Shapers of Darkness

Chapter Twenty-six

dolkara, Aneira

The sun shone bright in a hazy sky of pale blue, warming the grasses of Castle Solkara’s vast courtyard and making the garden blooms of borage and gilly flower, columbine and sweetbriar, woodbine, iris, and lavender glow like Qirsi fire in the hands of festival sorcerers. A gentle wind blew off the Kett and across the castle walls, carrying the smell of fish from the river piers, and rustling the leaves of poplars and willows growing along its banks.

All her life, Chofya had loved the slow, hot days of the growing turns. While others complained of the heat, she basked in it, thinking back to her youth in the hills south of Noltierre, where the sun baked the clay and the brush and the skin of small children to a fine golden brown. Here in Aneira’s royal city, where the waters of the river and the shadows of the Great Forest cooled the air, it never grew warm enough to suit her taste. But still, she welcomed these mornings in the garden. Later she would take Kalyi to the marketplace-there were always so many peddlers in Solkara this time of year.

It was easy to forget that there was war, that less than forty leagues to the south, Aneirans were killing Aneirans for no reason that Chofya could see. Oh, she understood well enough Numar’s pretense for marching south; she simply saw no sense in it. Never mind that Dantrielle’s defiance in the face of this foolish war to the north was entirely justified. Even had she not agreed with Tebeo and his allies, she would have seen Numar’s siege as a wasteful, spiteful gesture, one that served only to weaken the throne as well as the realm. Chofya wasn’t vain enough to believe that the years she spent as Carden’s queen were enough to teach her all the finer points of statecraft. Carden himself hadn’t mastered them; how was she to do so? But in her capacity as lady of the castle and hostess to all sorts of feasts, ceremonies, and councils, she had observed a great deal. Presiding over the realm, she had decided long ago, was not that different from running a castle. In both endeavors, one needed authority enough to maintain order, but also a modicum of flexibility, a willingness and capacity to cope with the unexpected. In the same way, she had come to believe that dealing with a wayward duke was not all that different from teaching discipline to a contrary child. Anger and violence served only to stiffen the resolve of the one who needed to be mollified; only patience and reason would produce the desired result. She had raised a daughter nearly to womanhood. She knew she was right.

But in all her years as queen she had also learned that men knew little of patience and even less of reason. And they had no interest in taking counsel from a woman, unless she happened to be Qirsi. Before leaving for Dantrielle, Numar had refused to grant her an audience, no doubt knowing that she would speak against his alliance with the empire and the siege he was planning. Chofya then went to her daughter, knowing that the regent could not refuse to hear his queen, only to discover that Numar had already convinced Kalyi of the wisdom of both the alliance and the siege.

Realizing that there was nothing she could do to save Aneira from the folly and vanity of its regent, Chofya stopped trying. The realm had survived for nearly nine centuries, weathering civil wars, rebellions, ill-advised wars with its neighbors, and countless other tragedies. It would survive Numar.

Still, she did not ignore the war entirely. Nearly every day Henthas received messages from Numar describing the progress of the siege, and though the duke was under no obligation to share any of what the regent told him with Chofya, he had no choice but to share the messages with Kalyi. And since the queen remained terrified of her uncle the duke-with good reason-she always had Chofya accompany her to Henthas’s chamber. Naturally there was some delay between Numar’s writing of the messages and their arrival in Solkara-usually three or four days-but there was an immediacy to Numar’s account of events on the battlefield that was quite compelling. Though Chofya wished to maintain her indifference to the course of the siege, she soon realized that she looked forward to the daily audiences with Henthas. It didn’t matter that she hated the duke, or that, with his dark blue eyes, fine features, and muscular frame, he bore a disturbing resemblance to her late husband. She found the descriptions of the siege exciting, almost as if she were hearing of some ancient battle from Aneira’s glorious past, rather than of Numar’s foolish war. On those few occasions when no message arrived, she was deeply disappointed, even more so than was Kalyi.

Still, fascinated as she was by the regent’s reports, and versed as she was in the subtleties of Aneiran statecraft, it took a conversation with Kalyi, still two years shy of her Determining, to make Chofya understand fully how dangerous this siege was for her and her child.

They had returned to their chambers from yet another audience with the duke. The prior’s bells had just tolled in the city and they had an hour or so to wait before the evening meal. Kalyi seemed to have sensed long ago that Chofya did not approve of the siege or much else that Numar had done in her name. Outside of Henthas’s chamber, the two of them had not spoken of the conflict in some time. But on this day, the news from Dantrielle had not been good, at least not for House Solkara. Chofya liked Tebeo and Brall and still remembered how they had stood with her when Grigor, Carden’s ruthless brother, had tried to wrest the crown from her daughter. Listening to Henthas read Numar’s accounts, she often found herself silently cheering Dantrielle’s successes and the regent’s failures.

