Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Twenty-Two

City of Kings, Eibithar

With the arrival in the royal city of the thane of Shanstead and the duke of Tremain, the king seemed eager to begin discussions of the Qirsi threat and all that he had learned from the woman being held in his prison tower. Not surprisingly, therefore, Javan of Curgh and the others were summoned to the king’s presence chamber early the following morning. What did come as a great surprise to Fotir jal Salene and the other ministers was the king’s request that all Qirsi be excluded from the conversation. The guard who came to Javan’s chamber didn’t phrase the request quite that way. Rather, the minister received a separate invitation to meet with the king’s archminister and the other visiting Qirsi. But there could be no mistaking the king’s intent.

“You’re angry,” the duke said, after the guard had gone.

Fotir didn’t wish to lie to Javan, but neither did he think it appropriate to say anything critical of the king. So he gave a vague shrug, his gaze fixed on the floor. A year ago, he felt certain that his duke wouldn’t have even thought to speak of this. But the time they had spent together in Kentigern, struggling to win Tavis’s freedom and then fighting side by side against the invaders from Mertesse had strengthened their friendship. There may have been a time when Javan questioned Fotir’s loyalty, but in the wake of all they had shared those doubts had long since been laid to rest.

“I probably would be, were I in your place,” he went on a moment later. “But this is obviously a precaution he’s taking with all the ministers-it has nothing to do with you personally.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“And yet that makes no difference to you.”

Fotir looked up. The duke was watching him closely, a troubled look in his blue eyes.

“May I speak frankly, my lord?”

“By all means.”

“Every time we divide ourselves it weakens us. It doesn’t matter if the divisions lie between realms, between houses, or even between a lord and his ministers. No doubt the king believes that he’s merely being prudent. But to what end? If what we hear of the attack on the woman is true, the leaders of the conspiracy already know that she’s helping us. And assuming that no duke would bring to the royal city a minister he didn’t trust, I would think it likely that all of us will hear eventually of what’s said in your discussion, despite our absence. On the other hand, if by some chance one of the Qirsi in this castle is wavering in his loyalty to the courts, this is only likely to drive him or her closer to the conspiracy.”

“All that you say may be true, First Minister,” the duke said, his expression still grave. “But the king obviously feels that in light of recent events we cannot risk any more betrayals. He’s convinced that the conspiracy is real, that it was responsible for Brienne’s death. The time has come for the courts to plot a response to this threat. And it behooves us to keep the nature of that response a secret, even at the risk of offending our ministers.” He opened his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course, my lord. Thank you.” He did his best to keep the hurt from his voice, but knew that he had failed.

They stepped into the corridor and walked much of the distance to the presence chamber in silence. At the door, Fotir bowed to the duke before continuing on toward the great hall, where the ministers were to meet.

“First Minister,” the duke called to him, forcing Fotir to stop and turn. “You do understand that I’ll tell you all I can of what’s discussed here today.”

The minister had to smile. Again, it was a kindness the duke would not have shown him a year ago. “Yes, my lord. Thank you.”

Javan entered the chamber, and Fotir turned once more and resumed his walk to the hall. For a second time, however, he stopped. With the nobles speaking among themselves, the ministers were left with certain freedoms they might not have enjoyed otherwise. And if the court Qirsi were to develop their own strategy for combatting the conspiracy, they would be well served by consulting all who would be aiding them in the coming struggle. Taking the nearest stairway down to the castle’s inner ward, the minister crossed to the prison tower, where he knew he would find the gleaner, Grinsa jal Arriet.

There was a good deal Fotir wished to ask Grinsa-about the man’s journey with Lord Tavis, about Shurik’s death and the strange remarks Tavis had made to Javan about all that happened in Mertesse, and about this woman who had confessed to arranging Brienne’s murder, and with whom Grinsa had apparently once been in love. But knowing what he did of the gleaner’s powers, Fotir realized that these questions would have to wait. He had aided the gleaner in his efforts to win Tavis’s freedom from the dungeon of Kentigern Castle, and so knew that the man was a Weaver. And he knew as well that there was no one in the Forelands he was more eager to have on his side in the coming war.

