A House Divided, Nicole Ciacchella [universal ebook reader .txt] 📗

home quite forcefully for him now.

They reached Flim's office, and she closed the heavy door, palm pressed to the wood, her back to him for a moment. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him, her expression cautious.

"Why am I here?" he asked, deciding to get straight to the heart of the matter.

Flashing a wry smile, she moved behind her ponderous desk—the same one Meara had used, Kila noted—and gestured that he should take a seat.

"Your leaving wasn't my choice, you know," she said, studying him with care.

"I deduced as much," he said in a mild tone.

Sighing, she ran a hand over her tightly coiled ebony hair. Six years his senior, she was still a young woman, but the strain of the years had left visible marks upon her. Furrows marred her brow, and fine lines radiated out from her eyes and mouth.

"I'm taking a risk here," she said. Picking up a quill, she twirled it between her fingers. She was jittery with nerves, and Kila was taken aback. Flim had been good at concealing her feelings in the past. It was what had kept her in a place of prominence in Enforcement, and probably what had enabled her to become chief. Most everything was a game in Cearova, and she excelled at playing. "And yet I'll be blunt: I need allies. I need people in my corner that I know I can trust."

Leaning forward, Kila met her eyes. "The Houses?"

Dropping the quill, she twisted her mouth in disgust. "Hasn't it always boiled down to them in the end?"

She'd never shown any particular loyalty to them in the past, but she had been good at appeasing them. He hadn't thought her a sycophant like the former chief, but he was surprised to realize he had thought her a sympathizer, at the very least.

Something about his expression must have given him away, because she graced him with a cynical smile. "Surprised you, did I, old partner?"

"Yes, you did," he said, seeing no reason to dissemble.

Flim exhaled in a huff and leaned back against her chair. "The problem with you was you never knew when to keep your mouth shut."

He opened it to protest, realized what he was doing, and snapped it shut again, making her smile and shake her head.

"See what I mean?" she asked. "That mouth got you into trouble the last time around, and it will again if you're not careful. Difference is, this time I'll also take the heat for it."

"So why did you risk bringing me back?" he asked, perplexed.

"As I said, I need people in my corner, and I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that I'm hard-pressed to find them here."

With a rather rueful shake of her head, she paused. Lifting her lips in a grim smile, she said, "Damn, but this all makes me sound mercenary. By Vyram's flame, I swear I never once forgot you all those years, Kila. I would have saved you if I could have."

"You don't owe me an explanation," he said, unable to stop himself from biting off the words. He hadn't blamed her, not really, but it had stung that she hadn't stood up for him. True, they hadn't been partners for long, but they had been partners.

"I think I do," she said. "I'm not proud of it, Kila, the way I let the bodies pile up. But the fact of the matter is that I knew Cearova needed someone looking out for the city as a whole, rather than just looking out for the Houses. I've lived here all my life. Cearova is my home."

"I remember."

"Then hopefully you understand why I had to do what I did. I had to keep playing the game to ensure the safety of the city's unconnected citizens. Trust me, it was bitter medicine to swallow. And if you think I've had it easy these past nine years, you're mistaken. I'm exhausted." Her face collapsed as she spoke, and she looked every bit as exhausted as she claimed she was.

"I do understand."

He did, as much as he could. He had never had much of a home, moving from place to place with his parents as a child, and then with the upheaval that had resulted as a consequence of his two years in Cearova. Even so, he did understand what Flim was fighting for. He too had devoted his life to upholding justice and pursuing the truth, despite the little good it had done him.

"I still don't know how I can help you," he said. "I have no connections that will be of any use to you, and House members have long memories for words spoken against them, so I don't see how I can be anything other than an additional problem for you to handle."

"They will remember you," she acknowledged, her face pinched. "But with luck they will also think you chastened by your spell in the forest and eager to look out for yourself, lest you end up there again.

"Still, I owe it to you to inform you that I'm asking you to take a risk. For now I'm maintaining the appearance that everything is normal in Cearova, but the Houses have become too powerful for me to sit on my hands any longer. I have to take a stand. The Houses need to know that Enforcement is no longer entirely in their pocket.

"Please, Kila, help me defend the defenseless. I don't think you can abandon them any more than I can."

A face rose in his mind, the memory of a young urchin, a girl who'd skulked through the streets on her own late at night. She'd had no one to look out for her, that much had been obvious when she'd stumbled into his scrap of a garden. He'd taken her under his wing as much as he'd been able, showing her the basic moves of the deshya, hoping his feeble attempt would be of at least some assistance to her.