According to the message that arrived that day, the last of the waxing, Numar’s scouts had seen men approaching Castle Dantrielle from the north, south, and east-no doubt the armies of Orvinti, Tounstrel, and Kelt. Tebeo’s defenses were beginning to fail, Numar wrote, but there was no way of knowing if the castle would fall before Dantrielle’s allies arrived.

Kalyi had said nothing as they walked through the corridors back to their chamber. She looked pale, her lips pressed tight. With her dark hair and eyes, she favored Chofya, but like her father, she carried her worries where all could see them.

“What if the siege fails?” she asked abruptly, once they were back in their quarters. “What if Uncle Numar can’t take Castle Dantrielle after all?”

Chofya sat on their bed and beckoned Kalyi to her side. “If the siege fails, your uncle will have to fight his war against Eibithar without the soldiers of Dantrielle, Orvinti, and the rest. He’ll still have his alliance with the emperor of Braedon, but he won’t bring quite so strong an army to it.”

Actually, this was essentially what Chofya had expected from the start would happen. She thought the siege was destined to fail; Castle Dantrielle was as strong as it was beautiful, and Numar had already sent part of his army north. Though Rassor had joined him, the regent’s force remained too small to defeat Tebeo and his allies. Their only hope had been a quick and decisive victory. Clearly that hadn’t happened. None of this surprised her, which might have been why she never considered the possibility raised by Kalyi’s next question.

“What if Uncle Numar is killed?”

She didn’t care for the man at all. When it came to choosing a regent for Kalyi, she had preferred him to either Grigor or Henthas, but she knew better than to think him kind or to believe that he had taken on the responsibilities of being regent out of concern for his niece. He was clever and ambitious and nearly as dangerous as the other two. So why did she tremble so at the mere thought of his death?

“He won’t be,” she said, knowing how foolish she sounded.

“What if he’s struck by an arrow or killed by one of Dantrielle’s swordsmen? What if Pronjed kills him?”

“What? Why would Pronjed kill Numar?”

“He killed Father. At least that’s what Uncle Numar thinks.”

“Damn him!” Chofya muttered, drawing a shocked stare from Kalyi. Why would Numar tell the girl such a thing? She had thought that they were past this nonsense. For several turns Kalyi had been trying to learn what she could about her father’s death, as if there had been any doubt but that he had taken his own life, as if such an endeavor were appropriate for a ten-year-old girl. Numar should have kept his crazed theories to himself.

“Your father took his own life, Kalyi,” she said wearily, bracing herself for the all-too-familiar argument. “I’ve told you that before.”

Kalyi shook her head, the golden circlet she wore as a crown flying from her hair, but at least she wasn’t crying. “That’s just how Pronjed made it seem. He used magic to make father kill himself. Uncle Numar said it’s called mind. . turning, or something like that.”

It seemed to Chofya that someone was kneeling on her chest, making it difficult for her to draw breath. She had heard tales of Qirsi who could control the thoughts of others, though she had placed little stock in such stories. Certainly she had never thought that she would know such a man. “Mind-bending?” she whispered.

“Yes! That’s it! That’s how he killed Father!”

“Mind-bending magic is very rare. We don’t know that Pronjed-”

“Yes, we do. I. .” She lowered her eyes. “I overheard a conversation, a long time ago. Pronjed used that magic on the master of arms.”

“Kalyi!” she said, trying to sound stern. “You listened?”

The girl nodded, her eyes still fixed on the floor. “Yes.”

Chofya should have been cross with her; it was unseemly for any young girl to listen in on a conversation between adults, but it was particularly so when that girl was queen. Still, Chofya’s eagerness to know what her daughter had heard was a match for any anger she might have felt. Perhaps more than a match.

“Tell me what you heard,” she said, as if admitting defeat.

Kalyi looked up, smiling. The conversation she described made little sense in terms of military matters; clearly the girl had not understood much of what she heard. But when Kalyi told her how Pronjed had instructed the master of arms to give certain advice to the regent, when she said that the archminister told Tradden what he was to remember of their conversation, she had little choice but to believe that Pronjed possessed mind-bending power.

“Why would he have killed Carden?” she asked, speaking more to herself than to Kalyi.

“Uncle Numar thinks he’s a traitor. He may be part of the conspiracy.”

Chofya nodded. If all of this were true, that would be the only explanation that made any sense. Was it possible then that this alliance with Braedon was part of the Qirsi plot? Was the siege as well? Pronjed had come to her recently, hoping that she would help him push the regent toward the alliance. He said at the time that he sought to strengthen the realm so that when Kalyi came to power Aneira would have nothing to fear from its enemies. Had that been a lie? If he possessed this power, and had truly sought to enlist her as an ally, why didn’t he try to control her thoughts as he had Tradden’s?

