Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Six

Curtell, Braedon

“It is the wrong decision!” the older Qirsi said again, gesturing sharply for emphasis. “You know this is so, High Chancellor. You have to tell the emperor he’s made a terrible mistake!”

Dusaan shook his head, his frustration mounting by the moment. Didn’t the man know that it wouldn’t matter what he said to the emperor? Didn’t he understand how this emperor’s mind worked?

“I’ve spoken to him, Chancellor,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I’ve told him several times that his decision is likely to disturb several of the southern lords.”

“Then tell him again!”

That nearly ended the discussion. True, none of them knew that he was a Weaver, that he led a great movement. But still, even in his capacity as high chancellor of the Braedon Empire, Dusaan could only tolerate so much. Before he could say anything, however, one of the young ministers broke in, and the debate began anew.

For much of the morning Dusaan had watched and listened as the same arguments chased one another around his ministerial chamber again and again. Only a turn before, his suspicions of the Qirsi growing, Emperor Harel the Fourth had decided to reclaim from his ministers and chancellors responsibility for mediating disputes among his nobles. At the time, fearing that the emperor would take from him responsibility for the treasury, Dusaan had welcomed the decision. The high chancellor depended upon the Braedon treasury for funds to pay the cost of running his conspiracy. Had the emperor forced him to relinquish control of the fee accountings, it might have dealt the movement a crippling blow. The mediation of disputes, on the other hand, had seemed a harmless enough duty to hand back to the Eandi fool. Little had he known.

“The lords of Grensyn, have always laid claim to the moors west of the Grensyn River,” the old chancellor said. “Indeed, all the southern lordships, from Finkirk across to Muelry have traditionally controlled the lands to their west. All, that is, except the coastal houses. Muelry’s new claims fly in the face of eight centuries of practice.”

“We’ve been over this, Stavel,” Dusaan said, his eyes closed.

“Yes, we have. But someone needs to explain all this to the emperor.”

“Why?” Nitara. Among all the Qirsi serving in Harel’s palace the Weaver thought her and one other the most likely to join his movement.

The older man blinked, and in spite of his annoyance, Dusaan had to stifle a chuckle. “What?” Stavel asked.

The woman shrugged. “Why does this need to be explained to the emperor? Yes, it’s been done this way for hundreds of years. But people in Muelry are starving. It’s been common knowledge for years that the land between the Rimerock and Muelry Rivers is poor land for farming. The land between the Rimerock and Rawsyn’s Wash isn’t much better.” She glanced around the room as if to see who was listening to her. They all were. “It must be something in the waters of the Rimerock.” She faced Stavel again. “In any case, Grensyn Moor has far better land, and it’s more than broad enough to accommodate some of Muelry’s people.”

“That’s not the point!”

“But it should be.” Kayiv. The other one Dusaan hoped to turn. “Should we continue to let the people of Muelry suffer, just because a group of Eandi lords decided eight hundred years ago that the entire moor belonged to Grensyn?”

It was a sound argument, yet one that also struck Dusaan as quite illuminating. More than any other Qirsi he had ever met, Kayiv reminded the Weaver of himself as a younger man. Proud, keenly intelligent, willing-some might say even eager-to challenge custom, and fiercely devoted to the Qirsi people. When the time came, he would be a valuable member of the movement. Yet, Dusaan’s aim in leading this cause had always been the betterment of his own people. It had never occurred to him that centuries of Eandi rule had taken their toll on Eandi commoners as well, that the destruction of the Eandi courts and the establishment of a Qirsi nobility might be hailed by Ean’s children as well as by Qirsar’s.

The young man’s reasoning in this discussion, like Dusaan’s own, seemed odd for another reason as well. It placed them both in the position of supporting the emperor. Dusaan would have little choice but to take Harel’s part no matter his personal opinion on the matter. As high chancellor, this was his duty. But he found himself forced to admit that Harel’s decision in this one instance was absolutely correct. The mere notion of it made him uncomfortable.

“Surely, High Chancellor,” the older Qirsi began once again, “you see the importance of preserving custom in matters pertaining to the lordships. If we can take part of the moor from Grensyn, then what’s to stop Pinthrel from laying claim to the rest of Braedon Wood, or Refte from challenging Oerdd’s claim to the northern half of the hills?” He opened his hands, as if in supplication. “This path leads to turmoil. You must not be blind to this.”

