clever coups; she is being watched with not a little interest in several quarters. The bards appear content to spread her fame throughout the streets of the city, where they can find any audience willing to listen; no less a mage than Meralonne APhaniel serves House Terafin exclusively. It is rumored that he has chosen to do so for free.
“While the Kings are rumored to have strong reason to fear her—and I have seen some proof of that in my recent visits to the Royal Trade Commission—they will not interfere in Terafin business. There is every reason to believe, given no less than five assassination attempts in a paltry two months that they will not have reason for long.
“But she remains alive. Given the nature of the fifth assassin, her survival is an act of sorcery or luck—it is entirely beyond my ken. The nature of some of the other assassins, however, is not.” He glanced pointedly at the shards of cup beneath their chairs. “I assumed—and it appears it was a rash assumption—that the more visceral elements of a succession war had already been dispensed with. I assumed—and I feel this is less rash—that The Terafin’s enemies were, in large part, outside of Terafin—and outside of the patriciate that otherwise rules this city.
“But you are not your Lord. You have not—that I am aware of—evinced any surprising or bewildering talents; you are merely a normal mortal—as am I.” He frowned. “I admit that my first instinct would be to assume Jarven is the target. Jarven, however, has been famously apolitical for most of his tenure here. Even aligned, he has never been easily controlled.”
“Patris Araven—”
“The Terafin asked me to speak with you; she wished you to impart details about the four attacks I did not personally witness—and perhaps about the conclusion of the one I did. Was she aware of the danger to you?”
“No. And Patris Araven—”
“Hectore.”
“Patris Araven. If you wish my aid in any way, you will not inform her.”
One brow rose as he considered her. “She will discover the facts—”
“I am not at all certain she will,” Finch replied. “If I were to guess, Jarven is beyond these doors complaining bitterly to Lucille about your arrogance—with a certain arrogance of his own, of course. It is unfortunate that you sent your servant to join him; otherwise, he might be seen to capitulate to your demands for the appointment you desired—with me.” She rose, her legs uncomfortably damp, and reached for the document Jarven had all but discarded. “I will return this to you, Patris Araven.”
“And I will leave with it, in an obvious fashion.”
“And return on the morrow with a different document, yes.”
His gaze assessed her. Her skirts were an unfortunate shade of brown. But she had stood in far grimmer circumstances in far poorer garb; she met his gaze and held it.
“And Jarven?”
“Leave Jarven to me.”
Both brows rose. After a gap of silent seconds, Hectore laughed out loud. “My dear,” he said, rising once again, “you look like a slip of a girl; you look almost meek. Even now, were you standing in a crowded room, I might not notice you. If nothing else can be said of The Terafin, she commands attention.”
“Attention, where we grew up, wasn’t always desirable.” She smiled. “But where it could not be avoided, we were forced to make other plans.” She continued to hold out the document; Hectore took it.
“Do you know who might want you dead?”
“Not yet.” Finch exhaled. “I could name perhaps half a dozen.”
“And this does not disturb you?”
“No. It is not, after all, personal.”
His smile deepened. “Not personal?”
“As you’ve said, there are always unpleasant acts of factionalism when the succession for a House is contested. But I, as you, had been under the impression that such factionalism was a thing of the past. Foolish, really. I think it best you retire for the day.” She glanced at her skirts. “I will not see you out. If Jarven means to affect ignorance of this day’s events, it’s likely he’s already sent someone to the manse with the urgent and extremely tactful request for a change of clothing—or three.”
He bowed. “You are an interesting woman, Finch. I almost understand why The Terafin sent me to you.”
“Don’t misconstrue her motives,” Finch replied, walking toward the doors.
“I have not made clear what I believe those motives to be.”
“Which will save us both embarrassment. I look forward to our future dealings.”
* * *
Jarven entered the room over an hour later; he