Battle: The House War: Book Five

by Michelle West

  Meralonne said nothing.

  Jewel however said, “What is true?”

  “What they fear, Terafin. You will raise a city in this place that could rival the cities once built by gods.”

  * * *

  He came to stand before her, without Shadow to intervene. Avandar remained where he was, but Angel moved. Angel, however, was not considered the threat that Avandar was; Rymark ignored him—just as he ignored the Chosen. She was prepared for his bow, but that’s not what he chose to offer; he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

  She froze; she almost took a step back, she found the obeisance so unsettling. But she held her ground, forcing her hands to remain by her sides. “Explain yourself, Rymark,” she said.

  He lifted his head; he did not rise. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Celleriant when the Arianni prince had adopted the same posture, which reinforced her discomfort.

  “I have been, as you must certainly suspect, a member of the Shining Court.” He said it baldly; he made no apologies for what would undeniably be considered an act of treason.

  “Have been?” She resisted the urge to tell him to stand up. “And you’ve had a miraculous change of heart?” She didn’t bother to dull the edge in the words.

  “Terafin, do you understand what a god is? Not the gods who speak to their children across the divide—but a god who lives, walks, breathes, and feeds in this world?”

  “I believe I have some idea, yes.”

  “I would have told you that you could not, a scant hour ago. But now . . . perhaps. You did not come into this power during your years as The Terafin’s aide.”

  “Demonstrably not.”

  “It is new, to you. Before this, before you created your library and this—this war room—did you honestly suppose that we might prevail against a living god?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps your talent gives you some guidance that I myself lacked. I am not a fool; I have never been one. I understand power—and I understand the ways in which the magical, the mystical, grant a deeper, stranger power than mere money does.”

  “Money pays armies.”

  “It does. Do you honestly think the Kings’ armies can stand on a field that the god has claimed as his own?”

  “Not alone, no. But they do not stand alone.”

  “They will,” he replied evenly. “Ariane cannot leave her domain; she will not ride to the aid of the mortals.”

  Jewel had just enough warning—instinctive, visceral warning—to grab Meralonne’s arm as he lifted it, pointing. The floor shattered to the left of where Rymark now knelt. To his credit, Rymark barely flinched.

  “Terafin,” Meralonne said, each syllable distinct and staccato. “My arm.”

  “No. Execute him for treason; execute him for the practice of forbidden arts. Execute him at my command as The Terafin, if you are willing to allow the death to remain behind the shield of House Law. I will grant permission for no other death, here.”

  Avandar now stepped between Rymark and Meralonne.

  “Viandaran, stand aside,” Meralonne told him. Jewel’s knuckles were white; she hadn’t surrendered her grip on his arm, but at this point, it made no difference. He could have lifted her off her feet without effort, concern, or possibly even awareness.

  Avandar neither complied nor replied. Jewel wondered if it bothered him to form a shield for Rymark.

  No, Jewel. It bothers you. I would stand between APhaniel and any member of your House should you give a command that the magi wished to ignore. I would possibly allow the cats to be singed.

  “Member APhaniel, if you will not abide by my decisions, you are free to leave. You will not, however, be free to return in the future.”

  He lowered his arm slowly, his eyes a flashing silver-gray, narrowed to slits. “Terafin.”

  Avandar did not notably relax; nor did he move.

  “You believed we had no chance against Allasakar,” Jewel said, turning a cool gaze upon Rymark.

  “It is not a belief, Terafin; it is fact.”

  “And so you chose to serve?”

  “Better to serve the god than to perish in the conflagration of those who defy him. You would do the same, if you better understood his power.”

  She almost kicked him; her hands had gathered into fists in spite of her determination to remain cool and distant. She said nothing; had she spoken, she wouldn’t have stopped for an hour, and anything useful Rymark might have said would be lost.

  “We defeated him once before.”

  “You stymied him once before; it is not the same. He has gathered power in the Northern Wastes; he has built his Court; he has built an army.”

  “That army was not notably successful in the South,” she countered. “And in the South, the god-born are killed at birth.”

  He said nothing for a long moment, and he chose this moment to rise. “Were it not for the folly and treachery of Lord Isladar, the army would not have failed.”

  Jewel froze at the mention of that name. “Lord Isladar is Kialli,” she said.

  “He is. You have encountered him?”

  “Yes. He attempted to kill me once.” And he had left an injured girl in her care the second time. She failed to mention Ariel. “Where is he now?”

  “His location is unknown; they search for him. It is irrelevant; were it not for his part in the battle, the Shining Court would rule the Dominion now. Depending on the treachery of the Kialli in order to secure what was barely a victory is foolish in the extreme.”

  “Depending on any victory, according to your words, is foolish in the extreme.”

  He smiled and turned, once again, toward the window. “No, Terafin. It was. The Kialli do not speak of the reasons they fear the Voyani, but the human members of the Court have whispered the words: The Cities of Man. I thought them fables,” he added, “until the first city rose: the Tor Arkosa.”

