Seeds of Betrayal

Chapter Twenty

Thorald, Eibithar

Marston had hoped to reach his father’s castle in Thorald long before the end of the waning. Indeed, he had promised his wife and children that he would be back in Shanstead by Pitch Night. That now seemed unlikely. The ride from Kentigern to Thorald measured nearly a hundred leagues and would have taken the company from Shanstead nearly half a turn even in the best weather. The return of the snows slowed them as they crossed the Moorlands, as did the rising of a cold north wind as they forded Binthar’s Wash. As the waning progressed, Marston feared that they would not ford the Thorald River until Qirsar’s Turn began, and with it the new year.

Entering the North Wood, however, they found the forest roads muddy but passable, and they were able to quicken their pace. For the next four days, Marston pushed the men and their mounts, resting only when absolutely necessary and riding well into the night by the weak glow of the two moons. They came within sight of Thorald’s famed walls and double moat the day before Pitch Night. Most of the celebrations were over by then. Marston had long since missed Bohdan’s Night, the Night of Two Moons in the god’s turn, when family and friends exchanged gifts and shared in great feasts. But at least he and his men would not be abroad on the last night of the waning.

As the Pitch Night legends went, Bohdan’s Turn offered little to fear. Pitch Night in the god’s turn was a night of quiet contemplation after the festivities of the turn. But even the bravest of men preferred to be safely housed on any night when neither moon shone.

After leaving the mounts with the castle’s stablemaster, and making certain that his men were given rooms on the east corridor, where the castle’s guests were always lodged, Marston walked across the upper ward to his father’s quarters. A light snow fell on the brown grasses and empty gardens of the ward, and a cold wind blew over the castle’s ramparts, carrying the scent of Amon’s Ocean and the ghostly cry of a single gull.

Usually, Marston would have brought Xivled, his Qirsi minister, to such a meeting. But Aindreas had insisted that Xiv be excluded from their conversation in Kentigern, and though the man had been uncompromising in his condemnation of the king, and unreasonable in the demands he placed on Thorald, Marston thought it best to honor his demand for privacy, even here. He also hadn’t seen his father in some time, and given how quickly the illness was spreading through Tobbar’s body, there was part of him that feared seeing the duke again. Best that he be alone.

As it happened, he had also asked Xiv to attend to another matter while they were in Thorald, one that needed to be addressed discreetly.

Entering the tower at the north corner of the ward, Marston hesitated, unsure as to whether to go to Tobbar’s presence hall or his chambers.

“He’s in his bedchambers, my lord,” one of the guards said, his voice low.

Marston turned to the man. “Is he worse, then?”

The guard stared at him for a moment before lowering his gaze and nodding.

Marston took a breath, his stomach tightening. I’m not ready to be duke. I’m not ready to lose my father. “I see. Thank you.”

He climbed the stairs to the upper corridor and walked quickly to his father’s chambers. Marston and his brother had been raised in Shanstead; his father only came to Thorald seven and half years before when Filib the Elder, duke of Thorald and next in line after old Aylyn to be king, was killed in a hunting accident. Marston and Chalton hadn’t even been of Fating age then, but the duke’s son, Filib the Younger, needed a regent, and since he was then heir to the throne, his needs outweighed those of Tobbar’s sons. Tobbar returned to Shanstead quite often during the next several years, but still Marston felt that he had been robbed of his father. His resentment of his cousin Filib festered like an untreated wound until he found himself lying in his bed in the dark of night, wishing for the boy’s death.

By the time Filib was killed, several years later-everyone assumed at the time that his death came at the hands of common road thieves- Marston had outgrown his childish jealousies. He was seventeen by then, past his Fating. He had assumed the thaneship in Shanstead and so had come to understand the workings of the Eandi courts and the demands placed by the Rules of Ascension upon all the major houses, but especially Thorald.

