Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Twenty-Five

Yserne, Sanbira

For the better part of a turn in Castle Yserne, home of Sanbira’s queen Olesya centered on the death of Kreazur jal Sylbe, Diani’s first minister. After some initial confusion, there could no longer be any doubt as to the meaning of his murder. He had been found in a part of Yserne city known for attracting thieves and assassins. There had been an empty pouch beside him and two stray gold pieces under his shattered body. And though many of the nobles gathered in Castle Yserne were still reluctant to speak of the matter, most now believed that he had gone to the northwest corner of the city in search of a new blade to hire with his Qirsi gold. Perhaps he intended to have Diani killed, hoping to succeed where he had failed before. Or maybe he had some other victim in mind, another duchess, or, Ean forbid, the queen. Whatever his purpose, the gods had chosen to mete out their own justice. Some speculated that he had offered too little gold to the men he wished to hire, or had sought to impose conditions that weren’t to their liking. In either case, they took exception and, it seemed, threw him from the roof of one of the many ramshackle buildings lining the lane where he was found.

Many of the duchesses had expressed their sympathy to Diani, as if she had lost a dear friend. Even the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde offered condolences for her loss, and seemed sincere in doing so. Diani, however, felt no grief. Her mother would have been aggrieved, she knew, just as was her father. Kreazur, Sertio kept reminding his daughter, had served House Curlinte for nine years and whatever he had become, he had once been a loyal counselor to the old duchess. But as far as Diani was concerned, the first minister’s betrayal negated all that he had done for her mother. No, she felt no sadness at his death. None at all. What she felt was vindication.

Her father had scolded her for imprisoning the first minister and her other Qirsi, telling her that she had allowed her fears to cloud her judgment, as if she were still a child. The queen had done much the same, seeming to imply that she had been guided by her need for vengeance and her inexperience with the courts. Kreazur himself had tried to tell her that he had earned better treatment by serving the old duchess for so many years, as if he sought to use her guilt, and her grief at losing her mother, to win his freedom. Eventually Diani had given in to all of them. Now she knew-they all knew-that she had been right from the beginning.

The white-hairs could not be trusted. If Kreazur was a traitor, how many other ministers might be as well? Olesya began to meet with her duchesses and dukes in closed audiences, with none of the Qirsi ministers present. Even Abeni ja Krenta, the queen’s own archminister, was excluded from these discussions, for in the wake of Kreazur’s death, even the most powerful Qirsi were suspect in the eyes of Sanbira’s Eandi nobles.

Much else had changed as well. When Edamo of Brugaosa and Alao of Norinde first arrived in Yserne they were unwilling to concede that the conspiracy was behind the assassination attempts against Diani. Both men had been loath to cede any more authority to the Matriarchy, and since at the time Diani could offer no proof of Qirsi involvement in the attacks, the dukes were able to convince the other nobles that it was too early to do so.

Now, though, with Kreazur dead and his treachery revealed, there could be no denying that the conspiracy had struck at the realm. It seemed obvious to Diani that the dukes still would have preferred to find some other way to meet the Qirsi threat, but with the other houses solidly behind the queen, they had little choice but to acquiesce. Within only a day or two of the first minister’s death, the nobles gave Olesya leave to conscript more men, to raise the levies necessary for waging a war, and to forge alliances with any realm that would join Sanbira in its fight against this so-called movement.

Diani, who remained the youngest leader of any of Sanbira’s houses, and the least experienced, had seen her standing in the realm altered as well. Where she had once been made to feel ashamed of her decision to imprison all of Castle Curlinte’s Qirsi, she was now complimented for it. A turn before, Edamo had made her feel a fool for arguing so forcefully that Sanbira should be preparing for war with the renegade sorcerers. Now every noble in the land spoke as she had. Once there might have been some shame in leading the house that harbored Sanbira’s first known traitor. But by leading the call for action against the conspiracy, even in the face of opposition from other nobles, she had turned Curlinte’s disgrace into a triumph. Indeed, the assassination attempt itself had only added to her newfound stature. As word spread of all that had happened that day on the Curlinte coast-of the injuries she had suffered, of the three arrows that had pierced her flesh, and of her desperate escape and ride back to the castle-she became a hero of sorts. Soldiers from other houses cheered when they caught sight of her. In their audiences with Olesya, duchesses who had ruled their houses for years deferred to her, though she had only ruled Curlinte for a few turns. Even the queen was not immune, turning to Diani for counsel when, only a short time before, she would have gone first to Rashel of Trescarri of Ary of Kinsarta.

