Shapers of Darkness

Chapter Three

The king waited until the archminister had gone and the sound of her footsteps in the corridor had faded to nothing before turning his wrath on Gershon.

“How could you allow her to do this?” he demanded, the look in his green eyes as hard as emeralds. “It’s reckless and dangerous and unbelievably foolish!”

Gershon’s father had told him long ago that when a noble was as angry as Kearney was now, it was best just to let him say his piece and be done with it. So the swordmaster merely stood in the center of the presence chamber, his head up, his eyes fixed on the wall before him, his hands at his side.

“I agree, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice even.

Never mind that the same could have been said of the affair Kearney had carried on with the woman for all those years in the highlands. Never mind that Gershon hadn’t been given a choice in this matter.

“Have you seen what this Weaver can do?” the king asked, stalking about the chamber. “Have you any idea of the power he wields? Because I have. I saw the face of the woman in our prison tower the morning after his assault on her. So I know what he’s capable of doing. And now Kez-” His face colored, but he only faltered for an instant. “The archminister is trying to deceive this man, as if he were nothing more than a. .” He shook his head, leaving Gershon to wonder what he had intended to say. An Eandi noble? Perhaps.

“This is madness! I should have been informed immediately-you should have come to me as soon as you suspected that Paegar had been involved with the conspiracy!”

“You’re quite right, Your Majesty. It was my fault.”

The king halted for a moment and glowered at him. Then he resumed his pacing.

“We have a war to worry about. There are two armies poised to strike at us, each of which would be a formidable foe on its own. And now we have to concern ourselves with this as well. How in Ean’s name am I supposed to keep her safe while I’m fighting the empire and the Aneirans? It’s enough that we need to watch for an attack from some phantom Qirsi army, but now the Weaver himself can reach us.” He shook his head a second time. “How long did she plan to go on with this, anyway? Was either one of you ever going to tell me?”

“I’m certain the archminister intended to eventually, Your Majesty.”

Kearney spun toward him. “Stop that!”

“Stop what, Your Majesty?”

“Stop what you’re doing! Calling me ‘Your Majesty’ like that, and trying to appease me with everything you say.”

“What would you have me do, instead?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you want me to tell you what I really think of all this?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Fine,” Gershon said. “I think you’re being a fool.”

The king recoiled, his eyes widening as if the swordmaster had slapped him.

“The archminister has risked her life for you, attempting something far more perilous than anything the King’s Guard has ever done, and all you can do is complain that we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I have a right to know.”

“And if you had known, would you have allowed her to go through with it? She felt certain that you wouldn’t, and I agreed with her.”

“I would have good reason to forbid it! It’s too dangerous! She shouldn’t be doing this at all!”

“Would you feel that way if Wenda had decided to try this? Or Dyre? Or are you only saying this because it’s Keziah, and you love her still?”

“You forget yourself, swordmaster!”

“Perhaps so, Your Majesty, but someone has to say these things. With all the risk she’s taking, I owe her this much. She didn’t believe that you could keep this secret to yourself. She feared that you’d treat her differently, that you’d try to protect her, and by doing so would in fact endanger her more. And seeing you carry on this way, I realize that she was right.”

“She needs protecting.”

Gershon shook his head, smiling fiercely. “No, Your Majesty, she doesn’t. She’s stronger and braver than either of us ever thought. And she’s clever as well. She can do this. She can fool the Weaver into believing that she’s betrayed you, and she can learn what he plans to do and when he intends to do it. Think of that. We’ve been dueling with wraiths for years now-not just you and me, not just your dukes, but all the nobles of the Forelands. This conspiracy has been weaving mists all around us, revealing itself just long enough to strike and then vanishing once more. And we’ve paid a heavy price for our inability to see.”

“Your point?”

“Keziah has given us a chance to clear away the mist, at a greater cost to herself than you can imagine. We have to let her see this through to the end, and we have to make certain that we do nothing to give her away. We don’t know who else in this castle has betrayed you, or which of the ministers traveling with their lords have cast their lot with the Weaver. But we have to assume that he has eyes everywhere. Any attempt you make to protect her will only serve to raise the Weaver’s suspicions.”

Kearney stepped to his throne and sat heavily, looking weary, as if his outburst had left him spent. “You’re right of course. But I still believe that she shouldn’t have been allowed to do this in the first place.”

“Knowing her as you do, can you really think that I had any hope of stopping her?”

