Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Fifteen

Yserne, Sanbira

House Yserne had taken hold of the throne for good nearly four centuries before, following the third war with Wethyrn and a period of bloody civil war known in Sanbiri history as the Second Barbarism. Even after Meleanna, the first Sanbiri queen, took the crown from Ticho the Fourth of Trescarri in the last violent days of the Barbarism, many of the houses continued to fight against the Yserne Dynasty, fearing that the establishment of a matriarchy would weaken Sanbira in its relations with the other realms.

As it happened, this wasn’t the case. Under the queens of Yserne Sanbira had become one of the dominant powers of the Forelands, and even with the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde continuing to challenge Yserne authority from time to time, the realm had never since been in any danger of falling to an invader.

One reason for this was the geographic position of the royal house. Located in the center of the realm, it was protected on all sides by the duchies, none of which was more than forty leagues from the royal city. In times of crisis, when the queen wished to meet with her duchesses and dukes, she could summon them, knowing that even the most remote house, Kinsarta, was no more than ten days’ ride from her walls.

Thus, when Olesya sent messages to the other houses, asking the leading nobles to Yserne to discuss the attempts on Diani’s life, she and the duchess had only to wait a bit more than half a turn for the others to arrive. Not surprisingly, Edamo of Brugaosa and Alao of Norinde, were the last to reach the royal city, and in fairness, though Kinsarta was farther from Yserne than the northern dukedoms, Ajy’s ride across Morna’s Plain was far easier than the route taken by either duke.

Still, it was nearly two days after Ajy’s arrival before the dukes finally rode into the city; when they rode in together, it was clear to all that they had met to discuss matters before continuing on to the queen’s castle. Meeting them at the castle gate with the duchesses and their ministers, Olesya made no effort to hide her displeasure.

“I didn’t know that the journey from Brugaosa would take you so close to Norinde, Lord Brugaosa,” she said to Edamo, smiling thinly.

The duke smiled as well. He looked far older than Diani remembered. He had been handsome once, with fine features and a thick shock of wheat-colored hair. But his hair was white now, and thinning, and his cheeks looked sunken, his skin sallow. His face seemed too sharp, like the jagged edge of a shattered old dish. She still thought it likely that her brother, Cyro, had been murdered by the conspiracy rather than by the Brugaosans, as her father believed. But even so, she could not help but hate this man. There had even been times, more recent than she cared to admit, when she had wished for his death.

“We met near the northeast edge of Lake Yserne, Your Highness,” he said. “Surely you didn’t expect me to ride across the lake.”

Norinde laughed, but none of the others did.

The queen regarded Alao for a moment, long enough to silence the young duke, before facing Edamo once more. “Surely steering a mount across such a small expanse of water is nothing for a man of your many talents.”

“I assure you, Your Highness,” Brugaosa said, wisely choosing to ignore the gibe, “ours was a chance meeting. And it made the last portion of both our journeys far less tedious.”

Her smile was a match for the duke’s. “I’m so glad. Be welcome, both of you,” she added, turning away, her tone brusque. “As soon as you’ve changed out of your riding clothes you’re to join the rest of us in my presence chamber. Don’t keep us waiting any longer than necessary.”

Diani had thought that the dukes would use the opportunity to goad her once more, but they seemed to gauge her mood with some care. They arrived in the chamber far sooner than the duchess expected, bowing as they entered and taking seats together at the far end of the table, opposite Olesya.

Once again, Diani noticed that she was the only noble not to have brought her Qirsi minister with her. To be sure, none of them knew why the queen had summoned them; it was quite possible that once they learned of the assassination attempts they would grow more wary of their Qirsi. Nevertheless, she found herself wishing that Kreazur had come, or rather, that she had asked him to join her. The message she sent back to Curlinte merely instructed the captain of her army to free the first minister and the other Qirsi who served her. She did not invite Kreazur to join her in Yserne, and now, sitting among the other duchesses and dukes, all of whom were older and far more experienced than she, Diani regretted it.