Curlinte’s standing in the realm hadn’t reached such levels since the end of the Curlinte Dynasty more than five hundred years before, and Diani had every intention of taking advantage of her influence. She didn’t covet power; she remained loyal to the queen and had no desire to rule the land herself. But she was determined that no other houses in Sanbira would suffer as she had at the hands of white-haired traitors. She didn’t expect Olesya to order the imprisonment of all the Qirsi in the realm, or even of all the ministers currently in Castle Yserne. The queen lacked the will to go so far, and even had she not, the duchess realized now that such an approach carried risks as well. Rather, Diani wished to see the Qirsi remain free, but under constant watch from afar, so that when the next traitor tried to strike at the realm, the nobles would be ready. At Diani’s urging, Olesya had sent spies into the city to watch the Qirsi taverns and the marketplace. They were instructed to look not only for Qirsi who strayed from the castle at odd hours but also for any white-hairs, including the queen’s ministers and healers, who spent too freely at the peddler’s stalls or tavern bars.

Of all the nobles in Castle Yserne, only her father continued to argue against the measures they had taken, and, not by coincidence, only her father still maintained that Kreazur could not have been a traitor. Diani knew what lay behind his intransigence. To admit that the first minister was a traitor was to admit that his beloved Dalvia had erred in choosing Kreazur to serve House Curlinte so many years ago. Still, though the duchess found it hard to blame Sertio for his devotion to her mother, she did find her father’s repeated defenses of the first minister embarrassing. And earlier this day, the second of the new waxing, she had made the mistake of telling him so.

They had been in the marketplace, strolling among the peddlers’ carts and stalls, enjoying the first clear day since the middle of the previous waning. A soft breeze ruffled the heavy cloth with which so many of the sellers covered their carts, and the air smelled clean and sweet, as from the blossoms that had begun to appear on the hills above the castle and city. Even with the guards walking ahead of them and behind, it would have been easy on a day such as this to forget about the Qirsi and their conspiracy, but Sertio wouldn’t allow it, staring glumly at the wares displayed by each vender, and saying little.

“You should buy something, Father,” Diani said, hoping to pull him from his dolor. “A new blade perhaps, or at least a new sheath for the old one.”

“I have no need of a new blade, or a new sheath.”

She looked at the sheath hanging on his belt, raising an eyebrow. “Have you looked recently at the one you have?”

“The one I have was given to me by your mother.”

“During which dynasty?”

He grinned at that, though only briefly. “It just needs a bit of oil, that’s all. I’ll take care of it when we return to the castle.”

“Well, a new blade, then.”

“I told you, I have no need of one. This dagger was a gift from your mother as well.”

“Oh, Father,” she said, throwing up her hands and shaking her head. “So what if it was from Mother? Do you think that she’d expect you to keep all the gifts she gave you for the rest of time, even after they had outlived their usefulness?”

“I expect that I would do so,” he said severely. “And I’d expect you to as well.”

Diani closed her eyes for a moment, realizing that she had spoken rashly. “I would never throw away anything that was hers,” she said quietly. “You know that. But neither would I keep using a blade of hers if it no longer served its purpose. I might put it away, so that my children could see it, and their children in turn, but I wouldn’t hesitate to replace it with a better one when need demanded.”

Sertio stared past her, looking back toward the walls of the castle. “It seems you and I differ in this.”

“You can’t keep on like this, Father. She’s gone. We loved her, and we miss her, but she’s gone.”

His entire face seemed to turn to stone, his dark eyes still fixed on the queen’s fortress. “Don’t you think I know this?”