“None of this makes any sense, Kalyi,” she said, trying to convince herself. “Even if he was with the conspiracy, I’m not certain that he had any reason to kill your father. And not long ago he came to me hoping I would help him with something. When I refused, he simply accepted it and never raised the matter with me again. If he had this power surely he would have used it against me.”

“He tried to use it on Uncle Numar. Uncle is sure of it.”

Could the regent have been lying about all of this, trying to turn Kalyi against the archminister? Or had Pronjed decided that Chofya wasn’t important enough to risk using his powers against her?

Ultimately, none of this was as important as Kalyi’s initial question. The young queen seemed to realize this as well.

“Just because he doesn’t have that power, doesn’t meant that he won’t try to kill Uncle Numar,” Kalyi said. “They don’t like each other.”

That much Chofya knew already. “No, they don’t,” she admitted. Not that the regent needed Pronjed thirsting for his blood. There would be thousands of soldiers wearing the uniforms of Dantrielle, Tounstrel, Orvinti, and Kelt, just as avid for his death as any Qirsi, loyal or not.

“If Uncle Numar dies, will Uncle Henthas become my regent?”

She could see the fear in Kalyi’s eyes, and knew that it was mirrored in her own. “Not if I can help it. The other dukes don’t trust him. They wouldn’t-”

It came to her so suddenly that she actually shuddered. What an idiot she had been, dismissing Numar’s siege as if it were foolishness and nothing more. Pronjed had asked her to help him, and obviously she hadn’t been willing to do that. Rather, she should have insisted that Numar call off his attack on Dantrielle, or at the very least, send Henthas in his stead. The realm needed its regent. Kalyi needed him, but more to the point, Solkara needed him.

If Numar was killed or captured, his army overwhelmed by Dantrielle and its allies, it would mark the end of the Solkaran Supremacy. Chofya didn’t care much for power, at least not anymore. Even if she had, it hardly would have mattered. With Carden dead, she was nothing. They called her the queen mother, but it was a title without authority. Had it not been for Kalyi, she wouldn’t have cared at all for House Solkara and its damned supremacy. She still thought of Noltierre as her home, and would gladly have taken Kalyi there to live out their days in peace. But for better or worse, Kalyi was Solkaran, the sole heir to Carden the Third. If Numar died, she would have to look to the Council of Dukes to protect her daughter from Henthas. And if the supremacy fell that recourse would be denied her as well. Leadership of House Solkara would cease to be a concern of the other houses. She and she alone would be all that stood between the Jackal and her daughter. For Henthas would always see Kalyi as a threat to his ambitions, no matter how limited they might be. As Carden’s child, she had a legitimate claim to the family seat, one that might convince soldiers in the Solkaran army to side with her in any dispute that arose between them. Kalyi could renounce all claims to leadership of the house, and the two of them could return to Cestaar’s Hills. But that might not appease the man. There was nothing to stop her from going back on her word, he would say. Until she was dead, he would always see her as a rival.

“They wouldn’t what, Mother?”

Chofya shook her head. “What?”

“You were speaking of the other dukes. You were telling me that they wouldn’t do something, but then you just stopped.”

“I’m sorry, child. I was just going to say that the dukes wouldn’t allow Henthas to become regent. They’d find someone else to help you rule the realm.”

“Then why do you look so scared?”

Clever child. She was so young, and yet it seemed that the world around her was demanding that she grow up before her time. Who was Chofya to fight such a powerful tide? “Because if by some chance Numar is defeated and Solkara loses the crown, the Council of Dukes will be powerless to help us.”

“Do you think that could happen?”

“I don’t-” She pressed her lips thin. That was the trouble with sharing hard truths with a child so young. How did one go back to lies after doing so? “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

“Then we should speak with the captains.”

Clever indeed. “Why, love?”

“Because if Numar is gone, and the dukes can’t help us, we’ll need to have the army on our side.”

Chofya had to smile. She was Carden’s child through and through, and though Chofya had stopped loving her husband long before his death, she took pride in seeing his strength in the girl. “They might not side with us, Kalyi. Most soldiers won’t willingly follow a woman, much less a young girl.”

“I’m queen,” she said, as if the matter were so easily settled. “I’m Father’s heir. They’ll help me.”

If it were put to the men that way, they just might. “I’ll speak with them tonight,” Chofya said.

“I want to go with you.”

“No, Kalyi.”

“But-”

Chofya raised a finger to the girl’s lips. “I know that you’re wise beyond your years. But the soldiers still see you as a child. If you go with me, they won’t take us seriously; we could do ourselves more harm that good.” She leaned forward and kissed Kalyi’s forehead. “Trust me with this.”

Kalyi twisted her mouth, looking unhappy. But after a moment she gave a small nod. “I hope Numar wins,” she said. “Then we won’t have to worry about any of this.”

Long after Chofya and her brat left his chamber Henthas continued to read through Numar’s message-the passages he hadn’t shared with them, as well as those he had.

