Shatter Point

Lady Violetta d'Amethysta was old.

You could see it in her long, shimmering, white hair. You could see it in the limp in her walk, or in the slight trembling in her hands, especially when she gripped her cane tightly.

Where you did not see it, however, was in her eyes.

And she decided that today would be a good day to die – as long as she took the establishment with her.

She had been the head of her House for a long time. Long enough to see it diminish, long enough to outlive every person in it, and long enough to see to her only surviving child about to be married. Her lovely daughter, Viola, already had a few children galloping around and beginning to train for the family's businesses. Violetta herself would not live to see it, but the House would thrive again. Eventually. If the other Houses stopped trying to snuff them out of existence.

Time to embrace the old ways again.

The Houses, each named after the gem that each one's fortunes had been originally based upon, had diversified over the years. Some, like House Opal, reached out in ways that were an affinity to their house – they gradually took over the shipping trades, and had excellent ships and sailors in their line. House Diamond trained the best servants... because their stock in trade were the slaves they used in the mines, and treated barbarically, till they were stopped by the Council and forced to treat humans like - well, humans. House Emerald, like their namesake, kept and taught the best healers over centuries of learning and research.

House Amethyst? They were a modest house, with some farming interests, some excellent stock herds, and modest tastes to match. The other Houses had forgotten the old rules, which was what actually made the deep purple gem so valuable.

As House head, she had perforce sat on Council for many boring meetings over the decades. She had seen how the new Council Head was created, time and time again, when the old one retired or stepped down. There was no crisis; each head's name was simply put in a jar, and one was drawn to be the next head, and life moved on.

Except, this last time, some pretense of vague threat had been issued, and The Councilcrat had taken over.

Violetta didn't even remember his real name, or his title. She didn't see people that way. It was part of the House's gift. What she did know, was that every time she looked at him, he seemed like a slimy pond of tar come to life.

She watched as the Councilcrat oozed and schmoozed and oiled his way onto various houses. He was from none of them, but suddenly he had allies and business associates and "friends" in most of them. Opposers... had accidents. Or were imprisoned on questionable charges.

Many of the Houses simply retired to their country houses to wait it out. They knew, with long-suffering patience, that dictators do not last. They consolidated as much of their business as they could, sold what was already infiltrated. The lifetime of a dictator was not nearly as long as their pedigreed lineages, and only lasted just about as long as an ineffective leader from another House as Council Head.

Violetta didn't mind that sort of "compromise." She returned to her comfortable mansion in the heart of her farmlands, and concentrated on training her daughter Viola to be strong and take over. And Viola's children as well. There were two lovely children already, and a man Violetta was certain was calm and kind but nobody's fool. Viola had decided to postpone the marriage to her fiance, thinking that the council squatter and his toadies just might try something regarding the sole heir.

She was right, but wrong.

They did not expect what happened.

The Council met every five years or so for "important" decisions. With the Councilcrat in power, there were less issues that needed a full council to nod along. So for him to call every House into the city, something profound was about to change.

They were certain they would not like it.

But Violetta knew the steps of the dance. Have the servants pull out the formal clothing, in the rich grape purple that set off her gems so well. Pack the trunks, make arrangements for an advance party to go to the city and air out their little suite. She knew some Houses went for great display and ostentation; she liked her simply adorned apartments. Easier to maintain, and when the city became unsafe, she didn't fret about anything left behind. Heavy furniture that had been there for centuries, and they brought fresh sheets and curtains and mattress materials each time.

So it came as a rather large shock when the Councilcrat himself requested the House jewels be sent for the event. By his courier. In advance.

She left the insolent twerp standing in the hallway. She conferred with her sharp-eyed and clear-headed daughter, and her daughter's beloved. They came to a conclusion.

Violetta watched her material legacy leave in an over-gilded carriage.

When she arrived in the city herself for the meeting, she went to the palace to claim it back. Of course it was lost in transit, so terribly sorry.

She filed a complaint, to be brought up at the Council meeting the very next day.

