They were led, after some small conversation, to chairs by one of the establishment's many fireplaces; they were offered cushions and towels, as well as a drink, and the fire was well tended; it crackled in silence as Rath observed it.

"You were always fascinated by fire," Andrei said quietly.

"Aren't all children?"

"Not in the same way, no."

Rath could have pointed out that Andrei's life lacked anything remotely resembling children, but it wouldn't have been precisely true; he had none of his own, of course, but he was almost a fixture for his G.o.dfather's numerous clan. Children, grandchildren, G.o.dchildren-all of these had pa.s.sed before Andrei's steady eyes, and had often been pa.s.sed into his patient care. In the great manor House Araven owned-upon the Isle-there was always noise, always light, always warmth; if there were questions, there was also an affability and a tolerance that were often absent in less well-established Houses.

"If this is a metaphor, Andrei, I'm well past the age where it might be of use."

"It is not, sadly, metaphor. And you were never of an age where my guidance might have been of use to you."

Rath shrugged; it was true. They sat in a companionable silence, but it was heavy with things unsaid. To Rath's great surprise, some of those did not remain that way. "My sister," he said quietly.

The word hung in the air between them; it appeared that not only had Rath surprised himself, but also Andrei. It was almost worth it.

The servant raised a brow, and then slowly bent his elbows above the armrests, shadowing them as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "She is well," he said at last. "The House Terafin is, for the moment, at peace." He paused and fastidiously brushed wood ash from his pant leg. "She has, of course, asked after you."

"You've seen her?"

"Patris Hectore has been favored with an invitation to the House," he replied, as if this were commonplace.

"And you attended him."

"That is my privilege," Andrei answered quietly.

"Has she made many friends?"

"In House Terafin?"

Rath nodded.

"As many as one would expect of a woman of power and position."

"Which would be none."

"Ararath, that is beneath you."

"You might have noticed, Andrei, that very little is beneath me in my current life."

"But not nothing," was the grave reply.

Rath was silent. "I didn't think," he said at last, "that she would survive."

Andrei raised a brow. "You judge your sister harshly," he said at last, "And without your usual perception." He looked at his hands as he spoke, and in this, he was a consummate servant; he knew where to look, and when. "But as this is unusual, and you are in an unexpected mood, I will be more forthcoming than would ideally suit my position. She almost died in the struggle to take the House and make it her own; were it not for the intervention of a healer-from the House of Healing upon the Isle-she would have perished."

The words filled Rath with emptiness, or the appearance of it; something was opening beneath his feet, which, given they rested upon a cushioned stool in the heart of the Placid Sea, said much. "Healers seldom intervene," he said, groping for words and finding them somehow.

"Indeed. Almost never." He paused, and then added, "You might know the man; I believe you met him on one occasion."

"Alowan."

"Alowan Rowanson, yes. He is not young now. But I believe-"

"I know him," Rath continued. "He is old, even by my standards. He came when she called." Flat words, no surprise in them.

"He is resident within the Terafin House upon the Isle."

At that, Rath did sit up in surprise.

"He has not, however, seen fit to accept the offer of the Terafin name; he is still Rowanson, as he was born, and I do not believe that will change in the foreseeable future.

"The Chosen serve her," Andrei continued. "And she has built, within the House Council, an uneasy alliance of mutual interest. They look outward, now, rather than in, among themselves; if they sharpen their blades, they are now aimed at external enemies." He paused again. "The man who almost succeeded the man previously known as The Terafin-"

"Was called the Butcher, if gossip is to be believed."

"He was not called the Butcher in common parlance among his peers," Andrei said, with a hint of disapproval. But it was a hint that held no substance, no weight. "There is none, now, who will challenge her rule; it has been this way for many years, and I do not believe it will change while she lives."

Rath nodded bitterly. "And so she is now the most powerful woman upon the Isle, save for the G.o.d-born and the Twin Kings."

"And no one calls her the Butcher," Andrei replied calmly. "Nor will they. She is not the child she was. Nor are you."

Rath nodded. Thinking now, for one dangerous moment, about a statue with eyes of sapphire and a voice that contained the echoes of the voices of G.o.ds. Thinking of the darkness and the emptiness in which that statue had remained for centuries, waiting for Jewel's touch to invoke it.

And yet when it had spoken, its words had not been for Jewel, who lay insensate, but for Rath. He almost spoke of it, but Andrei's position shifted. It was subtle, but Rath understood instantly that their moment of isolation was about to be broken, and he almost welcomed the interruption.

Andrei stood as two men joined them. Rath lifted a brow, and Andrei ignored it. Luck, it seemed, was with them. But there was enough of the streets in Rath to make him wonder which face Kalliaris now showed him: the frown or the smile. Perhaps both; she was a cagey G.o.d at best, and if she was the one whose name was most frequently spoken in the holdings, it was spoken with dread and hope in equal measure.

Andrei took the smooth carved stone from his pocket, but before he could place it upon the fireside table, one of the two men lifted a pale hand. He wore the robes of the Order of Knowledge beneath an oiled cloak that he had somehow managed to walk past the doormen.

Andrei nodded and pocketed the stone, and chairs were drawn closer to the fireside.

"Andrei," the man who had motioned said. His voice was smooth and colorless, the single word uninflected.

Andrei nodded again, but this time with more purpose, and Rath rose in greeting. "May I introduce you to Ararath Handernesse?"

The man lifted both of his hands and drew the hood of the cloak from the frame of his face; it was a slender face, and seemed at once aged and ageless. His hair, bound back in a braid that fell well beyond the hood itself, was all of white.

"Member APhaniel," Andrei said. "You honor us with your presence."