“I thank all of you for coming,” the queen began, standing at her place, sunlight from the window shining in her black-and-silver hair. “All of you journeyed far, and at a moment’s notice, and I know that few of us like to be abroad this early in the year. But these are extraordinary times that will demand more of us still before we see their end.”

“What’s happened, Your Highness?” asked Vasyonne, duchess of Listaal. Next to Diani, she was the youngest of the duchesses, though Diani’s mother had often spoken quite highly of her. She wore her black hair short, just as the queen did, and had a square, expressive face. “Why have you called us here?”

“There’s been an attack on one of our own, and I believe it presages more such incidents to come.”

“What kind of attack?” Edamo asked.

“An assassination attempt-two, actually-on the duchess of Curlinte.”

“By whom?”

The queen glanced at Diani and gave a small nod, lowering herself into her chair.

“Archers the first time,” she said. She had carried one of the arrow shafts with her from her home and she brought it forth now, tossing it onto the table. “They had shaved heads and wore the dun cloaks of northern riders.”

Vasyonne leaned forward, examining the arrow. “Blue and yellow,” she said, looking at Edamo. “Those are Brugaosan colors, aren’t they, Lord Brugaosa?”

What?” He stood, snatching the arrow off the table to get a better look. “Brugaosa had nothing to do with this! We’d have nothing to gain from it!”

Vasyonne grinned, though there was a hard glint in her brown eyes. “I believe what you mean to say is, ‘I bear my friends in Curlinte no ill will.’ ”

“Thank you, Lady Listaal, but I daresay I know better than you or anyone else what I meant to say.”

“Agents of Brugaosa have already struck at House Curlinte once, killing the duchess’s brother. Perhaps you thought-”

“Brugaosa had nothing to do with Cyro’s death!”

“So you’ve claimed before.”

Edamo leveled the arrow at Vasyonne as though it were a sword. “You dare to call me a liar?”

“Stop it!” the queen commanded. “We’re here to speak of the attacks on Diani.”

Rashel of Trescarri faced the queen. “You said there were two attempts, Your Highness.”

“Yes.”

“The second was carried out by a man dressed as a soldier of Kretsaal,” Diani said. “We believe that he killed the archers, and he fought until we had no choice but to kill him as well. We never had the opportunity to question him.”

Vasyonne continued to eye Edamo, as if expecting the duke to flee the castle at any moment. “Do you believe he was Brugaosan as well?”

“No,” Diani said. “He spoke with a Wethy accent.” She looked once more to the queen, who nodded a second time. “We don’t think the archers were Brugaosan either.”

Vasyonne frowned. “You don’t?”

Edamo was staring at her. “You think the arrow was intended to make your death seem the work of Brugaosans.”

“Yes.”

“The conspiracy?”

He might have been an enemy of both the queen and House Curlinte, a man to be watched with caution, but he was clever.

“We believe so, yes.”

“Do you have evidence of this?” Alao asked.

The queen shook her head. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

“So this is merely a guess.”

“Surely, Lord Norinde, you don’t believe House Brugaosa was behind this.”

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he said, his tone almost insolent. He was just the opposite of Edamo in so many ways. Where the older duke was elegant and smooth, this man was blunt in both features and manner, possessing little grace. If Edamo was a Sanbiri blade, albeit a notched one, this man was a war hammer. Still, playing the part of apprentice to Lord Brugaosa, he had learned well the art of statecraft. In many ways, he was far more dangerous than Edamo, for he would be wielding power in the North long after the queen and most of her allies had died or handed power to their daughters. “But it may be,” he went on, “that agents of Wethyrn were responsible, or even other houses of Sanbira who wish to sully Lord Brugaosa’s good name.”

Vasyonne gave a small smile. “He sullies it quite well on his own, actually.”

Norinde glared at the woman. “You might want to begin your search for those responsible in Listaal. Quite often it’s those who lack the strength for an overt attack who resort to the most vile treachery.”

