to appoint people you trust less at such a delicate moment in your rule.”
“I don’t want—”
“No, of course you don’t. But, Jewel, I have considered—carefully—what I will do if Hannerle does not survive. I have seen what my life will become. Have you done likewise?”
“. . . No.”
“You must. Unless you intend to end your rule if your den dies, you must consider the alternatives with care. You must even cultivate them. You are no longer Jewel Markess, the youthful and earnest orphan who followed Ararath Handernesse to my store. Your life is not your own. You are The Terafin, now. You have taken the responsibility for House Terafin within the Empire. You cannot cease to function because one, or another, of the members of your House falls; that luxury is lost.
“But you did not cease to function when Duster died. Regret? Yes, of course you regret it. On some days, you regret it bitterly. But that, as they often say, must be your problem. It cannot be the House’s. Trust your den. I believe they are worthy of that singularly unwise decision. You need them,” he said again. He set his cup aside. “And I must attend my affairs and my life, now. I have been absent from her side.”
He walked toward the door, but before Ellerson opened it, turned again. Jewel had not moved to see him out. “There are, at the moment, some discrepancies in the House accounts. Those discrepancies can be traced indirectly to the office of the right-kin.”
Jewel froze in place. “How large a discrepancy, and is it in his favor?”
“A very large one, alas. No, it is not in his favor. I do not believe he is aware of the full state of his accounts, but it is almost exactly the sum of money one would expect to spend on very short notice if one hired a fully-trained assassin.”
She exhaled. “Come back, Haval. Tell me what you know.”
Chapter Four
ELLERSON QUIETLY BROUGHT Jewel tea, allowed her to drink half of it, and suggested—firmly—that she might consider changing her attire. Since she knew the events in the Common would bring a stream of visitors that she could not put off for lack of an appointment—and since her day’s schedule had been cleared for the purposes of a day-long inspection of troops in the heart of the hundred—she took his advice.
She regretted it slightly when it came to the matter of her hair, because apparently ash, small stones, splinters, and dirt did not magically take care of themselves. But the mark on her arm had, as she’d told Haval, ceased to bleed. It did remind her, as she rose to dress, that Avandar was absent. She hoped he was sleeping, although Avandar’s sleep—like her own—was not guaranteed to be restful.
“Ellerson.”
“Terafin.”
“I will be in The Terafin’s—in my—office. I’d like to speak with Teller and Finch the moment they arrive home.”
* * *
When Ellerson had finished making her look presentable, she walked through the Chosen stationed outside of the room. They followed at a very discreet distance; only in the West Wing—her personal quarters—did they do so. But these quarters also housed the den, Adam, Ariel, and two domicis. In this case, it was the domicis’ rooms she approached, or rather, Avandar’s.
Not for Avandar Gallais the practical rooms that Ellerson occupied; Avandar’s room had no cupboards and no counters, for one. But, like Ellerson’s, they were unadorned. For a man who had not spent his life in poverty and, more germane, had lived a very long time, he had very few obvious possessions, and none of these were sentimental in nature.
Jewel still had the old, iron box in which the den’s money had been kept in the twenty-fifth holding. She kept Rath’s sword, although that had only come into her hands after The Terafin’s death. She wore the Handernesse ring on a long, golden chain that hung around her neck. She had the House Council ring, of course—the old one, although she no longer wore it. The new one was styled in a much more ostentatious way; she liked it far less.
It was vastly heavier, its weight an accusation, not an affirmation.
She knocked on Avandar’s door. There was no answer; she knocked again. After a long pause, she opened the door. It was not his habit to keep this door locked. Hers, yes.
He was abed. The curtains were drawn, and the magelight that adorned the room had been whispered to near invisibility. She heard his deep and even breathing,