Battle: The House War: Book Five

by Michelle West

  Jewel accepted the implied shrug in its place. “I know you probably can’t answer this, but I haven’t been to Avantari. I wasn’t technically there the day the changes occurred, either.”

  “That is part of the concern,” Birgide replied. “Your question?”

  “How . . . notable . . . are those changes?”

  Birgide raised a brow. “You really haven’t traveled to the Kings’ palace since then.”

  “No.”

  “And you were not informed?”

  “I was informed that some structural changes had occurred at the end of the battle; I was also told that they were, architecturally, superior. They strengthened the halls, rather than weakening them.”

  “But you were not given a sketch of the actual differences?”

  “No. This may come as a surprise to you, given the import of House Terafin, but I have not spent most of my adult life traversing those halls. I am familiar with the Trade Commission’s offices, and with the galleries and the halls that lead to—and from it—but I have seldom entered the Hall of The Ten. I was not right-kin.”

  Birgide raised brow, no more; to reach the Master Gardener’s offices, they had to pass by the large doors that led to the main terrace. Jewel paused there, and Birgide turned as well, to look out on the trees that she had correctly named: Ellariannatte.

  “So,” she said softly. “It was not mere rumor.”

  “No.”

  “I had some thought that the trees were misidentified, but one of my sources was impeccable.” Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she lifted her gaze, exposing the whole of a surprisingly long throat to do so. She lowered her head slowly, and turned. “You do not know how these trees came to be here.”

  “I don’t understand the mechanics, no.”

  “A subtle difference.”

  Jewel nodded.

  “The changes within Avantari are not as immediately striking—or were not, to me, but architecture is not my area of specialty. To some, however, they are the same; some of the pillars are notably different, and one section of wall has been reworked in a way that has been difficult to suppress. There are apparently two rooms that have undergone large changes, but those rooms did not see heavy use; I do not know if you will be required to view them. They are the most significant transformation, however, and I believe access has been extremely limited since then. Thank you,” she added, nodding, as she pulled her gaze from the height of those trees. “Where it does not come into conflict with my duties and my oaths of allegiance, Terafin, I will repay courtesy with courtesy.”

  * * *

  Jewel introduced Birgide to the Master Gardener with some stiffness; she found the Master Gardener about as easygoing as the Master of the Household Staff, and she was very careful about how she impinged on either’s territory. Birgide, however, was Birgide Viranyi, a name which meant nothing to Jewel, and apparently a great deal to the Master Gardener. When Jewel informed him that Birgide wished to be considered for employ on the Household Staff, she thought his eyes would fall out of their sockets. He could not safely enthuse in front of The Terafin of course, but indicated that he wished to waste no more of her precious time, and all but ushered her out of his interior office.

  Avandar was amused, but he was grave as they once again walked the halls that led back to Teller’s office. “You will, of course, have a new gardener on your staff before the day is done.”

  “I know.”

  “You accepted her.”

  “In part, because Duvari didn’t like it.” Jewel glanced back over her shoulder. “And frankly, I’m relieved that I did; I cannot imagine what the Master Gardener would have said—or done—had I dismissed her and word reached his ears.”

  Avandar raised a brow.

  “And in part, yes, because I liked her. I believed her; she wanted to work on our grounds and in our gardens, and she wanted it the way—the way makers want to make. I personally don’t care for plants I can’t eat; I have learned, at some expense, to appreciate some of their names and their finer qualities because it’s expected. But something about Birgide makes me want to learn about them from her. They’re not about status, to her, and not even just about beauty. She sees something in them that I don’t.”

  “That can be said about many people, and many things.”

  “Yes. Hopefully, one of them won’t be politics.”

  * * *

  The meeting with The Ten was to occur two hours after the start of the meeting with the Kings. Jewel was certain that the Exalted, Sigurne Mellifas, and possibly the Bardmaster of Senniel College would also be in attendance. She glanced at a message delivered from House Araven and grimaced.

  “How long do you feel the Council meeting will last?”

  “Given The Kalakar’s letter? It may well last until the following morning. It won’t be the first time The Ten have met, recessed, and reconvened the following day. I’m slightly more concerned that the audience granted me by the Kings—”

  Teller gestured in colorful den-sign.

  Jewel laughed, although it was grim. “I know. But I don’t want to clash with Duvari about the timing of the Council meeting.”

  “If the gods are called,” Avandar interjected, “time is less of an issue for anyone who is not otherwise involved in their discussions.”

  “You think it likely?” As he raised a brow, she nodded. “I’m concerned about the rooms.”

  “That was deftly done,” Avandar said, surprising her. “While I feel your role as Terafin requires a rigid formality, your instincts are good. Birgide’s information was useful. Why are the rooms of concern to you?”

  “I’m . . . not certain. But they are. I have no intention of contesting the Kings’ sovereignty,” she added, as if it were necessary. Given Avandar, it probably was.

  “You will take Teller with you to the Council meeting.”

  “He is right-kin. Yes.”

  “Will you consider the inclusion of Lord Celleriant?”

  “No. You’ll be there, and I may second Meralonne APhaniel as House Mage, if only to keep him from Sigurne’s side.”

