Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Fourteen

She still didn’t want to believe that her father had killed himself. It was a violation of Ean’s doctrines and it be spoke a sadness she wouldn’t even have wished on her uncle, the duke. But Numar had told her that there could be little doubt about how her father died, and she remembered overhearing her mother say much the same thing at the time of her father’s funeral.

Kalyi had hoped, in speaking with the regent, that she might find some proof that her father had been killed, that all of the adults in the castle had been wrong about his death. In the wake of their conversation, she lost all enthusiasm for her “inquiry,” as Numar had called it. How was she to learn what her father had been thinking when he died? If there had been a way to know this, wouldn’t her mother have found it by now?

But as the day wore on, and she dreamed her way through her studies, thinking more about her father than about Aneiran history and the battle tactics of Queen Amnalla the Second, her resolve began to return. She had first decided in the days just after her father’s death to learn all she could about why he had died. It had been the most frightening time of her life. Her uncle Grigor had poisoned her mother and the Council of Dukes, an Eibitharian spy had been spotted in the city, and it seemed the entire land was poised to go to war over whether or not to make her queen. She was too young to defend herself or her castle, too ignorant in the ways of the court to command an army, too small even to wear the heavy golden crown that her father had left for her. But she had a quick mind-all her tutors told her so-and she had always been good at reasoning things out. So she had set herself this task. It was too late to save her father from whatever had caused him such grief, but it wasn’t too late to understand.

Somewhere in the time since, she had tried to convince herself that her father had been murdered, that he couldn’t have died by his own hand. She knew now that she was wrong.

But nothing else had changed. She was still intelligent enough to ask the right questions and to learn what she could from what her father had left behind. And that, she decided in the middle of her lessons, was what she would do.

It seemed only natural that she should speak first with her mother, and so when her last tutor of the day ended her lesson, asking her please to be more attentive tomorrow, she ran from the chamber to her mother’s sleeping quarters, which were just beside her own.

She found her mother sitting by the open window, staring out at a clear blue sky. Her mother rarely left her chambers anymore. She took most of her meals there, only venturing beyond her walls for formal meals in the great hall and occasional walks in the castle gardens. She was still beautiful-Kalyi thought her the most beautiful woman in the realm-but there were thin strands of silver appearing in the dark hair at her temples, and her face was paler than Kalyi remembered from before her father’s death.

“Good day, love,” her mother said from her chair, her face brightening as Kalyi let herself into the room.

“Hello, Mother.”

She crossed to where her mother sat and kissed her cheek.

“How were your studies today?”

Kalyi shrugged. “All right, I suppose.”

Her mother frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. I just was thinking about other things.”

Chofya regarded her solemnly. “A queen must learn to discipline her mind so that ‘other things’ won’t distract her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her mother smiled. “Good. Now, why don’t you tell me what you were thinking about when you should have been listening to your tutors.”

“I was thinking about Father.”

The smile fled her mother’s face, as it always seemed to when Kalyi mentioned her father.

“What about him?”

“About how he died.”

“Kalyi, you mustn’t-”

“You’re always telling me that I’m not a child anymore, that a queen has to be grown-up, even if other girls my age aren’t. Why should this be different? He was my father-someday I’m to sit on his throne. Shouldn’t I know how he died?”

Her mother looked toward the window again, taking a deep breath. “Why would you want to know such a thing?”

“Because I want to understand why he did it.”

“He was dying, Kalyi. That’s why he killed himself.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Her mother looked at her once more. “Whyever not?”

“Because Father wasn’t afraid of dying. He told me so. And only a man who was afraid of dying would take his own life upon learning that he was ill.”

Chofya gazed at her for a long time as if trying to decide something. At last she gave a small smile and pulled Kalyi close, in a long embrace.

“It’s good that you think so highly of him, that you remember him with so much love.”

It seemed a strange thing to say. Why shouldn’t she love her father?

“So will you tell me?”

Her mother released her, her eyes meeting Kalyi’s once more. The smile had gone away again. “What do you want to know?” she asked, sounding weary.

“Well,” she began slowly, abruptly questioning whether she really did want to know any more about the way he died, “everyone keeps telling me that there can be little doubt that he killed himself. How can they be so sure?”

Chofya frowned, and for a moment Kalyi thought she might refuse to answer. But her mother surprised her.

