His brow lifted in surprise, and although he could not speak, he turned to the North. To the North, to the Terrean of Averda, where she now resided, her companions so distant they were invisible to him.

Kiriel.

He smiled softly.

CHAPTER NINE.

8th of Corvil, 427 AA Terafin Manse, Averalaan Aramarelas FINCH cringed as she stared at the flickering lamp. Although she was a member of House Terafin and, at that, a member of some standing, she had never forgotten the years she had spent in the streets of the twenty-fifth holding. Jay had occasionally found candles, and, preserved for either emergency or celebration, they would burn in the small rooms the den had squeezed into a lifetime ago. They had been luxuries; fire had been meant for warmth or food. The den had faced whole seasons where both were in jeopardy.

But frugality was no longer an acceptable choice; she had work for days in piles that had once been small and neat. At the moment, her concentration-such as it was-was absorbed by a simple letter. Letters always confounded her; they consigned her words to a type of permanence over which she had no control once the letter left her hands, and the act of composition made clear to her the poverty of her own expression. She struggled with each sentence, hating the powerful.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and because it had been preceded by silence, she knew it was Teller or Ellerson on the other side. She rose quietly, accepting any excuse to set quill aside, and opened the door.

She was surprised to see Devon ATerafin in the shadowed halls. "Devon?"

"Finch," he said, bowing, the gesture completely unnecessary. "May I?"

She moved out of the way instantly.

"My apologies for disturbing you."

She shook her head, gazing ruefully at her work. "To be honest, I'm sort of looking for any excuse not to have to work. Uh, any excuse that doesn't involve death, dismemberment, or more work."

He laughed. The sound was rich and deep, entirely out of place in the confines of her chosen office. She did not entertain people. Not here.

"Now," he said, stepping into the room, "You sound like a member of the Imperial Trade Commission. You've grown into your rank."

At the mention of rank, her shoulders slumped. "I'll never grow into my rank," she told him.

"If you wait for the magical moment at which you feel that all work is inconsequential, and all labor is easy, you'll wait a long time. In House Terafin, the work itself is a sign of the confidence of its governing body."

She cringed. "You heard."

His hesitation was visible, and of all reactions, the most telling. "Yes," he said at last, "I have. You and Teller are to join the Terafin House Council when it convenes on the morrow."

She bit her lip. "If you've heard, everyone's heard." And was rewarded by the startling lift of a dark brow.

"Perhaps. I was informed by The Terafin."

"Wwhy? She told us that we were to tell no one but our guards-well, and each other-until we arrive at the Council meeting itself."

His silence was unsettling.

"What else has she told you?"

Supple shrug of shoulder. Telling shrug.

"You know."

"Yes," he told her quietly. "I know. But . . ."

"But?"

"It was Jewel who chose to inform me. The Terafin's wishes have not yet been made known."

"When? When did she tell you?"

"Before she left."

Finch bit her lip. It was a habit that she had worked very hard to lose, and although she had had some success, it returned at awkward moments.

"You know we're being watched."

"Of course."

"Then you know that everyone will know you've come to visit."

He nodded again. "But you are not the only member of the House that I have visited this eve; I have spoken to all of the House Council."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He laughed again. "You are not politic yet. Very well. There are matters of import to the House which might affect the Kings."

The night grew colder. "He sent you?"

"Not per se. But I am here with Duvari's consent, yes."

"Why?"

He hesitated for another moment. "This issue is unlikely to be raised in the open, and it is of import that it remain hidden."

She nodded.

"The Terafin's mage discovered a demon among the House staff."

Her eyes rounded, her lips fell open. "But-but he said that things were in order. Before he left. For the South."

"Please do not take this the wrong way, but we're aware of what was said. Understand that this is not the first time that a demon has been found in The Terafin's presence."

"I . . . know." She closed her eyes. All of her darkest memories were waking in the face of the man who stood before her.

"Indeed," he said softly. "You, and your den, know a great deal about the kin."

"No. We don't. We just-"

"You know enough. Do you understand the significance of its presence here?"

She shook her head.

"Think a moment."

Think. She bit her lip again, kneading it between her teeth. "You think that the kin are involved in the . . . succession race."

"Very good."

"But that means-"

"Yes. It does." He walked across the room and took the chair closest to the desk, sitting in it. Seated, he robbed himself of the advantage of height-but not by much; Finch had never been tall. Would never be tall. The legacy of an early life in the hundred holdings.

"The kin attempted to kill The Terafin years ago. They attempted to kill Jewel ATerafin months ago. It is possible-just-that the latter attempt was solely of relevance to the war in the South; the demons came to the Hall of the Kings when the Kings themselves presided over The Ten in regard to the question of the hostages. But the former attempt stands on its own."

She nodded.