As the minister expected, Grinsa was there, holding the child he had fathered and walking slowly around the corridor just outside the woman’s chamber.

“Good morning,” Fotir said, emerging from the stairway.

Grinsa held a finger to his lips, then whispered, “Good morning,” in return.

Fotir approached him, eyeing the baby. “Is she asleep?” he asked, lowering his voice.

The gleaner nodded toward the chamber door. “They both are.”

Glancing through the iron grate at the top of the door, Fotir saw the woman sleeping peacefully on the small bed against the opposite wall. There were livid scars on her face that seemed eerily similar to those borne by Lord Tavis.

“They’ll fade eventually,” Grinsa said, standing beside him, “though they won’t disappear entirely.”

Fotir nodded, unable to tear his gaze from her. Even marked so, she was beautiful. “You healed her?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The minister looked back at the guards, who would have been close enough to hear, had the two Qirsi been speaking in normal voices. “It seems,” he said, his voice even softer than it had been a moment before, “that you’ve revealed a good deal of yourself in recent turns.”

Grinsa nodded. “And it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the king.”

Fotir raised an eyebrow. It was one thing for him to know that Grinsa was a Weaver. He was Qirsi himself, and though loyal to the courts, he had no intention of betraying the man’s confidence; not after all Grinsa had done for Tavis. Not after he had seen to it that Shurik jal Marcine paid for his betrayal. It was quite another matter, however, for an Eandi noble, particularly the king, to learn of Grinsa’s true powers. “Do you think he knows?”

“I’m certain of it. I told him.”

“What?”

“I had little choice, and there are. . other matters to consider, other secrets that must be preserved. Believe me when I tell you that Kearney is the least of my concerns.”

“I do believe it. In a way, that’s why I’ve come.”

The gleaner eyed him sidelong. “What do you mean?”

“Shanstead, Tremain, and my duke are meeting right now with the king. The ministers are meeting separately in the great hall. We all intend to discuss the conspiracy and what we’ve learned from. .” He gestured toward the woman.

“Her name’s Cresenne.” Grinsa exhaled. “You want me to join your discussion.”

“Yes. I think you’d have much to offer.”

The gleaner gave a small smile. “I’m not certain the others would even sit in the same chamber with me. You know who I am. The others will see only a Revel gleaner, one who’s tied to both Cresenne and Lord Tavis. I can hardly claim to be impartial in this matter.”

“Some may see that as a weakness. I don’t. And I believe the rest are reasonable enough to consider that your opinions might be of value.”

“I’d rather not leave her alone.”

“You can bring her with you if you’d like.”

“I mean Cresenne. I’m afraid the Weaver will try to kill her again. I don’t know that anyone else can protect her.”

“I understand,” Fotir said. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to do anything that might endanger her life.” He turned to leave. “We can speak again later. I’ll tell you what was said.”

“Wait.” Grinsa beckoned one of the guards to the door and had him open it. Entering the chamber, he sat on the bed and laid the baby beside the woman. Cresenne stirred, opening her eyes.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, her gaze straying to the open door and Fotir.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he told her. “I need to go for just a short while. I won’t be long, but I think it best that you remain awake until I return.”

She nodded, sitting up and passing a hand through her tangled hair. She glanced at the baby, then looked at Grinsa once more, smiling. “You got her to sleep.”

The gleaner grinned, looking embarrassed. “I told you I could.” His eyes flicked to Fotir, then back to her. “I’ll return soon.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, the smile slipping from her face. Abruptly she looked frightened and very young. “I’ll be all right.” She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself as well as the gleaner.

“I know.”

He stooped to kiss her cheek, then left the chamber, stopping just in front of the guard. “If there’s any trouble-any at all-you come and find me. I’ll be in the great hall. Understand?”

“Yes,” the man said.

Grinsa looked back at her one last time before gesturing for Fotir to lead him to the hall.

Once they were away from the guards, Grinsa asked, “Whose idea was it for the nobles and ministers to gather separately?”

“I’m not certain. Word of the arrangement came from the king, but others may have suggested it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Nor do I. I said as much to my duke, but he seemed to feel the king’s caution was justified.”