“You know it, but you make no attempt to ease your own grief. How long will you mourn her, Father? How much longer will you allow yourself to suffer?”

“I’ll mourn her as long as I live.”

“She wouldn’t want that. She’d want you to find happiness, even if that meant finding a new love.”

His eyes snapped to her face. “I could never love another! I’m appalled that you’d even suggest such a thing! You would have me forget her, forget the years we spent together?”

“I don’t expect you to forget anything. But you can’t live the rest of your years in the company of wraiths, nor can you cling to every token that reminds you of Mother. Some things need to be discarded, no matter the sentiments you attach to them.”

She could see the muscles in his jaw bunching as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. “I won’t listen to this,” he said.

“You must!” She strode after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn toward her. “I loved her, too. You know I did. But I also know that she wasn’t perfect. She was wise and strong and beautiful, but she made mistakes, just as all of us do.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his color high, so that his lean face appeared even more austere than usual. “But when she erred, it was on the side of kindness and trust and justice.”

Diani felt her cheeks burning as well. Somehow their argument had moved from daggers and sheaths to Kreazur and the other Qirsi.

“Hers was a simpler world than mine,” Diani said. “I face dangers today that Mother couldn’t have fathomed.”

Sertio shook his head, looking so sad. “Do you know how foolish you sound, Diani? You’re not the first duchess to be betrayed, nor even the first to have attempts made on her life. But a leader doesn’t surrender all to suspicion and fear simply for having been deceived once. Your mother understood that. I hope someday that you will as well.”

“You dare call me a fool? You’re the fool, arguing for Kreazur’s innocence when we all know that he was a traitor. You act like an old man who has lost all sense to his dotage. You shame our house with your simplicity.”

He stared at her another moment, looking sad and old. And in that instant, she wished that she could take the words back. No matter how blind his devotion to the first minister, she should never have spoken to him thus. But she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, or take back what she had said. A moment later, it was too late. Sertio was walking back toward the castle, and the soldiers who had accompanied them were looking at each other in confusion, wondering who among them should follow the duke, and who should remain with Diani.

She returned to the castle sometime later, searching halfheartedly for her father, and fearing that she might find him. Eventually she gave up, knowing that she’d see Sertio again when he wished to be found. She started back toward her own chamber, but before she had gone far, she saw the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde. She had no desire to speak with them-though they now claimed to agree with Diani and the other duchesses on how best to face the conspiracy, Diani hardly considered either man a friend.

Before she could duck into another corridor, however, Edamo spotted her and raised a hand in greeting.

“A word please, Lady Curlinte.”

What choice did she have but to halt and wait for them? This, too, her father would have seen as a betrayal of her mother and their house. Diani was more convinced than ever that the Qirsi were responsible for Cyro’s murder. In a sense, House Curlinte and House Brugaosa were bound to each other by the tragedy, both of them victims of Qirsi treachery. Still, Sertio continued to blame the Brugaosans for the loss of his son, just as the white-hairs had intended. It almost seemed that the duke chose to be ensnared by the white-hairs’ deceptions, as if he found some perverse comfort in believing what the traitors wanted him to believe.

Edamo and Alao stopped before her, the older man smiling, the younger man merely watching her, without his usual sneer, but without much warmth either.

“Is there something you wish of me, Lord Brugaosa?”

“Lord Norinde and I were on our way to speak with the queen, and we thought it might help if you joined us.”

“What did you intend to discuss with her?”

“In light of the dangers facing all of Sanbira’s houses, and the preparations necessary-”

“We wish to return to our castles,” Alao broke in, glancing impatiently at the older man. “If we’re to wage a war against the Qirsi, we should be in command of our own armies. We can’t do that from here.”

“I gather,” Diani said, “that the queen wishes us to remain here until we’ve heard from the sovereigns of the other realms.”

“Clearly,” the younger duke said, sounding as brusque with her as he had with Edamo. “I fail to see the point, however. She can send messages to all of us when word comes from the other realms. But if we leave now, we can be ready to march to battle immediately, and we can be certain that we’ll be leading our own men to war.”