Still, those nights he had spent cursing Filib’s name haunted him, and he couldn’t help but feel some guilt about the boy’s death. To this day, walking through the corridors of Thorald Castle disturbed him. Despite the Thorald blood flowing in his veins, despite the many years his father had lived here, this fortress had never been his home. He would be duke before long. Chalton would take the thaneship and Marston would move to Thorald. But he doubted that he would ever feel comfortable in this place. His heart lay in Shanstead.

Pausing in front of his father’s door to take a long breath and offer a quick prayer to Ean, Marston knocked.

“Come in!” Tobbar’s voice sounded strong, giving the thane some hope.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. A fire burned brightly in the hearth and the windows were shuttered, making the chamber far too warm for Marston’s liking. But Tobbar was seated by a low table, rather than lying in bed, a small scroll in his hands. His face appeared far too thin and pale, the round ruddy cheeks Marston remembered from just a year ago nothing more than a memory. But his grey eyes sparkled with the glow of the fire, and a smile lit his face. He even managed to stand as Marston crossed the chamber to embrace him.

“I expected you days ago,” the duke said, releasing his son and waving a bony hand at a nearby chair.

Marston pulled the chair over next to his father’s and sat.

“I know. If the snows had held off for another half turn, we would have been here sooner. As it was we were lucky to make it here when we did.”

He glanced around the chamber and was pleased to see that his father was alone, save for a pair of servants. Usually his first minister was with him. Enid ja Kovar had served Tobbar for several years now, and though his father still trusted her, even with all the rumors of Qirsi betrayal spreading across the Forelands, Marston did not. As his doubts about Filib the Younger’s death mounted, he had begun to question whether the minister might have been involved in the young lord’s murder. Tobbar rejected the notion, and had grown angry the last time Marston raised the matter. But the thane still preferred to avoid her. At this point, he distrusted most Qirsi. Xiv was the son of his father’s first Qirsi advisor. The two of them had spent much of their youth together. Had he not agreed to serve as Marston’s minister, the thane would have none at all. As it was, he did not plan to take on more ministers when he became duke, though most dukes had several underministers in addition to their first ministers. He had little doubt that as word of the Qirsi conspiracy continued to spread, more and more Eandi nobles would follow his example.

“Tell me of your visit with Kentigern.”

Marston gave a wan smile. “I’m afraid it wasn’t much of a visit. I was there only one night before he as much as ordered me from his castle.”

Tobbar’s eyes widened. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing that you wouldn’t have, Father. I promise you.”

The duke looked away, his expression troubled. “I believe you. Tell me what happened.”

Marston described his conversation with Aindreas, making certain not to leave out any details, not even those he knew would displease his father.

“You shouldn’t have brought up Brienne’s murder,” Tobbar said when he had finished, shaking his head and staring at the fire.

“I didn’t bring it up, Father. Aindreas did. We could hardly expect him not to. It lies at the root of everything.”

Tobbar faced him, his eyes bright and angry. “But to tie it to the conspiracy. Demons and fire, Marston! What were you thinking?”

“His first minister betrayed him less than a turn after the girl’s death, Father! You may be willing to accept that the two had nothing to do with each other, but I can’t. The conspiracy is real, and it has been for longer than any of us-”

“We’re not going to have this conversation right now!”

“It has been for longer than any of us want to admit!”

“I won’t listen to this again!”

“Damn your stubbornness, Father! You have to listen!”

The duke was glaring at him, his cheeks looking unnaturally flushed, and his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if just arguing the point demanded too great an effort.

“Nobles are dying, Father,” he went on a moment later, his voice lower. “Eandi nobles. Not just in Eibithar, but all through the Forelands. I know that Aindreas’s Qirsi betrayed him to the Aneirans, but even with the minister weakening Kentigern’s gates, an assault on the tor could have only hoped to succeed with the duke away, fighting with the Curgh army.”

“Maybe the Qirsi was in league with the Aneirans for a long time, but only arranged the siege after Brienne’s murder. Maybe he was taking advantage of an opportunity.”

“You know as well as I that a siege of that size requires more planning than that. Aindreas’s minister didn’t take advantage of an opportunity, he created one.”