“So Javan believes there’s a traitor among the ministers?”

“He must think it’s a possibility,” Fotir said.

“Do you agree with him?”

The minister considered this for a moment as they walked through the ward and into the tower nearest the king’s hall. “Shanstead’s Qirsi is the one who deceived Thorald’s first minister into revealing her involvement with the conspiracy. I trust him. I’ve never met Tremain’s minister, but I have no reason to doubt her loyalty either. And the only one of the king’s ministers who has given any sign of being capable of such betrayal is the archminister. I had little opportunity to meet her before Kearney’s investiture, but from what I observed, I’m not convinced that she’s a traitor either.”

Grinsa seemed to falter briefly at the mention of the archminister, but otherwise he said nothing.

“You’ve been in the castle for some time now,” Fotir said. “Do you suspect her?”

“No,” the gleaner said quietly. “But I didn’t suspect Cresenne either. And she and I shared a bed.”

They stepped into the great hall a few moments later. The other ministers had already arrived and they turned toward the doorway when Fotir and Grinsa entered, several of them eyeing the gleaner warily.

“What’s he doing here?” asked Dyre jal Frinval, one of the king’s high ministers.

“This is Grinsa jal Arriet,” Fotir said. “He knows the Qirsi woman being held in your prison tower, and he’s spent the last several turns traveling with Lord Tavis, guarding the boy’s life. I asked him to join us.”

“This isn’t Curgh, cousin. I don’t care who he is or what he’s done, you had no right to bring him, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s all right, High Minister,” the archminster broke in. “I see no reason why the gleaner shouldn’t join us.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dyre said. “As the First Minister just said, this man has ties to both Tavis, who may be a murderer, and this woman who bore his child, who admits to being a traitor. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Fotir couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You still think Tavis is a murderer? Even after hearing of the woman’s confession?”

“I don’t know what to believe. Your friend there brought the woman to us, perhaps hoping that the king would take pity on her because of her child. This could all be a Curgh trick, intended to establish Tavis’s innocence.”

The others were watching Dyre, looking uncomfortable. But none of them disputed anything he had said.

Fotir chanced a look at Grinsa, expecting the gleaner to be beside himself with rage, just as Fotir would have been had the minister said such things about him. Instead, Grinsa wore a small smile, as if all of this amused him.

“And what of the attack on the woman two nights ago?” the archminister asked. “Was that a trick as well?”

Dyre shifted in his chair. “I don’t know what that was.”

“Then let me tell you,” Grinsa said. “It was an attempt to silence her by the conspiracy’s leader. He wanted her to suffer first, before he killed her, so he entered her dreams and used her own magic to shatter her hand and carve gashes in her face.”

“How can you know this?” Dyre demanded.

“Cresenne told me so,” the gleaner answered. “And it’s the only explanation that makes any sense. The guards saw the wounds open on her face-there was no blade, there was no intruder. Only the woman and her dreams.”

“So the movement is led by a Weaver.”

They all turned to look at Tremain’s first minister, Evetta ja Rudek. She had paled noticeably, her fear written plainly on her soft features.

Keziah nodded. “It is. We learned this from Cresenne as well.”

“Do we know the name of this Weaver?” Xivled asked. “Or where he can be found?”

“Not yet.”

“She hasn’t told you?”

“She doesn’t know,” Grinsa said.

Dyre looked skeptical. “Or so she claims.”

The gleaner glared at him. “Don’t be a fool. You honestly believe that she would still defend this man after what he did to her? She’s forced now to sleep by day, because she fears that if the Weaver comes to her again he’ll kill her. And because her child needs to be nursed and cared for, she’s forced to have the baby sleep during the day as well. She wants us to find him. She wants him dead. And if a minister of Eibithar’s king is too blinded by suspicion to see that then I fear for the realm.”

“How dare you speak to me so! You, a Revel gleaner-”

“Stop it,” the archminister said, her voice flat, as if she were too tired to grow angry with them. “Both of you.” She cast a reproachful look at Grinsa before facing the high minister. “I don’t believe she’s lying about this, Dyre. Grinsa’s right. She’s frightened. If she knew anything that could help us defeat the Weaver, she’d gladly tell us so.”