The king actually smiled. “No, I suppose not.” He eyed the swordmaster, the smile lingering. “You see it now, don’t you-why I fell in love with her?”

“She is an extraordinary woman, Your Majesty.” It was the closest he could bring himself to condoning their love.

“I suppose even that is quite an admission for you, isn’t it, Gershon?” When the swordmaster didn’t respond, he went on. “You said a few moments ago that she had done all this at a terrible cost to herself. What did you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She loves you, just as you love her. Yet she’s spent the last several turns doing everything she could to make you doubt her loyalty, angering you to the point that you were ready to banish her from your castle. Your disapproval has hurt her more than anything the Weaver might have done to her.”

Kearney winced, as if remembering all that he had said to her since Paegar’s death. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“She understands that.”

“I suffered as well. I had no idea what had made her turn against me so suddenly. I imagined. . all sorts of things.”

“I’m sure Lord Shanstead was quite helpful in that regard.”

“You don’t trust him.”

Gershon furrowed his brow, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t think he’s trying to deceive you or weaken the realm. But he’s young, and he’s too quick to assume that all white-hairs are traitors. He can’t learn of what the archminister is doing. He’ll assume the worst, and worse, he’ll voice his suspicions to anyone who’ll listen. You can’t tell him, Your Majesty.”

“I won’t,” Kearney said. He smiled faintly. “You realize, of course, that you were much the same way not too long ago.”

“I know. To be honest, I’m still wary of most Qirsi. I suppose I will be for the rest of my days. But even knowing that the conspiracy is real, that it can reach every court in the Forelands, I’ve also come to realize that there are Qirsi in this land who would rather die than betray their realms.”

“Marston is a good man, Gershon. I agree with much of what you’ve said, but I also believe that he’ll be a valuable ally in our wars with the empire and the conspiracy.”

“I’m sure he will, Your Majesty.”

Kearney grinned. “You’re doing it again.”

The swordmaster had to laugh. “Yes, I am. Just be wary of him,” he said, growing serious once more. “Don’t confuse his passion for wisdom and don’t allow his suspicions to color your perceptions of those around you.”

“Is that what you think I did with Keziah?”

“I can’t be certain. But I do wonder if you could have given the order to have her removed from the castle without Marston pushing you in that direction.”

The king appeared to consider this, until eventually Gershon began to wonder if he ought to leave.

“Perhaps I should return to the ward, Your Majesty. The men have been training since midmorning bells, and I’ve yet to join them.”

“Yes, all right,” Kearney said absently. “You’ve been watching her all this time?” he asked, before Gershon could even start toward the door. “You’ve been keeping her safe?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. To the extent that I can. I can’t protect her from the Weaver, of course. I don’t believe anyone can. But I check on her whenever I can.”

“I’m grateful to you. And I apologize for what I said before. This isn’t your fault. Truth be told, no one’s to blame.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“I’d appreciate it if you continued to watch her for me. As you said before, there’s little I can do for her without drawing the attention of the Weaver’s servants.”

“You have my word, Your Majesty. I’ll do whatever I can for her until it’s time for me to ride to the Tarbin.”

The king frowned, as if he had forgotten that they would be riding to battle before long. “Yes, of course. Thank you, swordmaster.”

Gershon bowed and left the chamber, making his way through the corridors to the nearest stairway. Even had the king not asked it of him, he would have continued to watch over the archminister. He felt bound to her in this matter. It might not have been his fault, but to the extent that anyone allowed her to do anything, he had allowed her to do this. He might even have encouraged it.

Still, he was relieved to be sharing the burden of this secret with Kearney. His one regret was that he wouldn’t get to see Marston’s face when the thane learned that Keziah would be remaining with the king after all.

The archminister finally roused herself from her bed late in the day, as the ringing of the prior’s bells echoed through the castle. Unwilling to remain in her chamber any longer, and not yet ready to face Gershon, or Kearney, or the other ministers, she made her way to the prison tower.

Cresenne was asleep when she arrived, and the old Qirsi nurse who had been caring for Bryntelle during the days since Grinsa’s departure was walking slowly around the sparse chamber humming softly to the baby. The guards unlocked the door for Keziah, and the minister approached the nurse.

“Is she sleeping?” she asked in a whisper.

“Aye. It’s been some time now. She’ll be wakin’ soon an’ wantin’ her mother.”

“All right. I’ll take her.”