Dusaan had to smile at the old man’s fear. Some Qirsi, he knew, were sorely ill prepared for the changes that were coming to the Forelands.

“I assure you, Chancellor, the emperor’s decision will do no such thing. It may anger a few of the lords, but it will not lead to the downfall of the empire.” Several of the ministers laughed at this, though Stavel only appeared to grow more distraught. “Circumstances in the south are especially difficult right now,” Dusaan went on, trying to sound reasonable. “Muelry is still recovering from the pestilence that struck there during the last growing. And as Nitara has pointed out, her lands are poorly suited to growing anything more than grasses and thistle. Pinthral and Refte have no need of more land, and would not be granted such if they requested it.”

Stavel started to protest, but Dusaan raised his hand, silencing him. “The matter is decided. The emperor has spoken, and I believe that a majority of those in this chamber agree with his solution.” This might have been a stretch, but none of the others would question him, not on this. “Word of the emperor’s decision will be sent south in the morning.” He glanced around the chamber. The older chancellor and his small group of allies appeared disheartened, but Nitara, Kayiv, and several of the younger ministers looked far more pleased than they usually did at these discussions. “Is there anything else?”

He knew there would be-he had heard several of the ministers speaking of it in the corridor earlier that day-but it was not for him to broach the subject.

That task fell to Kayiv. Naturally.

“You’ve heard of the death of Lord Lachmas?” There seemed to be a gleam in the young Qirsi’s bright golden eyes.

“Yes, I have. A tragedy for all of Braedon. The emperor was rather distraught.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Dusaan held the man’s gaze until at last Kayiv looked away.

“If there’s something on your mind, Minister, you should speak and be done with it.”

“Isn’t it obvious, High Chancellor?” Nitara asked, answering for the young man. As he had before on several occasions, Dusaan found himself thinking that she and Kayiv might very well be lovers. “Nobles have been dying throughout the other realms over the past year, all of their deaths attributed to the Qirsi conspiracy. Now it seems that this conspiracy has finally reached Braedon.”

Actually it hadn’t. The Weaver had not ordered Lord Lachmas’s death and he had no reason to believe that any of his underlings in the movement had acted without his consent. Indeed, he had no underlings in Braedon. He needed to be able to walk in the dreams of those who served him, and his renown in Braedon would have made it too dangerous for him to do so. This was, until just a few days before, one of the great weaknesses in his plan. He could not afford to have Qirsi in the Braedon courts serving him, but the longer Braedon remained immune to the movement’s attacks, the more the realm’s lack of strife would draw the attention of others in the Forelands, Eandi and Qirsi. With Lord Lachmas’s death, that was no longer a concern.

As far as Dusaan could tell, the man had truly died as the result of a hunting accident. According to the message from Lachmas, a stray arrow, apparently from the bow of his younger son, struck the lord in the back. The arrow itself might not have killed him, but the fall from his mount snapped his neck. A tragic accident that aided Dusaan’s cause as much as any planned assassination could have. The emperor was terrified. He had ordered the doubling of the number of guards positioned at every gate in Curtell city, and had taken even more drastic precautions with the palace walls and barbicans. It seemed the emperor’s Qirsi were frightened as well, or at least curious.

“We have no evidence that the conspiracy had anything to do with this,” he said calmly. “The message the emperor received from Lachmas made it sound like an accident. Tragic to be sure, but completely innocent.”

Kayiv smirked. “Of course it did. Lachmas dies in a hunting accident. Filib of Thorald is killed by common road thieves. Carden of Aneira takes his own life. Grigor, his brother, is hanged for poisoning the queen and her dukes. And we’re just to accept that all of these deaths have nothing to do with the conspiracy, that Eandi nobles are dying in great number by sheer coincidence.” He shook his head. “I, for one, don’t believe it.”

“I see.” Dusaan glanced at the others. “And the rest of you?”

“It does seem odd,” Stavel said. Others nodded. “You say that the emperor was distraught. Was there more to it than that? Is it true that he trebled the palace guard?”

Dusaan hesitated, as they would expect. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s true.”

“Is there reason to believe that an attack on the emperor is imminent?”

The high chancellor had to smile. “There is no reason to believe that there has been any attack, or that any is forthcoming.”