“Have the Qirsi done anything like this in the other kingdoms?” Tobbar asked. “It’s one thing to assassinate a noble, but have they killed other young girls and implicated their paramours?”

“Not that I’ve heard of. But,” Marston added quickly, “they have killed nobles and made it seem the work of court rivals or thieves. I’m sure they’ve even tried to disguise their handiwork by making a murder seem to be nothing more than an accident.”

Tobbar narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think has happened here in Thorald?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. All I can say is that Eibithar has been on a path to civil war for some time now, longer than any of us realized at first. It began with that incident in Galdasten all those years ago, at the Feast. When Uncle Filib was killed, and Filib the Younger after him, it ensured that grandfather’s death would give the crown to Javan of Curgh. And Brienne’s death made it likely that Javan’s ascension would bring war.”

“And you believe this was all the work of the conspiracy? The incident in Galdasten? My brother’s death? Your cousin’s?”

“It’s possible.”

“What happened in Galdasten was nothing more or less than the act of a madman, a villager who had lost his wife to an illness, and his son to the pestilence.”

“That may be so. But the rest-”

“The elder Filib was thrown by his mount. Had he landed one fourspan to the right or left of that stone, he would have survived. You think the Qirsi did that as well?”

“There’s a magic known as the language of beasts-”

“His swordmaster was with him! ” Tobbar said, his voice rising. “He saw the mount rear! There wasn’t a white-hair within a league of them!”

He should have known better than to pursue this matter. Each time he and his father spoke of the conspiracy, it came to this. Tobbar refused to accept that his Qirsi could be involved, and Marston remained just as adamant in his refusal to believe that all the events of the past few years were unrelated. With his father weakened by illness, he should have let the discussion end, but his fears, and perhaps his pride, wouldn’t allow it.

“Nobody witnessed Filib the Younger’s death,” he said. “Will you at least allow that there may have been more to his murder than we first thought?”

He expected his father to rail at him again, but the duke surprised him. “I don’t know what to believe about the boy. The Revel was in Thorald at the time, and I warned him that there were thieves about.”

“But there were Qirsi here, as well.”

Tobbar eyed him briefly before turning his gaze on the fire again. “Yes.” He frowned. “That doesn’t mean the conspiracy killed him. Whoever it was cut off his finger to get the Thorald signet ring. I still think it was probably thieves.”

“But?”

His father looked at him again, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But with all that’s happened since, I have to wonder if someone wished to have the House of Thorald removed from the Order of Ascension.”

Marston started to agree, but his father stopped him with a raised finger.

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to send away all my ministers,” he said. “As you say, the Revel was here, and with it all its gleaners and fire conjurers. If the Qirsi were behind his death, it would have been one of them. I’m certain of it.”

Once more, Marston wanted to argue the point, but his father had already admitted that Filib’s murder might have been an assassination, rather than a simple act of thievery. Marston had never thought the duke would come that far. Continuing the discussion was only likely to anger him further.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Tobbar raised an eyebrow. “Are you humoring me, whelp?”

Marston grinned. “Maybe I should go. You look tired.”

“I am tired. But you can’t leave yet.” The duke lifted a scroll off the table and handed it to him. It was tied with two satin ribbons, one tawny, the other black. The colors of Tremain.

Marston looked at his father a moment before unrolling the scroll.

“It arrived at Shanstead a few days ago. Your brother brought it to me, thinking it might be too important to keep until your return. Forgive me, but I read it, though it’s addressed to you.”

“Of course,” Marston said absently, beginning to read the message.

It was from the Lathrop, duke of Tremain. He wished to know where Marston stood in the conflict between Curgh and Kentigern, and he offered to ride to Shanstead to discuss the matter.

The message was brief and rather vague, but the last line caught Marston’s eye.

With the kingdom at the very precipice of war, it behooves all of us who honor the Rules of Ascension and cherish the peace they have brought to our land, to stand with the king. I hope you will agree.

