehow—if I weren’t occupied myself. My vision has always been pretty reliable when it’s my own life in danger.”

  “ATerafin,” he replied, in a glacial voice, “I have had very, very little sleep in the past few days, and I am unlikely to alleviate that deficit within the next five. While I realize you might legitimately make the same claim, I would like to point out that my ability to reason has not diminished significantly.”

  “You think the entire point of the attempt was—me?”

  He very pointedly said nothing.

  Try to remember, she told herself silently, that you wanted his advice. Closing her eyes, she let herself be lulled into a calmer state of mind by stroking Night’s head; he didn’t seem to mind, and it helped. “They sent two humans after Gabriel; they sent the demon after me.”

  “Indeed.”

  “But—it makes no sense, Haval. The timing makes no sense. Gabriel is the only person on the House Council who’s made it clear he doesn’t want anything. He won’t remain as right-kin, regardless of who The Terafin is. His regency is the only thing the House Council could possibly agree on at this point. There were no abstentions on that vote, and it was fast.”

  “And it would be inconvenient in the extreme to have the regent assassinated two days before the Kings arrive for the funeral. It would be the act of a fool, given the nature of House politics and the very special laws that govern the internal struggles of any House, to attempt such an assassination while the Lord of the Compact is practically also living under this roof.”

  “I thought you said I was to do my own thinking?”

  “I did. I assume that this is what you would have said, given your assessment of the situation, and I believe my version is briefer.”

  After a long pause, Jewel opened her eyes. Haval’s hands were now still; although he still held his needle, he’d removed the glass from his eye, and he was watching her without expression.

  “You think that the goal was my death; the cover was the attempt on Gabriel’s life.”

  “Gabriel ATerafin’s wound was not fatal?”

  “No.”

  “Would it have been fatal without intervention?”

  “Not according to Levec.”

  “Where is the Member Mellifas?”

  “I don’t know. She—she dealt with the demon. But—there was an illusion of some sort on Gabriel’s door. She—” Jewel frowned. “I think the illusion was being sustained by another mage. I don’t know if the mage is a member of the Order of Knowledge or not.”

  “You are certain that another mage was present?”

  “Yes.” She opened her mouth and closed it again.

  “You look like a fish,” Night said. There was so much smug in that cat’s voice.

  “ATerafin?”

  Jewel shook her head. “It’s Order business, not directly ours; I’m not sure how it will be handled, because the other mage wasn’t operating in the manse with a valid writ.”

  Haval rose. “I am not comfortable with this assessment, but I will allow it for now. I believe,” he added, “we have a guest.”

  She frowned. “Pardon?”

  The door slid open. Devon ATerafin stood in its frame. He frowned as he caught sight of the cats; the cats, on the other hand, regarded him with indolent boredom. Jewel attempted to shove Night off her lap, but Devon shook his head. “If I am not interrupting, ATerafin?”

  “You are,” Haval answered, before Jewel could. “You would be Devon ATerafin.”

  “And you are…Haval.”

  “I am. We are just now discussing the assassination attempt, if you would care to join us. If you are here to deliver either word or request from the Lord of the Compact to Jewel ATerafin, we are not yet finished; as this is not a matter of the security
of the Crowns, he will have to wait.”

  Devon raised a brow.

  “It will be good practice for both young Jewel and Duvari,” Haval continued. “If she is to continue in her quest to assert some sense of reason in the House, she will have to be able to disregard Duvari when the need arises—and he will have to be able to endure it.”

  Jewel cleared her throat. “This isn’t one of the times I need to disregard him.”

  “No?”

  “No. Usually when The Terafin did, he wasn’t in her personal quarters.”

  “Ah. Well, then, this will merely be more challenging. It is certainly not the most challenging of political discomforts you will have to face.” He turned his attention to Devon. “ATerafin?”

  Devon was smiling. It was a very strange smile; Jewel hadn’t seen a similar one on Devon’s face before. “If it will not trouble you further, might I clear a space for myself on one of your chairs?”

  “It will, as you can obviously see, be difficult—however, given that you show no signs of leaving, I will overlook it. Jewel,” he added, “the chair nearest the lounge, if you please.”

  Jewel shoved Night—with effort—off her lap and went to clear off the chair.

  “I fail to see how having Jewel run your errands as if she were the least consequential of apprentices is in keeping with your goal of teaching her appropriate behavior for her station,” Devon observed, as he nonetheless took the damn chair and made himself comfortable.

  “She could easily have relegated the task to her domicis; that she failed to do so is not my concern. She will suffer no political difficulties from acceding to the request of a harmless, old tailor. I am not the Lord of the Compact; nor am I in any way significant in the eyes of her various political rivals.”

  Devon seated, Jewel once again took up her spot on the floor; Night was waiting with what passed muster as patience only in the three cats. He flopped his head back into her lap, although he rumbled as he did. “Why, why, did you have all the fun without us?”

  “Fun?”

  “Well, someone tried to kill you. Did you eat him?”

  “No.”