“It’s but a matter of time before we’re surrounded,” his brother had written. “We will make one last effort to take the castle, sparing nothing in our assault, but I feel certain that we will fail.”

Henthas saw no benefit in reading this to the girl or her mother, for it led directly to the heart of Numar’s missive.

If the supremacy can be preserved-and I’m not sure that it can-it falls to you, brother, to lead it. The five hundred men who remain with you in Solkara will not be enough, and though I expect Dantrielle will let the soldiers under my command go free after he has disarmed them, they will not be enough either. Your best hope, I believe, lies with the men I’ve sent north, to Kentigern. If they can be called back before they march on to the Eibitharian Moorlands, they can preserve House Solkara’s hold on the crown. If not, you will have nothing left but the dukedom.

There is probably nothing I can say that will convince you to spare the girl. I believe that she may still prove useful to you, even if you are relegated to being duke of a fallen house. But if you truly wish to be duke yourself and to pass leadership of House Solkara on to any sons you may beget, you will have to kill her. Beware of Chofya, for she’s clever and respected by the realm’s other dukes. And beware Pronjed. I’m convinced that he is a traitor who possesses mind-bending magic.

I don’t expect that we will meet again, Henthas. I know that we have had our differences in the past, but we are both sons of Tomaz the Ninth. Keep our house strong.

Numar went on to write that he would attempt to send another message the following day, to inform Henthas of how his final offensive had gone, but the duke knew that the letter he held in his hand was the last he would receive from his younger brother. Numar might not have been the fool they all thought he was, but neither was he a master of military planning. If Tebeo and his allies had him surrounded, he’d be dead within a matter of days.

More to the point, like the older brothers Renbrere, and even like their father, who truly had been a genius, Numar had always been obsessed with the supremacy. He had killed Grigor so that he might lead it. He had as much as given his life defending it. And even now, with one foot in Bian’ realm, he was trying to tell Henthas how he ought to preserve it. Well, Henthas had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

So long as he fought to hold the throne, the other dukes would do all they could to destroy his armies and kill him. If he relinquished the crown, however, if he allowed this damned supremacy to die at long last, they would leave him alone. They might even let him keep the dukedom. Yes, they hated him. Perhaps they feared him still, though Numar and Grigor and Carden had all succeeded in diminishing House Solkara so that it no longer struck terror in the hearts of those who would oppose it, as it had when Tomaz ruled. But if he was just another duke they would believe him harmless, or at least less dangerous than Carden and Grigor had been.

Henthas tossed Numar’s message aside. As far as he was concerned, the supremacy was over, and good riddance to it. The question that confronted him now was what to do about the girl-queen. Regardless of the fate of the supremacy, she would still be the nominal leader of House Solkara. Of course, a child could no more lead the house as duchess than she could rule the realm, and so the need for a regency would remain, and he would be the logical choice to take Numar’s place in that role. Chofya would oppose him, but where else could she turn? She herself had no claim to authority, and with all his brothers dead there was no one else.

But did he want to be regent, or did he prefer to kill Kalyi now? It didn’t take him more than a moment to understand that his choices were as limited as Chofya’s. He would move against the girl eventually, but for now he could not. A good many of Solkara’s soldiers remained loyal to her, seeing her as Carden’s true heir. A few chafed at the idea of seeing their house led by a girl, but not enough yet to challenge her authority. If he killed her, they would turn on him. He needed first to win their trust, to convince them that in both temperament and ability, he was closer than anyone to their lost king. That would take some time.

Pleased with himself for working all this out so quickly, the duke left his chambers for the great hall, where his supper would soon be served. There was a woman who was to meet him there, one of Chofya’s ladies, as it happened, and he didn’t wish to keep her waiting too long.

Just as Henthas had expected, there was no message from Numar the following day. Shortly before the ringing of the prior’s bells, Chofya and Kalyi arrived at his quarters, eager for word of the siege.

“I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing,” he told them, standing in the doorway, blocking their entry to his chamber.

Chofya’s expression didn’t change-clearly she had expected this-but Kalyi looked disappointed, and just a bit scared.

She looked up at her mother. “Do you think-?”

Chofya laid a hand on her shoulder, silencing her. “Thank you, my lord duke,” she said. “We won’t disturb you any further.”

“Actually, my lady, I wish a word with you.” He nodded to one of the guards positioned outside his chamber. “If Her Highness would be so kind as to remain out here, this will only take a moment.”

Once again Kalyi looked at her mother. This time there could be no mistaking the fear in her eyes.

“It’s all right. Stay with the soldiers. I’ll be just inside.”

The girl nodded, and Henthas backed away from the doorway, allowing Chofya to enter.

“What is it you want?” she asked, once he had closed the door. She sounded impatient, but he felt certain that the chill in her voice was intended to mask her own apprehension.

“Just to talk, my lady.” He faced her and smiled.

