Shapers of Darkness

Chapter Ten

Galdasten, Eibithar, Elined’s Moon waxing

From so great a distance, even on as clear and bright a day as this one, they might have been merchant ships gathering together on the open sea in some strange waterborne marketplace. Their sails were down, and though Renald, duke of Galdasten, thought he could see sweeps bristling on the sides of the vessels, he couldn’t be certain. Or perhaps he didn’t wish to be.

They had sailed into view two days before, the first morning of the new waxing. The clouds that had covered the sky on Amon’s Pitch Night had still darkened the horizon that morning, and the waters of Falcon Bay were dotted with whitecaps. The vessels had quickly arrayed themselves across the mouth of the bay-a defensive posture. They hadn’t moved since. They simply waited there, no doubt for the other cluster of ships to move into position opposite them.

Renald had first noticed this second group of vessels some time ago, and though at so great a distance he could say nothing about them with any confidence, the duke felt reasonably certain that they represented the bulk of the Braedon fleet. From this vantage point in Galdasten Castle, atop the tor that had been the seat of his family’s power for centuries, on the ramparts of what his forebears had named the eagle tower, Renald would have a fine view of the coming naval war. And if the weather held, the first battles would begin soon, probably within the next day or two.

Eibithar’s fleet had long been a source of great pride for Renald’s people. Most of the realm’s ships had been built in either Galdasten or Thorald, and though they were not considered quite as swift or sturdy as those constructed in Braedon or Wethyrn, they were as fine as any others in the Forelands. But next to that of the empire, Eibithar’s navy appeared pitifully small. Braedon had half again as many ships, and if there was any truth to the tales told by the sailing men who gathered in Galdasten’s port, they were captained by some of the finest seamen on Amon’s Ocean. “The sun of the empire,” it was said, referring to Braedon’s flag, which bore a golden sun from which flew great red arrows, “rises and falls on the waters of Amon.” There was a reason why the empire had managed to claim as its own most of the important islands off the shores of the Forelands. Her soldiers might not have been any more formidable than those of Aneira or Eibithar, but her fleet had no equal.

Certainly the duke had little doubt that Braedon’s navy would prevail in the battles that were about to be waged within sight of his castle. He just couldn’t decide whether to rejoice at this, or to quail.

“It’s ironic that they would choose to begin this war in Falcon Bay,” the duchess said softly, the ocean wind stirring her dark hair, a hand raised to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun.

Ewan Traylee, Galdasten’s swordmaster, glanced at her, a frown on his broad face. “Irony has nothing to do with it, my lady. Braedon’s ships will seek to drop anchor off the shores of Galdasten. The cliffs are low here. If they have it in mind to invade the realm, this is the best place to begin their assault.”

Elspeth smiled thinly. “Of course, swordmaster.”

Renald, who knew precisely what she meant, feared that she might say more. Fortunately, his wife seemed content to mutter the word “idiot” under her breath, and leave it at that.

“We should discuss your plans for the defense of the strand, my lord,” Ewan said a moment later, seeming not to have heard. “If the naval battle goes as I fear it might, we’ll have to be ready to repel Braedon’s invasion sooner rather than later.”

Renald kept his eyes on the bay and the ships, refusing to look at either the swordmaster or his wife. He felt queasy, and he wished that both of them would simply leave him alone.

“My lord?”

Elspeth placed her hand in his, something she rarely did, though he knew better than to mistake this for affection. Her skin was hot, as if she had been stricken with a fever.

“Yes, Ewan. We’ll speak later today. Perhaps you can come to my chamber at the ringing of the prior’s bells.”

“Of course, my lord.”

She squeezed his hand, so that his signet ring dug painfully into the finger next to it.

“You can go, swordmaster. I’m certain that you have much to do.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ewan bowed to Renald and Elspeth in turn, before leaving them alone atop the tower.

She dropped his hand. “You haven’t told him,” she said, an accusation.

“There’s nothing to tell him. I’ve made no decisions as of yet.” The words were brave, but even he could hear the flutter in his voice. Damn her.

The duchess actually smiled, sharp white teeth gleaming in the sun. There could be no questioning her beauty. If only he had been wise enough to marry a plainer woman.

“You want me to believe that you’ve considered riding to war?” She laughed cruelly. “Come now, Renald. You’re no warrior. You’re afraid of me. You’d never raise your sword against the emperor’s army.”