“Of course, Minister.” The woman smiled at Bryntelle and kissed the child lightly on the forehead. “Until tomorrow, little one.”

She handed the baby to Keziah and curtsied before leaving the chamber. Cresenne stirred when the guard closed and locked the steel door, but she didn’t wake and for the better part of an hour both mother and daughter remained asleep. Keziah walked in slow circles holding her niece, much as the nurse had done. She didn’t have much of a singing voice, but she sang anyway, keeping her voice so low that only Bryntelle could hear her.

Eventually, as the chamber began to grow dark, she heard Cresenne moving once more. Turning toward the sound, she saw the woman sit up and run a hand through her tangled white hair.

“How long have you been here?” she asked through a yawn.

“An hour perhaps. Since the prior’s bells.”

Cresenne glanced at the torches mounted on the wall near the door. A moment later they jumped to life, bright flames lighting the chamber. Their glow woke Bryntelle and she began to cry. Keziah carried her to her mother and in a moment Cresenne was nursing the child.

“You look awful,” Cresenne said, glancing at Keziah once more. “Like you’ve been crying-” She stopped, all color draining from her face. “Has something happened? Have you heard from Grinsa?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

Cresenne closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again passing her free hand through her hair a second time. “Then what?”

Keziah cast a quick look toward the door. The guards in the corridor were talking quietly to each other. She sat beside Cresenne and keeping her voice to a whisper, described her conversations with Gershon and the king.

“So now Kearney knows. Isn’t that good?”

Keziah gave a small shrug. “Maybe it is. I don’t know. The more people who know, the greater the chances that the Weaver will learn of my deception.”

“But surely you can’t think that the king would betray your confidence.”

“Not intentionally, no. But knowing what I’ve risked on his behalf, he’ll find it hard to grow angry with me when I provoke him. And I needn’t tell you that even something that subtle won’t escape the notice of those who serve the movement.”

Cresenne eyed her briefly, but said nothing. For some time, even before the Weaver’s attack and the abrupt changes it had brought to Cresenne’s life, Keziah and the woman had begun to build a strong friendship. But though they had told each other a good deal about their lives, Keziah hadn’t spoken to Cresenne of her affair with Kearney, nor had she admitted that she was Grinsa’s sister. Indeed, on more than one occasion Cresenne had wondered aloud if the minister and Grinsa had ever been lovers; it had been all Keziah could do to keep from laughing at the very idea of it. Sitting with her now, Keziah briefly considered telling her of the love she had shared with the king. Doing so might have helped Cresenne understand her concerns about all that had happened this day. Once again, however, something stopped her. Perhaps she was merely being overly cautious, or perhaps she feared the woman’s judgment. Many people of her race were no more accepting of love affairs between Eandi and Qirsi than were Ean’s children.

Instead she raised another matter. “A moment ago, when I told you what Gershon, Kearney, and I had discussed, I left out one detail. The king also spoke of moving you to Glyndwr. That was to be the pretext for sending me away.”

“I can’t say that I’m surprised. Before the Weaver tried to kill me His Majesty offered to grant me asylum in the highlands as an alternative to keeping me here as a prisoner.”

“Yes, I remember.” When they had first discussed the possibility, Keziah had thought it a fine idea. So long as Cresenne remained in the City of Kings, she would never have any freedom at all. At least in Glyndwr, she would be free to roam the castle grounds whenever she liked without fear of having to return to this chamber every time a noble came to visit the king.

“So are Bryntelle and I to leave then?” Cresenne asked, her tone surprisingly light.

“I told the king that I thought you should remain here, where we can protect you. But I have to admit that this was somewhat selfish on my part. So long as the Weaver believes that I intend to make an attempt on your life, he won’t do so himself. As soon as he hears that you’ve left, he’ll try to kill you, and then he’ll punish me for failing to do as he instructed.”

“That’s not selfish, it’s sensible.”

The archminister stared at the narrow window near Cresenne’s bed. “It seemed selfish to me,” she said softly. “My point in raising all this is that if you would rather leave the castle now, I think I can still prevail upon the king to let you go.”

“Do you think I should?”

“As I said, once you’re away from here-away from me-the Weaver will come for you himself. But it may take him some time to find you.”

Cresenne smiled grimly. “It never has before. Besides, he knows that I’m the king’s prisoner. If he doesn’t find me here, Glyndwr will be the next place he looks.”