  She had seen it. She said nothing.

  “And the second, Lyserra, has also risen. The Kialli were displeased. When I last visited the Shining City, they had been dispersed to hunt—and kill—the Voyani Matriarchs who remained.”

  “They won’t find that easy, if it is possible at all,” Jewel replied, thinking of the terrifying and indomitable Yollana.

  “No, and that is strange. But the god does not yet choose to walk in the Dominion, much to the regret of the Lord’s Fist. The time is coming, but the god’s eyes are turned toward the Holy Isle and the city of Averalaan. To us,” he added. “And here you stand. You have already begun to build what must be built, and there is now a chance that it is the mortals who will stand against the god and his armies.

  “You are the first sign of hope I have seen in my years of service to the Shining Court; the first indication—at all—that men’s knees will not bend, or break, in the presence of god.” His eyes were wide as he spoke the last word, and what he saw Jewel hoped she would never see. He closed them, composing himself. “I have always been a pragmatic man. I would not throw my life away on futile resistance.”

  “I don’t particularly care if you throw your own life away,” Jewel replied. “But with people like you, it’s never just your own life.”

  “People like me?” He raised a brow. “Do you truly consider yourself different in any way?”

  “In every conceivable way. If you need explanations of how, I’m not sure you’re perceptive enough to have information of value—to anyone.”

  “And yet,” he continued, undaunted, “you are now The Terafin; you preside over the most powerful House in the Empire, second only to the Kings and the Exalted. Do you mean to tell me that you occupy that position by luck and merit?”

  “No.”

  He inclined his head.

  “I mean to tell you I don’t occupy it because of treachery, deceit, and probable blackmail.” He did not appear to find the response amusing. “I am disappointed in you.”

  “Because I have been honest?”

  “If that’s what you
call it, and no. I am disappointed because you have successfully worked as an agent for the god most of us won’t even name, for at least a decade and quite probably longer—and yet you cannot understand me well enough to at least dissemble intelligently. Instead, you offer insults in the guise of honesty, when you have yet to demonstrate that you understand the meaning of the word.”

  He stiffened. “I intended,” he told her curtly, “to survive.”

  “So did—and do—I. But I intend for far more than just myself to survive.”

  “You have power that I did not—and do not—possess. It is ludicrously simple for you to make that claim. You intend to fight a war with the god. I have offered you my services, should you choose to accept them.”

  “As a spy?”

  “As an ally, Terafin.”

  “What do you bring to the table that I don’t already have?”

  “Knowledge. Names. The interior workings of the Shining Court. A not inconsiderable power.”

  Avandar raised a brow, but held his peace. The gesture was enough.

  “And in exchange for this?”

  He smiled as he once again glanced toward the window. “Knowledge, Terafin. Knowledge and security. When you take and remake this city in your own image, I want lands and title commensurate with the aid I will offer you.”

  Avandar.

  Yes?

  Tell me not to kill him.

  Avandar was very clearly amused. His offer is reasonable, Jewel. If it is true that he has information regarding the composition of the Court—at least in its human variant—the information will aid us enormously. The Shining Court convenes in the Northern Wastes, but the human Lords do not live there—and here, they are vulnerable.

  He’s implying that I’ll have the power to grant him anything except his miserable life.

  Avandar chose not to respond to this.

  He’s implying—no, he believes—that I’ll unseat the Kings.

  Again, Avandar was silent; this silence, however, he chose to break. How do you intend, he asked her softly, to transform a city that must be transformed if it is to survive without overriding the Kings?

  By asking them, she replied coolly.

  You will understand why Rymark considers both the asking and the permission highly unlikely.

  Because he’s Rymark, and no, actually, I don’t understand why. I accept it. I can work around it. But I’m not used to working with people I can’t, and will never be able to, trust.

  Learn. You do not trust the House Council, now.

  I trust them to have the interests of the House at heart, even if they don’t give a rat’s ass about mine. I understand that they would never just expose their throats to the god. They certainly wouldn’t help him.

  “I will consider your offer of aid with care,” she said, each word even and enunciated. “I regret to inform you, however, that grant of land and titles that are not already held by Terafin are not within my power to promise.”

  “Not at the moment. But in future?”

  “Titles such as you desire—and they are vanities, surely—can only be granted by the Kings, and they are unlikely to take any request I make for such a grant seriously.” She glanced deliberately at the silent Meralonne APhaniel.

  Rymark took her meaning, or rather, took a meaning, and immediately sunk into a formal bow.

  “ATerafin,” she said, as he rose.

  “Terafin.”

  “I will ask one question which I hope you will offer as a sign of your future commitment to my cause.”

  “And that?”

  “Are there any other members of my House involved with the Shining Court?”

  “No, Terafin.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Torvan and Gordon. “Please see the Councillor safely back to the manse.”

  Torvan saluted, sharply, and left. His steps were far heavier than Rymark’s as he crossed the stone floor, and they echoed as if the room were hollow. “Member APhaniel, I apologize for necessitating your involvement in what is clearly an internal House affair.”