How he would have liked to prove her wrong, to strap a blade to his belt, swing himself onto his mount, and lead the Galdasten army into battle. But Elspeth was as brilliant as she was lovely, and she knew him all too well.

“You want to be king, don’t you?” she went on. “You want our sons to aspire to more than this dukedom and the worthless thaneships in Lynde and Greyshyre. Both of us do.”

He turned his gaze back to the ships. The Revel was in Galdasten City this turn. How strange to think that war could begin amid the music and spectacle of the festival. “It’s one thing to side with Aindreas,” he said. “It’s another thing entirely to sit by idly as the realm is attacked.”

“No, it’s not! The one leads naturally to the other. Siding with Kentigern has no purpose if you intend to turn around and fight beside Kearney in defense of his kingdom.”

“His kingdom is my kingdom! If I allow it to be destroyed-”

She closed her eyes briefly, the way she did when she lost patience with one of their boys. “No one’s suggesting that you allow it to be destroyed, Renald. Even now men march toward Galdasten from Curgh, Thorald, and Heneagh, as well as from the City of Kings.”

Had she overheard the reports he received from Ewan’s scouts? He could almost imagine her standing in the corridor outside his ducal chambers, an ear to his door. He had every right to be angry with her, but he just nodded dully, unable to say anything.

“The realm isn’t about to fall, at least not yet. And before it does, you can step in and save it. But for now, your first duty is to the defense of this castle, and the people of Galdasten City. Rather than marching out to battle with Ewan, you should be readying your fortress for a siege.”

“Kearney would see through that in a moment.”

“I don’t care about Kearney, and neither should you. The question is, what will the people of Galdasten think? Do you believe that they wish to give their sons and husbands over to this king? What will our allies in Eardley and Sussyn think? What will they say in Domnall and Rennach?”

“Some of them may join with Kearney.”

“Perhaps. But isn’t it just as possible that they’ll look to Galdasten before deciding what to do?”

The duke glanced at her. Sunlight shone in her brown eyes, making them appear warm, almost loving. He looked away quickly. It seemed likely that the other houses were doing just what she said: waiting for Galdasten to choose its course so that they might follow. She questioned whether he had courage enough to fight a war. Didn’t it require just as much nerve to lead a rebellion?

“What if Ewan won’t follow me? What if his men won’t?”

“They’re not his men, they’re yours. And they’ll all follow you if you act like a king.” She touched his cheek with a warm hand, forcing him to meet her gaze. “The men of this house have no love for Curgh, and though they’ve had no reason to hate Glyndwr before now, Lady Brienne’s death has changed that. If you lead them as you would a rebellion, they may see you as a traitor and defy you. But if you make it clear to them that you fight to restore justice to the realm, that you fight to return Galdasten to its rightful place among the leading houses of Eibithar, they’ll follow you anywhere.”

He was frightened, and he wanted to tell her so. But such intimacy had been lost to them years ago. Or so he thought.

“When I married you, when you were still thane of Lynde, I saw daring in you, and ambition, and strength.” She took both of his hands. “That’s why I fell in love with you. Since we’ve come to Galdasten, since you’ve become the duke of a house that no longer has any future, I’ve seen those qualities fade until I feared that they were gone entirely. But this is your chance to find them again, to realize the promise that I glimpsed in you all those years ago. You can have power and wealth.” She leaned toward him, kissing him softly on the lips. “You can have me again.”

He must have been mad. It had been so long since they had loved one another that Renald wasn’t entirely certain it was even possible for them to begin again. Still, even without her love, he knew that he wanted the throne nearly as much as she wanted it for him. He was tired of feeling weak and lost, of sensing her contempt and disdain in every glance she cast his way. But more to the point, he’d had enough of leading an emasculated house. Why should Galdasten suffer so for the act of a madman? Yes, the pestilence had wiped out Kell and his family. But why should their ill fortune doom his house to obscurity and powerlessness for so many generations? Damned be the Rules of Ascension! Damned be Kearney and Javan and all the others who would keep the sons of Galdasten from the Oaken Throne! Let them fall to the emperor’s army. When the time came, he would raise his sword and drive the invaders from Eibithar’s shores. And when the war was won, he would claim the crown as his own.