“He killed himself with a blade. He thrust it into his own chest. He was sitting at his table in the great hall at the time. There was a good deal of blood, but all of it remained right there, covering his hands and his place at the table. Had someone killed him. . well, it would have looked different.”

Kalyi swallowed. She should have been scared, she knew, and repulsed. And perhaps a small part of her was. But mostly she was so grateful for even this small bit of knowledge that she didn’t mind.

Her mother eyed her closely. “Are you sorry you asked?”

“No. Who found him?”

“What?”

“Who found him?”

“One of the servants, I believe.”

“When?”

“Kalyi-”

“When?”

“I don’t remember. The next morning I think.”

“Had he been alone all night?”

“Actually, no. The duke of Orvinti was here and the two of them spoke well into the evening. Your father killed himself sometime after the duke retired for the night.”

“You’re certain the duke had gone?”

“Yes, Kalyi. I’m certain. One of the servants brought wine to your father after the duke left him.”

“Do you know what Father and the duke talked about?”

“No, I don’t.” Her mother stood. “And I don’t see the point of all this. Your father died by his own hand. I’m sorry if that disturbs you, but it’s the truth. He learned from the surgeon that he was dying, and rather than face a long, slow death, he chose to end his life that night. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?”

“I told you. It means that he was afraid, and I know that Father wasn’t afraid of anything.”

“Each of us is afraid of something, Kalyi. Anyone who claims to have no fear is either a fool or a liar. You father was no different. He might not have been afraid of death, but he was afraid of appearing weak. And rather than spend his last days weakened by an illness the healers couldn’t cure, he chose to die while he was still strong and able to make such a choice. Is that so difficult to fathom?”

“Yes. All that you say may be true for other men, but not for Father. He was king, and he was brave.” Kalyi felt as though she might cry, which was the last thing she wanted to do. She was queen now, and she was trying to show her mother that she was mature enough to speak of such things. But her mother seemed not to care about any of this. She should have been as eager to know the truth as Kalyi was. Yet she seemed more than happy to just accept that he was gone, without asking any questions.

“Did you love Father?”

Her mother looked away, color draining from her face. “What kind of question is that? I was his queen.”

“Sometimes kings and queens don’t love each other.”

“Who told you that?”

“I’ve been learning history, Mother. I know that Aneira has seen more than its share of court bastards, and I know what that means.”

“I think we’ve spoken of this enough for one day,” her mother said.

“That’s why you don’t care about this. You didn’t love him.”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

But Kalyi could see her mother trembling.

“Well, you don’t have to talk about this with me if you don’t want to. I’m going to find out why he died, no matter how long it takes. I’ll even talk to the surgeon if I have to.” She started toward the door. Then stopped turning to face her mother again. “Father wasn’t a coward, and he wouldn’t have violated Ean’s doctrines without a good reason. That’s not the kind of man he was.”

She started to turn again.

“You want to know what kind of man he was?” her mother demanded. “You want to know why I’m so certain that he killed himself because he was dying?”

Kalyi didn’t answer. She was afraid to.

“You’re free to talk to the surgeon, child. But it won’t do you any good, because this isn’t the same surgeon who told your father that he was dying. That man is dead as well. Your father had him garroted before taking his own life. That’s the kind of man your father was. He was proud, and vengeful, and he cared little for Ean’s doctrines.”

There were tears on her mother’s face to match her own. For a long time they stood staring at each other, holding themselves perfectly still.

Then her mother whispered Kalyi’s name and took a faltering step toward her, her arms outstretched. But Kalyi ran from the room, choking back a sob.

She nearly collided with Nurse, who called her name as well, but Kalyi didn’t stop for her. Instead she darted to the nearest of the towers, and made her way up to the ramparts at the very top. To her relief, there were no soldiers atop this tower, and she sat on the stone, her back against the wall, and cried until her chest hurt and her eyes burned.

That’s the kind of man your father was. . There had been no love in her mother’s tone, no sense of loss, no indication of any kind that she missed Kalyi’s father even a bit. Kalyi had asked Chofya if she loved the king, and she had believed when she did that she wanted a truthful answer. But she had expected reassurance from her mother that, yes, of course she had loved him. Certainly she hadn’t expected this.

He was proud, and vengeful. .

“No,” Kalyi whispered, the word lost amidst the wind and snapping of the banners flying above her.

He couldn’t have been those things. He was Carden of Solkara, son of Tomaz the Ninth, heir to the Solkaran Supremacy. He was king. He was her father.