“Enough,” the queen said, sounding more weary than angry. “Whoever our enemies may be, I assure you that this is just what they want: to divide us, to prey on our suspicions of each other. They seek to weaken the realm, and every poisoned word we aim at one another furthers their cause.”

“His parry and thrust with Lady Listaal notwithstanding,” Edamo said, “Lord Norinde does have a point. While I assure you that Brugaosa had nothing to do with the events in Curlinte, we cannot simply assume that the conspiracy is to blame.”

“You were the first of us to raise the possibility.” Rashel. “Now you discount it?”

“I raised it hoping that Lady Curlinte had proof to offer beyond this arrow. Without any, I’m afraid we know nothing.”

“With all we’ve heard of the conspiracy, Lord Brugaosa,” the queen said, “don’t you think it likely that the Qirsi are responsible?”

“Likely, Your Highness? Yes, I suppose I do. But is that reason enough to act?”

Diani nodded, looking at the others. “I believe it is.”

“I don’t doubt that you do, Lady Curlinte. Had I been their target, I might well feel the same way. You want vengeance. You want to strike out at someone. We all understand.” Edamo shook his head. “But that may not be the wisest course at this time.”

The duchess felt her face coloring. She would have liked to fling back a retort, to deny that she was speaking out of anything more than concern for the realm. But after imprisoning Kreazur and the other Qirsi, she couldn’t bring herself to speak at all. Edamo’s words struck far too close to the truth.

“What do you believe we should do, Lord Brugaosa?” Olesya asked.

“I don’t know. If the assassins were still alive, I’d want to question them of course. I might even be willing to use torture to learn what we need to know. But without them, without any real proof of Qirsi complicity in the attacks, I believe the prudent course would be to wait, and see what comes next.”

He said it as if he usually wouldn’t have considered such methods. From all that Diani had heard, however, prisoners in Brugaosa were tortured as a matter of course. Still smarting from the duke’s last remarks, however, she didn’t dare say this aloud.

“And the rest of you?” the queen asked. “Do you feel as Edamo does?”

“I certainly do,” Alao said.

Vasyonne let out a short laugh. “How unexpected.”

“And I suppose you’re ready to declare war on every Qirsi in the Forelands,” Norinde said, glowering at her again.

Diani stared down at the table, shame burning like a brand on her cheeks.

Vasyonne regarded him placidly. “Not at all. But if we think on this carefully, it seems quite clear that our enemy in this case has to be the Qirsi.” She glanced at Yserne’s archminister, who sat beside the queen. “Forgive me.”

The Qirsi woman inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

“I agree,” Rashel said. “I’d like to believe that Brugaosa is innocent in this matter, as are the rest of us. And I don’t think that the archduke is fool enough to believe that Wethyrn could prevail in a war with us. That leaves the conspiracy.”

“Does it?” Edamo asked.

“Who else is there?”

The old duke gave a small shrug. “As I said before, I don’t really know. That’s why it would be reckless of us to take action too soon.”

“So we do nothing?” Vasyonne said, her voice rising. “What if the assassins succeed next time? What if one of us dies? What if they make an attempt on the queen? The real risk lies in waiting.”

Edamo started to respond, but the queen stood once more, silencing him with a glance.

“This won’t be decided today,” Olesya said. “Perhaps it won’t be decided at all, but the more we argue the matter, the firmer our resolve to prevail, and I would rather we all remained open to compromise. We will speak of this again tomorrow, and will meet in the queen’s hall this night for another feast. For now, I hope you will enjoy such comfort and hospitality as this castle and city can offer.”

“But, Your Highness-”

“The discussion is at an end, Lord Brugaosa. At least for now.”

The duke cast a dark look at the queen, but nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.”

The duchesses and dukes stood, all of them seeming a bit uncertain as to what the queen expected of them now. Diani saw Edamo and Alao exchange a look before the younger duke swept from the presence chamber.