The high minister didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, conceding the point.

Keziah turned to Xivled. “Minister, it’s because of you that we’re here. Perhaps you’d like to lead our discussion.”

“It was your idea to meet separately from our lords?” Fotir asked.

“Actually it was Lord Shanstead’s idea.”

Dyre sat forward, grinning darkly. “Doesn’t he trust you, cousin?”

“Like so many of us today, High Minister, my lord isn’t certain whom he can trust. Recent events in Thorald have left him. . troubled. He thought it best not to risk giving any more information to the conspiracy than was necessary.” He faced Keziah again. “As to leading our discussion, Archminister, I’d first like to know all that you can tell us about this woman who sits in your prison tower and what you’ve learned from her of the conspiracy.”

Keziah nodded, taking a long breath. Then she began to speak, and for some time, the other ministers merely listened as she told them of Cresenne’s role in the killing of Lady Brienne, and her description of the Qirsi movement, its network of couriers for delivering gold, and the Weaver who led it. Long after she finished, the Qirsi continued to sit in silence, as if trying to absorb all she had said.

“Forgive me for asking this,” Evetta said at last, her eyes on Grinsa, “but you believe all that she’s told you? Don’t you think it’s possible that she’s making up some of these details in the hope that it will give the king reason to keep her alive?”

“I do believe her,” Grinsa said. “Even had I not before the attack on her, I would now. The Weaver wants her dead, which tells me that he fears her, that he doesn’t want her telling us more than she already has.”

Evetta nodded, seeming satisfied with his reply.

Xivled sat back, pressing his fingertips together. “When my Thorald first minister died, she had over two hundred qinde hidden in her chamber. Because of this, Lord Shanstead and I came to the conclusion that if we can find the source of the Qirsi gold we’ll be able to find the people who lead the movement. What you’ve told us of the couriers only serves to make me that much more certain of this.”

“I’ve thought much the same thing,” the archminister said.

Wenda ja Baul, another of Kearney’s high ministers, looked from one of them to the other “How would we do that?”

“By joining the conspiracy ourselves,” Xivled said. He and Fotir shared a brief look. They had spoken of this before, during Qirsar’s turn, when Fotir and his duke journeyed to Thorald to speak with Tobbar and Marston. They had agreed then that if one of them could join the movement, it would allow them to learn a great deal about its leaders and its weaknesses. Xivled had raised this possibility with the thane only to have Marston reject the idea as too dangerous.

Evetta shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“It makes a good deal of sense to me,” Grinsa said. “There are risks, to be sure, but think of how much we could learn.”

“There isn’t a lord in the Forelands who would allow such a thing.”

“Sometimes,” the archminister said, staring at her hands, “we have to defy our lords in order to do what’s best for them.”

“Meaning what?” Evetta demanded. “You actually think this is a good idea?”

“I believe it’s worth considering.”

But Fotir thought the archminister meant even more than that. It occurred to him in that moment that she had already made up her mind to try this, that perhaps she had already succeeded in contacting the movement. His first response to the notion was to wonder how she could have been so foolish. Had it been Xivled, he wouldn’t have felt so; Xivled, if he failed, brought danger only to the court of Shanstead. If Keziah failed, she endangered the royal court of Eibithar. Still, he could not help but be impressed as well by her bravery. She was small and slight, with a face so youthful that he found it hard to imagine her in the court of a king, much less as archminister. And yet, it seemed possible that she had taken it upon herself to challenge a Weaver.

Evetta looked imploringly at the other ministers. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who believes this to be sheer folly.”

“Our lords have chosen to gather apart from us,” Fotir found himself saying. “We may take this to mean that they don’t trust us, that they only wish to keep us occupied as they speak of fighting the conspiracy. Or we may take it to mean that they expect us to devise our own strategy for defeating the Weaver and his movement. I choose to believe the latter, and I think this as promising an approach as any.”

“Do you believe Javan would approve of such a plan?”

