“The Terafin and I have an old friend in common. I am not sure if you will be familiar with his name, but I will offer it anyway: Ararath of Handernesse.”
Finch’s eyes rounded slightly. She sat, her wet skirts falling over her lap. She didn’t keep clothing of any sort in the Merchant Authority, and could not therefore change.
“I see you knew him.”
She nodded slowly. “He was related to you?”
“He was my godson.”
“And you’ve become aware of the debt we owe him.”
“We?”
“House Terafin.” The answer was smooth and unmarred by hesitation.
“Ah, no. I did not seek The Terafin in order to speak about debt. I asked for her aid in a particular matter, and offered my aid in return. I would, as a gesture of good faith, rework the contract that is sitting so forlornly on Jarven’s desk, but I have found, with Jarven, that it is unwise to let him grow idle.”
“What aid did you feel compelled to offer?”
“What aid did she feel compelled to accept? Andrei.”
Andrei turned. “Two parts,” he said quietly. “But it is a subtle combination. I do not believe it would have killed instantly, unless the imbiber were already of weak constitution.”
“That’s all you can tell us?”
“For the moment.”
Hectore had not once so much as glanced at his servant; he watched Finch. “I did not, of course, expect any of my expertise to be of immediate relevance to you. But you are a House Council member, if a very junior one. You have been given an office of your own within the Terafin quarters in the Authority; it would not be considered a small accomplishment if one had ambitions.”
Finch’s brows rose. “You cannot possibly believe that today’s unpleasantness was aimed at me?”
“I would not,” he replied, his lips retaining the framework of a smile, “were it not for the fact that Jarven does.”
“He can’t possibly believe that. I am a minor official in the Merchant Authority.”
“A minor official who serves as a full member of the House Council, and a minor official who has a permanent residence within the Terafin manse upon the Isle. Foolish of me to consider either important.” His smile did not touch his eyes. “Andrei?”
“I am not entirely certain that my interference will be either welcome or acceptable, Hectore,” his servant replied, the mild reproach an obvious indicator of the esteem in which Patris Araven held him.
Hectore’s smile froze, and after a long, immobile moment, Andrei approached the doors Jarven had closed.
Finch held her breath as he reached for the handle and opened the door. She exhaled when the only result of the attempt was the open door. It closed again as he left.
“I confess a galling ignorance when it comes to ancient trees that grow—overnight—in the grounds of a manse upon the Isle. My ignorance when it comes to giant, winged cats is less galling. I am not talent-born. I felt no pressing need to learn the mysteries of the gods—any god—and I very much doubt any temple would have me, although they’re all prepared to take my money.
“But I have had some experience with people, ATerafin. Not all of those experiences were pleasant, nor would I expect my life in future to be devoid of unpleasantness. It is, in part, the cost of power—but only in part. I understand that you knew The Terafin when she living in the old holdings.”
Finch inclined her head.
“Then you, of course, understand that unpleasantness also proceeds from lack of power. There is no man, woman, or child—except perhaps for babes in arms—who has not experienced pain. The world scars us. Life scars us. But our ability to take scars is the cost, or perhaps the proof, that we do live.
“I claim no greater understanding of The Terafin than Jarven might; I claim a vastly smaller understanding than yours. She is new to her rank, new to the seat. She is, at this moment, at her most vulnerable. This is simple truth. It would be—and will be—true of any ruler of The Ten, in both past and future. Gaining power and retaining it are two very different struggles—and she does not, perhaps, have a background in which old alliances and former family ties will be of use.
“What she has, ATerafin, is you. She has the current right-kin, a man who has otherwise failed to distinguish himself outside of the bounds of the House. Her oathguard—her Chosen, in Terafin nomenclature—are few, in comparison to their strength while Amarais lived.