“It wouldn’t matter if there was,” Kayiv said, and Dusaan thought he heard a hint of pride in the young man’s voice. “If the conspiracy decides that our emperor is next on their list of Eandi nobles to be killed, all the guards in Curtell won’t be able to stop them.”

Stavel eyed him warily. “You speak as would one of these renegades, Minister. You’d best take care you’re not branded a traitor.”

Kayiv glared at the man. “Branded by whom, Chancellor? Traitors come in many forms.”

“That’s enough! Both of you,” Dusaan added, glowering at Kayiv and Stavel in turn. He could foresee a day when having Harel’s ministers and chancellors questioning each others’ loyalty might serve his purposes, but that time had not yet come. The emperor was frightened enough already. Any whisperings among his Qirsi to the effect that one or more of them might be disloyal would convince the emperor that no white-hair could be trusted, not even Dusaan. “I will not have the Qirsi of this palace casting accusations at one another like quarrelsome children! For the last time, Lord Lachmas died as a result of a hunting accident, and until we have proof to the contrary, we shall not discuss the matter further. Those of you who can’t accept that should leave the palace at once.” He allowed his gaze to travel the chamber, as if waiting for any number of them to walk out of the room. “Good,” he said at last, lowering his voice. “The emperor is imagining Qirsi traitors in every corner. The last thing he needs right now is to have his most trusted advisors fueling his suspicions.”

Kayiv gave a small mirthless laugh. “He hasn’t trusted us for some time now. Lachmas’s death is probably just the excuse he’s been looking for to have us all hanged.”

For all the promise the Weaver saw in this young man, he also found him thoroughly exasperating, in no small part because of comments like these. The minister seemed to assume that Dusaan was just another fawning Qirsi advisor who had turned his back on their people to devote himself to the Eandi courts. Well, the time had come to banish that notion from his mind.

“This discussion is over,” he said. “We’ll meet again tomorrow.”

He watched as the underministers stood and began to leave his chamber, some of them whispering among themselves, but most of them silent and withdrawn.

Dusaan did not usually allow himself to grow anxious about anything-in his position, how could he? But waiting for the ministers to go, he felt his pulse racing like that of a war stallion driven beyond endurance. There was a risk here. Not much of one, to be sure. He had studied these two for some time, and he felt fairly confident of how they would respond. But there was danger nonetheless, far more than he had ever entertained before.

“Minister, would you stay a moment?” he called, just as Kayiv reached the door. His voice sounded even, calm.

The woman remained as well. They had to be lovers. Normally he would not have tolerated her presence, but in this case he had expected it, even hoped for it. The promise that had drawn him to the one could be found in both.

He wouldn’t tell all. Not even his most trusted servants knew that much. But all wouldn’t be necessary.

“Close the door.”

Kayiv and Nitara exchanged a look. Then he pushed the door closed and they returned to their seats. They made a fine pair, he slender and muscular for a Qirsi, she lean as well, but with a round, attractive face, and full lips. Just the kind of young nobility that the Weaver would need to lead the Forelands when the Eandi courts finally fell.

“You need to learn when to speak your mind and when to remain silent,” the Weaver said, taking a seat near theirs. “You’ve nearly got old Stavel convinced that you’re a traitor.”

Kayiv looked away. “We’re all Qirsi here,” he said, a bitter note in his voice. “We should be able to say what we wish without worrying that others will go running to the emperor spouting tales of the conspiracy.”

“Come now. You can’t really be that simple.”

The younger man glared at him, but Dusaan was watching Nitara. All this time he had been planning to turn Kayiv, with the hope that the woman would follow. But it suddenly occurred to him that she was the more reasonable of the two, the one who could control the other.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, clearly understanding already.

“Just what you think I do. To say that we’re all Qirsi is to ignore the lessons of our people’s history. No doubt the Weavers who led the Qirsi invasion nine centuries ago thought much as Kayiv does, just before Carthach betrayed them to the armies of the north.”

She sat forward, light yellow eyes wide and eager. “Lachmas was killed by the conspiracy, wasn’t he?”

Dusaan smiled. He wasn’t ready to answer her just yet. “Why would the conspiracy want him dead?”

Kayiv shrugged. “Because he’s Eandi.”

“You think that’s reason enough?”

Nitara shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t be. They have to see some gain in it, some way in which it would weaken the empire.”

