Oracle: The House War: Book Six Read Online Free PDF

cannot
be
you.
    “And there are things about you, Jewel Markess ATerafin, that I do not think I could fully understand unless I lived the life you have lived in near blindness.”
    The wall from which the Oracle had stepped began to shift, stone moving, slowly, as if it were the surface of melting ice.
    “And Evayne?”
    “Pardon?”
    “Evayne. Evayne a’Nolan. Do you understand her?”
    “Better, in many ways, than I understand you. She is not what you are, Jewel. She is god-born and bound by geas and bitter, bitter hope. You will speak with her again; perhaps before you have made your choice. I will say this much: she does not choose the roads she walks. What choice she has—and it is imperfect—is what she sees when she walks them.
    “If she comes to you, she might be your age. She might be the age you were when you first crossed Terafin’s threshold. She might be your peer, and she might rival Sigurne Mellifas at the height of her many powers. I ask, if she arrives, that you allow her to speak, regardless of age. Where you walk, you take some part of your home with you.
    “Where she walks, she is forced to walk in isolation.” She turned to Kallandras. “Be kind.”
    He did not reply.
    Nor had he need; the stone that had once housed the back half of the Oracle as she was currently constituted was now a whirlpool in miniature.
    “I know what you seek, Kallandras. You will not find it where you travel, but if you survive, you will at last be upon the final leg of your long journey. So, too, Evayne.” She held the crystal in her hands aloft, and in its heart, there were roiling clouds and small flashes of light that made them appear a storm in miniature.
    That lightning leaped beyond the confines of the crystal to the wall; it struck the heart of vortex. Liquid stone scattered, pushed outward in an oval that solidified to form an arch. It was round, not rectangular; it looked like uneven, melted glass when it ceased motion.
    “It is not an easy thing to reach the heart of my lands,” the Oracle said softly. “Reaching them is the first part of your test.” She turned to the Kings and the Exalted, and tendered them a bow that was almost Weston. She did not speak. Instead, she lowered her arms. The crystal remained in cupped palms, like an offering.
    “Go,” she told Jewel. “I must remain to close the way.”



Chapter One
    5th of Morel, 428 A.A.
Terafin Manse, Averalaan Aramarelas
    H ANNERLE WAS NOT IN a happy mood. Years in the company of his wife made this clear to Haval, although the rest of the people in this impromptu gathering did not know her well enough to realize it.
    On the other hand, she wasn’t angry with
them
. They had spent the earliest years of their lives—almost half of them—in environments in which anger directed at other people was safety, of a type. Or perhaps they were perceptive enough to realize that the age difference between Hannerle and themselves made it unlikely that they would become targets for her anger.
    Looking mildly distressed, Finch stood before Hannerle, her hands enveloped by Haval’s wife’s. “Are you sure you won’t stay?” she asked, squeezing her hands as if Hannerle were a beloved aunt and not a recovered convalescent.
    “If I stay much longer,” Hannerle replied, “I’ll forget how to look after myself.”
    Finch’s brows rose in mock-derision. “That’s impossible.”
    “Trust me, it’s not. The Terafin manse is impressive, but in the end it’s not mine. And there’s very little I can do to make it mine. You let me putter about in the kitchen—but the servants hate it, and can’t say as I blame them. It’s stressful being a guest.”
    “Haval, help me.” Finch cast an imploring glance at the clothier.
    “I have offered my wife every possible entreaty to remain,” he replied, his shoulders slumped, his expression one of regret at his failure.
    Hannerle frowned. “You’re the only reason I would stay,” she told him, voice