Jewel’s eyes widened. “B-breakfast? Announcement?”
The Terafin raised one brow and then said, gently, “You will have to tell them sometime.”
“Y-you’ll take them, then? You’ll take them as well?”
“I will, as you say, take them as well. One is already a member of my House Guard, and two are in key positions within the House’s general operations, albeit junior positions. Barston is actually grudgingly satisfied with Teller’s work—and when you meet Barston officially, you will understand just how much of a compliment that is. Lucille ATerafin has said very little about Finch’s work, but if Finch did poor work, believe that she would have much, much more to share. Jarven ATerafin, however, has spoken favorably of her.”
Jewel knew of all three, but she said nothing.
“If we wait,” The Terafin continued, “it will be more difficult to make a case for the rest of your den. At the moment, the House is aware of what Terafin owes you, and I will face little opposition in Council if I choose to both nominate and grant the House Name to your den. You, of course, will not be questioned.”
“What will you tell them if you are questioned? About the others, I mean?”
The Terafin’s smile was slight. “I will tell them that exposure to the magi and the Kings has made you aware of your singular value, and you will not remain in the House without this concession. They will accept it as necessary, even if they find it distasteful; I would. They will also see it as a sign of your knowledge of your worth, which will be expected.
“I will make the announcement at breakfast.”
“Wait.”
The Terafin nodded.
“Can you make it at tomorrow’s breakfast?”
“No. I do not normally join the House for breakfast. Today is an exception, and the reasons for it is obvious. If you will wait until tomorrow, it will be in the evening.”
“I’ll live with it,” Jewel said, almost without thinking. “I need to talk to them all first.” She hesitated again, and then said, “Does it have to be public?”
At this, The Terafin frowned. “Yes. The House Name is a matter of both pride and achievement; it is not an embarrassment or a humiliation, and gaining the House Name will never be treated as a guilty secret.” Her voice softened. “And it must be now, Jewel. It is now, or years from now. The House is not aware of all of the details of your involvement—or your den’s—in this bitter season; they are, however, aware that you were in some ways critical to our survival.
“This is a fitting reward, a fitting gesture of gratitude. No one will gainsay it; no one will question it. Wait a month, wait two, and gratitude will fade. If you intend to hide the House Name to save your den from the resentment of those who must approach it more slowly, time is not your friend.”
Jewel nodded because it was what she was afraid of. She knew they were the outsiders here. “I’ll tell them.”
Chapter Twenty-four
1st of Veral, 411 A.A.
Terafin Manse, Averalaan Aramarelas
ENDINGS WERE ALWAYS DIFFICULT.
Ellerson, who had weathered many, still found them painful. But without endings, there were no new beginnings. He reminded himself of this, seated as he was before The Terafin, because he required the reminder.
“You are certain of your decision?” The Terafin asked quietly. Her hand held a quill, and before her, on an otherwise spotless desk, lay his contract.
Because she was not his master, he felt no need to dissemble. “I am,” he replied. “As certain, Terafin, as you yourself are.”
She lifted a brow. “I am less certain,” she finally said. “It has not escaped my attention that your interactions with the den itself were more numerous than your interactions with its leader; they will miss your guidance.”
“I will miss offering it,” he replied. “But I cannot now be what Jewel requires.” He glanced up at Morretz, who stood to one side of his lord, and raised a white brow at his former student.
Morretz, of course, noticed, as did The Terafin. But he nodded. “I concur,” he said, stiffly. If he was not pleased, his anger was still secondary to his chosen vocation. But only barely, Ellerson thought.
“The guildmaster and I could come up with no alternative,” he told Morretz. “In all the lists of possible candidates, who would you have chosen to replace me? She is a seer, Morretz. She is ATerafin. There is a very real chance that in spite of the domicis we have selected, she will not survive. Had she been surrendered to the Kings and the Kings’ service, she would be safer—but in truth, not by much, and it is likely that she would spend her days and years surrounded by the Astari.”
“I see little difference, at the moment.”
“Morretz,” The Terafin said softly but coolly. He subsided. She waited. Into the awkward silence, one of the Chosen walked.
“The new domicis has arrived.”
She was silent for a moment longer, and then she moved; she signed the papers and rose. “If you will wait,” she told Ellerson.
He nodded.
Torvan ATerafin joined his lord in the library. He offered her the salute their respective ranks demanded, and she indicated, by gesture, that kneeling was neither required nor desired; he stood. Morretz was restless, although his movements were minimal and silent.
“Torvan,” The Terafin said, “you are aware that Jewel is ATerafin, in a way that most of the House is not.”
He nodded.
“Were it not for your intervention, she would not, I think, be a House member; were it not for your intervention, her sense of debt and obligation to the House I rule would be minimal.”
He nodded again, but now he was watchful.
“Were it not for her intervention, you would not now be standing before me. I am grateful for both her intervention and your continued service.” She waited.
After a long pause, Torvan said, “What do you intend her role in the House to be?”