“You’re probably right. Leaving here would be quite dangerous, but it might also allow you a bit more freedom.”

“There is no freedom when you’re afraid for your life.” Cresenne pushed the hair back from her brow. “Grinsa left me-left us-in your care. I have to trust that he did so for good reason. We’ll stay here.”

Keziah smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Have you heard anything from him?” Cresenne asked after a lengthy silence.

It had been only a few days since the two women last spoke, but this was a question they asked each other every time they were together.

“No, nothing. You?”

“The last I heard he was on his way here,” Cresenne said. “But that was some time ago.”

The minister put her hand on Cresenne’s. “I’m sure he’s all right. He’s probably just intent on getting back here as quickly as possible, so that he can see you and Bryntelle.”

The woman grimaced in response. It took Keziah a moment to understand that she was trying to smile.

“You fear for him.”

“Of course, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I sense that there’s more to what you’re feeling than you admit.” Keziah gave a slight shudder. “Have you seen something?”

“No.”

She knew immediately that the woman was lying. Keziah clasped her hands together in her lap, and hunched her shoulders as if against a chill wind.

“Grinsa told me before he left that you had dreamed he’d be going. What else did you see, Cresenne?”

“Nothing I can name,” she said, an admission in the words. It seemed to Keziah that she wanted to say more, but she merely pressed her lips together in a tight line and gazed down at Bryntelle. A single tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

The archminister would have liked to press her on this, but she was a gleaner as well, and she knew how great a burden incomplete visions of the future could be.

“Perhaps I should leave you.”

Cresenne nodded, wiped the tear away.

Keziah stood, but Cresenne took her hand before she could walk away from the bed.

“I think Grinsa will make it back here safely,” she said. “But I’m afraid that I won’t be alive when he does.”

The archminister knelt before her, forcing the woman to meet her gaze. “Are you certain you don’t want to leave here? Isn’t it possible that you could hide from the Weaver long enough for Grinsa to learn his identity and destroy him?”

“It doesn’t matter where I am. You should know that as well as anyone.” Cresenne’s tears were falling freely now. Was there no end to the anguish the Weaver had caused?

“I’ve told you what Grinsa explained to me about the Weaver’s magic. When he’s in your dreams and he’s hurting you, he’s using your own magic against you. He can’t do anything to us-”

“That we don’t allow him to do.” Cresenne nodded. “You’ve told me. But even knowing that, I’m not certain that I can stop him. Grinsa told you that it’s all an illusion, but look at me.” She gestured at the scars on her face. They were fading slowly, but they still stood out, stark against her fair skin. “What he did to me was real. It doesn’t matter whose magic he used, he was able to hurt me. Had it not been for Grinsa, he would have killed me.”

“I know what he can do. I’ve felt it, just as you have.” The memory of her first encounter with the Weaver still made Keziah’s blood run cold. He had appeared before her, an imposing black figure framed against a blazing white light that pained her eyes. And when she resisted his attempts to read her thoughts, when she tried to hide the fact that Grinsa was in her dreams as well, the Weaver brought the full weight of his power down upon her mind. The pain was searing, unbearable. At that moment, she would have preferred to die than endure the man’s wrath for a moment longer. She understood Cresenne’s fear all too well. “He didn’t scar me as he did you, and he wasn’t trying to kill me. But I know what it is to have him turn my power against me. I remember how helpless I felt. And that’s the illusion, Cresenne. The pain is real, the marks he leaves on us are real. But we’re not helpless. That’s what Grinsa was trying to say.”

“Do you know how to resist him? Do you know how to take back control of your powers so that he can’t use them? Because I don’t, and I have no time to learn. The next time he comes for me, I’m dead.”

She tried to say more, but her words were lost amid her sobbing. Bryntelle stopped suckling and began to cry as well. Keziah stood and took the baby, so that Cresenne might have a moment to gather herself.

She hadn’t been holding Bryntelle for long, however, when she heard footsteps in the corridor outside her chamber. Both women looked toward the steel grate at the top of the door. A guard was looking in at them.

“What is it?” Keziah asked the man.

“The king wishes to speak with you, Archminister.”

“Damn,” she muttered.

“It’s all right,” Cresenne said, reaching for her child. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll come back later.”

The woman nodded. Keziah felt that she should say more, but the guard was waiting, and so, it seemed, was the king. The guard opened the door and Keziah stepped into the corridor.

“Where is His Majesty?” she asked.

“His presence chamber, Archminister.”