“And what if some of the kings refuse to march with us?” she asked. “What if Eibithar and Caerisse choose to ally themselves with us, but Wethyrn and Aneira don’t?”

Edamo’s eyebrows went up. “Surely you don’t expect that to happen.”

“I believe it’s possible. Some are less willing than others to believe that the Qirsi would challenge the might of the courts.”

If the two men knew that she spoke of her father, they had the good sense to remain silent.

“The queen might need us here,” she went on, “so that we can decide upon a response when word arrives from those who would be our allies.”

“So you won’t support us,” Alao said, his voice flat.

“No, Lord Norinde, I won’t. Please understand, I-”

He started to walk away. “Good day, Lady Curlinte.”

Edamo stared at her another moment before following the younger man.

“Why are you in such a rush to begin this war?” she called after them.

Alao stopped, faced her. “You of all people have to ask?”

“Yes, I do. We don’t know yet where this war will be fought, or how. There is no Qirsi army, at least none of which we know. You speak of marching to war as quickly as possible, but I see no battle plain. What is it you really want?”

“I won’t listen to this.”

“You’re still worried about the queen strengthening her hold on the throne, aren’t you?”

Norinde said nothing, but after a moment, Edamo gave a harsh grin.

“Shouldn’t we be?”

“No. Sanbira faces an enemy more dangerous than any we’ve faced in nine centuries. You should be concerned only with guarding the realm and defeating those who would destroy us.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Duchess. You lead a house that has been allied with the throne for centuries. You have nothing to fear from this power Olesya is accumulating. We do.”

“But the Qirsi-”

The duke opened his arms wide. “Where are the Qirsi, Duchess? As you yourself just said, there is no Qirsi army, there is no battle plain.”

“But there will be.”

He let his arms drop to his side once more. “Yes. I’m sure you’re right. And while we wait for the enemy to show himself, we cede all authority to the queen. Well, there are limits to just how much Alao and I are willing to give her. We’ll pay her tribute, and we’ll send men to the royal army. But we will not allow Olesya to command all of our soldiers as if they were hers to do with as she pleases. Without an army of its own, Brugaosa would have been destroyed by the Matriarchy long ago. You see the Qirsi as the only threat, but I know better, and even with the white-hairs massing on our borders, I will not give my forces over to Yserne.”

With that they left her, their footsteps echoing through the corridor. Diani still wished to find her father, but after this encounter with the dukes, she thought it best to speak first with the queen.

When she reached Olesya’s presence chamber, however, she heard voices from within. She knocked on the door and after a moment, the queen called for her to enter. Olesya sat on her throne, looking toward the door. And there at the window, his lean frame shadowed against the light, stood Diani’s father.

The duchess barely managed to bow to the queen before whirling toward him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her conversation with Edamo and Alao forgotten for the moment.

“We were speaking of the Qirsi,” Olesya answered. “Sertio is concerned that we’ve been too quick to dismiss all of our ministers, that perhaps some of them can be of help in this fight. He also fears that we’ve been wrong to assume that Kreazur was a traitor”

“Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but my father does not speak for House Curlinte. I do.”

“He doesn’t claim to speak for your house, Lady Curlinte. He came to me as a friend and that is the spirit in which I’ve considered his words.”

Diani glanced at her father, not bothering to mask her anger. But then she nodded to the queen. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Olesya was eyeing the duke as well. “Perhaps you’d like to tell her what you’ve told me.”

The duke shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing.

“She has a right to know, Sertio.”

“Know what?” Diani narrowed her eyes, glaring at her father. “What is this about?”

He cleared his throat, casting a quick glance at the queen. “You know that I’ve had my doubts about Kreazur’s guilt all along. Shortly after his death, I sent word to Curlinte that his quarters were to be searched.”

“You what?”

“I reasoned that if he was with the conspiracy, there would be gold hidden somewhere in his chamber. That’s the one thing we know about the Qirsi who lead this movement: they have a good deal of gold and they pay those who serve them quite well.”