Your father had him garroted. .

That was how Solkarans dealt with their enemies. Garroting. Her tutors had never taught her that. Perhaps they were forbidden to tell her. But she had heard talk of it in the castle, mostly among the older children, the boys who found the idea of it exciting. Even hearing such talk, however, she had never given it much thought before now. Her house, the royal house of Aneira, had its own special way of killing. Was it that common, then? Did Eandi nobles kill with such frequency that each house had its own favorite method? How many times had her father ordered his men to murder? Had he ever pulled the killing wire taut himself? He had sent men into battle, to kill and be killed. She knew that, just as she knew that Ean’s doctrines said all killing was sinful in the eyes of the God. In which case, all kings violated Ean’s teachings. Someday, when she was queen, she might have to as well.

Surely her mother knew all this. Yet she condemned her father for it, using it to prove that he was a bad man. Kalyi shook her head. It made no sense. Could her mother have hated him that much? The very idea of it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

She didn’t know how long she cried, or when sleep overcame her, but the next thing she knew someone was touching her shoulder gently, and speaking her name.

Kalyi opened her eyes to a darkened sky and the torch-lit face of Nurse. Her brow was furrowed with concern, her pale eyes intent on Kalyi’s face. There were two soldiers standing just behind her.

“What happened?” Kalyi asked.

Nurse smiled, her relief palpable. “You fell asleep, Your Highness.”

“What’s the time?”

“Just past twilight bells. You gave us all quite a fright. Particularly your mother.”

It all came back in a rush.

“It’s Mother’s fault that I’m up here.”

“Your mother feels terrible, Your Highness. She didn’t mean to make you cry, and she certainly didn’t want you running from her.”

“Then she shouldn’t have said what she did.” She felt her cheeks suddenly burning. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“She told me nothing, Your Highness. Only that you were dismayed when you left her, and that much I could tell for myself when I saw you in the corridor. When I told her that none of us had seen you since, she became frightened.” Nurse held out a hand. “Let me take you to her.”

“No,” Kalyi said quickly.

“But, Your Highness, the air grows cold, and it’s been hours since you last ate.”

Kalyi realized she was shivering, and at the mention of food, her stomach growled loudly. “I’ll go with you,” she said, climbing to her feet. “But I don’t want to see Mother.”

“But, Your Highness-”

“I don’t wish to discuss it, Nurse. I’ll take my meal in my bedchamber. If Mother asks, tell her I’m too tired to eat in the hall.”

Nurse frowned, brushing a wisp of silver hair off her face. “Very well.” She gestured toward the tower stairs. “After you, Your Highness.”

Kalyi started down the steps, pleased with how forceful she had sounded, but also frightened of what her mother might do. She had never defied her in this way before. She wondered if her mother might turn to Numar to make Kalyi speak with her. At the thought she nearly changed her mind. But then she decided that if it came to that, she would defy Numar was well. She was queen, and if she wished to eat by herself, it was her right to do so.

This, at least, was what she told herself as she descended the stairs, readying herself for the fight with her mother she knew was coming.

But even after Nurse left her in her chamber and went to fetch the meal, Kalyi’s mother didn’t come. In fact, Kalyi did not see Chofya for several days following their conversation. For a time, she sought to avoid her mother, but soon it became clear to Kalyi that her mother was avoiding her as well. Maybe this should have surprised her, or saddened her, but it did neither. The pain caused by her mother’s words had begun to recede, and just as a waning tide leaves shells and driftwood on the shore, so their conversation left its mark on Kalyi’s mind. Her father, she now realized, might have been flawed as both man and king. No doubt that was the lesson her mother hoped to teach her, that even Carden was not without his fears and foibles. By the same token, her mother had her own faults. She could be frightened and cross, even when she did not wish to be. Just as she had been that day. That was why she avoided Kalyi now. Not because she didn’t love her but rather because she felt ashamed of what she had said and how she had said it.

Kalyi had resolved to go to her mother this day, as soon as she completed her lessons. Or rather, as soon as she completed the small task that would follow her lesson. For though she had been sobered by their conversation, she had not been discouraged from pursuing her inquiry. Already she had gone to speak with the new surgeon, who, as her mother predicted, could tell her nothing about her father’s condition. She had also spoken with several of the servants, including the poor boy who found her father’s body. He was but a few years older than she, and had been so unnerved by her questions that he actually cried as he answered them, as if fearing that she would have him hanged for what he told her.