“Perhaps not,” Fotir said. “But as the archminister says, the time may have come when we must act on behalf of our lords without their approval.”

He glanced at the archminister, only to find that she was already staring at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“One need only look at Cresenne to know how steep the price of failure will be,” Grinsa said.

“Does that mean you think it a bad idea?” Keziah asked.

“Not at all. Just perilous.”

Keziah regarded him another moment before eyeing the others. “What of the rest of you?”

“I agree with the first minister,” Wenda said, nodding toward Evetta. “I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

Dyre shook his head. “Nor do I.”

Two of the king’s underministers, who had said nothing up until now, voiced their opposition as well.

“It seems we’re outnumbered,” the archminister said with a small shrug. “I feel certain that before this conflict is over, we’ll have to take risks that seem unfathomable today, but for now we’ll honor the wishes of those who argue for prudence.”

Once more Fotir had the sense that there was more to what she was saying than she let on. Despite her words, the archminister seemed relieved to be in the minority, which made sense only if she were concealing something. Perhaps she was a traitor after all. But Fotir didn’t think so.

Dyre looked quite pleased, but Xivled continued to gaze at Keziah, as if he, too, were trying to gauge what lay behind her words.

“Isn’t it possible, Archminister,” he asked, “that as more nobles arrive in the royal city, and with them more ministers, a similar discussion might yield a different judgment?”

“Would that it were, Minister,” she said. “But the king doesn’t expect many more nobles to answer his summons. Kentigern won’t come, and neither, it seems, will Galdasten. And with both of them refusing to make the journey, Eardley, Sussyn, and Domnall have declined as well. Rennach has made no reply at all. We expect the dukes of Labruinn and Heneagh to arrive in the next few days, but even if both first ministers support our position, that leaves us with only a split vote.” She looked at the gleaner. “Forgive me, Grinsa. But in deciding matters of the court, I can’t allow you to have a formal voice.”

He inclined his head. “Of course, Archminister. I understand.”

“But with a split vote-”

“No, Minister. I don’t think it wise to take such a momentous step with the ministers so deeply divided. As I say, in time, I believe we’ll have little choice but to reconsider this question. But for now we’ll have to find another way to strike at the conspiracy.”

Shanstead’s minister continued to stare at her, tight-lipped and silent. And though Fotir couldn’t be certain, he could only assume from the man’s expression that Xivled thought the archminister a renegade.

“I’m not certain it’s our place to strike at the conspiracy at all,” Dyre said. “We serve the courts, and when our lords are ready to fight the traitors in earnest they will. My objection to what the minister proposed,” he went on, gesturing toward Xivled, “had little to do with it being dangerous, though surely it is that. Rather, I opposed it because the king would oppose it, as would the dukes, I imagine.”

“So we’re to do nothing, then?” Evetta asked. “Even I don’t believe that.”

“I’m not suggesting that we do nothing. But we can only do so much. We can remain loyal to our dukes and vigilant in looking for those who might betray them. We can recommend courses of action that the nobles might not consider, but then it becomes their choice as to whether to follow our advice or ignore it.”

“You’ve a narrow view of a minister’s role, cousin,” Fotir said.

“As is appropriate. Perhaps if the dukes of Thorald and Kentigern had kept their ministers on a tighter rein, the realm wouldn’t have suffered as it has over the past half year.”

Fotir saw Xivled bristle, but before the younger man could respond, the archminister stood, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. “We’re not going to do this. We’re not going to blame anyone for the actions of a few traitors and a Weaver we don’t even know. This conspiracy reaches across all the realms of the Forelands. It’s been claiming lives in the courts for far longer than any of us realized until recently. Either all of us are to blame for its success thus far, or none of us are. We can disagree as to what actions to take, but I will not allow this discussion to descend into a fight over which houses have failed the realm.”

She paused, staring at each of the Qirsi in turn, as if daring them to argue with her. “Now, given that we’ve decided not follow the minister’s suggestion, at least for now, what other options can we offer the king and his dukes?”

For a long time, no one spoke, and when finally the discussion did resume, the ministers could think of few suggestions to pass on to the nobles. When the midday bells rang in the city, Keziah reluctantly ended their discussion.