“How dare you do such a thing!” Diani said, her voice quavering with rage. “I lead our house, not you! You should have discussed it with me first! You should have asked my permission!”

“Would you have let me do it?”

She started to reply, then closed her mouth again, looking away.

“That’s why I didn’t discuss it with you.”

Diani felt her face redden. She didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the queen. “You had no right,” she muttered.

“I received word from Curlinte today. Don’t you want to know what they found?”

She looked at him. Of course she wanted to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. Kreazur had twenty qinde to his name, about what you’d expect for a man living on a minister’s wage.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. He might have spent it all.”

“On what? He had no jewelry, no riches of any sort. He wore simple clothes beneath his ministerial robes. He carried a blade with a wooden hilt.”

“Maybe he gave his gold to someone else. Perhaps he had a woman in Curlinte. Or maybe he brought all his gold with him to Yserne and it was taken by the brigands who killed him. This tells us nothing.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree, Diani,” the queen said. “It may not establish his innocence, but in my mind it certainly casts some doubt on his guilt.”

“Who was it searched his chamber?” the duchess demanded, glowering at Sertio again. “Another white-hair?”

“Actually it was your master of arms.”

She felt her mouth twitch.

“Isn’t it possible that we were wrong about him, Diani? Isn’t it possible that there’s some other explanation for the way he died?”

“Like what? If he wasn’t a traitor, what was he doing in the city? Why did he come to Yserne at all? There’s no other explanation that makes any sense.”

Sertio looked at the queen, abruptly seeming unsure of himself. “Perhaps we were intended to think that he was a traitor.”

“To what end?” the queen asked. “His death certainly didn’t help the Qirsi in this castle. It’s only served to deepen our suspicions.”

“Maybe whoever was responsible didn’t have any choice. Maybe Kreazur had learned that this person was the traitor, but he died before he could tell anyone else.”

“I don’t believe any of this,” Diani said, shaking her head. “We found Kreazur in the city, not someone else. It was his body that was covering those gold pieces and lying next to an empty money pouch. What you learned from the master of arms changes nothing.” Even as she spoke the words, however, Diani felt doubt seeping into her mind. She couldn’t countenance what her father had done-certainly he never would have sent instructions to anyone in Castle Curlinte while her mother was duchess-but neither could she ignore what he had learned. There should have been gold in the man’s chamber, or failing that, some evidence of the riches that would have accrued from his service to the movement. What if she had been wrong about Kreazur? What if his denials had been true, his devotion to Curlinte genuine? Wasn’t this one instance where it was preferable to be mistaken?

“In a way she’s right,” Sertio was saying to the queen. “This message from Curlinte doesn’t change a thing. In fact, it makes it more likely that one of the other ministers is a traitor.”

“You’re certain it would be one of the ministers?”

“If we’re right about Kreazur, it would almost have to be. They’re the only Qirsi with whom he had any contact after his arrival. If he went to the city because he overheard something-”

“Or if he followed someone there,” Diani broke in, the words seeming to come to her unbidden.

Sertio and the queen looked at her.

“Now you agree with us?” her father asked.

“I’m willing to admit that it’s possible.” Seeing the smile on her father’s face, the relief, she felt much of her anger at him sluice away. “You may not believe this, Father, but I never wanted to believe that he was a traitor. I know how much Mother cared for him.”

Sertio gazed at her another moment before facing the queen once more. “As I was saying, if he overheard a conversation among traitors or followed someone to the city, it would have meant that he first encountered them here in the castle. In which case, the traitor is still here, and we need to figure out who it is.”

“There could be more than one,” Diani said. “That’s why I still believe we need to keep all of the ministers at a distance.”

“For a time perhaps,” Sertio said. “Until we can winnow out those who have betrayed us. But eventually we need to begin trusting the Qirsi again. Even in those realms that have suffered the most for the betrayals of their Qirsi, only a few of the ministers have proven to be traitors. It would be folly for us to assume that all of our Qirsi have abandoned Sanbira for this conspiracy of theirs.”