  Snow, from the chair, muttered something about waste.

  Haval cleared his throat; this had the effect of quieting the cats. Devon was watching Night with the mixture of caution and fascination usually reserved for large fires.

  “Gabriel must have been targeted,” Jewel finally said. “The doors to his office were magically sealed. Avandar had to force them. By force, I mean break them into a million small pieces, some of which are still in my hair.” She hesitated, and then added, “there was also a visitor. Gabriel has House Guards in the office as a matter of course at the moment—just as The Terafin did.”

  “And that visitor?”

  “You’d have to ask either Teller or Barston.” She grimaced. “Ask Teller.”

  “He recognized the name?”

  Avandar, however, said, “There was no man in the room.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Gabriel had no visitor.”

  “That’s impossible,” was her flat reply. “Gabriel’s office is the most magically defended office in the manse; I think he’s more cautious than The Terafin was. If you’re suggesting the guest was entirely an illusion—” she stopped for a moment. “…it’s possible.”

  “It’s probable,” Avandar replied. “Duvari will no doubt question Gabriel about the spells that function within his office.”

  “There’s got to be something to detect that kind of magic.”

  “There is. It is not frequently used; it is considered expensive. If there was, as you imply, a mage present, that might account for much; the illusion would have to be continuously maintained and controlled. Regardless, ATerafin, there was no visitor.”

  “There was a name in the book.”

  “Indeed; I have no doubt of that.” He turned to Haval and nodded. “My apologies.”

  “They are not necessary. I am willing to allow the possibility that the attempt on Gabriel’s life was genuine. I am not, however, willing to allow the possibility that the attempt on Jewel’s was merely a small part of that attempt.”

  “The demon?” Jewel asked, after a long silence.

  Haval nodded. He glanced at Devon, who had remained silent throughout. “You have reservations.”

  “I believe, although I was not privy to the entire conversation, that all of the possibilities have been at least touched on.”

  Haval folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  “Jewel is, however, correct. The timing would appear to favor no one. There is no chance whatsoever that the funeral rites will be postponed.”

  “If Gabriel had perished?”

  “The House Council would be convened almost instantly.”

  “And a new regent chosen?”

  Devon nodded. “A new regent would be chosen by either vote or consensus. Consensus is, of course, to be desired, but if consensus cannot be reached—and I fail to see how, in the short time the funeral rites dictate, it could be—it is likely to be decided by vote of the Council members in question.”

  “What if one of the contenders then installed their regent of choice?” It was to Jewel that he directed the question.

  “It wouldn’t do them any good. If one of the contenders made himself—or herself—regent, that’s all they’d ever be, unless the governing rules were rewritten. The regent is not The Terafin. If Rymark proposed himself as regent, everyone on the Council would jump for joy, because he’d be saying by that action that he was withdrawing from the race.” She hesitated. “If he did that, he’d almost certainly be given the appointment.”

  “If there were no contenders during the regency?”

  “What, if they all died?”

  “If that is the only circumstance in which you can see the lack, yes.”

  “If there were no contenders, the regent would still be regent; he would, in all but name, be The Terafin; he would take the Terafin Seat in Avantari, and he would rule the House.” She shook her head. “Rymark is far too proud to settle for the title of regent when he wants the House.”

  “Is it?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Is it what he wants?”

  Jewel blinked.

  Haval once again took a seat in front of his beads. “You have said,” he continued, picking up his glass and fitting it over his right eye, “that you believe Rymark to be, if not involved with the Terafin’s assassination, then at least cognizant of its timing and method.”

  Jewel said nothing.

  “What you have not considered, given your own focus, is Rymark’s. You’ve made the assumption that his focus is the House Seat. I will admit that it is the safe assumption, and it is certainly the assumption from which the other contenders will proceed.”

  “Rymark was in Gabriel’s outer office. He actually attempted to immolate the demon after Sigurne caught it.”

  “I believe that is significant.”

  “That he tried to help?”

  Haval’s whole face creased in an unpleasant frown. He surprised her by answering anyway. “That he raised a hand only after the demon was secured.”

  Jewel desperately wished that Devon were somewhere else. She was accustomed to Haval’s moods; she wasn’t accustomed to witnesses whose good opinion she needed in future.

  She began to scratch Night’s ears again, and Snow got down from the chair and stepped on Night’s tail. There was some scuffling, hissing, and recrimination before Snow got what he wanted, which was to take Night’s place. While this occurred, Jewel did the thinking that Haval demanded.

  “Rymark is a member of the Order of Knowledge. I think he’s Second Circle.”

  “He is,” Haval said.

  “Finch and Teller are certain that he expected the demon assassin. There are only two ways he could have known.”

  “The first?”

  “In the first case, he could have been approached—somehow—by eithe
r demons or those who work alongside demons.”

  “They would approach him how?”

  “He’s a member of the Order of Knowledge, which, among other things, appears to breed the idiots. They think they’ll rule small parts of the world if they can only learn the art of summoning creatures that are older, smarter, and more powerful than they are.