“Good,” Dusaan said, nodding. “Can you think of any?”

She sat still for several moments, her eyes trained on the floor, as if she were looking for answers in the patterned carpet. “Lachmas and Curtell were rivals in the earliest days of the empire,” she said at last. “But for the past several centuries, the lords of Lachmas have been among Curtell’s more reliable allies.” She looked up. “Is it possible that they wanted to make it seem the act of one of the other houses, say Qestryd or Hanyck? Houses that have been more vocal in their dissatisfaction with the Curtell Dynasty.”

Dusaan pressed his fingertips together, watching her reason it out. She really was quite lovely. “Perhaps. To what end?”

Nitara frowned, looking to Kayiv for help. “Could they be trying to start a civil war? That’s been their aim elsewhere. At least that’s how it seems.”

Kayiv shook his head. “It wouldn’t work here. The ruling houses in the other realms need at least a few allies among the rest of the houses. Without it they could be overthrown. But here. .” He shrugged. “House Curtell is really the only power in Braedon. The emperor could crush any dissent before it became a threat to his hold on the throne.”

Dusaan nodded. “Good,” he said again. “Very good.”

“So then why was Lachmas murdered?” Nitara asked, her brow creased.

The Weaver regarded her placidly. “Actually he wasn’t.”

Kayiv narrowed his eyes. “You know this for certain?”

“Yes, as it happens, I do.”

“How?”

Dusaan could hear it in the man’s voice. He knew already, just as she had before. They both would serve him well.

“Because if he had been, I would have been the one paying the assassins.”

They shared a glance again, and Nitara grinned as if to say, You see, I told you.

“You’re with the conspiracy?” Kayiv asked, sounding doubtful.

“We prefer to call it “the movement,’ but yes, I am.”

Nitara started to speak, but the minister stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Why should we believe you?” He gave that same small laugh again, his eyes darting about the chamber as if he expected the imperial army to appear at any moment. “Why shouldn’t we just go to the emperor right now and reveal you as a traitor?”

“You’re welcome to, if that’s what you wish to do. I’ll deny it, of course. I’ll tell the emperor that I was testing you, that after your strange comments in our discussion today, I feared that you had betrayed the empire. Your decision to inform the emperor will have established your innocence, and so life in the palace will continue on as if nothing happened at all. Except that the three of us will know the truth, and eventually, when the opportunity presents itself, I’ll have you both killed, or imprisoned as traitors, which I suppose is the same thing.”

The blood drained from Nitara’s face and even Kayiv looked unnerved, although he managed to hold the Weaver’s gaze. Dusaan continued to stare at them for a few moments, his expression grave. Then at last he smiled, though neither of them looked relieved when he did.

“But I don’t think that will be necessary, because I don’t think either of you is going to repeat any of this to the emperor.”

Kayiv took Nitara’s hand, his eyes never straying from the Weaver’s face. “You sound so certain.”

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.”

“Watching us?”

“All of you, really-the emperor’s ministers and chancellors-trying to decide which of you might be prepared to join the movement.”

“And you chose us.”

“Does that surprise you?”

Kayiv didn’t answer, but Nitara released his hand, shifting in her chair. Her color had returned and she was eyeing the Weaver with interest.

“What would we have to do?”

“Not much at first. Mostly you’d act as though nothing at all had happened. The three of us would meet from time to time so that I might inform you of how our plans are progressing. And you’d probably receive some gold.”

To their credit, neither of them asked the obvious question.

“How long have you been with the movement?” she asked instead.

Forever. Iam the movement. “A long time. Since its inception.”

“Are you one of its leaders.”

“The movement is led by a Weaver. None of those who serve him know his name or where he can be found. But all instructions come from him.”

“A Weaver,” she repeated breathlessly. “I thought they were all gone.”

Dusaan had to smile at the irony. Somewhere in the Forelands, another Weaver, a man named Grinsa, searched for him, even as he hunted the man in turn. “I believe you’ll find that there are more of them than any have imagined. With the Eandi ruling the Forelands, they keep themselves hidden, fearing for their lives. But when this war is over and the Forelands belong to the Qirsi, they’ll be free to reveal themselves.” And then the Eandi will see how powerful our people truly can be.

“A Weaver,” she whispered again, as if the word itself were new to her. “How does he-”

“He walks in the dreams of those who serve his cause.”