She glanced back at Cresenne one last time, then descended the stairs and hurried across the ward toward Kearney’s chamber.

She had thought to find the king with Gershon, or, far worse, with Marston of Shanstead. But Kearney was alone, standing near his writing table when she entered the chamber.

He gestured stiffly at a nearby chair. “Please sit.”

She bowed, then stepped to the chair, lowering herself into it, her eyes fixed on his face.

“I thought we should speak a bit more about. . about all that’s happened.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“It took Gershon pointing it out to me, but I think I finally understand how difficult all of this has been for you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

He gave a deep frown, shaking his head. “Why is it that everyone speaks to me as if I were some fearsome tyrant?”

In spite of everything, she had to fight to keep from smiling. “Is that what I’m doing, Your Majesty?”

“Yes! You and Gershon used to be candid to the point of impertinence.”

“And you preferred that?”

“To this constant obeisance? I should say so.”

“Perhaps he and I should go back to fighting with each other as well.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Not really.” She passed a hand through her hair, feeling awkward and unsure of just what he wanted from her. “I haven’t really known how to talk to you since your ascension to the throne. So much has changed.”

“I’d still like to be your friend, Keziah. That hasn’t changed at all.”

“But you can’t be. That’s why I concealed all this from you. Until we’ve defeated the conspiracy, we have to make it seem to everyone who sees us together that we’re suspicious of one another, that while we appear to be working together, neither of us is happy about it.”

“But surely in our private conversations-”

“There can’t be many of those. Occasionally we can contrive an opportunity for one. I can give offense in some way, and you can summon me here. It will seem that you’re reproaching me for my behavior. But we can’t do that too often, or Marston and others will wonder why you haven’t banished me from the castle.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Is this what it’s been like for you since Paegar died? Lies and contrivances?”

Keziah looked away, a sudden pain in her chest making her breath catch. “It hasn’t been so bad.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have to believe it,” she whispered. “Or else it’ll kill me.”

“Have you been able to speak with anyone about this?”

“Gershon, Cresenne, Grinsa while he was here.”

“Cresenne?”

She smiled, glancing at him once more. “Yes. She and I have become good friends.”

“And you trust her to keep this secret?”

“She doesn’t speak with anyone else, and since she turned against the Weaver she has no reason to betray me.”

“So you could trust a traitor with this, but not me.”

She winced. “Your Majesty-”

“I understand, Keziah. Truly, I do. But we’re living in. . difficult times.”

“You said that you had spoken to Gershon, and that you had a sense of how dear a price I’ve paid for all this. If that’s so, then you must also realize that I still love you, that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

The king nodded, as if suddenly unable to speak.

“Good.” She made herself smile. “As long as you know that, as long as you remember it when I seem to be defying you or offering questionable counsel, the rest will be easy.” She laughed, though it sounded forced, almost desperate. “Well, easier.”

Kearney looked skeptical, but Keziah actually believed this to be true. Either the Weaver would kill her or he wouldn’t. Either she could learn something of value, or she couldn’t. But at least she no longer had to live with the fear that Kearney hated her, that she had destroyed beyond hope of repair all that they had once shared.

“But this Weaver-”

She shook her head. “Don’t. Please. The less I tell you about all this, the better for both of us.”

“You said before that he had hurt you.”

“Not as much as he has others.”

“I’ll kill him if he does again.” He looked off to the side, a rueful smile on his lips. “I suppose that sounds terribly foolish.”

“Maybe a little foolish, but I’m grateful anyway.”

They fell into a long silence. Keziah knew that she should leave him, but she couldn’t bring herself even to stand. And Kearney seemed content to let her remain there.

“Perhaps I should be going, Your Majesty,” she said at last, pushing herself out of the chair.

“Yes, all right.”

She started to walk past him, but he caught her hand and their eyes met.

“You know that I love you, too. And always will.”

“Yes,” she murmured, unable to say more. It seemed that the hand he held was ablaze.

They stood that way for a moment. Then he let go and looked away, as if frightened by what had just passed between them.

Keziah hurried from the chamber, afraid as well.

Marston was just stepping into the corridor when he saw the archminister emerge from Kearney’s presence chamber. Ducking back out of view and then peering cautiously into the hallway, he watched her make her way to the next tower and disappear into the stairwell. Only then did he step into the corridor himself and walk to the king’s door. He raised a hand to knock, then glanced at one of the guards standing on either side of the door.