“It seems Aindreas isn’t the only one interested in cultivating an alliance with you,” Tobbar said, as Marston began reading the message a second time. “I get the feeling they don’t expect me to live much longer.”

Marston looked up. “Father, no. I don’t think they-”

“It’s all right,” Tobbar said, smiling. “I’d do the same, were I in their position. You are the future of this house, you and your brother.”

“Did Chalton read this as well?”

“No. He left it with me, stayed just the one night, and returned home.”

Marston nodded, eyeing the message again. “Why would Lathrop write to me? He’s yet to take sides in this matter, and yet asks me to do just that.”

“I’d imagine Kearney asked him to do it.”

“But why. If the king wishes to ask one of his thanes where he stands on a matter of such importance, surely he can send the message himself.”

“Think, Marston. You’re going to be duke someday. It’s time you began to see the world through a noble’s eyes. Kearney has sent me several messages since his ascension. I’ve already spoken for the house, and I’ve made it clear to him I won’t commit Thorald to either side of this fight. But he needs to know what will happen when I’m gone. If he were to send a message to you directly, it would be an affront to me, an indication that he no longer considers me Thorald’s leader.”

“Is Tremain’s message any less of an affront?”

“He’s the duke of a minor house, and as you said, he hasn’t sided with either Javan or Aindreas. Under the circumstances, he was an appropriate choice. Strictly speaking, I’d be justified in taking offense, but as a practical matter, Kearney needed to get a message to you, and this was the best, quickest way for him to do so.” He gazed at Marston for several moments, a slight smile on his pallid face. “The question is, how are you going to respond?”

The thane shrugged. “Just as you have, and just as I told Aindreas I would. Thorald wants no part of this fight.”

“Are you certain?”

“Surely I don’t have to convince you of this, Father. If we commit Thorald’s army to either side, it will embolden one of them and bring us to war. You’ve said so yourself a dozen times.”

“Yes, I have,” Tobbar said, nodding. “But I’m too old for a war. You’re not. And it may be that there’s something here worth fighting for.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“Do you want Davin to sit on the throne?”

The question silenced him. What man of Thorald didn’t dream of seeing his son crowned as king? The Rules of Ascension didn’t allow Marston or Chalton to aspire to the throne, but with Filib’s line dead, their sons could rule. Though only if Glyndwr relinquished the crown.

“Of course I do,” he answered at last. “But I won’t destroy the kingdom to put him there.”

“Is that what it would take?” his father asked mildly.

“Yes. Kearney has a son. And someday the younger Kearney probably will as well. Glyndwr won’t give up the throne. It would have to be taken, and that means war. It also means defying the Rules of Ascension. And if we abandon the rules, then even when Glyndwr’s line does fail, Thorald may need to fight to reassert its supremacy.” He shook his head. “Much as I’d like to see Davin as king, the price is too high. I won’t choose between Javan and Aindreas, and if one of them challenges the king, they’ll have to defeat our soldiers as well as the King’s Guard. I’ll lead the army myself.”

Tobbar nodded, the smile still on his lips. “Very good, Marston. Very good, indeed. The house will be in good hands when I’m gone.”

“You’re not fooling me, old man. You’re too stubborn to die.”

He grunted, facing the fire again. “Hardly. I’m tired, boy. The healers have given up on me, and I haven’t the strength or the will to fight this battle alone.”

Marston felt a strange tightening in his throat and he had to blink his eyes to keep the tears back. He wondered if his father had said any of this to Chalton.

“You needn’t grieve,” the duke said, firelight in his grey eyes. “I’ve had a good life. I’ve been in love, I’ve seen my boys grow to manhood, and I’ve ruled the land’s finest house. Few men can say as much. I would have liked to have more time with your mother, but Bian wanted her for himself.” He glanced at Marston, the smile touching his lips again for just an instant. “I’m eager to see her, even if it is in the Underrealm.”

Marston tried to grin. Failed. “Isn’t it enough to see her on the Night of the Dead?”