The king’s underministers left the hall immediately, speaking quietly among themselves. The others remained for a few moments until Grinsa stood and excused himself, explaining that he wished to return to Cresenne’s chamber in the prison tower. Fotir stood as well and the two men walked from the hall together.

“I had hoped our discussion would yield more than it did,” the minister said, as they descended the tower stairs to the inner ward.

Grinsa gave a wan smile. “I’m sure all of us did. But though I’m disappointed, I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“You think we should have allowed Xivled to join the movement?”

The gleaner glanced at him, but didn’t answer.

“I actually had the sense listening to the archminister speak that she had already considered doing so herself. I even wonder if she’s done more than just consider it.”

Still Grinsa kept his silence, and they walked the rest of the way to the prison tower without a word passing between them.

When they arrived at her chamber, Cresenne was awake, walking a slow circle with her baby in her arms. Seeing her, it finally occurred to Fotir that the gleaner might not want him there, that Grinsa’s silence had not been a response to what the minister said, but rather to his presumption that he could accompany the man back to the tower.

“My apologies, gleaner,” he said, abruptly feeling a fool. “I should leave the two of you-” He smiled sheepishly. “I mean, the three of you.”

“Not at all, Minister. I’m glad you’re here. Cresenne needs to sleep, and I’d enjoy your company.”

One of the guards unlocked Cresenne’s door, and the two men stepped past him into the chamber. It was warm within, the air too still.

“I’m sorry I had to leave,” Grinsa said, taking the child from Cresenne.

She walked to the bed and sat. “It’s all right.” Her eyes strayed to the minister briefly before returning to Grinsa. She looked as if she were eager just to sleep, but felt that she needed to talk to them, at least briefly. “Did you decide anything important?”

“No,” the gleaner said. “But one of the ministers suggested that it might be useful to have a Qirsi loyal to the courts join the conspiracy.”

Cresenne’s eyes widened, and once more her gaze flicked toward Fotir. “Did you?. .” She stopped, shaking her head, as if unsure of how to finish the thought.

Grinsa shook his head. “No. Most of the ministers thought it too dangerous and the archminister ruled it out for now.”

The woman nodded, but still seemed uncertain of what to say. For a third time, Fotir found himself thinking that there was more to what was being said than either speaker was letting on. Before he could give voice to his suspicions, however, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He turned toward the door, as did Cresenne and the gleaner.

A moment later, Keziah stepped into the corridor.

“Open the door,” she said to the nearest of the guards without even looking in the chamber. “Then I want both of you to leave the corridor. I’ll tell you when you can return.”

“Yes, Archminister.”

The door opened again and Keziah entered the chamber. Seeing Fotir, she faltered, glancing quickly at Grinsa. But she said nothing until the guards had gone.

“I had hoped we could speak in private,” she said to the gleaner.

Fotir started toward the door, which remained open. “I’ll leave you, Archminister.”

“No, don’t.” Grinsa. “He knows about me, Keziah. I’ve told you that before.”

“Yes, but-”

“He holds my life in his hands. He might as well hold yours as well.”

A strange look came into the archminister’s eyes. There was so much more passing between them than Fotir could possibly understand. But he was certain now that the archminister served the king loyally.

Keziah faced him, eyeing him appraisingly. “Even before we met in Kentigern, I had heard a good deal about you, Fotir jal Salene. I wonder if you’re prepared to match your reputation.”

“And what is my reputation, Archminister?” He knew that some thought him arrogant, disdainful of his own people, and more attached to his duke than to any Qirsi in the land. But he sensed that she referred to something else.

“I’ve heard it said that you’re the most brilliant minister in the land, and one who is less likely than most to be lured into the conspiracy. It’s said that this is why your duke places such faith in your counsel.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Did you mean what you said in front of the other ministers? Are you prepared to accept that there are times when, in order to serve the courts, we must keep truths from those nobles who trust us most?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, Archminister. As Grinsa said, I know who and what he is, and I know what he did for Lord Tavis.”