“This was your first meeting with other nobles as duchess of Curlinte, was it not?”

Diani turned toward the voice. Tamyra of Prentarlo was smiling at her.

“Yes, Lady Prentarlo, it was.”

Tamyra nodded. Diani had always thought her severe looking, her wide mouth a dark gash on an otherwise pallid face. But when she smiled, she appeared almost kind. There was a warmth in her green eyes Diani hadn’t noticed before. “I thought as much. You handled yourself quite well, Lady Curlinte.”

“My thanks.”

“I thought so as well,” the queen said. “Your mother would have been pleased.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

She bowed to both women and started to leave the chamber in search of her father. Before she reached the doorway, however, she saw Edamo striding toward her. For just an instant, she wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen him and hurry from the room. He didn’t give her the chance.

“Lady Curlinte!” he called. “A word, please.”

She stopped and faced him. “Of course, Lord Brugaosa.”

He stopped in front of her, then cast a quick look at Olesya, who hovered nearby. “Perhaps we can speak elsewhere? Somewhere private?”

She would have liked to refuse, but as duchess she knew that she had little choice. As much as she disliked and distrusted him, she had no desire to make relations between their houses worse than they already were.

“Shall we walk, then?” she asked, indicating the door with an open hand.

“Splendid! The gardens?”

Diani nodded, and the two of them left the chamber. She felt the queen’s eyes upon her, but she didn’t look back.

“In the course of our discussion today, we neglected one vital question,” the duke said as the two of them walked through the corridor toward the entrance to the inner courtyard. “Were you injured, and are you all right now?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She almost left it at that. But lest he take the Qirsi threat too lightly, she added, “But I was injured.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Not too seriously, I hope.”

“I was struck by three arrows.”

He faltered in midstride, what little color his cheeks held vanishing. “Three?”

“Yes. One in the thigh, one in the chest, and a third in the back of my shoulder.”

“And yet you escaped.” She heard nothing in his tone that might implicate Brugaosa. Only amazement, and more than a little admiration.

“I was fortunate that none of their darts struck my mount, or I might not have. As it was, the man who healed me said that I came within a half span of dying.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” the duke said. “I had no idea.”

“We saw no point in telling anyone.” They emerged into the sunlight and crossed the courtyard to the gardens. “But you see?” she went on after some time. “This is why I feel that we must act swiftly, to meet the Qirsi challenge.”

“Were I in your position I might think so as well,” the duke said with sympathy. He seemed to have recovered from his surprise at what she had told him of the attack. “Let me explain to you why I’m reluctant to do anything rash.” He had been gazing at the blossoms as they continued to walk, but now he halted and faced her. “I don’t want you to think for even a moment, Lady Curlinte, that I mean to diminish this abhorrent attack on you and your house. Coupled with your brother’s death, I can understand why you would want to strike back at someone, and I’m grateful to you for not allowing these attempts to implicate Brugaosa to cloud your judgment. Certainly if you had evidence of the conspiracy’s involvement, I would support nearly anything you proposed. And if the assassins weren’t already dead, my voice would be loudest among those calling for their immediate execution. An attack on any of our houses calls for no less.”

“The difference between us, Lord Brugaosa, is that where you see an attack on Curlinte and her duchess, I see an assault against all Sanbira.”

“But you can’t know for certain that this was anything more than what it seems: an assassination attempt against a single noble.”

“Isn’t it safer for all of us to assume the worst, and take appropriate actions to defend the entire realm?”

“No, I don’t believe it is. You fear the conspiracy, and rightly so. But I fear tyranny just as much.”

“Tyranny?”

“What steps would you expect the queen to take were the other houses to give her leave to act?”

“I should think she would raise a larger army, commit Sanbira to an alliance with the other realms, and give the houses the authority to imprison those Qirsi who were suspected of aiding the traitors.”