Apparently walking into the meeting sans jewelry of any kind caused the whispering to start. Funnily enough, the Councilcrat was much more interested in talking about an obscure border dispute and the banquet's last-minute menu changes. Hours of tedium, no time for outright theft of a House's jewels. Nothing of great importance was mentioned, nothing of profound significance to drag all the Houses into the city for. The Councilcrat, looking like a greasy weasel, didn't even look in her direction, though she sat ramrod-straight staring directly at him the whole time.

Oh, look at that, dismissed to go to the banquet, and the weasel whisked himself out the door.

Ah. So that was the shape of it. She breathed a small prayer that she had said her goodbyes to Viola and their little family, had written letters for all of them for the future, that the will was solid and unbreakable.

She was escorted to the banquet room. For her protection. Because she was old.

Old, you sycophantic worm, but not stupid.

She was even seated off to the side, not with the rest of the glittering Houses. As if to say she was a relic of the past.

She sat, and waited, and watched the panoply enter the room.

And when all of the Houses were seated, she stood up. No one saw her hand hidden in her dress, gripping a fist-sized amethyst crystal. They had forgotten it was one of the stones that assisted with public speaking and eloquence. Every one always wanted her House's help for amethyst's primary purpose. Which is why her jewels were in the hands of the Councilcrat. She could guess what was coming.

She opened her mouth, and the stone she clutched amplified her voice to the whole room.

"Oyez! Oyez! Why have I been diminished? Why am I cast to a far-off corner of the room? Am I not the Head of one of the oldest Houses? Most importantly, why have my House's jewels been stolen by the houseless slime that lords it over us? Why have none of you asked me why I have been stripped of my own House's legacy? Why was my legitimate complaint not discussed in Council? Why was I completely ignored? Why does my grievance still stand unanswered?"

The room completely stilled. She scanned eyes – some guilty, some terrified, some angry, some shocked. She snorted at them all. "How many of you live under his grimy thumb? How many of you willingly colluded? When are you going to realize he has completely gulled you all, lulled you into a false sense of security? He stole my House's jewels! Do you not comprehend what that means for you spineless, gutless fools? How many of you rely on my House for your very lives? Have you ever wondered what will happen if I ever choose to withdraw my support?"

The Councilcrat fought the compulsion laid on him by this frail-seeming old woman. He sluggishly gestured to the guards, but they were frozen. It wouldn't have mattered if they could move – if a House was aggrieved, it was their right to air their complaint as she did. Technically, the banquet was considered part of the Council meeting. Violetta was well within her rights, and arresting her should have brought an immediate response from the other Houses. It seems he didn't remember the old rules, or had misinterpreted them. Or thought he had more control than he truly did.

Or underestimated her. He would not be the first.

She surveyed the room, contempt dripping from her rigid stance. "So, you are cowards. Even now he tries to arrest me, for taking one of my ancient rights. He is a thief. He is a monster. He has corrupted you, and you sit there like scared rabbits. You are the Houses of the Gems! You were once powerful! You are nothing. You have given all your power away, and it will not save you.

"Remember, you were once regal. You were once proud Houses, with abilities to match. Your wealth was based on what gem called to your heart, your mind. And you've forgotten the old power. You should have husbanded that, for a time of need. Which is now."

She pulled out the crystal, held it up for all to see. "I collected this myself, from the ancient mine, once a volcano vent. I pulled it from the living rock, because it sang to me of heat and depths inside our world. It spoke its secrets, and I listened, and I took care of this one, and its kind, in the time I was allotted. Now? I curse you all, you who allowed this human garbage to take over. I curse you all, and your lands, and the ones you rule, and whatever you touch. May all things rot in your hands, may your corrupt souls be exposed, may you wither. And may all the gods help you, because I will not!"

She threw the crystal at the Councilcrat on his golden chair, studded with gems donated from each House head that had sat at the Council's head over the centuries.

It fell quite short, of course. It did not even make a sound in the room's silence when it fell on the thick carpet.

It did, however, crack and shatter, and the shards flew in all directions.

People gasped and jumped away, some bleeding from razor-thin cuts. But the screaming truly started when every amethyst in the room also shattered. On goblet rims, mostly, and silverware, of course. Those lucky enough to have a full goblet gifted to them watched in horror as their prized possessions drained of color, then crumbled.

Violetta collapsed. She was dead before the guards reached her.

It turned into a fear-driven rout.