Keziah nodded, although her expression didn’t change. For some time, she merely continued to stare at him. Then she took a breath. “Very well. It should have been obvious to you that I support the idea of having a loyal Qirsi attempt to join the conspiracy. As it happens, I’ve done more than just consider the notion. I’ve acted on it. I’ve spoken with the Weaver, and I’ve begun to win his trust.”

“I suspected as much, Archminister.”

Keziah’s face whitened so that it was nearly a match for her hair. “You what?”

“Please don’t be afraid. I don’t think any of the others would have drawn the same conclusion. Indeed, I believe Xivled thinks you a traitor.”

That brought a smile to her lips, though she still looked frightened. “I’m sure he does. He as much as told me so the last time we spoke.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Archminister. I’ll tell no one what I’ve heard here, and I’ll do everything in my power to help you. You have my word.”

“And you my thanks, First Minister.”

“You wished to speak with us, Kezi,” Grinsa said. “What’s happened?”

“He’s instructed me to kill Cresenne.”

The other woman blanched, much as the archminister had done moments before.

“What about Bryntelle?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

“He told me to spare the child.”

“Gods be praised.”

“And me?” Grinsa asked.

“As you guessed yesterday, I’m to win your trust, so that I can get close enough to Cresenne to kill her, and so I can help the Weaver find you when he decides it’s your turn to die.”

For the first time that day, Fotir truly felt afraid. “He knows about you?” he asked the gleaner.

“Yes. In order to save Cresenne’s life, I had to enter her dream. He saw my face. And I saw his.”

Fotir gaped at him, fear giving way to hope. “Did you know him?”

“No.” But even as Grinsa said this, he appeared to be thinking of something else. “I had hoped to speak with the king last night, but I never had the opportunity.” He looked first at Keziah, and then at Fotir. “I suppose I could ask the two of you, though. What do you know of Braedon’s high chancellor?”

“Almost nothing,” Keziah answered. “We’ve never met, and with the king preoccupied with Kentigern and his allies, he’s had little opportunity to look beyond Eibithar’s borders.”

Fotir shook his head. “I know very little, as well, beyond his reputation.”

“Even that would be more than I know,” Grinsa said.

The minister shrugged. “His name is Dusaan jal Kania. From what I hear, he’s intelligent, powerful, and ambitious, just as one might expect of the most influential Qirsi in the empire.”

“Do you know what he looks like?”

“No. I’ve heard that he’s tall, that he’s built more like a warrior than a minister. But that could be said of you as well.”

“Precisely.”

“You think he’s the Weaver?”

“When I was with the movement,” Cresenne said, answering for the gleaner, “I was one of the Weaver’s highest-ranking servants. He called us his chancellors.”

“It doesn’t prove anything,” Grinsa said. “But it’s worth considering.”

Fotir thought so as well. “With Aylyn the Second and Filib the Elder of Thorald dead, I can think of no one in Eibithar who has met the emperor or the high chancellor.”

“What about elsewhere?”

“Perhaps Sanbira’s queen. Certainly the Archduke of Wethyrn.”

“I’ll have the king send a message to them both,” Keziah said. “Perhaps one of them can offer a better description of the chancellor.”

“That’s fine,” Cresenne said, her cheeks still drained of color. “But in the meantime, Keziah is supposed to kill me. And when she doesn’t, the Weaver won’t only come after me, he’ll start to question her loyalty to the movement as well.”

Grinsa took her hand. “We have some time, Cresenne. You heard what she said. She’s supposed to win my trust first. He can’t think that will happen immediately. And as long as the Weaver expects her to kill you, he won’t try it himself.”

“So I can sleep at night again?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But at least you can rest during the days assured that he’s not determined to kill you himself.”

She grimaced. “That’s hardly comforting.”

Fotir had to agree.

The audience with Eibithar’s king lasted throughout the morning and well past the ringing of the midday bells. Kearney informed the dukes of what he and his advisors had learned from the traitor, and Marston spoke in greater detail of Enid’s betrayal and what little he and his father had managed to learn from the woman before she took her own life. It was a sobering discussion, one that clearly left Lathrop of Tremain disturbed. The others in the presence chamber-the king, Javan, Marston himself-had known something of these tidings prior to this day’s gathering. Lathrop had not.