Kayiv nodded. “Of course. How else could the consp-?” He stopped himself. “How else could the movement strike at so many courts at once?”

“The realms of the Eandi are weakened already. It won’t be long until the Weaver reveals himself and asserts his power over all the Forelands. When that happens, the men and women who serve him will take their place in a new pantheon of Qirsi nobility. Those who oppose him-Eandi and Qirsi-will perish.”

“What if his movement fails?” the younger man asked.

“It won’t.”

“The invasion,” Nitara whispered. “The invasion is part of his plan, isn’t it? First he weakens the kingdoms, and then, when the Eandi go to war, further weakening themselves, he strikes at them.” She stared at Dusaan, as if seeing him for the first time. “You’ve been pushing the emperor toward this invasion all along, haven’t you? That’s your role in this.”

“That’s part of my role, yes, although in truth, I haven’t had to push very hard. Harel wants this war, or at least he thinks he does. That’s something you should always remember about the Eandi. Given the opportunity to destroy themselves, they will usually take it. We need only be patient and await a time when we can use their foolishness to our advantage.”

“It sounds as though the movement can’t fail,” Kayiv said, a familiar note of defiance in his tone. It almost seemed that the man couldn’t speak without challenging someone to a fight. “All the work’s been done already. Why would you need us?”

“Our work won’t be done for many years. Surely you must understand that. The Eandi may be fools but they’re not cowards, and they don’t take defeat lightly. We need to know which Qirsi will support us when the time comes, and we need to know that we can count on those Qirsi when the Eandi realize their error and turn their weapons on us.” He paused, smiling at both of them. “And of course, when victory is ours, we’ll need those young Qirsi nobles of whom I spoke just a moment ago.”

Bells began to toll in Curtell city and all of them paused. Midday. The emperor would be expecting him shortly, and he still had to attend to the treasury accounting.

“I’m afraid I need your answer now,” Dusaan said. “I’ve told you what the movement can offer you, and I’ve told you as well what will happen to you both should you refuse us. Now the two of you must decide.”

Kayiv opened his hands. “You haven’t given us much of a choice, High Chancellor. Riches and power on the one hand, or death on the other. Do you really expect us to say no?”

“Of course not. But I do expect you to follow all of my instructions. The first time one of you defies me in any way, either by refusing a command, or by doing or saying anything that endangers the movement, I’ll kill you both. I won’t have you joining our cause merely to acquire wealth or ensure your survival. We’re offering you and every Qirsi in the land a wondrous future, but you’ll have to earn your right to see that future, just as you’ll have to earn your gold. Do you understand?”

Nitara nodded. “Yes.” She actually smiled, though the color had fled her cheeks again. “I’ve hoped for this for some time now. Truly I have. I just never imagined that my path to the movement was so close at hand.”

“I know that you’ll serve us well.” He turned his gaze to Kayiv. “And you, Minister? Are you ready to serve the Weaver as well?”

The young man looked away, his mouth twisting sourly.

Nitara, slipped from her chair and knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers and looking up into his bright eyes. “We’ve spoken of this. We’ve dreamed of it. Why do you fight it now?”

Kayiv gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

“He fights it because he dislikes me,” Dusaan said, knowing as he spoke the words that it was true. “Isn’t that right, Minister?”

The man faced him, though reluctantly. “I don’t know you well enough to dislike you, High Chancellor. But I can’t say that I trust you, at least not enough to place our lives in your hands.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late, Kayiv. Your lives are in my hands. You need to make your peace with that. Serve the movement well and I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Kayiv looked down at Nitara again. After several moments, he nodded, all the time gazing into her eyes. “Very well.”

“Good. Leave me now. I must see the emperor. You’ll receive your gold shortly and we’ll speak again after our daily discussion two days hence.” Dusaan paused briefly, thinking. “Kayiv, during that discussion you’ll say something to Stavel that will anger me, that will force me to ask you to remain here again after the others have gone. I don’t know what we’ll be speaking of, so you’ll have to think of it on your own.” He grinned. “You seem quite adept at saying the inappropriate thing, however. I don’t expect you’ll have much trouble finding the right words.”

That, of all things, brought a smile to the young minister’s lips. “No, I don’t suppose I will.”

The two of them rose and started toward the door.

