Shapers of Darkness

Chapter Seven

Solkara, Aneira

Even in the dream, standing before the shadowed form of the Weaver, Pronjed jal Drenthe could feel his hand throbbing, as if the mended bone could remember the pain of the Weaver’s wrath. The wind whipping across the grassy plain seemed particularly cold this night, the black sky more menacing than in previous dreams. He knew he should have been listening to the Weaver’s instructions, but the pulsing agony in his hand tugged at his mind, demanding his attention. He wondered if the Weaver was responsible for the pain, if he had made Pronjed’s hand hurt as a reminder of the minister’s past failure, a warning of what might happen if he stumbled again.

Or perhaps it was a product of his own fears. The Weaver expected him to start a civil war in Aneira. He believed that Numar of Renbrere, regent for Kalyi the child-queen, trusted Pronjed and would listen to the archminister when he counseled taking a hard stance against those houses that would oppose the realm’s alliance with Braedon. The truth was, Numar had never trusted him, nor did Henthas, the duke of Solkara. Over the past turn his encounters with the regent had grown ever more awkward, until Pronjed looked for nearly any excuse to avoid them, despite the Weaver’s expectations.

Just two days before, on the first morning of the waning, the archminister had tried to use mind-bending magic on Numar, hoping to learn what the regent intended to do about the dukes of Dantrielle, Orvinti, and Tounstrel, who continued to voice opposition to the coming war. In the past, the regent had submitted to his power with almost no resistance. On this day, however, Pronjed had been unable to learn anything at all. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed Numar knew he possessed mind-bending magic and was consciously resisting him. He wanted to believe this wasn’t true-delusion magic, the power to control the thoughts and memories of others, was far more effective when used on the unsuspecting, which was why he had made every effort to conceal the fact that he wielded it. He couldn’t imagine how the regent might have learned the truth. It was possible that the regent’s mistrust of Pronjed ran so deep as to shield him from the archminister’s power. But it seemed more likely that Pronjed had given himself away, that in using mind-bending power on Numar he had failed to suppress the regent’s memories of the encounters.

Whatever the explanation, Pronjed now found himself without access to Numar’s thoughts and unable to overcome the man’s suspicions. The regent might well lead Aneira into a civil war on his own, but Pronjed could do nothing to steer him in that direction.

Nor could he admit as much to the Weaver standing before him, the man who had conjured this frigid wind and black sky, who had once shattered his hand with but a thought. No doubt the Weaver would leap at an opportunity to hurt him again. Pronjed was not about to give him any excuse to do so.

“The regent has received word from Braedon?” the Weaver asked.

This much, at least, Pronjed did know. “Yes, Weaver. The emperor’s message arrived three days ago. Already Numar has stepped up his preparations for war.”

“Good. He knows of the opposition to this war in Dantrielle and Orvinti?”

“Yes, Weaver. He’s known of it for some time.”

“You’ve counseled him to deal harshly with the rebels?”

“Of course.”

“And will he?”

Pronjed swallowed. It was folly to lie to the Weaver, and yet in this case the truth struck him as being every bit as dangerous.

“You hesitate,” the Weaver said, his voice as hard as the boulders surrounding them on the plain. “Why?”

“It’s been a few days since I spoke with the regent, Weaver.” He gave a small, desperate laugh. “Like all Eandi, his thoughts on such matters change from one day to the next. It’s difficult to say with any confidence what he intends to do.”

“All the more reason to act the attentive minister, Pronjed. This is no time to allow our efforts to be hindered by ignorance and indifference.”

“He remains committed to the alliance with Braedon, Weaver,” Pronjed said, eager to show that he had accomplished some of what the man expected.

“The alliance is not enough. The war is not enough. Eibithar’s quick defeat at the hands of the empire and Aneira would be worse for our cause than no war at all. You understand that, don’t you?”

Pronjed started to answer, but the Weaver gave him no chance.

“I want a protracted war, Archminister. I want the Aneiran army divided and weakened. That’s why the opposition to this war in Dantrielle and Orvinti is so important. And that’s why the regent must be convinced to crush the rebellious dukes. Or at least to try. I had thought you understood all of this. Please tell me that I wasn’t mistaken.”

“Of course not, Weaver,” Pronjed said, flinching, as if expecting at any moment to feel his bones shatter or his skin set afire. “I understand what you want.”

The Weaver said nothing for several moments, until Pronjed began to wonder if the man was weighing whether or not to kill him.

“What of the girl?” the Weaver finally asked.

“The girl?”

“The queen, you dolt! Does Numar still intend to kill her, or will he leave that to his brother?”

“I. . I believe he-the regent, that is-thinks her more valuable alive than dead. He thinks the dukes who remain loyal will be less likely to turn against him while he remains regent. If she dies, they’ll suspect him, and even if they don’t, they’ll begin to see him as just another Solkaran despot. As long as he wages war in the name of the queen, the dukes will follow him. Or so he believes.”

“You disagree with him?”

Pronjed shrugged, feeling more confident on this terrain. “He speaks for the queen now-at least he claims to-and still Tebeo and his allies defy him.”

“And Henthas?”