“Good. I would add to that the likelihood that she will raise our tribute as well, but overall that’s quite good. And of the three actions you named, two would serve to increase Yserne’s power relative to our own.”

Diani gaped at him. “You can’t be serious!”

“Oh, but I am.”

“Olesya is our queen! In times of war, she must have the power to lead us and protect us! And you would begrudge her such?”

“In the absence of an enemy and just cause for waging war? I certainly would, as would any duke or duchess with sufficient experience in the courts.”

She felt her cheeks redden. “I have enough knowledge of our queen to know that you misjudge her, Lord Brugaosa.”

“You’re a woman, and her ally, and so I wouldn’t expect you to understand. But Alao and I have no intention of allowing her to use the unfortunate incidents in Curlinte to tighten her grip on our houses.”

“In other words, you would put the entire realm at risk in order to deny Olesya powers that she needs to fight our enemies.”

“As I’ve said, I don’t believe we know who our enemies are. Give me proof that the conspiracy was behind the attempts on your life, and I will pledge myself to defeating it, even if that means adding to Yserne’s power. But without any such evidence, I will not weaken House Brugaosa.”

“You’re a fool.”

He grinned at her, a malevolent look in his dark blue eyes. “And you’re a child. I had thought to find in you a ruler worthy of House Curlinte, a woman such as your mother had been. Obviously, I was mistaken.”

He spun away from her and stalked back to the tower entrance. Diani watched him vanish into the shadows of the stairway, then glanced around to see if anyone had been watching them. Seeing no one, she walked back as well, following Edamo’s path toward the castle and her own chamber.

Climbing the stairs to the corridor on which her sleeping quarters were located, the duchess heard a pair of familiar voices. When she emerged into the hallway, she saw her father speaking with a white-haired man, and for a disorienting moment she thought it was Edamo again.

“Here she comes,” Sertio said, looking past the man and raising a hand in greeting.

The white-haired man turned to face her, and Diani stopped where she stood. Her surprise was fleeting, giving way almost immediately to rage.

Kreazur.

Just a short time ago, sitting in the queen’s presence chamber, she had wished the minister were there with her. But never had she imagined that he would presume to make the journey without leave from her.

She advanced on him, her fists clenched. “What are you doing here, First Minister?” Before he could answer she turned her glare on her father. “Was this your doing? Do you tell him to come?”

“Your father had nothing to do with this, my lady.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I thought I might be of service to you, my lady. I served your mother for many years, and she and I spent a good deal of time together in Yserne.”

“And if you still served my mother would you have dared journey here without her permission?”

He met her gaze, his expression grim. “Your mother never would have made the journey without me.”

“I’ve a mind to send you back, and to have the captain of the guard imprison you once more when you reach the castle.”

“That is your right, my lady. And if you order me back to Curlinte, even under such a threat, I will begin the ride back immediately.”

“Don’t, Diani,” Sertio said. “You need him. I didn’t call for him, but I should have, and I’m glad he’s come. Someday you’ll be a fine duchess, just as your mother was. But you’re young still and there’s much you don’t know about the other houses, about building alliances and guarding Curlinte’s reputation as well as her borders.”

Diani wanted to argue the point, but she could still hear Edamo’s harsh words echoing in her mind. You’re a child. .

“You know those things,” she said instead, sounding so young even she couldn’t help but notice.

Sertio smiled. “Yes, I do. But think on it, Diani. Do you really wish to sit in the queen’s chamber, among all the duchesses and dukes of the realm, with your father by your side?”

Of course she didn’t. Diani knew this as well as he did. And even had she been willing to turn to her father for counsel, she would never have trusted him to sit in any chamber with Edamo. He had promised her mother that he would not seek vengeance for Cyro’s murder, but Diani wondered if he had the strength to honor the oath if presented with an opportunity to strike at Brugaosa’s duke.