“Is His Majesty alone?”

“Yes, my lord. He is now.”

Marston nodded, feeling rage well up in his chest, like blood from a wound. It had taken him the better part of a turn to prevail upon the king to banish the woman from his court. He had fought to overcome the king’s admirable loyalty to those who served him, he had argued the point on a number of occasions with Gershon Trasker, and if the rumors of Kearney’s love affair with the woman were true-and he felt certain that they were-he had even had to overcome the king’s lingering affection for the woman.

And at long last, that very morning, he had finally seen all of his hard work rewarded. He believed the archminister to be the most dangerous person in the realm. Not only was he certain that she had betrayed the king, but he believed that she had been using what remained of his passion for her to bend him to her will. She had openly defied Kearney’s authority, insulted his guests, and repeatedly offered poor counsel; there was no other explanation for her continued presence in the castle.

He had barely been able to conceal his pleasure when the king ordered Gershon to send her away, and he had been even more pleased later in the morning when she failed to appear at the gate to bid farewell to the dukes of Heneagh, Tremain, and Curgh. Clearly the swordmaster had informed her of Kearney’s decision and even after their audience with the king, Kearney had not changed his mind.

But now, somehow, the woman had been allowed to speak with Kearney in private. There was no telling what she had said or done. She might have seduced or ensorcelled him. Perhaps she had done both. Even before Marston entered the presence chamber, he sensed his victory slipping away.

He knocked once on the door, awaited the king’s reply, then pushed open the door and entered the chamber.

Kearney sat on his throne, his face white as a Qirsi’s save for the bright red spots high on his cheeks.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” the thane said, bowing.

The king nodded to him. “Lord Shanstead. I take it preparations for your departure go well.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. We ride with first light.”

“I’m grateful to you for making the journey from Thorald, and I appreciate as well your candor and your insight. A lesser man in your position might have sought to undermine my authority, seeing in present circumstance a path to power. As long as I live, the House of Thorald will have a friend on the Oaken Throne.”

Marston bowed a second time. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You honor me, and my people.”

Kearney took a breath, seeming to gather himself. “You should know that I’ve changed my mind about the archminister,” he said, pressing his fingertips together and staring straight ahead. “I realize that you believe she should be sent away, that she’s a danger to the realm and to me. I even understand why you might feel this way. But I’ve come to believe that there are compelling reasons to keep her here with me.” He glanced up at Marston. “And that’s what I intend to do.”

“Can I ask Your Majesty what these reasons might be?”

“No. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“I saw the archminister leaving your chamber just now, as I stepped into the corridor. Can you at least tell me if you made this decision in the last few moments?”

The king smiled, as if amused. “You fear that she’s enchanted me?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was just-”

“It’s all right, Marston. As it happens, I made this decision earlier today and Gershon was with me. I’m not under some Qirsi spell. I’ve done what I feel is best for all concerned, and I trust that if you were in my position, knowing all that I do, you would do the same.”

The thane stared at the floor, trying to control his anger, groping for the right words. “Your Majesty, with all respect, I must ask if you. . if you’re capable of thinking clearly where the archminister is concerned.”

“Meaning what?” Kearney demanded, his voice like a blade.

Marston started to respond, then stopped himself, shaking his head. “It was nothing, Your Majesty. I merely know how long the archminister has been in your service, and how steadfast you are in support of those who have earned your trust. Forgive me.”

“I assure you, Lord Shanstead, that where the safety of the realm is concerned, I allow nothing-nothing-to cloud my judgment. If I thought that the archminister’s presence in this castle endangered my life or represented any sort of threat to Eibithar, I would not hesitate to banish her from the castle, or, if necessary, to imprison her. I’d do the same to Gershon if I had to, or to you, or to any of my nobles. Do I honor those who have served me well over the years? Of course. What kind of sovereign would I be if I didn’t? But I do not allow sentiment to get in the way of exigency. I hope that you’ll remember that.”

“I will, Your Majesty.”

Kearney stood. “Good. Please convey to your father my regrets that he couldn’t make the journey himself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Marston bowed, hearing a dismissal in the king’s words.

The king’s expression softened. “Please also tell him that I said his son acquitted himself extremely well in the duke’s absence.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll do that.”

“I’ll see you to the city gate in the morning.”