She rewarded the question with a nod and the faintest of smiles. “I will, in the near future, nominate her to the House Council.”
Both of his brows rose. “She is young,” he finally said.
“Yes. But it is impossible that the Council will not know of her abilities; they will accede to the request because it will give them easy exposure and access to her. They will not, however, accede without argument.
“During this period of transition, she will require guards. House Guards are assigned duties to Council Members, as you are aware. As you are also no doubt aware, the House Guards so assigned often have . . . stretched loyalties.” He opened his mouth, and closed it when she lifted a hand. “I require no defense of the House Guard.”
“Terafin.”
“She will not require many guards; I want at most eight, in rotation. But of those eight, I want at least one whom I consider to be beyond reproach.”
Torvan was not, and had never been, a fool. “You mean for me to join her detail.” His words were even and flat.
She inclined her head. “I’ve spoken with Alayra.”
Torvan’s grimace was brief. Alayra had not—quite—forgiven him for the attempted assassination. In time, perhaps. “She was relieved?”
“She had no objections. She has not, however, reassigned you.”
“Oh?”
“You are Chosen, Torvan. Were it not for your intervention, the first demon to enter the manse would have achieved what the second failed to achieve; I had divested myself of even Morretz for that meeting.” She hesitated and then added, “I did not fail to remind Alayra of this fact. She will come around. You know her as well as I.”
“My life is not her life’s work,” he replied, after a pause. “Trusting me is an unnecessary risk.”
“I trust you.”
He was silent for a moment. “You mean to leave the choice to me.”
“It will be seen as a punishment, or perhaps a display of doubt on my part. But I will not make—or force—that choice on you; I have already erred once,
and I will not repeat the mistake, even if the consequences are not immediately as dire.
“Jewel does not understand protocol; she will learn, but it will never come as naturally to her as it does to the rest of the House Council. She’s cautious, and she’ll continue to be cautious, but in ways that will do nothing to preserve her life should it be threatened now; it is for that reason that the guard is not a simple formality.
“You understand her value to the House. Everyone on the Council will do the same. But no one on the Council will have your history with her.”
Torvan was silent for another moment. “If I do not accept the reassignment, who will you install in my place?”
“I will confer with Alayra. I will also take your suggestions under consideration.”
He shook his head, and the slightest of smiles shaded his expression. “If House Guards are assigned, enterprising members of your Council may seek to influence the guards in question.”
“You see the difficulty.”
“I do. She is not capable of the rigid protocols of formality that separate her life from the lives of the people she must depend on. She would be easy to influence in one way or another, if there was any subtlety involved.”
The Terafin nodded.
“She would not, however, be easy to browbeat or threaten.”
“No. But they will have some exposure to her in the months—and years—to come; they aren’t fools.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve served as Chosen for years, Terafin.”
She waited.
“I’ve attended House Council meetings; I’ve attended important trade overtures. I’ve even attended sessions of the full Council of Ten. She’ll have her domicis?”
“She will. It will not, however, be Ellerson.”
“No, it couldn’t be.” He hesitated and then began to pace. As he was not, in fact, on duty, he could—but it was unusual. “The domicis is not currently in residence in the manse?”
“No. In this case, the domicis would be required to accept a permanent position rather than a contracted term.”
He raised a brow and lowered it again quickly. “My experience within the House and with the Council could prove useful in that case.”
“Invaluable. The domicis will, of course, come up to speed as quickly as his service requires—but you would, if you accept, be part of how that speed is achieved.”
“How much leeway would I be given?”
“In what sense?”
“May I choose the guards?”
“Within reason.”
“There will be no other Chosen?”
“There will be eyebrows raised at the presence of one of my Chosen; more, I cannot grant, although I would not begrudge it.”
“Pay?”
“They will, of course, be House Guards; their schedule of pay will reflect that.”
He nodded again, and she had to stop herself from smiling.
“I realize there are protocols involved, but if I accept this assignment—”
“As you clearly mean to do?”
He had the grace to redden slightly. “She is not what you are, Terafin,” he said gravely.
“No. But in time, she may well be what I am now. If she survives. What concession did you intend to ask of me?”
“Only that I be able to inform her myself.”
“The relationship her guards will have with her will of necessity be slightly unusual. Yes,” The Terafin added. “Granted.”
“Then I will depart. I will inform the Captain of the House Guard and seek his advice.”
She watched him go. Everything she had said was, of course, the truth—but it was not the whole truth; she offered Torvan the detail because she thought, in the end, it would suit him; he had grown attached to the den and its fortunes in the House, and he owed Jewel Markess his life. Jewel, conversely, owed him a life she valued more than her own; they had, between them, the solid foundation of an abiding trust.
Morretz cleared his throat. “Terafin,” he said.
“Is it time?”
“We are to meet with the applicant from the Guild of the Domicis within the quarter hour.”