“But how are we to know who we can trust and who we can’t?” Diani asked, looking from her father to the queen. “All it takes is one traitor to endanger the queen’s life or-” She stopped abruptly, the realization coming to her with such force that for a moment she couldn’t draw breath.

“Diani?” her father said, taking a step toward her, his eyes wide with concern.

“Your Highness,” she began, finding her voice, “do I remember correctly that you questioned the gate guards who were on duty the night Kreazur died?”

“Yes, and all of them said the same thing. They saw no one leave the castle, not even your first minister.”

The duchess nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. “Then I regret to say that our search for the traitors must begin with those Qirsi who serve House Yserne.”

Olesya’s brow furrowed. “Why would-?” She lifted a slender hand to our mouth, the color draining from her face. “Ean save us all! You’re right, of course.”

Sertio shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Kreazur didn’t know this castle well enough to find a way out that would allow him to avoid all of the queen’s guards. Regardless of whether he was accompanying someone else or merely following, the other person had to be one of Yserne’s Qirsi.”

“How many Qirsi live in the castle, Your Highness?” the duke asked.

“I have six ministers in all, and many healers-I’m not certain of the number.”

“We should question them.”

Diani brushed the hair from her face with an impatient hand. “I disagree. We need more information first. If we make it known that we’ve narrowed our suspicions to the queen’s Qirsi, we’ll give them time to escape, or at least to prepare their lies. Best we reveal nothing for now.”

“You’re right,” the queen said. “I believe it would be a mistake even to inform the other nobles.” She gave a small smile. “It seems the two of you have a bit of work to do.”

Diani frowned. “Your Highness?”

“As you just said, Lady Curlinte, we need more information. And it seems I have little choice but to leave it to the two of you to find it for me.” She stood, as if to signal an end to their audience. “You’re to start immediately, and work as quickly as possible. I agree that loyal Qirsi will be invaluable to us in the coming war. The sooner we can begin to win back their trust and offer them ours, the better.”

“But, Your Highness,” Diani began. “How-”

“You can begin by searching the quarters of all the Qirsi who live in Castle Yserne,” the queen told her. “It worked in Curlinte, perhaps it will work here as well.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” Diani met her father’s gaze and held it briefly. After a moment, they both started toward the door.

“Lady Curlinte,” the queen said, stopping her. “I assume that you came to my chamber looking for me. Was there another matter you wished to discuss?”

She had forgotten. “Yes, Your Highness. I just had a conversation with Lord Brugaosa and Lord Norinde. They’re eager to return to their duchies, fearing that if they remain here you’ll take command of their armies. They intend to request that you give them leave to go, and they tried to convince me to support them in this. I refused, but I thought you should know what they have in mind. They may go to the other duchesses.”

“No doubt they will,” the queen said, looking pensive. “Thank you, Diani. I’ll deal with the dukes. You just find the traitors in my castle.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she said, pulling the door open. “It will be my pleasure.”

Abeni had known it would come to this, that in making it appear that Kreazur was a traitor and thus confirming in the minds of all the worst suspicions of Diani of Curlinte, she would deny herself the one asset that made her most valuable to the Weaver: her access to the queen. Given some time, she felt reasonably certain that she could regain Olesya’s trust, but until that happened, she lived in constant fear of her next encounter with the movement’s leader.

She actually believed some good might come of the queen’s refusal to confide in her, though she knew that explaining this to the weaver might prove difficult. Among the Qirsi who had come to Castle Yserne with their ladies and lords, two were already pledged to the movement-the first ministers of Macharzo and Norinde. The rest remained loyal to the courts. For now. But with each day that passed, the queen and her nobles made it easier for Abeni to draw others to the Weaver’s cause. She sensed the growing resentment of the loyal Qirsi. Olesya and Diani may have believed that they were guarding themselves from further treachery by keeping the ministers from their discussions, but in fact they were making it more likely that others would turn against them.

At the same time they were also allowing Abeni to win the ministers’ trust. During the past turn, she had begun to convene discussions of her own. She claimed that these audiences, like those of the queen, were intended to find some way to combat the movement. “If we can help our lords and ladies,” she told the others at their first gathering, “perhaps we can prove to them that we deserve their faith.”