She eyed him briefly, then crossed to the window, crossing her arms over her chest as if cold. She really was quite lovely. Black hair, black eyes, olive skin. There could be no mistaking her for a woman of Solkara, but she was beautiful nevertheless. Carden had done well for himself, despite his many limitations.

“What could we possibly need to discuss?”

“Come now, Chofya. You’re an intelligent woman. You weren’t at all surprised to learn that I’d received no message today. Numar is on the verge of being defeated. If he’s not yet captured or dead, he will be soon. The supremacy is over and your daughter, who will soon be just duchess, will be needing a new regent.”

She turned to face him. “And you think I’d trust you with that?”

Henthas grinned. “Let’s pretend for a moment that you have other choices. Solkara will have just lost its hold on the throne, it will be led, at least in name, by a child, and a girl at that. What’s to keep Bistari, or Orvinti, or one of the other houses from taking our lands?”

“The other houses wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t they? They’ve hated us for centuries.”

“Yes, well, the men of your family have seen to that, haven’t they?”

“Indeed, none more so than your husband.”

Chofya started to say something, then stopped herself, appearing to think better of it.

“The point, my lady, is that Kalyi might be well served to have me standing beside her.” He gave a thin smile. “You hate me, and you’re afraid of me. So are the other dukes. Isn’t it possible that the fear I instill might prove a boon to the ambitions you harbor for your daughter?”

“You’ll turn against her eventually, when it suits your purposes. Just as Grigor would have, just as Numar was going to.”

His eyebrows went up. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“Not where my daughter is concerned.”

“You’re right, I may turn against her. I can’t now, but there may come a time when I can, and I may well take that opportunity. But for now, we need each other. The fact of the matter is, you have no other choices. If you give the regency to someone from another house, the army may turn against you. And if I move against Kalyi now, they’ll turn against me.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, as if she were trying to discern from his appearance whether he could be trusted.

“I’ve surprised you.”

“You are unusually direct, my lord. I hadn’t expected that from a Renbrere.”

“My brothers are all lost, my lady. The supremacy of my forebears is gone. I haven’t the heart for more games. The survival of our house is at stake, and I’ll do nothing to weaken us further.”

“Very well, my lord. Allow me to think on it for a day or two. We’ll speak again.”

It was probably as much as he could ask for just now. “Of course, my lady. In the meantime, if I hear anything new from Dantrielle, I’ll let you know.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Thank you, my lord.” She crossed to the door, opened it, and stepped into the corridor. He saw Kalyi rush to her side, looking deeply relieved, as if she had expected Henthas to kill her mother right there in his chamber. A moment later, one of the guards closed the door again, leaving the duke to contemplate what had passed between them.

Chofya had lived in the Solkaran court long enough to know how desperate he was. If he couldn’t be duke, and she refused to give him the regency, he’d have nothing left except the marquessate. No doubt she’d use this knowledge to try to control him, to make him agree to conditions another man would reject out of hand. He’d make a show of resisting her efforts to rein him in, but in the end he’d agree to whatever stipulations she proposed. He’d bide his time, allowing her to believe that she had succeeded in tethering him, letting her grow comfortable until her vigilance slackened. Then he’d deal with them both.

Numar had warned him of Pronjed, but Henthas doubted that he’d ever see the archminister again. If Numar had been captured, so had the Qirsi. And if by some chance Pronjed did manage to escape, and Numar was correct in thinking him a traitor, he wouldn’t bother returning to a disgraced house, far removed from Aneira’s new royal city, wherever that was going to be. He’d join his fellow renegades in striking at the Eandi courts. Again, Henthas didn’t know where they might strike first, nor did he care. It wouldn’t be Solkara-a year ago maybe, but not anymore. That was fine with the duke. For now, Henthas cared only about his own survival. The conspiracy might threaten him eventually, and when they did, he would make certain that he was ready. But today, here in this castle, he was more concerned with a ten-year-old girl and her resourceful mother.

He didn’t see Kalyi or Chofya that night at dinner, nor did he see the queen mother for the next two days. It almost seemed that she was avoiding him. No new messages arrived from Numar, but on the third morning, a messenger arrived wearing the colors of Dantrielle. Henthas, who had been informed of the man’s approach to the city, ordered the guards to escort the man to his chamber, but the messenger refused to enter the castle, demanding instead that the duke and queen be summoned to the castle gate. Descending the tower stairs and making his way across the courtyard to the outer gate, Henthas knew just what this meant. A messenger didn’t make such demands of members of a royal house.

Somehow, Chofya and the girl were already at the gate when he arrived, though he had wasted no time in following the soldier from his own chamber. He gave the woman a puzzled look, but she barely glanced at him before facing the messenger again.

“You may begin now,” she said. Kalyi stood in front of her, and Chofya had placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. She almost appeared to be using her body to shield the queen from Henthas.