“Filib the Younger,” the duke said softly, still sitting though the others had stood, intending to leave the chamber. “Lady Brienne.” He glanced at Javan. “It seems your son is a victim of their treachery as well, Lord Curgh, albeit a living one. They strike at our youth, our children, because they know that’s where we’re most vulnerable.”

“All the more reason for us to be watchful,” Marston said. “We can’t trust the Qirsi as we once did. We have to be willing to see them all, even those we consider our friends, through critical eyes, searching for signs of treachery where we never would have thought to look before.” He spoke to the duke, but he intended the words for Kearney.

The king, he believed, was incapable of seeing his archminister in this way. Perhaps he still loved her. Perhaps she had served him for so long that he had come to take her loyalty for granted. Whatever the reason, Marston thought the woman Eibithar’s greatest weakness. He couldn’t be certain that she was a traitor, though he hoped that Xivled might discover the truth about her before long, but he certainly wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she had cast her lot with the renegades. All that Gershon Trasker had told him of her recent behavior had left the thane truly frightened.

“Have you come to question the loyalty of your minister, Lord Shanstead,” the king asked, his tone making it clear that he knew just what Marston had meant to imply.

“No, my liege. I’ve known Xivled since we were children, and he’s never given me cause to doubt that my faith in him is misplaced.”

“As my archminister has.”

Marston hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, my liege.”

“And what is it you’d have me do? Shall I imprison her simply on the basis of your suspicions? Shall I torture her until she confesses to crimes she hasn’t committed?”

“No, my liege,” the thane answered, with as much asperity as he dared allow to creep into his voice. “I don’t hate the Qirsi, no matter what you may think. Nor do I think it just to imprison or torture anyone without cause. But I fear the archminister is a threat to you and this realm, and I believe she should be sent away from the castle.”

Kearney shook his head. “I won’t do that.”

“With all respect, my liege, I think that you offer more loyalty to this woman than she deserves.”

“I disagree.”

Marston wanted to say more, but Javan caught his eye and gave a slight shake of his head.

“Very well, my liege,” the thane said instead. He bowed to the king and left the chamber, his jaw clenched so tightly that his temples ached.

Xiv was waiting for him in the corridor outside the chamber, leaning against the stone wall. Seeing Marston, he straightened and fell in step beside him as they walked to the nearest tower.

“What happened?” the minister asked. “You look as if the king branded you a traitor.”

“It didn’t go quite that badly. But if Thorald’s standing in the realm turned on my friendship with Kearney, we’d be in a good deal of trouble right now.” He waited to say more until they were out of the stairway and in the castle ward. “The king remains convinced that his archminister can be trusted,” he finally said, squinting in the sunlight, “though from all I hear, she’s behaved erratically for the past several turns.” He glanced at the minister. “Have you learned anything from your conversations with her?”

“Very little. If she is a traitor, she’s far more clever about hiding it than Enid was. She denies nothing, but neither does she say anything that suggests she’s with the conspiracy. At least not when questioned directly about it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Xiv raked a hand through his short hair. “There was something strange about our discussion today. We were speaking of the need to find the source of the conspiracy’s gold, and I suggested that we might be well served to have a loyal Qirsi join the movement. I had the impression that she agreed with me, but when the king’s other Qirsi opposed the idea, she seemed to go out of her way to give in to their point of view. She almost seemed relieved when the vote went their way.”

“As if she feared that your plan would reveal her betrayal?”

“Perhaps,” the minister said, frowning. “Or else. .”

“Or else what?”

For several moments Xiv just walked, silent and pensive. At last, he shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

“It sounds to me as if she’s hiding something, which merely confirms what I’ve known since we arrived here. This woman is dangerous; I’m certain of it. And the king is too blinded by the love they once shared to see it. It’s up to us, Xiv. We need to do everything in our power to make Kearney see her for what she really is. We have to convince him to banish her from the castle.”

Xiv nodded, though there was an uneasy look in his yellow eyes that Marston couldn’t quite explain.