In fact, she hoped to determine which ministers were most angered by the way they had been treated, and to begin forging deeper friendships with these few. And she wished to remind all of them as frequently as possible that she was no better off than they were, that she had been shut out by the queen, just as they had been by their lords and ladies. She was one of them, a victim of Eandi suspicion and prejudice. Perhaps, when the time came for the Weaver to reveal himself and for his followers to strike at the courts, she would be able to deliver to him not one or two ministers but many.

She also knew, however, that she could not allow her ties to Olesya to become too tenuous. To that end, every few days, she requested and was granted an audience with the queen. On this day, Olesya did not see her until after the ringing of the prior’s bell, as the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, its golden light reflected in the still waters of Lake Yserne.

“Good day, Your Highness,” the archminster said, stepping past the guards into the queen’s presence chamber and bowing before the throne.

“Archminister.”

“I trust you’re well?”

“Yes, quite.” As an afterthought, the queen added, “And you?”

Olesya seemed particularly distant this day. Abeni wondered if something more had happened, if perhaps word had come from one of the other realms of another betrayal.

“I wish I could say that I was well, Your Highness.”

The queen glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “Does something ail you?”

“Of course. The same thing that ails all the ministers in your castle. I’m concerned, not only for myself and for the other Qirsi but for you and the nobles as well. The Qirsi in this realm seek only to serve the courts, and you must know that you’re stronger for the counsel we offer. This rift between us must end.”

“I agree, Archminister. But until I know who among you can be trusted and who among you can’t, I fear that your service to the courts is more dangerous than it is valuable.” There was something strange in the queen’s manner. It almost seemed that she knew of Abeni’s ties to the movement.

“But perhaps we can help you in that regard, Your Highness,” she said, searching the queen’s face.

Olesya smiled, though the expression in her dark eyes didn’t change. “Can you see into the hearts of others, Abeni? Is that one of the powers you wield?”

“No, Your Highness. I think you know it’s not.”

“Then how can you possibly help me? How can you even ask me to let you try, when you can’t prove beyond doubt your own fealty to House Yserne.”

“Haven’t I served you well for all these years, Your Highness? Isn’t that proof enough?”

“Yes, you have, and no, it’s not.” Olesya hesitated, as if considering something. But then the thought seemed to pass and she said, “After Kreazur, I don’t know if I can ever trust a Qirsi again.”

Even Abeni could see the irony. She had killed the man and made him seem a traitor to conceal her own treachery, and yet by doing so, she had made herself suspect in the queen’s eyes. Somewhere in the Underrealm, the first minister was laughing at her.

They held each other’s gaze for several moments, Olesya’s face grim but composed. At last, Abeni looked away, wondering what she would tell the Weaver if he came to her that night.

“It seems there’s nothing more to say.”

“No, I don’t suppose there is.” The queen continued to watch her, as if she expected the minister to attack her at any moment. Something definitely was wrong.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Abeni bowed, then stepped to the door.

“If you were to help me,” the queen said, forcing her to turn once more, “what would you do?”

“Your Highness?”

“Just now you offered to help us determine which Qirsi are loyal and which are not. Is there a way to do that?”

She briefly considered lying, telling the queen that there was. But she knew that eventually Olesya would learn the truth, and when she did, Abeni’s life would be forfeit.

“None that I know of, Your Highness. At least none short of torture. That’s what makes this movement so. . insidious.”

Olesya nodded. “I thought as much. Thank you, Archminister.”

Abeni bowed a second time and left the queen’s, chamber, making her way back to her own. Was it possible that Olesya knew something? she wondered, winding through the corridors. Kreazur had been dead for more than a turn. Surely if his death had raised the queen’s suspicions, Abeni would have known it long before now. And nothing had happened since that would give Olesya cause to question Abeni’s loyalty in particular. Yet, there could be no mistaking the change in the queen’s manner.