She learned little from him, though she did have a slightly better sense of just how ghastly her father’s death had been.

“Took four of us nearly the whole day to wipe up all the blood, and even then, they had to get a new table for the hall. The wood just soaked it up like a cloth.”

Much to her disappointment, though, she was no closer to understanding why her father killed himself than she had been before she began. Which was why she had decided on this day to speak with the prelate of Castle Solkara’s cloister. She wasn’t certain that the prelate would be able to tell her anything about what her father was thinking the day he died-even she had noticed that her father had little patience for the litanies of the cloister. But he could at least explain why a man-any man-would defy the God in this way. And perhaps he could also tell her that Bian would not judge her father by this act alone, that there could be a place of honor in the Deceiver’s realm even for a man who had died by his own hand.

Her tutor dismissed her early once more, seeming more annoyed than usual by her lack of attention.

“You must mind your studies, Your Highness,” he said, sounding a bit desperate. “Your uncle will be displeased if this continues. With both of us.”

Kalyi nodded even as she hurried to the door. “I will, I promise.”

She was in the corridor before he could answer, running toward the nearest tower. During the colder turns she would have followed the corridors in a wide turn to the cloister tower. With the return of the warmer winds, however, she could cross the inner courtyard, which is what she chose to do this day. Entering the base of the cloister tower, she started up the winding stairs.

After taking only a few steps, however, she heard men’s voices coming from just above her, echoing off the curved walls. At first she thought the men were descending the stairs, but she quickly realized that they weren’t moving at all. She should have kept climbing-their conversation was none of her concern. But then she caught just a fragment of their discussion.

“. . More soldiers by the end of the turn.”

And for reasons she couldn’t have explained, she slowed her ascent. After another moment, she stopped entirely and listened.

“How long will it take before all the houses have met the new quotas?”

“That I don’t know. It could take as much as half the year. But when they’ve done so, we’ll have more than doubled the size of our force.”

“What of the challenge from Dantrielle?”

“I don’t imagine it will cause the regent much trouble. Dantrielle is but one house among many, and not even the strongest.”

“She could have allies.”

Both voices sounded familiar, though Kalyi couldn’t place them at first.

“The regent seems to believe she’ll stand alone.”

“The regent is wrong. The last I heard, Tebeo was speaking with Orvinti. If he can convince Brall to stand with him, that might bring Tounstrel, Bistari, and Noltierre to his cause as well.”

The other man whistled softly through his teeth. “Taken together, they would make a formidable opponent.”

“More than the royal army could overcome?”

“Perhaps, Archminister. Perhaps.”

Pronjed, of course. And the other voice belonged to Tradden Grontalle, Solkara’s master of arms.

“If this proves to be the case, what will you counsel the regent to do?” the archminister asked.

“I’d have to give that some thought. As you know, the king had long sought a full military alliance with the empire. It had been, in his mind, Aneira’s only hope for waging a successful war against Eibithar. We’re so close to realizing his dream, I’d be reluctant to abandon this opportunity.”

“But?”

“But if opposition to such an alliance includes the houses you mentioned, we may have no choice. Against such a force, the Supremacy itself might be at risk. Surely the alliance isn’t worth that.”

“That’s not the answer I wished to hear, Tradden.”

“Forgive me, Archminister. I’m being as honest with you as I can be. Indeed, I’m not entirely certain that the regent would approve of this conversation were he to know of it.”

“Leave that to me.”

“Archminister?”

“Let me think on this a moment.”

A long silence ensued. Kalyi didn’t dare move, fearing that she might be punished for listening to a conversation between two adults that was clearly none of her affair. But she had stopped with her feet on different steps, and her bottom leg was beginning to tire. And she couldn’t help but think that she had a right to hear what they were saying, even if they wouldn’t have thought so. She was queen. This was her realm, her castle, her army. The war of which they spoke would be fought in her name, regardless of who led the soldiers into battle.

“You said that if all the houses meet their quotas, it will more than double the size of Solkara’s army. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Archminister.”

“If we add only the men from Rassor, Mertesse, and Kett to the army we have now, would that force be enough to stand against the other houses?”

“It would be a close thing. Too close. Mertesse is still weakened from the failed siege at Kentigern. And if the other houses band together, Kett may well stand with them.”

“But our army would be greater than theirs, even without Kett.”