Those lucky to be near the doors got out before the guards closed and locked the room. The unlucky ones, driven mad by panic, fought guards and each other to get out. Blood stained the expensive silks and furs. Eventually most people – especially the House heads, seated as they were near the Councilcrat, on the far side of the room, to keep them away from drafts of course – were forced to sit again, partake of the feast whose components they had quibbled over in Council session. Cooks trembled as they handed platters off to the guards via a pass-through too small to allow people to leave.

Some were smart enough to realize what Violetta must have meant, and refused to eat. Some were not smart enough to also refrain from drinking.

Many, many people joined Violetta on the floor in death that night.

Including the Councilcrat. They found the missing jewels on his body, carefully hidden under his clothing. Against his skin. They were crazed and cracked and colorless. The tiara was wrapped around his bloated leg.

Far away, Violetta's servants hastily traveled home. They were sent back as soon as she was fully dressed for the Council meeting. The head servant put the key to the city apartment in Viola's hand. They told her what had happened, what they had gleaned from the stories of those fleeing the city, and Viola nodded grimly. Her husband touched her arm in concern, but she just caressed her swelling belly. "This one shall be named Violetta, in honor of her grandmother, who fell defending her House and country. We must protect our lands, for there will be turmoil for years. My mother foresaw it, and now the burden and legacy pass to me. We must survive, for the sake of our children. All of them." She nodded at all the people in the room, servants and relatives alike.

She strongly reminded them of her mother in that moment.

They withdrew with the leaders of their own guards, to plan defenses. And to plan strategies to determine fleeing refugee from spy. And to plan a fast wedding that would be legal, but not involve inviting representatives from all the other Houses, like they would usually want. The Houses would be sniffing for weaknesses, and just how long Violetta's curse would affect them.

And, as Viola couldn't resist, she quickly checked the treasure room.

She was very reassured when her lamp light reflected purple colors in all their glory, from the pale red-purple crystals to the almost-black purple of the large crystals. The myriad bags of gems in their orderly rows would also be safe.

So her mother did the curse properly, like Violetta assured her she would.

In the center of the room was a pylon made of a block of amethyst chevron, the zigzags of purple contrasting with bands of bright white quartz. On top, nestled in their velvet holders, were the House jewels. Tiara, necklace, set of bracelets, brooch, rings, earrings.

They were not stupid. The unusual request demanded by courier could only mean the Councilcrat was going to consolidate power by using so much poison in the food that he would overpower even the generous size of the amethysts used by the various Houses for protection. And to protect himself, he would need what he thought of as the biggest, best, original gems. He thought the power was in the gems.

Fool. The power was in the person wearing them.

Viola checked the far side as well, where the House's heir's jewels rested. They also retained their deep purple color.

The only glaring hole was where the purple silk bag that housed the false jewels used to lay.

A clever ancestor had glass gems mounted in exact replica settings, for this very reason. And when Violetta told Viola of the courier's unusual request, they'd agreed – give him the wrong ones, so they would have no willing part in the poisoning. Violetta knew she would not leave the capital city alive, no matter which way the night concluded.

Her abdomen twitched, and the baby kicked. She patted her belly absently. "Easy, Mama, we'll soon have you back to help sort this out. Then we'll see who lived, who died, and what the Houses will do in this next cycle."

She left the treasure room, locked the door. She went to join her future husband and her children. She was reasonably sure one child was her grandmother, and the other one sounded like her aunt. She knew she was her own great-grandmother, and now her mother would return. There weren't many protraits in the grand hall.

Perhaps she should have more progeny, so the rest of the House's women could return. They didn't know if it was a particular gift of House Amethyst, or if any House, or any person at all, could return. It's not something you talk about in polite company: "Excuse me, my child over there says your father is an ass during Council meetings, could you confirm?" But she was very pleased to help House Emerald break House Diamond of their slavery problem by making sure the House members were reborn as slaves to get the laws changed. Oh, that was a century ago, maybe more. She knew House Diamond still kept some in hard bondage - in secret, of course. Now, with the slimy weasel dealt with, perhaps it was time to revisit that. Find out which diamonds died, could be shuttled to new vessels. Find out which emeralds would assist.

They were an old family.