Amarais was curious. She was long past the age where curiosity could not be contained by silence, but she glanced once at Morretz before she made her way out of the office and into the library of her personal quarters. Morretz, as her personal domicis, was expected both to have opinions and to make them known with discretion; she was accustomed to the small and almost invisible signs of his disapproval. Nor did she often disagree with his appraisal.
But in his years as her domicis, she had never seen such obvious, barely concealed hostility. He walked stiffly, and his silence was so thin she expected it to break at any time. She had, however, asked what it was about the candidate that he disliked, and he had fallen utterly silent.
She was therefore to be left to her own devices in his evaluation.
Four of her Chosen were in the library as she entered. The room’s fifth occupant was a tall, dark-haired man. He glanced at her as she entered, and his glance strayed—briefly—to Morretz. Without pausing to look back at her domicis, she couldn’t see his reaction.
The man was standing to one side of the large, long table at which she habitually worked when she did not have pressing engagements. He stood beneath the glassed windows set into the ceilings above; the evening had already dimmed the natural light enough that magical light had begun its timed glow.
She took a chair and motioned for her visitor to do likewise; he seemed to miss the gesture. Interesting. He did, however, offer her a perfect, if stiff bow.
“I am Avandar Gallais,” he told her quietly. “I have come from the Guild of Domicis to meet with the ATerafin.”
She raised a brow. His voice was both deep and clear; he was not nervous in the presence of power. Nor had she expected he would be, but there was something about his stance that implied that he was accustomed to being a power. He had not come to the manse in the robes of the guildhall with which she was familiar; he wore red and black robes, which suited his coloring. His eyes were dark enough in the evening light to seem black. He was not a young man. Neither was he old; he defied age, as only one other she had met could: Meralonne APhaniel. They were not, this man and the mage, alike in any obvious way, but as she took the measure of the domicis, she thought they were like night and Winter.
Morretz took his place to one side of her chair in utter silence.
The doors opened to allow Gabriel entrance; he glanced at the new domicis and then walked straight across the carpets to The Terafin’s side; he also took the seat she indicated and then handed her a small sheaf of papers. It was a much more complicated contract than Ellerson’s had been, and he had looked so dismayed when she’d asked that he personally see to its contents, she had almost repented. He was understaffed, given the day, and had he not been, the weeks that had led to it ensured no escape from the duties of his office in the foreseeable future.
But he understood the need, and he had done as she’d asked. She glanced without concern at the first of many pages and then turned again to face the standing domicis. To her surprise, it was the domicis who spoke.
“I have not yet accepted this assignment.”
She raised a brow.
“It was not my intent to waste service in pursuit of children,” he continued. “I am aware of the duties of the previous domicis.”
His obvious arrogance caused her brow to rise further; she glanced at Gabriel, whose barely concealed astonishment amused her. She set the contract aside on the table’s surface.
“I would therefore hear more about this girl before I make my decision.”
Were it up to Gabriel, the decision would no longer be in his hands; that much was clear. Add to it Morretz’s obvious animosity, and Avandar Gallais did not seem, in any way, to be an appropriate candidate. She inclined her head, however.
“This conversation is, of course, under the guildhall rules,�
� she told the domicis.
“Indeed. If, in the end, she is not of significance to me, I will have no desire to speak of her at all.”
The Terafin raised a brow. “Very well. Jewel Markess ATerafin is sixteen years of age, as far as we know. She was born in the lower hundred holdings; she was both raised and orphaned there.”
One black brow rose.
“She can speak passable Torra; she can read and write.”
It rose further, and the lines of man’s lips compressed. “You test my patience,” he finally said.
“Indeed,” she replied, with a cool smile.
The contours of his brow changed, and the smile he offered in return was a match for hers. “Forgive my impatience,” he said. “I have lingered in the guildhall for what feels an interminable length waiting for a suitable lord to whom I might offer my service.”
“Jewel is in no way a traditional member of the patriciate. Her understanding of the subtleties of power is entirely in keeping with her background.”
“But she is valuable enough—to you—that you seek a permanent contract in her stead.”
“She is.”
“May I ask why?”
“You may. It is relevant to your decision.” But Amarais hesitated for a moment. The man was a noble, or had been born to the nobility. He had not learned his carriage or bearing in any other way. He was, she thought, younger than she—but not by much. She glanced at Gabriel, who was frowning. Morretz, however, was stone.
“You are aware of the difficulties that occurred in the city in the past few weeks?”
He surprised her then. He shrugged. “I am.” The way he spoke the two words made it clear that he thought he understood the whole of what had occurred—something she herself could not easily say. His arrogance was astonishing; it was either refreshing or irritating, or some blend of both.
“Oh?” The single spoken word was cool.
“The Kialli play their games,” he replied. “As do the gods, in their time. Neither are of much concern to me.”
Gabriel rose, his left palm splayed against the surface of the table.
“Gabriel,” she said. “Please, be seated.” She turned her attention back to the domicis. “It appears that your understanding is more . . . complete . . . than one would except from a member of the Guild of Domicis.”
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