“Neither of you has asked me how much gold you’ll be receiving,” he said, stopping them once more. “That pleases me.”

Kayiv turned. “I had wondered.”

“I don’t doubt it. It should be approximately one hundred qinde, imperial, of course.”

Kayiv raised an eyebrow at this, but Dusaan merely smiled.

“I’m paid in imperials, as well,” he said, the first direct falsehood he had told them. “If we were to start spending common currency in the markets in Curtell it would draw unwanted attention.”

Actually, Dusaan usually paid those who served him in the common currency used by the other realms. Imperial qinde were held to have less value than the qinde used by the six; his underlings would prefer the common currency. More to the point, he feared that paying imperial qinde to his servants in Sanbira or Aneira or any of the other realms might reveal his identity. Few Qirsi in Braedon had access to so much gold and it wouldn’t take the more clever ones much time to realize that he was the mysterious Weaver who entered their dreams at night. By the same token, he feared that paying the more valuable currency to these two would raise their suspicions. Why would the high chancellor of Braedon have access to so much common currency if he were merely another soldier in the Weaver’s army?

“That’s a good deal of gold,” Kayiv said.

“One hundred is a guess. It may be a bit more, it may be less. Either way, you’re right, it’s more than you make in an entire year. Don’t spend it like a drunken Eandi. You’ll only draw the emperor’s attention.”

“How is it that the Qirsi we now serve have become so wealthy?”

The Weaver gave a thin smile. “You’ll find, Minister, that the movement’s leaders have little tolerance for such questions. The Weaver has resources that you can’t even fathom, and power to match. Leave it at that, and be grateful that he’s asked you to be his ally in this fight.”

Kayiv nodded, and a moment later he and Nitara stepped into the corridor, pulling Dusaan’s door closed behind them.

Dusaan returned to his writing table and pulled the imperial treasury accounting from the shelf beside it. Arranging for the ministers’ gold would be easy. The wages of all the emperor’s ministers and chancellors were paid at the end of the waxing, as were those of his soldiers and laborers. Finding two hundred qinde for these two would be no more difficult than it had been appropriating gold for his other servants.

He had no doubt that Nitara would serve him well, as long as she listened more to him than to her lover. Kayiv, however, was another matter. He possessed three magics, two of which-shaping and language of beasts-were among the more potent Qirsi powers. He had a keen intellect and great confidence in his own abilities, qualities that Dusaan looked for in his most trusted servants. But he was contentious and too quick to question his superiors. Since the young man’s arrival in the palace several years before, Dusaan had attributed his difficult manner to dissatisfaction with Eandi rule in general and Harel’s ineptitude in particular, sentiments the Weaver shared. After this day’s conversation, however, he was forced to wonder if it was something inherent in Kayiv himself.

Dusaan had long been reluctant to turn any of Harel’s Qirsi to his cause, fearing that working so closely with those who served him might make it impossible to maintain the secrecy on which his very life depended. But in this instance, he drew some comfort from the fact that he would be able to keep watch on Kayiv himself. The man struck him as a most dangerous addition to the movement.

They didn’t dare say a word until they were back in her chamber, and even with her door closed, Nitara was afraid to speak in anything more than a whisper. Despite her fear of what the high chancellor had suddenly become, seemingly before their eyes, she could barely contain the mixture of exhilaration and apprehension that gripped her now. For nearly a year, she and Kayiv had spoken of joining the conspiracy, sharing their dreams of a new Qirsi Supremacy in hushed tones as they lay together in her bed, still breathless, their passion sated. It had never occurred to either of them that others in the palace shared this dream. Certainly they had never guessed that Dusaan might be anything less than completely loyal to the emperor.

Learning that he had joined the movement years ago, that he had guessed that they would be open to doing the same simply by observing them in their daily discussions, both thrilled her and frightened her. Had they really been so obvious? Or was the high chancellor simply far more formidable than they had ever believed? In either case she could not help but wonder at her own carelessness.

Kayiv dropped himself into the chair by her hearth and Nitara sat on the bed, watching him. He had surprised her with his reluctance to join the movement, and even now, alone with her, he appeared uncertain, as if he feared they had made a terrible mistake.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice low. “What’s bothering you so?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “I honestly don’t know. I sense that Dusaan isn’t telling us everything. I suppose I’m still not convinced that he’s really with the conspiracy. What if he goes to the emperor? We’ve just committed treason against the empire, and though we’ve spoken of doing so for some time, I feel that we were coerced into pledging ourselves to the movement. It almost seemed that the high chancellor had a blade pointed at my heart.”