  “I do not consider that wise.”

  “He’ll worm his way in regardless. I may have some say over his behavior, this way.”

  “Your natural optimism is not, in this case, commendable.”

  “Thank you, Avandar.”

  They left the right-kin’s office and entered the external office. Barston, seated behind his desk, rose instantly, which was never a good sign. He tendered a perfect, but brief bow. “Terafin. A possible difficulty in the Household Staff has arisen—”

  Jewel turned immediately to see the white hair and grim expression of the Master of the Household Staff. She was, to Jewel’s surprise, seated, although she rose the minute Jewel caught sight of her. She instantly regretted the absence of Duvari, the Exalted, or any other crisis, because nothing stood between them. The Master of the Household Staff performed as exquisite a bow as “a woman of her advanced years”—a phrase which struck terror in the heart of anyone else who lived in the manse when she used it—could.

  “Terafin,” she said, in clipped, very formal syllables.

  “Master of the Household Staff.” Jewel had once—only once—responded “ATerafin.” “Has there been some difficulty which requires my immediate attention?”

  “There has apparently been some difficulty which required mine,” was the even chillier response. “The Household Staff was, of course, informed of your change of residence within the manse.”

  Jewel froze. Of all the difficulties she anticipated would be caused by the severe transformation of The Terafin’s personal quarters, this one had entirely escaped her.

  “It is customary to inform me of extensive renovations or reconstruction undertaken in the manse. Given your unexpected illness, it is possible you overlooked this responsibility.”

  She had. She considered it now. The servants’ halls and passages, used for discreet attention to the various cham
bers in which the business of the manse was conducted, were present throughout the manse itself. They were—had been—present within The Terafin’s chambers, although only Carver knew the exact layout; access to those halls required a seniority that most of the servants would never achieve.

  “The renovations, as you have noted, were extensive. They were also almost immediate. Please extend my apologies to the Household Staff.”

  This was not, clearly, enough. It was, on the other hand, more than enough for Barston, who had never particularly cared for the Master of the Household Staff, although he made haste to grant her all due respect.

  “The full extent of those alterations is not yet known.”

  This august woman raised a gray brow. Only her brows retained any color at all. “Was the House Mage involved in this endeavor?”

  It was not a question she had a right to ask. “I am not at liberty to say,” Jewel replied. “But I will make haste to offer instructions and a floor plan, where one exists, within the next week. Until then, it is entirely understood if the Household Staff cannot navigate my rooms at all. My domicis—”

  “You are to meet with the Kings and The Ten on the morrow,” was the even chillier response. “Your domicis is not, I feel, up to the task of your personal care with regards to that meeting. If you will request Ellerson’s intervention at this time, I will excuse your personal attendants from their duties without prejudice for . . . the week.”

  “Thank you. Please make an appointment with Barston for a week hence, where we will discuss the changes in the duties of my personal attendants.”

  The Master of the Household Staff did not slam the doors on her way out. Jewel was surprised they didn’t shatter anyway.

  Teller emerged from his office almost immediately, a sure sign that some of the magic in the interior office allowed him a glimpse of the contents of the exterior one. He signed, grimacing; Jewel shrugged in response.

  “On the bright side, if the Kings do demand my execution, that’s one thing I’ll be spared.”

  Barston coughed.

  * * *

  Ellerson was not Avandar. He didn’t even blink when he entered what had once been the library. He had Carver by his side, and Carver was carrying—with exaggerated care—the official wardrobe for the following morning.

  “You could just stay in our Wing,” he pointed out.

  “I would—but as I didn’t deliberately cause these changes, I don’t want to inadvertently change the West Wing.” She hesitated, and then less flippantly added, “I can’t be seen to be afraid of the changes that have been made.”

  “Why not? Everyone else is.”

  “How bad is it in the back halls?”

  “You’ve managed to upend the absolute upper echelons of the Household Staff. There is no higher rank, among servants, than to be assigned to the personal detail of The Terafin herself. If you don’t consider disenfranchising the oldest and most elite members of your staff—”

  She raised a hand in surrender.

  “I am certain,” Ellerson said, “That she had larger worries to contend with.”

  “So was I,” Jewel admitted. “I’m rethinking that, now.”

  “You spoke with the Master of the Household Staff.”

  “She spoke with me.”

  Carver cringed—but he cringed carefully, under Ellerson’s watchful eye. Unlike Ellerson, he had no reason to treat the library as if it were still somehow just a library; he stared at everything, and whistled a couple of times.

  “How bad are the back halls? Carver?”

  “Sorry. Do you mean the servants or the halls themselves?”

  “The physical halls.”

  “If you’re speaking of the rest of the manse, they haven’t changed at all, as far as I could tell. It wasn’t as easy to cut through them though. The dragon was actually there.”

  “Master Carver.”

  “Sorry. She’s reduced a third of the staff to stammering wrecks, though.”

  “That is not The Terafin’s concern,” was Ellerson’s stiff reply.

  “Merry?” Jewel asked, ignoring Ellerson’s comment.

  “Not one of them, but she’s not in the senior tier, and her duties could be accomplished with very little interruption.”