“All right,” he said, smiling at her.

A look of genuine surprise flitted across her face. “Really?”

“As you say, what was the purpose of siding with Aindreas if not to wrest the crown from Glyndwr?”

“What of Ewan?”

“I’ll give him his orders and he’ll do as I command. He may not approve, but he’s a good soldier. He’ll follow my orders.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“And the Qirsi?”

“Pillad? I haven’t spoken to him about any of this in nearly two turns. Even if he has an opinion on the matter one way or another, he knows better than to voice it.”

“You have someone watching him?”

“There’s no need. He may still be first minister in name, but he has no influence anymore. He might as well be counseling another duke.”

“Then why not send him away?”

“I will, when all of this is over. Once I have the crown, every Qirsi in Eibithar will want to serve in my court. But for now, sending him away without replacing him will only make me appear weak. And it may embolden those who believe that the conspiracy was behind Brienne’s murder.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed, Renald. Very impressed. Even I hadn’t thought of that.”

He smiled, knowing that he shouldn’t let her see how much her praise pleased him, but unable to help himself.

“Still,” she said. “I think you should have someone keeping an eye on the man. He is Qirsi, after all.”

“I have other matters to occupy my time, all of them far more pressing than Pillad, but I’ll try to remember to say something to Ewan.”

She nodded once. “Good. Now go. See to the defense of your castle. If Galdasten falls, all else is lost.”

He hesitated a moment, hoping she would kiss him again, ashamed of himself for caring. When she merely turned to look out at the king’s fleet, he left her, feeling his cheeks redden.

Fearing that his nerve would fail him before the ringing of the prior’s bells, Renald sought out the swordmaster immediately. He found him in the armory, squatting beside a pile of old swords, speaking in low tones with one of his captains.

“I thought we were to speak later, my lord,” Ewan said, as both men stood.

The duke nodded to the captain before facing his swordmaster. “Yes, well, I wished to discuss some things with you now.”

“Of course, my lord.” Ewan looked at the captain. “Have these blades cleaned and oiled. Then do the same with the shields. I want all of these weapons battle-ready by nightfall.”

“Yes, swordmaster.”

Ewan and the duke left the armory, both of them squinting in the bright sunlight.

“I’m sorry if I angered the duchess today, my lord. I meant no offense.”

Renald winced. “Think nothing of it, swordmaster. My wife feels the strain of the coming war, just as we all do.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I want you to make preparations to guard the castle and city in the event of a siege. We won’t be meeting the emperor’s forces on the strand, nor will we attempt to halt their advance inland.”

Ewan gaped at the duke as if Renald had just told him to raze the towers and execute his own men. “But. . my lord, this is. . this is lunacy.”

Normally he wouldn’t have tolerated such a statement, but he could see the man struggling with what he had just said and he thought it best to allow the swordmaster some time to overcome his shock.

“I know that it seems that way, Ewan-”

“The realm is at risk, my lord. The enemy is coming to Galdasten, but he strikes at all of Eibithar.”

“Yes, he does. Which is why Kearney and his allies are already converging on Galdasten. But if we simply join the king’s forces and surrender ourselves to his authority, we, in effect, accept him as our legitimate sovereign. I’m not prepared to do that.”

Renald had expected that the swordmaster would continue to argue the point. To the man’s credit, though, he appeared to weigh the duke’s words. When at last he spoke, he sounded calmer, as if he had taken to heart what Renald told him.

“What is it you intend to do?” he asked. “Surely you won’t allow the empire’s forces to conquer Eibithar.”

“Of course not. I wish to be king, Ewan. And I expect my son to follow me to the throne. I have every reason to want to preserve the realm. But our first duty must be to Galdasten. I want to keep her strong, and if the king’s army is weakened as a result of that, all the better.”

“So we allow the king and his allies to bear the brunt of Braedon’s assault,” the swordmaster said. “And when it seems that he’s about to be defeated, we come to his aid, leading Eardley, Domnall, and the other houses.”

Renald had to smile. Ewan might have been limited in many ways, but he could be clever at times, and he served the House of Galdasten well. “Precisely, swordmaster. We’ll be the ones who save the realm, who atone for Kearney’s failure.”

“We’re playing a dangerous game, my lord. We’re risking a great deal for. .” He looked away, seemingly unwilling to complete the thought.