How many others were there like her in Cearova, children without anyone to look after them, children forced to grow up far too fast? The Houses were more than capable of looking after their own, and they didn't care if protecting their own interests could only be done at the expense of everyone else.

Locking his eyes with Flim's, they stared at one another for a long time. Her gaze didn't waver, and he watched the lines on her face slowly ease.

"Reporting for duty, Chief Flim," he said, saluting her.

The lines disappeared completely as her face relaxed in relief.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

 

"I'm told Lachlon paid you a visit already," Daerwyn said when Cianne joined him for dinner. She wasn't surprised that he knew. He had many sources for information, which was why she had made it a point to uncover every one of them. Her father had to believe that he knew everything there was to know about her, and she took great pains to maintain the ruse.

"Yes, he did," she said with unflappable composure as she lowered herself into her seat and spread her napkin over her lap. "It was a shock to see him so soon, but he seemed in good cheer, so I take it his trip was profitable."

"Very," her father said in a tone of deep satisfaction. "It's a shame you did not invite him to stay to dinner. I should have liked to see him."

I'll bet you would have. Must make certain we're securing our interests, mustn't we?

"He promised his parents he would dine with them."

"Pity he didn't invite you along, then."

Cianne wore her mask well. Her smile didn't indicate to her father that anything was amiss. His hints had become so heavy-handed of late that, like this hint, they could hardly be called by that name.

"I'll see him tomorrow, at any rate," she said, slipping a morsel of roasted pheasant into her mouth, more so that she would have an excuse not to speak to him than because of any real sense of hunger.

As they often did, her eyes strayed to her mother's empty chair. Though she had died shortly after Cianne's twelfth birthday, Cianne had still never gotten used to the idea of her mother's being truly gone. Before Annalith's death, Cianne had been able to count three amongst those she knew loved her and would protect her: her mother, Lach, and Lach's kindly father, Toran.

That Moiria, Lach's mother, didn't much care for her went without saying, but Moiria wasn't a woman to look a gift horse in the mouth either. Cianne might not be up to Moiria's standards for her son, but a union between Cianne and Lach would bring undeniable connections to the family, what with Daerwyn's being on track to become an Elder. Such a union might dilute the bloodlines, but Moiria placed so much stock in her son's Adept abilities that she was confident the strength of Lach's blood would offset the weakness of Cianne's. From time to time, even two non-Adepts could produce an Adept child, so surely even Cianne's polluted blood couldn't diminish the strength of Lach's line. Besides, Daerwyn was such a useful man, and such a dear friend of Moiria's.

Cianne knew all this because she'd read all of Moiria's diaries and correspondence. Twice. She wondered if Lach had the first idea about the true substance of his mother's character.

"Yes, the dinner party at Elder Borean's manor," Daerwyn said with obvious relish. He'd worked hard to ingratiate himself with Borean, and his efforts had paid off richly.

"I was thinking of wearing my yellow gown. Elder Borean complimented me on it the last time I wore it."

"A good choice," her father said with an approving nod. He and Cianne butted heads with regular frequency, but she was careful not to do anything that threatened his grasp on power. Daughter or no, Daerwyn wouldn't stand for Cianne's disrupting his grand plans.

"I'm glad you think so, Father," she said, hoping her deference and sly change of topic would be enough to make him forget about Lach. They weren't.

"You're twenty-two, Cianne," he said, as if imparting some knowledge on her that she herself was lacking. He surveyed her over the rim of his goblet. "You will need to announce your intent soon."

"Father, you know of my fears," she said in a quiet voice. She lowered her eyes and blinked several times, wanting him to think her on the verge of tears.

Lately, she'd had the sense that her marriage to Lach played into some plan her father was hatching, but she hadn't been able to uncover the nature of the plan, and that disturbed her. Daerwyn was a circumspect man who kept nothing untoward in their home. Cianne had searched time and again to no avail. This struck her as odd. Experience had taught her that no one was as clean as her father. Everyone had their secrets. Wasn't she living proof?

Could her father be moving to seize power from the Elders? No matter how much she tried to push the thought aside, it continued to assert itself in her mind. She tried to tell herself that it was ridiculous, that Daerwyn had spent his life doing everything the House asked of him for the express purpose of protecting the House, but she couldn't force the suspicions from her mind. Something strange was going on.

"While it's noble of you to worry about the dilution of his line," her father said, his annoyance ill-concealed, "I counsel you not to give your fears too much sway. Think, Cianne, of the advantages to yourself. If you were to marry Lach, you