“I’ve been sent by Tebeo, duke of Dantrielle, to inform you that Numar of Renbrere has failed in his attempt to take Castle Dantrielle and has been imprisoned for crimes against the realm. The duke of Dantrielle along with the dukes of Kett, Rassor, Tounstrel, and Noltierre have met in council and voted to end the Solkaran Supremacy. They have yet-”

“Wait a moment,” Henthas broke in. “Did you say Rassor?”

“Yes, my lord. The duke of Rassor.”

“That’s impossible. Rassor fought with Numar. You mean Orvinti.”

“Lord Orvinti is dead, my lord.” The man held out a scroll tied with satin ribbons or red, gold, and black. “You may read this for yourself.”

Henthas grabbed it from him, pulled off the ribbons, and unrolled the parchment, scanning the message quickly. It matched what the man had said almost word for word, and was signed by the five dukes he had mentioned, including Grestos.

“Traitorous bastard!” he muttered, crumpling the parchment in his fist.

“Did the message say anything else?” Chofya asked. “Did it. . did it offer any instructions for us?”

“No, my lady. Nothing of that sort.”

She pressed her lips thin. Clearly she had been hoping for some indication that they wanted Kalyi to be made duchess. Perhaps she even hoped they would demand that Henthas be imprisoned, or sent back to Dantrielle to be punished with his brother.

“Well, you must be weary from your journey,” she said to the man a moment later, recovering as would a queen. “We can feed you and tend to your mount before you begin the ride back to Dantrielle.”

“Thank you, my lady, but I was instructed not to enter your castle.”

Chofya frowned. “What?”

“They don’t trust us, my lady,” Henthas said, eyeing the man, watching for his response. “Or more to the point, they don’t trust me. Isn’t that so, Dantrielle?”

“I merely know what I was told, my lord.”

“Fine. Begone then. If they wish to make an outcast of House Solkara, then so be it.”

“No!” Chofya said, glaring at him. “We will not become the bane of every house in this realm. Tell the other dukes that when the time comes to choose a new king, we would like very much to be party to the council.”

“You will tell them no such thing!”

“You do not speak for this house, Henthas! Kalyi was queen and is now duchess! And if you aren’t prepared to recognize her authority then I’ll assume the role of regent myself!”

“Don’t presume to challenge me, Chofya. I’ll crush you, just as Numar should have done, and Grigor before him.” He turned on his heal and started back through the gate.

As Henthas walked away, he heard Chofya tell the rider to deliver her message to his duke, but he didn’t care. By the time Tebeo received word of their confrontation, the matter would be settled, once and for all.

Before he had managed to cross the courtyard, someone called to him. Turning, he saw one of the younger captains approach. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. He knew only that for a man this young to be here, rather than with one of the two forces Numar had sent to war, he couldn’t be much of a soldier.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“Your pardon, my lord, but I couldn’t help hearing what you and the lady was just saying.”

“Yes, what of it?”

“Well, I wanted you to know that not all the men is with her.”

“What?”

“Some of us is siding with you.”

“What are you-?” He stared at the man a moment, his mind racing to catch up with the implications of what this fool was telling him. “Are you saying that Chofya’s been talking to the captains, trying to turn the army against me?”

“Yes, my lord. But not all of us is ready to join her.”

The whore! He’d kill her, and the brat, too.

“What do you want us to do, my lord? Just say the word, and we’s with you.”

“How many?”

“My lord?”

“How many of the soldiers are with me?”

“ ’Bout a hundred, my lord.”

“One hundred? That’s all?”

The soldier flinched. “Well. . well, by the time we thought to do anything, she had got to most of the men.”

Henthas shook his head. A hundred men. And if the others were anything like this one, he didn’t stand a chance. Best to handle this on his own. After, he’d deal with the ones she had turned. “Tell them to be ready,” he said. “Tell them to watch for my signal.”

“What signal will that be, my lord?”

“They’ll know it when they see it. In the meantime, see if you can persuade any of the others to join me. Quietly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Henthas spun away from the man, striding back to his chamber, his hands trembling with rage, his heart pounding like that of an overworked mount. He should have expected this. For several turns he had been warning Numar against taking Carden’s woman too lightly. Now it seemed that he had done just that. All the time he had been lying to her, lulling her, he thought, into a false sense of trust, she had been doing the same to him, with far more success.

Well, no more. Court games such as this had long been Numar’s strength, and Grigor’s before him. Henthas was a different sort of animal, and it was time he began acting as such.

Once in his chamber, he closed and locked the door behind him. He would allow himself no distractions until he had decided on a course of action. There were several ways to do this; he just had to decide which of them conveyed the proper message to those men who had joined with the queen mother. It didn’t take him long to realize that his choices were actually quite limited. This was one instance when the brutality for which he and Grigor had long been reviled would serve him best. He had only to wait.

