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there is little discussion. It is why I have had such difficulty, and why, in the end, I have no solid information to offer; the magi are willing to discuss what is known—the cats, the trees, the stag—but they fall silent very quickly when it comes to intelligent speculation and theorizing. I understand why,” he added. “Guildmaster Mellifas is as terrifying a woman as I have ever met.”
    “That is unkind, Andrei.”
    Andrei nodded smoothly. “For this reason, Hectore, I have been uncertain about the value of any information I might bring you with regards to The Terafin or the nature of the plague. Because it
is
of import, and because you will act in haste when your family has been harmed, it is rather more important that the information have a strong foundation in fact or truth; less would be socially irresponsible. What I have said today is, in the main, hearsay. I am not comfortable with it.”
    “You are, as always, too strict in your determination of what constitutes solid information.”
    “As you say.”
    “I wish to speak with The Terafin.”
    Andrei evinced no surprise at all.
    “But, tell me one thing, Andrei. In your investigation, did you happen to discover if Adam, my healer boy, was living under the auspices of The Terafin herself?”
    His servant smiled. “Indeed, Hectore. He is living in the personal apartments used by the new Terafin and her small, unusual court. She has failed to take up residence in the large apartments traditionally reserved for The Terafin’s personal use.”
    “What? Why?”
    “I am not certain. Adam lives in the West Wing, where The Terafin currently resides.”
    “In your investigations, what is the general consensus about her ability to hold the Terafin seat?”
    “I believe it would be best, in this case, to meet with her in person, if that can be arranged.”
    “I am Hectore of Araven,” he replied, drawing himself up to his full height with an annoyance that was more real than feigned. “Of course it can be arranged. I will go through the Merchant Authority; I believe it’s been some time since I took tea with Jarven.”
    Andrei’s smile stiffened as he bowed.
    “Oh, stop. If I have forgiven him our early encounters and rivalries—or perhaps, if he has forgiven
me
—I fail to understand why you continue to harbor such a dislike of the man. Speak to Jarven.”
    “Yes, Hectore.”
    The Patris Araven spoke a soft word as he touched the stone in his pocket. “And now,” he said, in an entirely different tone of voice, “I will go to my Rachele. I will offer her what comfort I can, and I will tell her that I will personally see that whoever—whatever—is responsible for our loss will
pay
.”

Chapter One
     
    7th of Fabril, 428 A.A.
Terafin Manse, Averalaan Aramarelas
     
    T HE SERVANTS WERE, as always, efficient. They moved in silence through the back halls, and with grace through the public halls, tending to their daily duties with the starched exactitude the Master of the Household Staff expected. But if one knew them well—and living in the Terafin manse for half one’s life allowed opportunity for plenty of observation—it was clear they were excited. There was an expectant air to their work.
    Some of that work involved the rooms occupied by The Terafin, although at the moment they were empty on what Gabriel ATerafin referred to as a technicality. Everyone else referred to it as “Jewel being difficult.”
    Jewel found the transition from member of the House Council to Head of the House to be daunting. She’d expected daunting. She’d worked herself out of hours of sleep while staring at the ceiling in the room she’d occupied since she’d first set foot in the manse thinking about how to deal with the Kings, their
Astari
, and the mages who served them. She had, thanks to the unsuccessful assassins, managed to avoid
Avantari
and its many Courts since she had been acclaimed, but the time for such avoidance was rapidly drawing to a