Tobbar shook his head, looking away once more. “I want to hold her hand. I want to kiss her. You can’t hold a wraith in your arms.”

He searched for something to say, but nothing came to him. “Perhaps I should leave you, Father. We can speak again later, when you’ve had some time to rest.”

The duke nodded.

Marston leaned forward and kissed his father on the cheek, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He stood and started to walk away, but Tobbar caught his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting him go.

Stepping out of the warmth of his father’s chamber into the cool air of the castle corridor, Marston paused. He was hungry, and he would have liked to lie down in a comfortable bed. But first he wanted to speak with the castle surgeon. I’m not ready to be du’te. He needed to know how much time he had to prepare.

Xivled remained in his chamber long enough to give his thane time to reach Tobbar’s quarters. Then he left, descending the tower stairs to the ward, and crossing to the north end of the castle, where the ministers had their rooms.

“Ask her about the messages Father has exchanged with the king,” Marston had instructed. “Father could probably tell me himself, but with his illness worsening, this is something the two of you can discuss. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

It was a simple enough task, one that was appropriately handled by ministers.

But in this case, Xivled hoped it would be merely a pretext for another conversation.

The minister half expected to find her chambers empty. She rarely left the duke’s side, and he thought it likely that she’d be with him this day as well. It seemed, however, that the gods were with him. Knocking on her door, he heard a rustling of scrolls and then footsteps approaching the door. An instant later, the door opened, and Enid ja Kovar stood before him, her ministerial robes hanging on a frame that appeared to be more bone than flesh.

She had once been a pretty woman. Xiv remembered thinking so during his first few visits to Thorald as Marston’s minister. Youth and beauty could be fleeting among his people, however, and Enid had grown old more quickly than most. She still wore her white hair tied back from her face, and her pale eyes still held the same look of keen intelligence and barely suppressed amusement he remembered from earlier visits to the castle. But her face had grown even thinner and more sallow than it once had been, making her resemble a cadaver more than a living woman.

“Cousin,” she said, obviously surprised to see him. “I didn’t know the thane had returned. Otherwise I would have been with the duke.”

“We reached the castle just a short time ago.”

She said nothing for several moments, as if expecting him to speak. When he didn’t, she gave a forced smile. “Well, have you come to fetch me, and bring me to the duke’s chambers?”

“Actually, no. I believe the thane wished to have some time alone with his father. He asked me to find you and learn what I could of his father’s correspondence with the king.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t he ask his father just as easily?”

“With the duke ill, my lord thought it best that he trouble Lord Thorald as little as possible with such matters. But if you prefer, I can seek out one of the underministers.”

This time her smile appeared genuine. “No, that’s not necessary. I can’t remember the last time I entertained such a charming young man in my bedchambers.”

Xiv gave a small laugh, hoping it would mask his discomfort.

“Please come in, cousin,” the first minister said, stepping to the side and waving him into her room.

He took a seat in a lone chair by the hearth. The minister walked to her writing table and sat, eyeing him with unconcealed curiosity.

“So you wish to know about Tobbar’s correspondence with the king.”

“My lord does, yes.”

She gave a slight frown. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. The king sends a brief message nearly every turn, stating his belief that the conflict between the lords of Curgh and Kentigern threatens to tear the kingdom apart, and asking the duke not to commit himself or his army to either man.”

“Does he tell the duke much of events in Curgh or Kentigern?”

“No. Indeed, I expect Lord Shanstead knows more of what is happening in Kentigern than does his father. For that matter, I imagine you know more than I do. Perhaps you can tell me something of your visit to the tor.”

“Of course, First Minister, though we were in Kentigern for less than a day.”

She let out a small breathless laugh. “Less than a day?”

“When the thane made it clear to Aindreas that he agreed with his father’s decision not to commit Thorald’s army to Kentigern’s cause, the duke demanded that we leave.”

“I see.”

“You’ve told me of the king’s messages. How does Lord Thorald respond to them?”

“As any dutiful Eandi noble would. With assurances of his continued fealty to the crown and promises that he will do as the king asks.”