Sertio placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look him in the eye. “I understand that you’re angry. To be honest, I told Kreazur that you would be, and I feel that you have cause. But next to all that’s happened in the past turn, this is a trifle, a matter to be spoken of once and then forgotten. Don’t allow it to weaken you and our house. That’s not the way of a wise ruler.”

“You have my apologies, my lady,” the Qirsi said. “I shouldn’t have come. But now that I’m here, I hope that you’ll allow me to help you, just as your mother did.”

Your mother. How many times had she heard that over the past half turn? From the queen and her father, from Edamo and Kreazur, and from so many of the duchesses as well. Most of them meant well, she knew. But she had long since grown tired of hearing it.

“Very well,” she said sourly. “You may stay, First Minister. And I’ll. . I’ll be grateful for whatever counsel you can offer.”

He bowed to her. “Of course, my lady.”

“There’s to be another feast tonight,” she said. “I’ll expect to see both of you there. For now, I wish to rest.”

Sertio nodded. “That’s a fine idea.” He looked like he might say more, and Diani half expected him to tell her that her mother had often done the same thing. Mercifully, though, he kept his silence.

She left them there, her anger lingering like smoke from a crop fire. It wasn’t just that Kreazur had come unbidden, she realized as she returned to her chamber, though to be sure that was part of it. It was that despite all her father and the queen had said in his defense, she still didn’t trust him.

Kreazur had expected the duchess to be angry with him. Had it not been of vital importance that he come to Yserne, he never would have made the journey without her permission. But though he had anticipated her reaction, and had been willing to endure her rage, he had dreaded seeing the other ministers. If even one of them had heard of his imprisonment, it would be too many, such had been his humiliation.

Arriving in the queen’s hall for the feast, the minister noted with profound relief that most of the other Qirsi barely looked at him, as if they assumed he had been with the duchess all this time. Only the archminister appeared to know, and she approached him quietly, hooking her arm into his and walking him to the far end of the hall.

“How are you, cousin?” she asked in a low voice, nodding to one of the other Qirsi.

“Well enough,” he said.

“I admire you for coming here at all, after what you’ve been through.”

He shrugged. “I’m assuming you’re the only one who knows.”

“For now, perhaps. But word of this is bound to spread eventually. And besides, that’s not really what I meant. Had she been my duchess, I would have left her service upon my release. A woman like that isn’t worthy of so fine a minister.”

They stopped walking and he faced her. Abeni, however, was looking over his shoulder, back toward her queen.

“I was born in Curlinte, cousin, as were my parents. I serve the house, not the woman.”

She smiled, her eyes flicking to his for just an instant. “Of course you do, cousin. I was just saying that I would not be so generous, or forgiving. But each of us must find his or her way through these times.” The archminister looked at him once more, the smile still fixed on her lips. “In any case, I’m glad to see you well. I hope we’ll have another opportunity to speak before you leave Yserne.”

He nodded. “I’d like that as well.”

She started to walk away, but he held out a hand, stopping her.

“Tell me about the discussions among the dukes and duchesses.”

“Actually,” she said, “we had the first today.” Seeing his puzzled look, she explained, “Norinde and Brugaosa were in no hurry to reach Yserne. They only arrived this morning.”

“I see. And what was said when they met with the others?”

“Very little, really. The queen and your duchess have convinced many of the duchesses that the conspiracy was behind the attempt on Lady Curlinte’s life, but the dukes are reluctant to take any action. I believe they fear any steps that will further strengthen the Matriarchy.”

He weighed this briefly. None of it came as a surprise, though he had thought that the discussions would have progressed beyond this by now. “Thank you, Archminister.”

She nodded and turned away. A moment later he followed her back to the front of the hall, where the queen and Diani were seated.

The duchess barely acknowledged the minister as he took his seat beside her father, and for the duration of the meal, she spoke not a word to him, even leaving it to Sertio to inform him of the discussion planned for the following morning in the queen’s chamber.

He returned to his quarters after the feast, but only long enough to convince Diani and Sertio that he had retired for the night. After waiting for some time, he ventured from the room, following the twists and turns of the castle corridors to a tower on the far side of the courtyard. There he waited, watching.