  He raised one pale brow.

  “It would not be the first time, through the auspices of contract, that you have neglected to inform the Kings of all that has happened or is suspected.”

  “It would not. May I point out that, in the last instance, I was correct?”

  “You may. I will consider everything you say with as much care and deliberation as my predecessor showed.”

  “Your predecessor would have considered my intervention at this point—given the incontrovertible confession of treachery—to be a gift. It would rid her of a man she could not and did not trust, and it would leave no blood on her hands.”

  “It would only have that effect if Rymark made his confession in front of the House Council. In the absence of that, it would appear that I had surrendered a House difficulty to external authority. Especially given the presence of Haerrad on said Council.”

  Meralonne smiled; he was, if chilly, genuinely amused. “I believe, in this case, my inclination is to hear what he has to say, to test it for veracity, and to proceed from there. It is your inclination, Terafin, that will cause trouble.”

  “I wasn’t the one who almost killed him.”

  “If his defenses were that insignificant, the power he offers is beneath notice,” was the much chillier reply. “It was a lapse. I do not care to hear the Winter Queen dismissed by a mortal such as Rymark ATerafin. I will tell you now that the gods will have severe reservations in this.”

  “I know.”

  “And the Kings will therefore have—”

  “The Kings are not gods, Meralonne.”

  “They are beholden to their parents in the same fashion so many mortals are.”

  “They are, but Rymark’s parent is Gabriel, and two more different men could not be found within the House. I believe the Kings will listen, in the end, to reason.”

  “And if they do not?”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” she replied firmly.

  “Indeed you will. I suggest,” he added, “that you arm your Chosen with some of the weapons to be found in this room.”

  “Noted.”

  * * *

  Torvan and Gordon returned without Rymark. They were grim and silent when they rejoined their Lord. Jewel understood why. She had deliberately failed to ask Rymark about The Terafin’s death, because there was no answer he could give that would not push her into a murderous rage. She had not taken into account the reactions of the Chosen, which was a grave oversight.

  They had sworn their lives to Amarais. Jewel had loved and served her, but it wasn’t the same, and she knew it. She had no words of comfort, and no promise, to offer them; if she accepted Rymark’s offer, she could not then plan to have him executed.

  Could you not? Avandar asked softly.

  No.

  Yet if you make trade treaties with The Ten, you will honor them only until it puts you at grave disadvantage.

  It’s different.

  Yes, to you, it is. Accept Rymark’s offer inasmuch as it can be accepted, and he will serve you—but the moment a different, or better, opportunity arrives, he will take it. He will swear no oath to you, and even if he does, it will never bind him.

  My oaths have to mean something, she replied.

  You will make no oaths to Rymark.

  She was silent for a long moment. Folding her arms, she turned to Avandar, and said distinctly, “I think I’m well past the age where I offer something while crossing my fingers behind my damn back.”

  “That is not what I said.”

  “That’s exactly what you said.”

  Meralonne, for the first time since he’d entered the room, retrieved his pipe from his satchel, and set about stuffing the bowl with dried leaf. He glanced at Angel, who had taken up position by the window; Angel shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

  “And you have been Jewel’s companion for at least half your life? I suggest you try it.
It is remarkably calming in situations of this nature.”

  Angel almost laughed; he didn’t, but his expression made it clear his silence took some effort. The Chosen were, however, uniformly grim and composed.

  “I suppose,” the magi continued, having completed his task, “you approached your negotiations with regards to the merchant routes you supervised in the same manner you now intend to deal with Rymark?”

  She couldn’t hold on to her anger, which was probably for the best; her arms relaxed. “No. Usually with the merchants, there was more swearing and more insults. But I didn’t promise them anything I couldn’t deliver, either. In general,” she added, slowing, “I didn’t promise them anything; I implied they should feel honored to be offered a chance to work with Terafin. At all.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Rymark is, in theory, part of the House already.”

  “Yes. As are you. But you are in an unusual position. I suggest—if you will take my advice in these affairs at all—that you consider them in the same light: it is an honor to work with you. If you listen to my colleagues,” he added, with a genuine grin, “it is an expensive honor.”

  She did laugh, then. He was working for free, after all. “What will you tell Sigurne?”

  “That is more troublesome. I will rely on your permission—or lack thereof—to discuss anything with her at all.”

  Jewel snorted. “You will not.”

  “Perhaps not. But we will rely on it to act.”

  “What would she counsel?”

  “I am not entirely certain.” He inhaled. When he exhaled, he exhaled rings. They eddied up toward the ceiling in the still air, and she watched them as if she were simple audience in the streets of the holdings, although in those streets, she wouldn’t have dared to get this close. “I would, of course, be delighted to remove him from consideration.

  “He is not, however, wrong.”

  “In what way?”

  “You will build a city here. It will encompass the whole of the Isle and the hundred before you are done; anything less, and you will surrender a part of your domain to the Lord of the Hells. That was bold, by the way.”