“Well, he did threaten us. But I don’t see that he had much choice. He confessed to being a traitor, too. He needed to be certain that we wouldn’t betray him to Harel.”

“No, he didn’t.” Kayiv stood, walking to the tapestry that hung on her wall and pushing it to the side so that he could gaze out the narrow window onto the palace courtyard. Cold air swirled through the room. “He said it himself. If we tried to betray him, he’d claim that it had been a deception, a test of our loyalty to the throne.”

“I’m not certain that would have saved him. A turn or two ago it might have, but with Lachmas’s death the emperor sees traitors everywhere. He might not have believed such a story, even hearing it from Dusaan. And I think the chancellor knew that as well.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

“It’s getting cold in here.”

Kayiv glanced at her, then let the tapestry fall over the window once more. He returned to his chair and sat again, rubbing his hands together, his jaw clenched.

“I sensed the same thing you did,” she told him. “He wasn’t telling us everything. But I don’t think he was lying to us about where his loyalties lie. He’s with the conspiracy. And now we are as well. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I thought it was.”

“What’s changed?”

“Nothing. Nothing will change. Maybe that’s what bothers me. I’m not certain that replacing the Eandi courts with Qirsi courts is going to do much good, especially if the Qirsi nobles all answer to this Weaver Dusaan mentioned. How long do you think the Eandi will tolerate that before they rebel?”

“We’ll control the armies by then. We’ll control them with our magic.”

“There aren’t enough of us, Nitara. Think about it for a moment. There are ten Eandi for every Qirsi in the Forelands. Unless the Weaver intends to execute ten of thousands of them and imprison the rest, there’s no way we can hold the realms once we have them.”

“Maybe they won’t rebel.”

He frowned. “You can’t really believe that’s a possibility.”

“Of course I can. They might resist at first. But what if Qirsi rule brings better times for the Eandi as well? Not for the nobles, mind you, but for the commoners. What if the Qirsi end the kind of foolishness we were discussing today-the dispute in Grensyn? Don’t you think that might win their loyalty?”

“I think you’re asking an awful lot of Eandi commoners. And I don’t think you truly understand how much our people are hated throughout the land.” Kayiv shook his head, a look of despair in his golden eyes. “Our power would be based on fear-fear of our magic, fear of the Weaver, fear created by more executions than I care to imagine. That’s really the only way it would work.”

“So then you admit that it could work.”

He stared at her, as if unable to believe what he had just heard her say. “Yes, but at what cost?”

Nitara felt her anger rising, and when next she spoke it was with a passion she hadn’t known she possessed. “After the invasion failed, the Eandi killed all the Qirsi commanders, and all the Weavers as well! To this day, they’ve continued to kill every Weaver they could find! And you believe we should feel sorry for those who’ll have to die so that we can win our freedom?”

He actually looked afraid-afraid of her, she realized, a twisting pain in her chest. “It probably won’t come to that,” she went on a moment later, trying to sound more reasonable. “The high chancellor said there might be more Weavers than we thought. With a Weaver leading each realm, there’ll be little need for executions.”

She swung herself off the bed, stepping to his chair so that she could stand behind him and rub his shoulders. “Come now, love. We’ve spoken of this for too long for you to back away from it now. Besides, we’ve given Dusaan our word, and I certainly didn’t sense any deception in his voice when he spoke of killing us if we defied him.” She bent over and kissed the side of his neck. “We’re led by a Weaver,” she whispered in his ear. “We’re going to win this war. We can be nobles, rich, powerful. We can rule together. Surely you want that.”

He took hold of her hands, drawing one to his lips and then the other. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do want that.”

She circled the chair, stopping in front of him. “Then quit your brooding,” she said, removing her ministerial robe and unbuttoning the dress she wore beneath it “We’re going to change the world together. We should be celebrating.”

She let the dress fall to the floor and, stepping out of it, took Kayiv’s hand and led him to her bed.

“It feels strange to celebrate a war,” he said.

Nitara smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips, as she began to remove his clothes. “We’re not. We’re celebrating victory.”