  “Can you get into the back halls from here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you asked me that question two days ago, I would have said no.” He glanced at the Chosen.

  “You would have been lying.”

  He grinned. “Well, yes. But today? I’m not even sure there are back halls anymore. No one is.”

  “By no one—”

  “No one. The Master of the Household Staff has relieved her most senior servants from their duties for a week. No one’s dared to ask her about the fate of the upper halls because anyone with a shred of luck has managed to avoid her.”

  “Rumors?”

  “They’re gone.”

  Jewel nodded. She walked across the much expanded library, toward the doubled set of doors on the wall at the far end. They seemed to be where she remembered leaving them in the morning, which was a relief. Ellerson followed, as did the Chosen; Carver lagged behind a bit. “I’m guessing the back halls are definitely gone,” he said, as Avandar opened the doors.

  “That is now my biggest nightmare,” Jewel replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Master of the Household Staff so angry, and I can’t afford to have her resign in fury. I know just barely enough to know how much of a nightmare it would be to attempt to replace her with someone of half her competence.”

  Beyond the double doors, the rooms looked very similar to the rooms The Terafin had occupied for all of Jewel’s life in the manse. “Is the library subject to constant change, or is its geography now dependable?” Ellerson asked. He removed the dresses from Carver’s arms and hung them, with care, in the large closet; he set up the various brushes, combs and clips that were the bane of her morning existence, and made her hate the sight of her own hair.

  While he worked Jewel pulled Carver away.

  “Exercise caution,” Avandar said. “I wish to ascertain that the room is materially magically unaltered, and that it is . . . predictable.”

  “I will exercise as much caution as the current situation allows,” Jewel replied. She turned to Carver, the Chosen almost invisible to her now, although they were present. “Where?”

  “There are no direct entrances into the bedchamber,” Carver replied. He gestured in den-sign, and she replied: take the lead. As he headed into the hall, she added, “I haven’t examined any of the other rooms, and the former private office was . . . greatly changed.”

  “Angel told us. He also showed us the spear. I’m not sure Ellerson approved.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t.” She followed as Carver opened the doors that led to the larger room at the end of the hall. It was used for informal meetings—where informal generally meant private, and of a critical nature. Jewel had seen it twice. She held her breath as Carver entered the room, and entered it hesitantly at his back. Or rather, entered hesitantly at Torvan’s back; if he was willing to allow Carver free run of suspect rooms, he did not extend the same courtesy to his Lord.

  It looked, to her eyes, like the same room. She exhaled.

  “Don’t be relieved yet,” Carver said quietly, discerning both her anxiety and the slackening of its grip. “I don’t recognize that door.”

  “The very ordinary door to the left?”

  “The very ordinary door that wasn’t here the last time I made a pass through these rooms.”

  “Carver . . .”

  He offered no apology, his expression hardening. “You were going to be Terafin,” he said, as if there had never been any question. “If you survived the South, if you came back to us—you were going to be The Terafin.”

  Torvan said nothing, but she expected no interruption from that quarter.

  “Access to these
rooms from the back halls is severely restricted, so I didn’t come here often.”

  “And you didn’t come here with permission. Does Merry know?”

  “I’ve never asked her. But that door wasn’t here the last time I was. Captain?”

  Torvan said, “It’s new.”

  It looked like a nondescript interior door, admittedly in the personal rooms of the ruler of House Terafin; it was dark, fine, the lintel of its frame engraved with the horizontal relief of the House Sword, as the interior doors in these rooms often were. There were wall sconces to either side of the frame, meant to contain magestones, although no stones occupied them at present. The handle was brass.

  Jewel approached the door; Torvan stepped in her way. “Captain,” she said softly, “If there is any immediate danger offered me by the door—or by what lies beyond it—I will know. If there is danger to you, or to my Chosen, I cannot guarantee that.”

  She spoke in very precise Weston; he failed to hear a word of it, although he did nod.

  “Torvan—”

  “Understand, Terafin,” he said, relenting, “that it is not your gift that defines you. You are The Terafin. We are the Chosen. We are not, as you are, seer-born; it is not considered a grave deficit. The Chosen have existed for centuries without the talent-born among our ranks. If our survival had depended upon the gift of foresight, the House would not have survived to become one of The Ten.”

  “It seems a needless risk—”

  “It is a necessary risk. It is always a necessary risk.”

  She swallowed, met his gaze, and nodded, remembering Avandar’s words. The Chosen were not children; they were not orphans and runaways gathered in the holdings. They were shield, defense, and personal army; they were not, and could not be reduced to, retainers, attendants, and men who . . . waited.

  Carver seemed to understand this already. He gestured in brief den-sign, and she nodded. Yes, hard.

  “Was that anywhere near where the servants’ entrance was?”

  Carver shook his head.

  “Is the servants’ entrance in this room now?”

  “No.” He moved away from the wall as Torvan opened the door, and froze in its frame for a few seconds too long. He didn’t enter the room; he didn’t order the Chosen forward. But he didn’t immediately draw sword, and he didn’t speak a word when Jewel walked toward his back. He did, however, enter then.