He took his meal in his chamber, sitting by his window, waiting for nightfall. When at last the sky darkened, the duke stood, strapped on his sword, and left his chamber, making his way through the corridors to the sleeping quarters of Chofya and Kalyi.

Two men stood watch outside their door, both of them tall and muscular. Neither of them was young-most of the young men had marched with Numar or had gone north to join Mertesse-but neither were they as old as some of those who now guarded the castle.

Seeing Henthas approach, they straightened, their hands falling quickly to the hilt of their blades, though neither man drew his weapon.

“Can we be of service, my lord?”

“I wish to see the queen.”

The men glanced at one another. “I’m sorry, my lord. The duchess’s mother left instructions you weren’t to be allowed in.”

The duchess’s mother. . Chofya had already claimed the family seat for her daughter. “Did she?” he said, itching to draw his blade. “Did she also mention that I don’t recognize the child’s claim to the duchy? When I awoke this morning, I was duke of Solkara, and I have no reason to believe that I’m any less than that now.”

“The duchess awoke as queen, my lord, which gives her as much claim to the duchy as anyone.”

This was ridiculous. He was a nobleman, and he wasn’t about to debate matters of state with this fool of a soldier.

“Whatever I am,” he said, forcing a smile, “I’m a man of this court. And I’m ordering you to step aside and allow me to speak with my niece.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I can’t do that.”

Henthas had known it would come to this. In a way, he had looked forward to it, seeing in it a chance to enhance his already formidable reputation. Killing the child and her mother did little in that regard. Fighting his way past two of Chofya’s guards would do a good deal.

“You force me to do this,” he said, drawing his sword. “I fight for my house and my castle.”

He was a swordsman, perhaps not Carden’s equal, or even Grigor’s, but a skilled fighter nevertheless, taught by Tomaz himself. These men might have been well trained, but they hadn’t a chance.

The first of the soldiers fell quickly-so concerned was he with the duke’s sword that he didn’t see the dagger in Hen thas’s left hand until it was too late. To his credit, the second man didn’t flee. Indeed, he fought quite well, parrying deftly with his sword hand and using a torch that he grabbed with his free hand to keep the duke’s smaller blade at bay.

For several moments they circled in the dark corridor, trading feints and sudden thrusts, neither man gaining any advantage. It soon became clear to Henthas, however, that the soldier, while adept, was unimaginative. All his attacks were the same-straightforward, powerful, but leveled at the duke’s chest and head. So when he began his next assault, Henthas dropped to one knee, slashing at the man’s leg with his dirk. When the soldier fell to his knees, dropping the torch, Henthas stood, and with a mighty sweep of his sword, hacked off his head.

“Let them speak of that come morning,” he muttered.

He was winded, sweat running down his temples, but he felt good. It had been too long since he raised his blade in battle. He had missed this.

The chamber was locked, of course. But one of the guards carried a ring of keys on his belt. In a matter of moments, Henthas had found the correct one and unlocked the door.

“You should have made me regent, Chofya,” he said, pushing it open. “That was the only way your child was going to live past her Fating.”

Her mother had been telling her for much of the day how safe they would be, how Henthas would not be able to reach them with so many of the castle guards on their side. But that had done little to allay Kalyi’s fears. It had seemed that her mother was trying to convince herself as much as she was Kalyi. Adults always did that-offering the most reassurances when they were least certain of what they were saying.

Kalyi was frightened all day, and didn’t begin to feel safe until her mother agreed to take their evening meal in their bedchamber. Once they were in their quarters for the night, the door locked, the two guards positioned outside in the corridor, she finally started to believe that her uncle couldn’t reach them.

Then she heard the voices. They had finished eating. Her mother was knitting by the light of one of the oil lamps, while Kalyi sat on her bed, copying the numbers her tutor had given her in the morning. Kalyi recognized her uncle’s voice immediately, as did her mother, judging by the way she dropped her needles into her lap, her eyes fixed on the door.

For several moments they just listened, trying to make out what was said. Kalyi was shaking so badly that her bed creaked. Then she heard the ring of steel and she actually cried out.

Her mother pushed herself out of her chair and hurried to Kalyi’s side, putting her arms around the girl’s shoulders.

“Hush, child,” she whispered.

“What are we going to do? He’s going to kill us.”

Chofya shook her head, but before she could say anything, they heard someone fall. A moment later they heard steel ringing again. The fight was continuing. One of the soldiers was dead.

Her mother stood and walked quickly to the wardrobe. For a few seconds she rummaged through her belongings, her back blocking Kalyi’s view. Then she straightened and turned. She held a sword in one hand and a small dagger in the other. It took Kalyi a moment to realize that both weapons had belonged to her father.

“I was keeping these for you,” her mother explained, crossing back to the bed. “I guess we need them sooner than I had thought.” She handed Kalyi the dagger, keeping the sword for herself.