Xiv smiled inwardly at the opening she had given him. “You don’t approve, First Minister?”

She smiled again, her small, sharp teeth looking as yellow as her eyes in the light of the fire. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. I merely offer my counsel.”

“But you speak of Lord Thorald’s sense of duty to his king as if it’s a fault.”

She regarded him silently for several moments, as if trying to gauge how much she could say.

“Speaking Qirsi to Qirsi,” she finally said, “I do find the blind devotion with which Eandi nobles follow their king somewhat… disturbing.”

“You’d rather your duke joined Aindreas of Kentigern in challenging the king’s authority?”

“Of course not. Don’t be a fool. I merely believe that the Eandi are so concerned with honoring the nobles above them that they do their leaders a disservice. The king would be much better served if his dukes could express themselves honestly, without fear of being branded traitors.”

“Do you think Lord Thorald wishes to respond differently to the king’s messages than he has?”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe so. My lord is a good man, but he doesn’t think boldly.”

Xiv nodded. “It seems the son doesn’t step far from his father’s shadow.”

“Really? I always thought the thane an intelligent young man.”

“He is, for an Eandi.” Xiv met her gaze. “That is what we’re talking about here, isn’t it? The difference between the Eandi and the Qirsi?”

“I’m not certain I understand what you mean,” she said, smiling in a way that told him she did.

Xiv gave a small shrug and stood. “Forgive me. I thought you would.”

He started toward the door, but before he was halfway across the room, she stopped him.

“Perhaps I do understand. Sit, cousin.” She hesitated, then added, “Please.”

After a moment’s pause, Xiv returned to his chair.

For a long time she just stared at him, as if she expected to read his thoughts from what she saw on his face. At last she stood and walked to the hearth, bending to place another log on the fire.

“You’ve known the thane for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Since we were boys in his father’s court.”

“I would think that after all these years, you’d be loyal to the man. Few of us have friendships that last half that long.”

“It’s because of how long I’ve known him that I feel no loyalty to him whatsoever.”

“What do you mean?”

Xiv looked away. “Our friendship is nearly as old as memory, yet he treats me like a servant. He’s known the captain of Shanstead’s army for three years, maybe four. But the two of them hunt together, their children play together, their wives speak to one another as sisters. All because they’re Eandi. Just once, I’d like him to address me as-” He stopped himself, exhaling loudly through his teeth. “The years we’ve known each other mean nothing to him,” he said, his voice low. “Why should they mean any more to me?”

She nodded. “You’re right; they shouldn’t. Has anyone contacted you yet?” she asked, picking up a poker and stirring the embers. “Have you received any gold?”

“No, nothing.”

She glanced at him. “Then what is it you want from me?”

“To join,” he said. “With all respect, First Minister, neither you nor your duke can live forever. With the thane assuming leadership of the House of Thorald, I feel certain that I’d be a valuable addition.”

Enid smiled thinly. “I’m delighted to hear my failing health has created such a wonderful opportunity for you.”

“I didn’t wish this on you, First Minister. But you’ve lived a full life, and I’d be a fool to let this chance slip by. I needn’t tell you that there’s a good deal of gold at stake.”

“This is about more than gold,” she said, her voice hardening. “This is about bringing Qirsi rule to the Forelands. It’s about allowing our children to dream of being more than court servants and Revel fools. You’d do well to remember that if you’re to join this cause.”

“Of course. Forgive me. I only meant that-”

“I know just what you meant. A few years ago, the gold meant a good deal to me, too. But as I’ve grown older, as my capacity for enjoying wealth has diminished, I’ve come to realize that the riches mean nothing next to the advancement of the Qirsi people. The W-” She stopped abruptly, her face coloring. “With time, you’ll understand this as well.”

“You were going to say something else.”

The minister shook her head. “It was nothing.” She paused, then, “You’re wrong about one thing though. I haven’t lived a full life. It may surprise you to learn that I’m only in my thirty-seventh year.”

