The older she became, the more Gethyrue understood the limits of Authority. When she had been a child, growing up in the courtyards of House Crimson, the soulcrafters at such ranks had been her greatest heroes. She knew that Strongholds were supposed to be more powerful, but they were only stern figures at the edges of her life, and anything beyond that was myth.

Now, at nearly one hundred years old, she felt no wiser than that child. The Strongholds of Norro Yorthin fought one another bitterly, but she had given up all hope of a Dominion-tier soulcrafter rising from among them. In her travels, she had learned that there were soulcrafters beyond those heights, standing on the other side of a gap even greater than the one she had crossed to become an Authority. She had ascended as an old woman and knew she would go no further, her soulhome growing increasingly rigid with age.

Five members of House Crimson had reached Authority-tier or higher, and she was the eldest of them. Though at one hundred her body retained some youth, she had failed in her efforts to craft an Immortality Conduit. In time she would pass away, without ever ascending further, and her only remaining hope was to see someone else who could bring change to all she regretted.

At the moment, she dragged her nephew's wine-soaked body through their courtyard to his home. Tythes was no longer the boy he had once been, in so many ways.

Around them, members of House Crimson looked on with pity, but only briefly, because they didn't dare draw Tythes's wrath. He'd established that reputation quite effectively, thus leaving her in the position of being the only one to stand up to him. She no longer expected that he would be the leader she'd hoped for, but the boy scared her sometimes.

She dropped him into a lounging chair and turned back to the door. One servant carried new robes, but Gethyrue shook her head apologetically. Once the servant departed, Gethyrue closed the door and activated the defensive barrier around the room.

"Well, that's done." Tythes sat up and ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back from his face. "As soon as they're exiled, track the Deuxans back to their court. Then come back here and get one of our better assassins."

"Tythes..." She preferred him like this to his drunken facade, but sometimes the two seemed to blur. "They may be no threat to the House, but surely it's senseless to kill them."

"You didn't let me finish. Have the assassin deliver a poison, all nicely boxed up. They need a reminder not to meddle here again." Tythes stood up sharply and walked to his desk, speaking more rapidly as he did so. "Have them steal a Deuxan poison in return, and use it for a weak attempt in the House of Burning Leaves. That should discourage them from using other worlds in their schemes."

"I understand." Gethyrue smiled as she understood his plan, regretting that she had doubted him. Tythes was not the man his parents or tutors had tried to make him become, but sometimes she hoped that something of what she had tried to teach remained in him. "I think they are already chastened, but a reminder might not be inappropriate."

"We need them on their back foot for what's coming. It will be politically delicate." Her nephew glanced over at her, a true smile on his face. "Do you think they took the sublime spices? As opposed to destroying them or handing them over to House Blacksilver, I mean."

"I suspect they will."

"Excellent. And thanks to the bet, they now have three Chasm Invitations. I think it might be best to leave them be for a time, or the continual meetings will grow suspicious. Hmm, that leaves me with rather a lot of time. There's other business to be done, but perhaps a few unwilling vassals..."

"Tythes..." She took a breath and stepped behind him, putting a hand on his arm. "I know you think this will make a difference, but I don't understand why you're so excited by a few foreign Archcrafters. Let me in, nephew, please."

He paused, the intense concentration on his face receding. The innocent boy he had been no longer existed, but when his eyes focused on her, she thought they were kind. "You know the problem with this city's balance, Gethyrue. Even the House of the Lost has become just another faction, and the cycle continues. I need young soulcrafters, ones who won't just become more House minions."

"They appear loyal to House Blacksilver."

"Not for long." Tythes swept away, grinning with a bit of the energy he usually faked. "I think they're the ones I've been waiting for. This Nauda has the spirit for it, even if her soulhome is a bit messy. The Ichili won her whole tournament handily and essentially just waited to ascend at will. I thought the boy was the least interesting, then he promptly does the impossible and defeats a Ruler. They're blazing upward, they just need a little guidance."

The way he said it, Gethyrue could almost believe, but that was just his way with words. He'd had a honeyed tongue from a young age, and when he got older it had transformed into something much sharper. She didn't believe that he would manipulate her, not when they had been working closely together for so many years, but she did sometimes wonder.

"Eight months left... I need to analyze them further during that time. They wouldn't push for the Chasm of Lamentations unless they had a reason, perhaps related to the House war over it." Tythes shook his head sharply and began to walk to his balcony. "Need more information. No point speculating."

"You seem inspired." She walked out beside him, smiling slowly. "I was beginning to believe that you really had grown apathetic."

"Hardly." Tythes leaned on the edge of his balcony and stared out over the courtyard. "Merely waiting for the people I need to destroy House Crimson."