Kalyi glanced at the dagger. Its hilt was made of silver, the blade of glimmering clear crystal. It looked almost new. A sudden memory. “Is this the knife he used to. . to-”

“Yes. Don’t worry about that now. If you can get past him, into the corridor, do. Run as fast you can and get help.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Just try.”

“Should we put out the lamps? He won’t be able to see us.”

Her mother considered this for a moment, then shook her head. “The corridor is darker than the chamber. He’ll be able to see before we will.”

They heard a man cry out, and then a second strangled noise that was cut off abruptly. A moment later, they heard the jangling of keys and all too soon, the clicking of the door lock.

“You should have made me regent, Chofya. That was the only way your child was going to live past her Fating.”

He stood in the doorway, his sword, stained crimson, glinting in the glow of the lamps, his face shining and flushed. He grinned at them both, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. He held a dagger in that hand, and there was blood on that blade, too.

“Your Highness,” he said, nodding at Kalyi.

“Get out, Henthas,” her mother said. “Leave us alone.”

He stepped farther into the chamber, closing the door behind him and turning the lock once more. “You’ve turned the army against me, Chofya. You shouldn’t have done that.”

He lunged at her, swinging his sword so suddenly, with such savagery, that Kalyi screamed.

Chofya jumped back out of reach.

“You can have the dukedom. Just let Kalyi go.”

“It’s too late for that. I gave you that chance the other day, and you turned on me, you whore!” With these last words he leaped at her again, slashing with his sword, forcing her to parry with hers. She staggered under the force of his blow, and he stabbed at her with his dagger. Once more she avoided his steel, stumbling as she fled from him.

Kalyi ran to the window and started screaming for help.

“Stop that!” he shouted.

“Kalyi!”

Turning at the sound of her mother’s voice, the girl saw Henthas rushing at her, his sword raised to strike. She ducked away, running to her bed, rolling over it, and cowering on the far side.

He advanced on her, but had only taken a step or two when Chofya charged at him, shouting his name.

Henthas turned quickly, both of his blades flashing. Kalyi had never seen anyone move with such speed, such ease. Her mother reeled away from him again, but this time, as she did, she clutched at her chest, just below her shoulder. An instant later, a dark stain appeared on her white gown and began to spread, like fire across parchment.

“Mother!”

Before Chofya could speak, Henthas was on her again, hammering at her with his blade, forcing her back and then to her knees.

Kalyi rushed out from behind her bed, brandishing her dagger. Before she reached him, though, Henthas looked back at her, pointing his dagger at her face, all the while keeping Chofya pinned to the floor with his sword.

“Stop right there, girl, or I’ll kill your dear mother. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

There was a knock at the door.

“Your Highness?” came a voice from the corridor.

“Not a word!” Henthas warned, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Or your mother dies.”

“I’m dead anyway,” Chofya said. And then, she shouted, “Help us! The duke is trying to kill us!”

“Damn you!” He pulled back his sword and plunged it into her. At the last moment Chofya hacked at his blade with her own so that his thrust missed her heart. Still, it lanced deep into her side, tearing a gasp from her lips and staining her gown with another gush of blood.

Someone began to pound at the door, the wood moaning but not giving way.

“By the time they break that door, you’ll both be dead.”

“They’ll kill you anyway,” Chofya said through clenched teeth.

“I’ll take that chance.”

The next blow would kill her. Kalyi knew it, just as she knew that he’d turn his steel on her next. She grabbed her mother’s knitting needles and threw them. They hit Henthas in the arm and clattered harmlessly to the floor.

He looked back at her and laughed, then faced Chofya again, raising his sword.

She grabbed for something again, and this time she found the oil lamp. She threw it as hard as she could, striking him in the back. The glass shattered, the oil soaked his shirt and burst into flame.

Henthas roared and spun toward her, dropping his weapons to flail with both hands at the flames. And rather than retreating from him, Kalyi ran forward, gripping her father’s dagger in her fist and pounding the crystal blade-the same blade that had taken her father’s life-into her uncle’s chest.

Henthas stopped in midstride, his face contorting, his entire body swaying, like some great oak in a harvest storm. Then he toppled forward, falling toward Kalyi as if he meant to crush her beneath his weight.

She scrambled out of the way, sobbing now, wanting only to be away from him. But he merely hit the floor and lay still, the flames still blackening his shirt and flesh.

In the next moment the door crashed open. Several men rushed into the chamber. A few of them bent to attend to Kalyi’s mother. Others hurried to smother the fire. One man crossed to Kalyi and knelt before her.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”

She nodded, crying too hard to speak.

“Did you kill him?”

Again she nodded.

The soldier shook his head, looking at her with awe and admiration. “People will sing of this day. Of you, Your Highness. They may yet keep you as their queen.”

Kalyi just stared at him. That was the last thing she wanted.