“For my ambition?”

“Forgive me, my lord. I shouldn’t have spoken thus.”

“It’s all right, Ewan. What you say is true. I’m risking the safety of the realm in order to put myself on the throne. But what choice do we have? What good does it do to repel the emperor’s invasion if we still find ourselves led by a king who invites rebellion and civil war? The realm is threatened from all sides, and I seek a solution that not only defeats our foes, but also strengthens us from within.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Are you with me, swordmaster?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“I know that you’ll follow my orders, but I’m asking you more than that. I want to know if you can put aside your misgivings and fight this war with fervor in the manner I want it fought.”

Ewan took a breath, then nodded. “I can, my lord. And I will.”

“Thank you, swordmaster. There isn’t another man in the Forelands I’d rather have fighting beside me.”

Clearly moved, the man bowed deeply. “You honor me, my lord.”

“Have riders sent to our allies. Tell them to begin preparations for war immediately, and to march their armies to Domnall. They should try to reach Seamus’s castle no later than the tenth day of the waning. That’s twenty-one days from now, ample time for them to arm and provision their men, and march to Domnall. They can await word from me there. We need to watch how this war unfolds, and we should allow the king and his allies to commence their assault on Braedon’s army.”

“The king will have ordered some of our allies to the Tarbin, my lord. The threat from Aneira is nearly as great as that from Braedon.”

Renald weighed this briefly. “You may be right. We need to know which houses Kearney sent north, and which he sent south.”

“I’d imagine that he ordered Eardley and Domnall north, and Sussyn to the Tarbin. That leaves Rennach.”

“I agree. Find out what you can. But the message should still be the same. They’re to await my word before marching north from Seamus’s castle. Kearney may well have sent them orders to march, but I doubt any of them will. You should also send a rider to Aindreas. Tell him what we have in mind to do, and suggest that he follow a similar course with respect to the Aneiran army.”

“Will he follow you, my lord? The others are minor houses, but Kentigern. .” He shrugged.

“Aindreas is desperate for allies, and he knows better than to think that he has any claim to the throne after all that’s happened over the past year. Under the circumstances, he’ll have no choice but to join us.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ewan bowed again before hurrying off to dispatch the messengers.

Renald stood briefly, watching the swordmaster walk away. Then he started back toward his chambers. He had only taken a few steps, however, when he stopped and glanced up at the eagle tower. Elspeth was there, staring down at him, the wind making her hair fly like battle pennons. Their eyes met for just an instant, and the duke thought he saw the merest hint of a smile flit across her features. A moment later she lifted her gaze again, toward Falcon Bay and the warships, leaving Renald to wonder whether she had smiled out of pride in him, or amusement at the ease with which she had bent him to her purposes.

It had all happened as Uestem said it would. Soon after Pillad jal Krenaar’s meeting with the merchant in Galdasten City, when the first minister finally agreed to join the Qirsi movement, he found a pouch of gold in his sleeping chamber. He had no idea how it had gotten there; he assumed that it came from the merchant, though he didn’t see how Uestem could have slipped into the castle without being seen by the duke’s guards.

The pouch contained eighty qinde. Pillad had counted it several times to make certain, unable to believe at first that anyone would see fit to pay him so much. As it turned out, this gold was the least of the surprises awaiting him now that he had agreed to cast his lot with the renegade Qirsi.

That very night, a Weaver came to walk in his dreams. He was tall and broad like some great magical warrior, with wild hair that stood out like a lion’s mane against the brilliant white light he conjured to keep Pillad from seeing his face. At first Pillad thought that this was no more than a fanciful vision, a product of his fear and excitement at having been paid for his treachery. But as the Weaver spoke to him of the gold and of Uestem and of the great future awaiting those Qirsi who joined his cause, the minister realized that this was no dream, that in fact this was the leader of the Qirsi movement revealing himself to his newest adherent.

Their conversation was brief. The Weaver seemed to know a good deal about Pillad: where he was born, in which court his father had served, why he had come to Galdasten to serve Renald. As they spoke, he even seemed to sense that Pillad had feelings for Uestem, and his distaste was evident in his voice and the swiftness with which he ended their conversation. As the merchant had promised, the Weaver did give him a small task to perform. Pillad was to learn from Ewan Traylee the precise number of soldiers in the Galdasten army and how they were to be positioned in the event of an attack on the city and castle.

