Free Skirmish: A House War Novel by Michelle West

I assume there
is
an absence of such acclaim.”

    Silence.

    Haerrad, grinning, said, “Clearly.”

    “The House Council will now entertain the claims of those who feel they are worthy to rule House Terafin.”

    Elonne rose first. She rose slowly, gracefully, deliberately. She gave the entire Council table one steady measured glance. “I am Elonne Derranoste ATerafin. I have been responsible for the merchant routes along the Southern Annagarian coast, and to the Western Kingdoms, and if the Council deems it wise, I will lead Terafin.”

    Gabriel did not call for a vote. Gerridon ATerafin rose. He was a junior Council member, although he was no longer
the
Junior Council member; that was reserved for Finch. Or Teller. “I offer support to Elonne’s claim.”

    “Thank you, Councillor,” Gabriel said. Gerridon sat.

    Haerrad rose next, but he waited until Elonne had fully resumed her seat to do so. “I am Haerrad Jorgan ATerafin. The more difficult landlocked routes in the Dominion have been mine; they have prospered, even during the war. In my hands, Terafin will likewise prosper, regardless of events that occur outside our domain.”

    Sabienne ATerafin rose from across the table. “I will support Haerrad’s claim,” she said quietly. “Given the manner of both Alowan and The Terafin’s deaths, a Lord who retains his power during martial difficulties is necessary.”

    “Thank you, Councillor.”

    Haerrad took longer to sit than Elonne had.

    Marrick rose third. He was the only man to smile at the Council table, but it was a restrained smile, for Marrick. “I am Marrick Bennett ATerafin,” he said, bowing slightly. “I am not, it is true, martial—but during my tenure as Councillor, I have made gains within the Queens’ Court, on behalf of the House, and within the Makers’ Guild; Guildmaster ADelios has thrice in the past year accepted invitations to the House—when they have come from me. Such are the alliances I have built, and will continue to build, to strengthen Terafin when I rule.”

    To Jewel’s slight surprise, Iain ATerafin rose. Of those who had taken a stand, he was the oldest. His hair was white. His clothing was neat, tidy, and entirely unremarkable; it was neither too fine nor too coarse. He was, according to Teller, very good at his job—which involved the internal financial workings of the manse itself. He rarely raised his voice, but no one doubted that he had a spine; the Master of the Household Staff reported to him when more staff was required, in her opinion. She did not always get that staff, and Iain was demonstrably still alive.

    “I support Marrick in his claim,” Iain said quietly. Of the support offered, Iain’s was the most significant, and judging by the expression on Haerrad’s face, Jewel was not the only person to be surprised.

    “Thank you, Councillor,” Gabriel said. He gazed across the table.

    Rymark, his son, rose. “I am Rymark Garriston ATerafin. I claim the right of rule by designation.”

    “By designation,” Haerrad said, pushing himself up from the table in obvious anger. “Now that the Kings do not crowd our shoulders, let us see your document.”

    “It is in the keeping of Gabriel ATerafin.”

    All eyes turned to Gabriel. Gabriel met his son’s angry gaze, and it seemed to Jewel that it was Gabriel who blinked first. But if he did, he did not then produce the offensive document Haerrad had demanded. He said, instead, “Who stands as Rymark Garriston ATerafin’s second?”

    Verdian ATerafin stood. She was very much a younger version of Elonne, although her hair was paler, and her eyes gray; she was, and hadalways been, striking. She served as liaison with the Port Authority. “I support Rymark ATerafin’s claim.”

    “Very well. It must now be asked: will three of you cede your claim to any other?”

    Silence.

    Gabriel nodded; the answer—or lack—was not a surprise to anyone who crowded this room. “Put forth your