“Greater, yes. But you must understand, Archminister, the point is not to prevail in a civil war but to prevent one. If the renegade houses believe that they can engage House Solkara in a war without being crushed they’ll do so, and so accomplish their aim, which is to keep us from the alliance with Braedon. We must find a way to allay their concerns about this war. We might even-”

“Enough.” The archminister barely raised his voice enough for Kalyi to hear, but Tradden fell silent immediately.

“The regent listens to you, does he not?”

“Yes,” the armsman answered, his voice abruptly sounding odd.

“If you tell him that we can defeat the renegade houses, even if Kett is with them, he’ll believe you, won’t he?”

“Yes, he will.”

“Good. Then that is what you’ll do. You now believe-”

She didn’t think he’d hear her, not while he was speaking. But when she tried to move her leg, she scraped her foot on the stone stair. Not for long, not loudly. But still it was enough for the archminister to notice.

“Who’s there?” he called softly.

Kalyi said nothing. But then she heard him say, “Remain here,” to the armsman, and take a step down the stairs.

She pressed herself against the stone wall of the stairs, holding her breath and closing her eyes, as if that might help her blend into the shadows.

Pronjed took another step.

Kalyi opened her eyes again and retreated down the stairs as carefully and silently as she could. She had in mind to leave the tower entirely, but it occurred to her at the last moment that as she went through the doorway, she would cast a shadow. And the truth was, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to hear the rest of Pronjed’s conversation with Tradden. So instead of leaving, she slipped around to the base of the stairs and hid in the small space there, holding herself as still as possible. The archminister took another step down the stairway, and yet another. But after what seemed an eternity, he ascended the steps again.

“You now believe that we can prevail against Dantrielle and his allies,” he began again. It was harder for Kalyi to hear now. The distance was greater, and her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she feared it would give her away. But she strained her ears, listening to every word.

“It will take all the men the remaining dukes can spare,” the Qirsi went on, “and the entire royal army. But Solkara can defeat them. Can you say that?”

“We can defeat them,” the master of arms repeated dully.

“Good. You need to tell this to the regent. You need to make him see that traitors like Tebeo are not to be tolerated.”

“Yes.”

“The alliance with Braedon will make Aneira the greatest power among the six. Next to the empire, ours will be the preeminent realm in the Forelands. We mustn’t allow the renegade houses to destroy this opportunity. Can you remember that?”

“Yes, I’ll remember.”

“And you’ll tell the regent.”

“Yes.

“When do you meet with him next?”

“In the morning, with the ringing of the bells.”

“Good. In a moment, I’ll speak to you of another matter, and you’ll respond as you would at any other time. You’ll remember nothing of what we’ve just discussed.” There was a pause. Kalyi heard feet scuffling on the steps above her and once more she feared that the archminister was approaching.

A moment later, however, she heard Pronjed’s voice again.

“Tradden? Are you well?”

“I–I’m sorry, Archminister. I seem to have lost the thread of whatever I was saying.”

“You were telling me that if the houses meet their quotas, we’ll more than double the size of our army.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s right. We should begin to see the first of the men here in Solkara by the end of the turn.”

“That’s fine news, Commander. I know the regent will be pleased.”

“Thank you, Archminister. Good day to you.”

She heard footsteps once more.

“And to you,” Pronjed called from far away. Apparently he was climbing to the next floor.

A moment later someone came down the stairs and left the tower. Peering out from the shadows under the stairs, Kalyi saw the master of arms walking across the courtyard. Still she waited several moments before leaving the tower herself, in case Pronjed or someone else was watching for her.

Thinking back on what she had heard, Kalyi couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She was quite certain that Pronjed had ordered Tradden to lie to her uncle Numar. Under most circumstances, she would have thought that the master of arms would refuse to do such a thing. But from all she had heard, it seemed that he had agreed. Or rather, that he had been forced to agree. She shook her head. That wasn’t quite right, either. And how could the archminister expect the man simply to forget that the entire conversation had taken place? It made no sense to her. She needed to speak of it with someone. But who?

When she felt certain that it was safe, she stepped out from under the stairs and walked to her mother’s chamber. Chofya was very pleased to see her, holding her close for a long time, and then kissing her forehead.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Kalyi,” she finally said. “Truly I am.”

Kalyi looked down at her shoes. “I’m sorry I frightened you by hiding.”

“It’s all right. Nurse told me you fell asleep.”