Xiv couldn’t keep his eyes from widening. He would have guessed she was at least five years older than that.

She smirked. “Yes, I know. I appear far older. My mother died young, even for a Qirsi. It seems we share that fate.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t certain what else to say.

“Don’t be. I regret only that I won’t see this movement bear fruit.” She straightened and returned to her chair by the table. “Return to Shanstead with your thane. You’ll receive your first payment in the next turn or two, and soon after you’ll be contacted.”

“By whom?”

“It’s not my place to say,” she told him. “You may be given a task to complete, or you may be told to wait. Not long ago, there was a great deal happening here in Eibithar. Since Aylyn’s death, however, and the events in Kentigern, the movement has turned its attention to the southern kingdoms.”

Xiv shuddered, as if a frigid wind suddenly had swept through the chamber. “Was the… the movement responsible for Aylyn’s death?”

“Again, it’s not my place to say.”

“What about all that happened in Kentigern? Brienne’s death, the siege?”

“If you want to be welcome in this movement, cousin, you’ll stop asking questions. Each of us knows little of what the others do. Those who lead us prefer it that way. You’ll know what’s expected of you, and for now that should be enough.”

“I understand. It’s just that I know so little of the movement, and I want to be prepared when I’m given my first task. I don’t want to fail.”

“No,” she said. “You don’t.” She picked up a scroll, unrolled it, and began to read. “Leave me now. As I’ve told you, you’ll be contacted.”

He hesitated, then stood and walked to the door. Pausing on the threshold, he turned back to her. “What have they asked you to do?”

She didn’t even look up. “Close the door behind you, cousin. The corridors are terribly cold this time of year.”

Xiv had to smile. “Goodbye, First Minister. Thank you.”

She raised a hand.

Closing the door, Xiv hurried down the stairs of the nearest tower, crossed the upper ward once more, and returned to the castle guest chambers.

He stopped in front of Marston’s door and knocked once.

“Enter!”

Opening the door, he found the thane still in his riding clothes and boots, lying on his bed, his eyes closed.

“Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Not at all, Xiv,” Marston said, sitting up. “I must have dozed. What’s the hour?”

“I’m not certain, my lord. I haven’t heard the bells in some time.”

Marston nodded, rubbing a hand across his face and yawning. “You spoke with the first minister?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Xiv smiled. “You were right about her.”

“She admitted it?” he asked eagerly.

“Not right away. But once she was convinced that I hated you, and wanted to join, she said that she would have someone contact me.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“Not as much as we would have liked. I couldn’t get her to admit to anything, nor would she tell me what the Qirsi movement had to do with what happened in Kentigern.”

Marston frowned. “I was hoping she’d tell us something of Filib’s murder. And Brienne’s as well.”

“She made it sound as if she knew little of the movement’s activities outside of Thorald. And she warned me about asking a lot of questions. I’m sorry I couldn’t learn more.”

The thane shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’ve done well, Xiv.”

“I could do more if you’d let me join. This might be an opportunity for us to learn a great deal about the conspiracy.”

“No. I don’t want to give her time to tell anyone about you. It’s more important that we prove to my father that she’s a traitor. If we can convince him, he might be able to convince Aindreas that the Qirsi were behind Brienne’s death.” He smiled. “Besides, do you really think Tamah would ever forgive me if I let something happen to you?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Xiv said. “Enid told me that the Qirsi leaders have turned their attention to the southern kingdoms. There’s little happening in Eibithar right now. The danger to me would be minimal.”

“You don’t know that.”

He faltered, but only briefly. “Not for certain, no. But it makes sense.”

“Maybe it does, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Aindreas has already shown that he won’t listen to me, but he can’t ignore my father as easily. We have to tell the duke what we know, and we need to do so now, while he’s still strong enough to speak with Kentigern.” He managed a smile, though it seemed to Xiv that there were tears in his eyes. “We can’t stop the conspiracy on our own, Xiv. But we might be able to prevent a civil war. We just have to do it quickly, before my father dies.”