Under most circumstances, he would have had no trouble learning all of this from the swordmaster. But the duke had lost faith in him, which made him suspect in the eyes of the swordmaster as well. It had taken him the better part of the previous waxing to gather the information, and even then the minister could not get more than a rough sense of how the men were to be divided between the defense of the city walls and the defense of the fortress.

Fortunately, the Weaver had commanded him to relate to Uestem what he learned. The Weaver hadn’t harmed him during their first encounter, but Pillad was certain that he could, and he didn’t wish to dream of the man again any time soon.

He also couldn’t deny that he looked forward to his conversations with the merchant. By joining the movement, Pillad had done far more than tie himself to the Qirsi cause. He had, he believed, tied himself to Uestem. He couldn’t say what he thought would happen next. Making a traitor of himself had been daring enough. Declaring his affections for a man seemed to be beyond his capabilities. Perhaps he hoped that the merchant would take it upon himself to open his heart first. That would be far easier.

He and Uestem hadn’t met since late in Amon’s waxing. But this very morning, Pillad had received a cryptic message asking him to come to the White Wave, the Qirsi tavern at which they had spoken many times before. He had known it would be crowded; with the Revel in the city all the taverns were, no matter the time of day. No doubt Uestem thought that they would be safe meeting here precisely because there would be so many people about. No one was likely to notice them.

Sitting now in the tavern, waiting for the merchant to arrive, Pillad reflected with some amazement on how quickly his life had changed. Just a turn or two ago he had been a loyal minister in the House of Galdasten. Now he was part of a great movement that would soon sweep away the Eandi courts and bring a Qirsi ruler to the Forelands. Not long ago he had been alone, friendless. Now he had Uestem. At least, he wanted to believe that he did.

The merchant entered the tavern just as the twilight bells began to toll at the city gates. He stood in the doorway for several moments, scanning the tables for Pillad. Seeing the minister, he strode to the table and sat, his expression grave. He had a lean face and eyes the color of sand on the Galdasten strand. He wasn’t particularly tall or powerfully built, but he carried himself with an air of importance. Whether his carriage was rooted in the wealth he had accrued as a merchant, or in the authority he held within the Qirsi movement, Pillad couldn’t say. The minister knew only that he envied the man his confidence.

“I’m glad to see you’re here already,” Uestem said. “We haven’t much time.”

“Why? Has something happened?”

“Something is on the verge of happening. What can you tell me of your lord’s plans for the coming assault?”

Pillad grimaced. “Not a great deal. As I’ve told you before, he’s lost faith in me. He doesn’t tell me much anymore.”

“And as I’ve told you, it’s time you began to win back his trust. You’re of little use to us as an outcast in the duke’s court.”

He tried to smile. “Yes, but-”

“Tell me what you do know.”

Pillad felt his face fall. This wasn’t at all the way he had wanted their conversation to go. In fact, it bore almost no resemblance at all to any of their previous encounters, except perhaps the last one, when Uestem had seemed a bit hurried. Perhaps that was the case today, as well.

“Quickly, Pillad. Time runs short.”

“From what I observed today, I gather that he has no intention of opposing the emperor’s army. I believe he plans to keep his soldiers within the city walls to guard against a siege. No doubt he wants to see Kearney’s forces weakened before committing his men to the war.”

Uestem nodded. “Good. Did you counsel this approach?”

For just an instant he considered lying to the man. Anything to earn his praise. But he had already admitted having little influence with his duke. Even if he claimed credit for this the merchant wouldn’t believe him. More likely the question was a test of sorts.

“No, I didn’t. And if I had, he might have done the opposite.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s possible. It seems the gods are smiling on you, Minister. This is just what we had hoped your duke would do. You need only to keep him on this path.”

“I’ll try.”

Uestem stood, and Pillad cast about for something to say-anything at all-that might keep the merchant with him for another few moments.

“When will we meet again?” he asked, then cringed at what he heard in his own voice.

Uestem glanced about as if fearing that others had heard. “When those we serve command it,” he said in a low voice.

“Can’t we meet. .? Must it always be to speak of these matters?”

The merchant smiled, though Pillad could tell that it was forced. “I think it best that way.” He stepped away from the table. “Good day, Pillad.”