He saw nothing that first night, and hurried back to his chamber just before dawn, taking care not to be seen.

The day’s discussion among the dukes and duchesses went much as Abeni had said the first day went. Clearly the queen wished to forge an alliance between Sanbira and her neighbors to the west and north, but the dukes resisted, and Olesya seemed reluctant to push the matter too far. Diani still said little to Kreazur, though on two occasions, when one of the duchesses made reference to something that had happened before her mother’s death, she looked to him for an explanation.

Together, the nobles and their ministers took a more modest evening meal in the queen’s hall, before returning to their quarters for the night. Once again, Kreazur crept from his room when all was quiet, and once again he saw nothing before being forced back to his room by the coming of the dawn.

Still, he resolved to repeat his vigil until he found what he sought. His duchess had made a terrible mistake in placing the minister and the other Qirsi in Curlinte’s prison tower, but Kreazur had no doubt that she was right in assuming that conspiracy gold had paid her would-be assassins. At first he had guessed, as she did, that Castle Curlinte housed a traitor. As he sat in the tower, however, awaiting his release, listening to the grumbling of the other Qirsi, a new thought entered his mind. That thought, rather than any sense of duty to the duchess, was what had drawn him to Yserne. And on the third night, his suspicions were confirmed.

He heard the door to her chamber open and close, watched as she stepped furtively to the tower stairs, and followed only when he could no longer hear her feet on the stone steps. She left the castle by way of a sally port near the north gate, one that was so well hidden he almost missed it in the dim corridors. As far as Kreazur could tell, no guards saw either of them leave.

He followed at a distance as she wound her way through the darkened streets of Yserne city to a small tavern in the northwest corner, near the Sanctuary of Elined. She didn’t enter the tavern, but instead waited just outside the entrance. At the tolling of the midnight bells, a man emerged and the two of them walked a short distance down the narrow byway.

Kreazur followed cautiously, drawing only as near to them as necessary to hear their conversation.

“. . It’s your gold,” the man was saying. “But it seems a waste of a hundred and fifty qinde if you ask me.”

“First of all,” the archminister said, “it’s the movement’s gold, not mine. Second, it’s not a waste at all. Lady Curlinte is proving far more valuable as the victim of a failed assassination than she ever would as a corpse. And third, it won’t be one hundred and fifty.”

“But we agreed-”

“I paid you seventy-five, with the agreement being that you would be paid the rest when the duchess was dead.”

“Yes, but now-”

“Now I’m telling you not to kill her. Be grateful I haven’t demanded that you return the first seventy-five.”

The man swore loudly. “Suppose it serves me right for doing business with you white-hairs.”

“We white-hairs will soon be the only employers you and your kind are likely to find in the Forelands.” She paused, then added, “Wouldn’t you agree, First Minister?” This last she called out loudly. Kreazur felt his heart begin to pound. Was she speaking to some unseen ally, or to him?

“Come now, Kreazur. You didn’t really think you could follow me through my castle and my city without being detected, did you?”

Whispering an oath of his own, the minister stepped from the shadows in which he had tried to conceal himself.

Seeing him, Abeni smiled. “Does it please you to know that I’ve spared the life of your duchess?”

“It disappoints me greatly to know that I was right about you.”

“Even now?” She tilted her head to the side, the smile lingering on her attractive face. “Do you know what the duchess did to him?” she asked the assassin. “After the first attempts on her life, she placed him in the castle prison. Her own first minister. Not only that but she imprisoned all the Qirsi in Castle Curlinte. And still he clings stubbornly to obsolete notions of loyalty and court etiquette.”

The assassin, a large, dark-haired man, leered at him, but said nothing.