"It is considered possible that the attempts were unrelated, but we believe that they were part of a larger war. It is for that reason-and that alone-that the armies were sent to the South."

Finch nodded again. She understood what the significance of loss in that war meant: She had lived through the Henden of the demon voices, and she would never, ever forget it.

"It is not in the interests of the Kings to play favorites among the candidates a House fosters for its succession," he told her quietly. "Nor is it in the interests of the Empire. How much of the history of The Ten do you know?"

She shrugged. "As much as anyone does."

"Tell me."

"The Lady Veralaan was the sole surviving child of the ruler of the Empire. Her brothers had killed each other, somehow, and her father was dead. The Blood Barons thought to gain her hand in marriage, and with it, the Empire. But her father had given her into the keeping of the Mother, and in the halls of the temple, she had been trained as a priestess. So she knew what that marriage would mean for the people who weren't born to power."

"Go on."

"She prayed. She asked for help. And the Mother interceded, summoning her into the Between, where she met the Lords of Wisdom and Justice. Time pa.s.ses differently there, and she stayed with them. In the Between, the Twin Kings were born to Veralaan, the heir to the Imperial throne."

"Indeed."

"Although she was gone a few days-or a few months, the story isn't always the same here-when she returned, the sons she bore were of age. They were presented to the a.s.semblage of the patriarchs, the scions of the Blood Barons. She abdicated her throne to her sons."

He nodded.

"The Blood Barons weren't really thrilled. But the people were. Veralaan's sons, Cormalyn and Reymalyn the first, made it clear that they were willing to wage a war for control of the Empire which was theirs by right of birth. They traveled the Empire, and survived many attempts on their lives, seeking the support of the n.o.bility in their war. In the end, ten of the most powerful of the families who governed the Empire chose to lend them their support. The Ten," she added softly, "who rule now. They came from the West, and the East, from the North and the South, and they came bearing arms, at the head of small armies, to lay their swords at the feet of the G.o.d-born.

"The Kings accepted their pledges of allegiance."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. He didn't seem to blink at all; his eyes were luminescent in lamplight, in darkness.

"We celebrate those vows every year," she told him quietly.

"Indeed. In Henden, in the darkness, and in Veral, in the Spring. But understand that the offer of The Ten was not so simple an offer as the High Days make it out to be in story; that if it involved n.o.bility of purpose-and it must have-it also involved the brokering of power.

"The Kings accepted conditions to the rule of The Ten when it accepted their pledges. The Ten were to be first among equals in the new world; they were to have their seats of power within the grounds of Avantari; they were to be left to their own devices in 'internal affairs.' In essence, the Kings were to allow them rule of their own. The laws that bind the Ten and the laws that bind the rest of the Empire are somewhat different.

"It is not, as you might guess, to Duvari's liking."

"Nothing is."

He smiled. She had forgotten, until then, how handsome he was. Finch, like Jay, distrusted handsome men. "The oaths that were made to The Ten were binding. They are recorded, even if they are not examined often. In a House War, the Kings' hands are tied by those pledges; they will not intervene unless the war itself is of such a magnitude that it encompa.s.ses those who are not allied with the Houses."

She nodded.

"If The Terafin chooses to kill you," he said evenly, "and you are incapable of defending yourself, the law will not intervene on your behalf."

She nodded again.

"And if a member of the House chooses the same course," he continued, "the same law applies."

"But-"

"There is no but."

"But-"

He smiled. "There is a reason that the death of Alea, among others, was not reported to the magisterial guards."

"But there have been cases, in House history, where members of the House have been turned over to the magisterial. Uh, the magisterial guards, I mean."

"Indeed. On all occasions in which the crime committed has been committed outside of the jurisprudence of the House. If a House member murders an outsider, or commits an act of treason, the House member forgoes the protection of the House. This, too, is written in the covenant between The Ten and the Kings. But in cases in which the wrongdoing is entirely internal, justice is an internal affair.

"The Terafin, in order to ask for Royal intervention, would have to cede to the Kings what has never been ceded in the History of the House: her sovereignty. I understand that you grew up within the warrens of the hundred holdings; that the force of law does not therefore seem sacrosanct to you. You have lived with the limitations of men, not the rule of the law, for the whole of your life. But the theory of your life in the holdings and your life here are different."

"Does it matter? It's all just words."

"It matters," he said softly. "We believe that the first would-be a.s.sa.s.sin did not intend to make the death of The Terafin obvious; that he in fact intended the opposite: To replace her, to a.s.sume her form and her role."

"If that had happened, the Kings would-"

"The Kings," he said softly, "would rely solely upon the Astari."

"The Astari? I . . . I don't understand."

"I know," he told her gently. "It is why I came this eve. I thought it might be preferable to a visit from Duvari."

She nodded.