Kalyi laughed and nodded. “I did. On top of the tower.”

Chofya smiled, cupping Kalyi’s cheek in her hand and gazing at her for some time. “If you want to talk about your father, we can,” she said. “I know I said some mean things about him before, but he had some fine qualities as well.”

“Maybe later,” Kalyi said, feeling uncomfortable. She really wanted to tell her mother about what she had heard in the tower stairway, but she was afraid of making her mad once more.

“All right,” her mother said. “Tell me about your lessons.”

They spoke for some time-longer than they had in several turns. Eventually they walked down to the great hall together to have their evening meal before returning to Chofya’s chamber for a while longer.

When at last Nurse came to put Kalyi to bed, it was well past dark.

“It’s good to see you and your mother laughing together again,” Nurse said as Kalyi climbed into bed. “She needs you, Your Highness. You’re really all she has left now that. . well, you know.”

Kalyi nodded.

Nurse kissed her cheek. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night.”

Nurse blew out the candle by Kalyi’s bed and crossed to the door, leaving a second candle burning near the wardrobe, as she always did.

“Wait,” Kalyi called to her, still sitting up.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

She hesitated, afraid now to speak of what had happened. After a few moments though, her need to speak of it overmastered her fear.

“I overheard something today.”

Nurse arched an eyebrow. “Overheard?”

“I was in one of the towers, and I heard two men speaking on the stairs above me.” She looked away, her mouth twisting briefly. “And I listened.”

“Kalyi!”

“They were speaking of soldiers,” she said quickly. “And since they’re my soldiers, I thought it was all right.”

“It’s never all right to eavesdrop, particularly for a queen.”

Kalyi kept her eyes fixed on the second flame. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Who did you hear speaking, child?”

“The archminister and the master of arms.”

“And what was it you heard?”

“That’s just it. I don’t really understand it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t feel badly about that. They were probably speaking of alliances and quotas and such things. I wouldn’t have understood it either.”

Kalyi shook her head. “It wasn’t just that. The archminister told him. .” She trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what she had heard. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Did he sound angry?”

“No. He sounded like. .” He sounded like a sorcerer. It came to her suddenly. She had heard tales of Qirsi who could control other men’s thoughts and though she had always dismissed such tales as nonsense and myth, she realized that it was the only reasonable explanation for what she had heard earlier this day. Which brought to mind other tales she had heard, these about a conspiracy of sorcerers who were trying to destroy the kingdoms of the Forelands. Was Pronjed a traitor?

At last she knew who to tell about the conversation she’d heard.

“Your Highness?” Nurse said, looking worried.

Kalyi flung off her blanket and jumped from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I must speak with Uncle Numar.”

“You can speak with him tomorrow. It’s very-”

“It can’t wait, Nurse.”

“It will have to.”

Kalyi tried to look as stern as possible. “I’m the queen of Aneira, and I wish to speak with my regent right now. You may take me to his chamber or you may remain here. But either way, I’m going.”

Nurse gave a small smile. “Very well, Your Highness. I’ll take you to him right away.”

Numar had finished with the last of the fee accountings, a task he found tiring, but which he refused to delegate to anyone else, particularly the archminister or one of his Qirsi friends. He had yet to eat, and he had received a perfumed missive from one of Chofya’s ladies earlier in the day. He had every intention of thanking her in person for the kindness of her note.

Hence, he did not welcome the knock at his door just as he was putting on his waistcoat. He strode to the door and flung it open impatiently. Finding the queen there, with her nurse in tow, did nothing to improve his mood.

“Your Highness,” he said, managing with great effort to smile. “Shouldn’t you be asleep at this hour?” This last he said with his eyes fixed on the nurse, who merely shrugged and looked away.

“There’s something I must discuss with you, uncle.”

“I’m certain it can wait for morning. I promise to seek you out first thing.”

“No,” she said, though he read the uncertainty in her dark eyes. “It can’t wait.”

“I’m afraid it-”

“It’s about the archminister.”

That caught his attention. Numar narrowed his eyes. “What about him?”

She glanced back at the nurse, who nodded encouragement. “I overheard him talking to the master of arms today.”

By itself that didn’t seem overly strange. Numar knew that the archminister didn’t trust him, that if he wanted information about what the regent had in mind for Solkara’s army he would be best served by asking Tradden. Still, he could learn a good deal about Pronjed’s intentions by knowing what the two of them discussed.