Pillad opened his mouth to bid the man farewell, but he couldn’t even bring himself to say that much. Not that long ago, the day he agreed to join the movement, the man had actually touched his hand. He still remembered the warmth of the merchant’s fingers. He could still see the way Uestem smiled at him that day. Had he imagined it all?

He shook his head. It had to be the coming invasion. These were dangerous times for all who would play a role in this war, particularly those who had taken up the Weaver’s cause. Uestem couldn’t afford to be seen with the duke’s first minister. Not with the men and women of the movement so close to realizing their dreams. Pillad saw that now. Once the Eandi courts had been destroyed and the Weaver had taken his place as sovereign of all the Forelands, things would be different.

He waited until Uestem had been gone for some time before standing and leaving the inn himself. Upon stepping into the street, however, Pillad froze. A pair of the duke’s soldiers stood a short distance off, watching him from the entrance to a narrow byway. His first thought was to duck back into the tavern, though he knew immediately that this would be folly. No doubt the men had come to the city for some reason that had nothing to do with him. If he acted on his guilt and panic he would only raise their suspicions. Instead, he gathered himself, then walked right over to them.

Both men looked uncomfortable as he drew near. So much so that Pillad was forced to wonder if he had been mistaken a moment before. Perhaps these men were watching him and had just not expected to see him emerge from the inn so soon. He had lost Renald’s trust long ago. Would it be so unusual for an Eandi noble to have soldiers following his Qirsi?

“Are you looking for me?” the first minister asked, stopping in front of the men.

“First Minister?” one of the men said, glancing uneasily at his companion.

“Well, you’re here. I thought perhaps the duke had sent you to fetch me. Is there news?”

“No, First Minister.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“The duke asked us to keep an eye on you, First Minister,” the other man said. “I suspect he fears for your safety. With all this talk of conspiracies and such, I believe he thought a loyal minister would be in some danger. He wanted us to protect you. From a distance, of course, lest we embarrass you.”

It had to be a lie, but it was a clever one nevertheless. “Well,” Pillad said with false brightness, “I’m most grateful to both of you. I’ll feel safer knowing that you’re with me.”

The man bowed, and his companion hastened to do the same.

“We’re honored to be of service, First Minister.”

Abruptly, Pillad felt his face growing hot. What if Uestem was watching? What if there were others in the Weaver’s movement who could see him right now, standing with the duke’s men? Would they think that he had betrayed their movement to the duke? Or would they merely understand that Renald had sent these men to spy on him, as if he were some wayward child? Neither possibility appealed to him, though if they thought the latter the price would merely be humiliation. If they came to question his loyalty to the Qirsi cause they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

The minister found himself scanning the street for other Qirsi, eager now to be away from these men.

“If there’s nothing else,” he said, his voice tight, “I’ll be on my way back to the castle. I think I’ll be just fine, thank you. There’s no need for you to follow me.”

“We have our orders, First Minister.”

Damn you, Renald! “Fine, then.” He started away from them. “Do what you must.”

He started back toward the fortress, walking quickly, aware of the soldiers falling in step a few paces behind him. After going but a short distance, he realized that his hands were hurting. Looking down at them, he saw that he had balled them into fists, his knuckles white as Panya, the skin pulled tight over bone. He couldn’t recall ever being this angry before.

He had made his decision to join the conspiracy impetuously. True, Renald had excluded him from his daily audiences, making Pillad feel that he was no longer welcome in the court. But his had not been a calculated choice, nor had it been rooted in hatred of the duke. Indeed, the minister wasn’t certain that he could articulate fully why he had cast his lot with the renegade Qirsi. He wanted to be closer to Uestem. He wanted gold. He was hurt by Renald’s distrust.

Until now, Pillad had not been driven by a desire to hurt the duke. But this encounter with Renald’s soldiers changed everything. He felt violated. He didn’t care that the duke’s suspicions were warranted. Renald had shamed him; the duke’s soldiers were shaming him still. They might have followed at a respectful distance, but no one who saw them would have doubted for even a moment that they were escorting the minister back to the castle.

Pillad had never thought of himself as a vengeful man, but he vowed now that he would strike back at Renald and his court. One way or another, he would see the duke dead. And the promise of that day would do more to compel his service to the movement than all the gold the Weaver could give him.