The words failed to register; the man turned steel-gray eyes upon Rath, and held him in a fixed stare for a moment. A long moment. "Handernesse?" he asked at last. "Are you, then-"

"I am a friend of Andrei's," Ararath replied. If words could be either window or gate, his were the latter, and at that the type of gate which stands beneath curtain walls, manned.

"As you will," the mage replied, withdrawing his attention, or at least the appearance of such. It was not, in Rath's opinion, a good start. The man turned to Andrei. "Understand," he said quietly, "that the nature of your inquiries is frowned upon within the Order of Knowledge."

Andrei inclined his head. His fingers still formed a perfect steeple; if he was uncomfortable in the presence of a man who wielded power as if it were thought, he gave no sign. "Surely," he said quietly, "the Order of Knowledge does not turn away from knowledge itself."

"No, indeed," the man replied, seating himself. His companion sat beside him, hood still high. "Although there is good reason that it is not named the Order of Wisdom.

"Recall if you will the old adage, 'knowledge is power.' Pretend, for a moment, that you believe it. There are some powers denied, by law and the Kings, to any who would otherwise make claim to be a power. What they gainsay, we, of course, do not seek."

Andrei once again inclined his head.

"But," the second mage said, speaking for the first time, "the fact that you make these inquiries is of interest to those who dwell within the Order." To Rath's surprise, the speaker was a woman. Although talent did not reside solely in one gender or another, it was seldom that Rath had cause to speak with members of the Order, and he could count the number of times one of those members had been female on exactly none of his fingers. As if she could hear his thought, she turned to look at him, and as she did, she lifted her hood.

She was old, to Rath's eye, and bent with age; how much of this was fact, and how much act, he did not venture to guess. It was, among other things, impolite-and in the Placid Sea, he was reminded of the manners of youth. And also of the necessity for such manners.

Her smile, however, was benign.

"May I present my colleague, Sigurne Mellifas."

As names went, it sounded vaguely familiar to Rath. Clearly, however, it was more than vague to Andrei, whose eyes visibly rounded. And narrowed, just as quickly.

"Yes," the first mage said quietly. "The nature of your inquiries requires a caution that I am unwilling to vouchsafe on my own behalf. My colleague has some interest in the antiquities, and no sense, whatever, that knowledge has more value than life."

Andrei's nod was slight. "My apologies, Member APhaniel. I did not intend to cause difficulty when I first requested your presence." He added, before Rath could speak, "And I believe that House Araven has paid in full for your time?"

"In advance, yes."

"Good. But we have not undertaken the hire of Member Mellifas; nor was I aware that her time could be bought."

"You are not in our debt," the first mage said coldly. "But if the time is granted freely, it is not less valuable. Do not waste it."

"As you say." Andrei removed the satchel that was tucked to one side. "This, I believe, is yours."

"You believe incorrectly; it is not property of the Order of Knowledge. It was, however, bartered for with some difficulty." He held out his hand.

Andrei set the bag on his palm.

To Rath's surprise, Member APhaniel chose to open the satchel. He did not take the knives out; instead, he gave them a single cursory glance. He showed no surprise at what he saw. Instead, he pa.s.sed the satchel to his companion, and waited in silence.

She did not so much as look at them; she took the satchel and said, in a voice several degrees cooler, "When were these used?"

"This morning," Andrei replied.

She turned to her companion. "Four," she said.

He nodded. "Four, and in so short a time. Andrei. Your explanation."

"I have little to offer; the four knives were used, in pairs, on two occasions."

"This morning?"

"This morning would be the second. Activities in the lower holdings have become somewhat suspect, and in the course of investigations, the use of the blades became necessary."

"Necessary?"

"No other weapons had any effect."

Member APhaniel nodded. "Magic?"

"If you mean, was magic used by the men whom these blades killed, the answer is yes."

"That is not what I meant."

"My apologies, Member APhaniel. I am not a member of the Order of Knowledge. Please be more explicit."

Explicit, in the case of the white-haired mage, involved the slow filling of a long-stemmed pipe. Andrei despised pipe smoke on general principles, but held his peace as he waited. While the pipe's bowl was carefully fitted with dry leaf, the mage said, "I wish to know if magery of any sort was used against these men."

"Once."

"To any effect?"

"To some. I have the writ," he added.

Meralonne APhaniel lifted a hand; the pipe hand. Had Rath not known better, he would have said that the mage was quite familiar with Andrei's fastidious disdain. "I am sure you have the required paperwork, Andrei. I would not, however, be surprised if the dates were somewhat stale."

Andrei shrugged.

"You play a dangerous game, as I have said."

"I do not seek to play games at all," Andrei replied quietly. "They are neither my desire nor my responsibility. But where my responsibility crosses their path, I will of necessity be forced to fulfill it."

"Understood."

"It is understood," Member Mellifas said quietly, "by Member APhaniel, but he is not known for his attention to fine detail."

"Which means, Member Mellifas, that the explanation is not enough for you?"

"Very perceptive."

Andrei shrugged again, and this time, he turned to Rath. "Ararath," he said quietly, "Sigurne Mellifas presides over the Order of Knowledge as its t.i.tular head. It is not a comfortable position, but a necessary one."

And in that many words, he offered Rath to the mages. Rath was both surprised and unsurprised; he was G.o.dson, not blood, to Hectore, and while his G.o.dfather was willing to sacrifice much for the sake of old ties and affection, the willingness extended only so far.

"I am afraid," Rath said quietly, "that I have even less familiarity with the Order than Andrei; what you wish to know, you must ask."

Sigurne Mellifas nodded, as if she expected no less.

"I live in the lower holdings," Rath added quietly.

She raised a brow, but held her peace. "And you have cause to suspect that things are amiss?"

"Where there is magic, there is usually both money and a great deal of influence and power," he replied quietly. "And demonstrably, there has been magic."

"Ah. And the nature of that magic?"