“Would you like to tell me what they said?”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. I think the archminister. . I think he used magic on him.”

Numar stared at her a moment, not quite understanding what she meant. “Magic.”

“I think he used magic to make the master of arms say things, maybe even do things.”

It seemed that there was a cold hand at his throat, making it impossible for him to swallow or breathe. He had heard of Qirsi who could bend the minds of others, but he had never imagined that he might know one.

“Leave us,” he told the nurse. When the woman hesitated he added, “I’ll see to it that she returns to her bedchamber safely.”

The nurse curtsied reluctantly and withdrew, her gaze flicking repeatedly from Numar to the girl and back again.

“Please sit, Your Highness,” the regent said when she was gone.

Kalyi sat in a chair by the hearth, the one she always chose when they spoke. Numar sat beside her.

“Now, tell me everything you heard.”

Numar found her description of what the two men said to each other a bit clouded, though he did manage to piece together enough of it to be alarmed. It was one thing for Pronjed to seek information about Numar’s plans for the Solkaran army and the men sent to him by his dukes. It was quite another to discuss the possibility of civil war and alliances among the dukedoms. It almost seemed that the archminister was looking for weaknesses that he might exploit. But Kalyi had promised him more, and had yet to deliver on that promise.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said, his patience beginning to fail him. “But I still don’t see how the archminister’s magic enters into any of this.”

She twisted her hands anxiously, and for a moment Numar wondered if the girl had imagined it all.

“Well, one moment the master armsman was saying that House Solkara couldn’t risk a civil war if too many of the other houses stood together against us, and the next moment he was saying that we could, and that we needed the alliance with Braedon no matter what.”

“Is it possible the archminister merely convinced him of this? A man can change his mind, you know.”

She shook her head. “That’s not how it happened. Pronjed told him. . what to think. At least, that’s how it sounded. He said, ‘You now believe that we can prevail against Dantrielle and his allies.’ And then he made the master of arms say it. He told him just what to say to you.”

“Do you remember what else Tradden is to say to me?” There was, it seemed, an easy way to confirm what she was telling him.

“Some of it. ‘The alliance with Braedon will make Aneira the greatest power among the six.’ That was some of it. And, ‘We mustn’t allow the renegade houses to destroy this opportunity.’ ” She frowned. “There was more, but I can’t remember now.”

“That’s all right. Thank you, Kalyi. That may be very helpful.”

“There’s something else. The strangest part of it all.”

“Tell me.”

“When they were done talking about the war and the other houses, the archminister told him that he would remember nothing about their conversation.”

“What?”

“He said, ‘You’ll remember nothing of what we’ve just discussed.’ And a moment later they started talking about something else, and that’s just how it seemed. The master of arms sounded confused, almost like he was sleepy. And he didn’t seem to remember any of it.”

Numar merely gaped at her. He couldn’t imagine that she would lie about such a thing. Indeed, she wasn’t the type to lie at all. But if all this were true. .

Abruptly the regent was on his feet, pacing before the hearth. Actually, this explained a good deal. Just a few days before, he had spoken with the archminister about something-he still couldn’t remember what it was-and had emerged from their conversation dazed, confused, as if he had nodded off in the middle of their discussion. Had the Qirsi bastard used magic on him as well?

“Is it all right that I told you?”

“What? Oh, yes. Of course it is. It’s more than all right, Your Highness. You’ve done me a great service, and our house as well.” He meant it. Whatever plans he had for the girl in the future, she had proven herself a most valuable ally this night.

“Do you think Pronjed is a traitor? Do you think he’s with the conspiracy?”

“I don’t know, Kalyi. It appears possible, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, looking frightened. “What should we do?”

“I’m not certain.” He didn’t dare confront the man. At least not yet, not until he had a better understanding of just how deep the archminister’s powers went. A sorcerer who could control a man’s thoughts, his words, his actions, was capable of anything.

It hit him with the power of a land tremor, shifting his entire world. A sorcerer with such power could make a man take his own life. He didn’t say it to the girl. She wasn’t ready for that. Someday, perhaps. Someday soon, when he needed to turn her fully against the archminister. But not tonight.

“I’m not certain,” he repeated. He saw the fear in her eyes, a mirror of what he felt in his heart, and he made himself smile. “Don’t worry, Kalyi. We don’t know yet that he’s a traitor. And even if he is, I’ll keep you safe. I’m your regent. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”