The archminister was so preoccupied with her thoughts of the queen that she was nearly to her chamber before she noticed that someone was there in the corridor, leaning against the stone wall beside her door. Craeffe, Macharzo’s first minister.

Abeni glanced behind her, fearing that there might be guards nearby. There were none. Still, she was hardly in the mood to speak with anyone right now, even another member of the movement.

“Archminister,” the woman said, straightening as Abeni approached and sketching a quick bow. “I assumed you were meeting with the queen.” She pitched her voice to carry, in case there were others nearby. “I was hoping that you had managed to convince her that she and the nobles had been wrong to doubt us.”

“Not yet,” Abeni said.

“May I have a word with you, Archminister? In private.”

Abeni took a breath, scanning the corridor a second time. “Briefly,” she said at last.

She unlocked her door and pushed it open, waving the woman inside, then following.

“Is everything all right, cousin?” Craeffe asked, once the door was closed.

“I’m not certain. I just had a strange conversation with the queen. She seemed more guarded than usual.”

The woman shrugged. “Isn’t that to be expected? I know that you’ve served her a long time, but with every other noble in the castle afraid of their Qirsi, it’s only natural that her suspicions should grow as well.”

It was a fair point. “You may be right.”

“Then again, it was your rapport with the queen that first drew the Weaver’s attention, wasn’t it? I don’t suppose he’d be pleased to hear that she’s growing more wary of you.”

Abeni regarded her for some time, a small smile on her lips. Craeffe had always been a bit too ambitious for Abeni’s taste. Though they had long been tied to each other by their service to the Weaver, Abeni had never fully trusted the woman. She didn’t look formidable. Like so many of their people, she was slight, almost frail. She had a long, narrow face and overlarge yellow eyes that made her look like some strange white owl from the northlands. But the archminister knew that she was quite clever, and she gathered from what she knew of other men and women recruited by the Weaver that she must also be a rather powerful sorcerer.

“I don’t expect that the Weaver will hear anything of the sort, cousin,” Abeni said. “I have no intention of telling him, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

Craeffe raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence. “Of course not.”

The archminister was already tiring of the woman’s company. “You came to me,” she said. “Why?”

“I’ve just had an interesting conversation of my own, and I thought you’d want to hear about it.”

“With whom?” Abeni asked, hoping that she sounded bored.

“The first minister of Prentarlo. I believe she could be convinced to join us.”

“What did you say to her?” the archminister asked, bored no longer. “You know that I’m the only one the Weaver wants speaking to newcomers.”

Craeffe grinned, showing sharp white teeth, like some crazed demon of Bian’s realm. “Don’t worry, cousin. I didn’t tell her anything; I just listened. And given what I heard, I believe she’s hurt and angry enough to turn against her duchess.”

Abeni nodded, though she wasn’t pleased. She should have been. This was what she wanted. This was how she would convince the Weaver that the queen’s distrust hadn’t lessened her value to the movement. But she didn’t like feeling beholden to Craeffe, not even in this small way.

“That’s good news,” she managed. “I’ll be certain to speak with her as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

“Or you could let me do it for you.”

“I just told you-”

“Yes, I know. The Weaver wants you to handle these matters. But he needn’t know. I’ve already won her trust. Wouldn’t it be easier to let me do the rest?”

Easier perhaps, but Abeni had little doubt that Craeffe would tell the Weaver as soon as she possibly could, presenting what had happened in such a way as to make herself appear a genius, and a liability to the Weaver’s cause.

“Thank you, cousin. I know that you wish only to serve the movement as best you can. But the Weaver has been quite clear on this point.”

The forced smile again. “Of course, cousin. I understand.”

They stood in silence for several moments before Craeffe finally returned to the door. “I suppose I should be going.”

“So soon, cousin?”

The woman didn’t even bother looking at her. “I hope that this rift between you and your queen doesn’t widen, Archminister. Now more than ever, the Weaver needs Qirsi who serve the major courts.”

A moment later she was gone, and Abeni was left to wonder who was the greater threat to her standing in the movement: the queen or Macharzo’s first minister.