wished to avoid Haerrad. Haerrad’s sense of the respect necessary to preserve House dignity was an order of magnitude greater than her own, and she did not wish to clash over something as trivial as The Wayelyn’s handling of House Terafin in a song.
She made her way to the right-kin’s office, entering it as if it were an oasis. It was, and at the moment, it wasn’t a particularly crowded one. Barston rose as she entered.
“The Wayelyn and the Bardmaster of Senniel College will be arriving shortly,” she told him without delay.
“Terafin.” He waited until Teller separated himself from Jewel’s entourage and approached the desk. “There has been one message from House Tamalyn which is marked urgent. My apologies, but I cannot see how the contents suit the designation. If there is no good political reason to consider it so—”
Teller lifted a hand. “It is urgent to The Tamalyn,” he told his secretary. “And if that is the sum of the urgent communiques received in my absence, I will make offerings at all three shrines before the day is out.”
“It is, as you suspect, the only such missive that might be handled with less care.” He lowered his voice. “The Master of the Household Staff would like a word with you.”
Teller cringed, as she wasn’t standing in the waiting room. “Is she in my office?”
“No. She has asked to be informed of your arrival.” He glanced at The Terafin.
Jewel failed to hear him, but that took effort.
“Where will you entertain your guests? In your personal chambers?”
“No. For the moment, I think that unwise, and it may well lengthen the meeting beyond its time constraints.” She glanced at Torvan. “The large office?”
“Might I suggest the reading room? It is well-insulated, and if the bardmaster chooses to play, it will contain her music,” Barston said.
“It is not, in this case, the bardmaster I fear, and if The Wayelyn desires to be heard, no amount of insulation will prevent him from finding an audience.” She exhaled. “Very well. It might suit; it is meant to be a collegial, casual meeting.”
“Very well, Terafin.”
“I shall repair to my quarters to prepare for my guests. APhaniel, will you wait in the large office? You may accompany me if that is your preference.”
“I will, with your permission, wait in the library.”
Shadow, silent until that moment, hissed. Jewel dropped a hand on his head and he subsided, although his teeth were rather more prominent than they had been for most of the day—or at least the parts that did not include the Oracle.
* * *
When Jewel repaired to her quarters, she found one of the servants waiting ten yards from her closed doors. As she approached, she recognized her, and froze. It was Merry.
Merry folded instantly into the most obeisant of curtsies that didn’t involve hugging the ground with most of her body. Jewel would have taken a knife wound with more grace; she flinched. Merry, trained by the indomitable—and hugely unforgiving—Master of the Household Staff, noticed instantly, and paled.
Jewel hated it. “Merry,” she said, breaking at least two of said Master’s iron rules, “please—don’t. I know I’m not in the West Wing anymore, but it’s been a long day, and I cannot endure—” she stopped. Composed herself. “My apologies. Did the Master of the Household Staff send you?”
Merry shook her head. As if she were mute.
As if she had come all this way, and had waited for gods knew how long, only to find speech had deserted her. She was pale, and her eyes implied that she’d chosen to forgo sleep for at least a day. Jewel nodded at the Chosen, and they opened the doors that had once led to a very conventional library. “Please,” she told the servant, “join me.”
* * *
Merry’s silence shifted when she passed through the doors. Her posture didn’t. She was not here as a visitor or a guest, and knew it. But it was hard to observe the strict etiquette demanded of servants who had been granted the House Name when faced with so much beyond the ken of the House which had offered it. She lifted her chin and her eyes touched the deep amethyst of the endless skies above; they drifted to trees that had taken the shape of bookcases, and paused at freestanding iron arches. The floors were pale plank, but they were silent beneath passing feet, no matter how heavily the steps might fall.
“Does the Master of the Household Staff know you’re here?” Jewel asked, as