“You honor me, Your Majesty.” He turned and left the chamber, knowing that his father would have been angry with him for speaking to the king as he had. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to let the matter drop. Clearly he couldn’t speak of this with Kearney, but there was nothing to stop him from approaching the swordmaster.

He had one of the guards direct him to Gershon’s chamber and hurried through the castle corridors, his ire growing with each step. The thane could see how Kearney might be unable to dismiss the woman, but how could Gershon Trasker, who from all accounts had once been wary of all Qirsi, counsel the king to let her remain?

Reaching the swordmaster’s door, Marston rapped hard on the wood, readying himself to rail at the man. But when the door opened a crack, it revealed not the swordmaster, but rather a small girl with bright blue eyes and thick brown curls.

“Hello,” she said, staring up at him solemnly.

“Uh. . I’m looking for your father.”

“Who is it, Trina?” came a voice from within.

“A man,” she called over her shoulder.

Gershon strode into view, frowning at the sight of the thane.

“Run along, love,” he said.

The girl glanced up at Marston once more, then ran from the door. Gershon opened it farther, but he didn’t step into the corridor, nor did he ask the thane into his chamber.

“What can I do for you, Lord Shanstead?”

“I was hoping we might speak in private for a moment.”

“About the archminister?”

He looked past the swordmaster and saw a woman watching them-Gershon’s wife, no doubt.

“Can we do this in private?”

The man’s frown deepened, but after a moment he stepped into the corridor and closed the door. “What is it you want?”

“I want to know why the king changed his mind about sending the archminister to Glyndwr.”

“Did you ask him?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He told me nothing.”

“Then why would you expect me to do more?”

“Because I know how you feel about the Qirsi, or at least how you used to feel about them.”

Gershon shrugged. “My feelings have nothing to do with this. It was the king’s decision, and if he chose not to explain his reasoning to you, I’m certainly not going to try.”

“Fine. He told me that he made this decision with you present. Will you at least tell me what you counseled him to do?”

“I told him to let her remain here.”

“Why?”

“I won’t tell you that, either. It’s enough for you to know that King Kearney has chosen to keep his archminister with him, and that I agree with that choice. The rest is none of your concern.”

“Don’t you see how dangerous she is? The king can’t think clearly when it comes to this woman.”

“Just as you can’t think clearly when it comes to any Qirsi.”

“That’s not true!”

“I think it is. It seems that Enid ja Kovar’s betrayal of your father has affected you as well. You see treachery lurking in every pair of yellow eyes, and you see weakness in any Eandi who trusts a Qirsi.”

“That’s ridiculous. I trust my own minister.”

“Yes,” Gershon said, his eyebrows going up. “I’ve noticed that. Am I to gather then that you’re the only man in the Forelands with enough sense to know which Qirsi can be trusted and which can’t? Does your arrogance run that deep?”

“You forget yourself, swordmaster!”

The man grinned, though not with his eyes. “Kearney said the same thing to me earlier today. Perhaps I’m getting impudent in my old age. But in this case I haven’t forgotten myself at all. You may be a thane, Lord Shanstead, but you’re young, and you’ve a good deal to learn. And since you’re the one who’s questioning the king’s judgment in the corridors of Audun’s Castle, I think I’m justified in what I’ve said. Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like to return to my family.”

He reached for the door handle.

“This isn’t over, swordmaster.”

Gershon stopped and faced him again. “Oh, but it is. The king has made his decision, and that is the final word. If I learn that you have done anything to undermine his faith in the archminister, I’ll consider it an act of treason and will respond accordingly. I don’t care if we have to fight the empire without the army of Thorald. I will not have a whelp like you meddling in the affairs of my king.” He pushed the door open. “Good night, Lord Shanstead.” And entering the chamber once more, he closed the door smartly, the sound echoing through the corridor.

Fool!

Marston stood in the hallway for several moments, unable to move, his fists clenched so tightly that his hands began to ache. At last he forced himself into motion, striding back toward his own chamber. There was nothing left to be done here. The archminister had managed somehow to turn both Kearney and the swordmaster to her purposes, and Marston hadn’t enough influence with the king to oppose her. If he had had more time in the City of Kings, perhaps he could have swayed the king back to the side of reason, but with his departure planned for the next day, he had no choice but to allow her this victory. Still, he wasn’t ready yet to give up the fight. A time would come when the woman would reveal her true intentions, when her sorcery would not reach quite so far and the king’s vision would clear. And when that happened, Marston would be ready, with every weapon he could bring to bear.