“She’s done so much harm to her Qirsi that the movement has decided we want her alive. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It tells me that your movement grows desperate. I think the real reason you’ve called off your hired blade is that the attacks of the conspiracy have grown clumsy and obvious. The attempt on the duchess fooled no one. All it’s done is convince the queen that the Qirsi must be opposed with the full power of the realm. You’re movement is failing even as we speak.”

“Don’t be a fool! We are the future of the Forelands, and our victory is far closer than you think.” She paused, and when she spoke again, it was in a softer tone. “But you can be a part of that, Kreazur.”

“If your movement is so strong, why do you need me?”

“We don’t. I’m offering you a last chance at redemption. You can join us now, this very night. Or you can die.”

The assassin looked at her, though Abeni kept her eyes on the first minister.

“You’d like to earn the rest of that gold, wouldn’t you?” she asked. She didn’t bother waiting for a reply. “Don’t make me kill you, Kreazur. Your duchess doesn’t trust you anymore. She never will again. Wouldn’t it be better to join us, to cast your fate with your own people?”

“I’m not a traitor.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, the smile finally vanishing. “There are those who would beg to differ. You serve an Eandi noble who treats the Qirsi in her castle like animals. I believe I speak for many of us when I say that you’re the worst kind of traitor. You hide your treachery behind empty claims of fealty and honor.”

“Just as you’re doing now, Archminister?”

“This man will kill you. All I need to do is give the command.”

“Then give it. I’ll take my chances with your assassin. And I promise you, I’ll prevail.” Kreazur wasn’t nearly as confident of this as he sounded. He could raise a mist and slip away, and given the man’s size, he felt reasonably certain that he could outrun him. But his other powers-gleaning and language of beasts-were useless to him here. And he didn’t know if he could make it all the way back to the castle, running the entire time, and maintaining his mists. As a younger man he might have, but he was nearly thirty-seven now, old for a Qirsi.

She took a step toward him. “I don’t want to give such a command, Kreazur. Don’t you see? I want your help.”

“No. You want to keep me from exposing you to the queen. That’s all that matters to you now. And there’s little you can do about it.”

“You think they’ll take your word over mine?” She laughed. “Your own duchess doesn’t even trust you. How can you hope to convince any of the others?”

It was a fair point. His only hope was to beat her back to the castle. He began to back away slowly, preparing to summon a mist.

The assassin pulled a large knife from his belt.

“No!” the archminister said quickly. “Not here. I have another idea.”

Kreazur spun away, intending to run. But before he could take a step, pain exploded in his leg, white hot, as if the assassin had hacked through the bone with a sword. The first minister collapsed to the ground, clutching his thigh. Neither Abeni nor the man beside her had moved. Only as an afterthought did Kreazur realize that he had heard a strange noise, like the snapping of a dry tree limb.

“You didn’t know that I was a shaper, did you?” the archminister asked, stepping to where he lay.

An instant later, new agony. His arm, and this time there could be no mistaking the sound of shattering bone. He cried out, clutching the mangled limb to his chest.

Abeni squatted beside him. “I gave you a chance, but you refused me. And now you’re going to die, just as I promised.”

“They’ll learn of what you’ve done,” he gasped through gritted teeth.

“No, they won’t. They’ll find you near here, dead in an alley, your neck broken along with your arm and your leg. There will be an empty coin pouch beside you and two gold rounds under your body where the men who killed you wouldn’t have thought to look. It will take them a bit of time to sort it all out, but the queen’s archminister will be quite helpful in that regard.” She smiled, though only for a moment. “You see, this part of the city is infamous for attracting brigands and assassins. Just the sort of place a traitor would come to hire a new blade to kill his duchess. Just the sort of place a traitor might die, offering too little gold to the wrong men.”

She glanced back at the assassin. “You’ll take him elsewhere, to a place they won’t think to look for a day or two. Make it look convincing.”

“Is he. .” The man faltered briefly. “As long as he’s alive, he has his magic, doesn’t he?”

Abeni looked down at him again. “Yes, but that’s not a problem.”

Again, the cracking of bone. Then blackness.