The minister felt his uncertainty returning. Of all those in Castle Solkara whom he sought to turn to his will-Numar, Chofya, even Kalyi-Henthas, the brother of both the regent and the late King Carden the Third, had proven the most difficult to control. He was loyal to no one, nor did he seem to feel affection for any member of the royal family. Even ambition could not explain some of his actions. Once, briefly, the arch-minister had thought to make an ally of the duke. He soon came to realize that he could reach no accommodation with such a man. It seemed to Pronjed that Henthas was guided only by malice and a perverse desire to inflict pain wherever he could. No wonder he was known throughout the land as the Jackal. The duke would gladly have killed the girl had he thought that he could blame the crime on his brother, Numar, though to do so surely would have brought about the downfall of the Solkaran Supremacy.

Again, the minister considered a lie, though only for an instant. He couldn’t be expected to know everything. Or could he?

“To be honest, Weaver, I can’t say for certain what the duke’s intentions might be. He is a strange, twisted man, even for an Eandi noble. I don’t doubt that he could prove valuable before all is said and done, but right now, I wouldn’t know how to use him.”

“Then I’d suggest you study him further. You possess delusion magic. Use it on him.”

Of course a Weaver would know.

“I’ve been reluctant to do so, Weaver. I use the magic on Numar. And since the brothers speak with some frequency, despite their mutual mistrust, I thought it safest not to use my power on both of them.”

“I understand. But now I’m telling you that the time for caution has passed. Do I make myself clear?”

Pronjed’s hands began to shake and he cursed himself for his cowardice. “Yes, Weaver.”

“The hour we’ve been awaiting draws near, Archminister. You’re fortunate, in that I couldn’t hope to replace you at this late date. That, as much as anything, is why I don’t kill you where you stand.”

“What have I done, Weaver?” he asked, his voice quavering like that of a frightened boy.

A blow to the side of his head staggered him, and a second drove him to the hard ground.

“Don’t trifle with me, you fool! Did you really think you could deceive me?”

Before he could answer, Pronjed felt a fierce pain in his gut, as if he had been kicked. He retched, gasping for air and clutching his middle, his knees drawn up to his chest. The Weaver hadn’t moved.

It was some time before he could speak, the pain in his head and stomach receding slowly, like a fog. The Weaver merely stood there, his face in shadows. The archminister sensed that he was enjoying himself.

“How bad is it?” the man finally asked.

“Weaver?”

“Your rapport with the regent. You said before that you hadn’t spoken to him in a few days. The fact is, he no longer speaks to you at all, isn’t that right?”

Pronjed struggled to his feet, expecting at any moment to be knocked to the ground again. “He still speaks to me, but he tells me little of what we most need to know.”

“What have you learned with your delusion magic?”

The archminister took a breath. He wasn’t about to lie to the Weaver again, but he feared the man’s reaction to the truth nearly as much. “Nothing recently, Weaver. By design, or by mere dumb luck, he’s found a way to resist my power.”

“You were careless.”

He could hear disgust in the Weaver’s voice, and he started to object. Then he thought better of it and lowered his gaze.

“Yes, Weaver. I must have been.”

“All the more reason to use magic on the brother. It may be that he knows more than you do by now.”

“Yes, Weaver.”

“What you told me about the girl a moment ago, that the regent believes he’s safer with her alive-was that true?”

Pronjed nodded. “I believe it is. She’s become a shield for him. As opposition from the dukes increases, he has little choice but to hide behind her, and also behind the mother, Chofya, who remains well liked among the other nobles.”

“The mother,” the Weaver repeated. “Does she support this war?”

“I don’t know for certain. Since the girl was named queen and Numar was chosen as her regent, Chofya has kept to herself. I believe she still has faith in the regent, though I can’t imagine she has much enthusiasm for the alliance with Braedon. I’m certain only of one thing: she hates Henthas, and fears what he might do to the girl.”

“She still trusts you?”

“Yes, Weaver. I think she does.”

“Then perhaps your failure with the regent will be less costly than I first thought. Speak with her. Convince her that the war, if successful, will reflect well on her daughter and will improve the chances that her reign will be a long and prosperous one. It may be that she can convince Numar of what you could not.”

Pronjed struggled to keep his anger in check, knowing that another misstep might give the Weaver cause to kill him. “Yes, Weaver,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll see to it right away.”

“I expect no less.”

An instant later the archminister awoke with a start. His sleeping shirt and hair were damp with sweat, and his head and gut still ached. It could have been worse, he knew, remembering the shattering of the bones in his hand.

Or had the Weaver in fact done all that he dared?

The Weaver himself had made clear that his war with the Eandi courts was approaching, that its imminence might have saved Pronjed’s life. Perhaps it even kept the man from inflicting greater injuries on the archminister. Now was not the time for him to risk giving Pronjed visible injuries that would be difficult for the archminister to explain.

But what will he do to me once the war is over?

The only way to ensure his own safety was to do the Weaver’s bidding and prove himself invaluable to the movement. He rose and dressed, deciding that he would first seek out the queen mother. He knew better than to think that Chofya had much influence with the regent, but Pronjed’s rapport with the woman remained strong, and speaking with her seemed the easiest way to begin what promised to be a long, difficult day.

He found Chofya in the gardens, overseeing the first plantings of the season. The day was already growing warm and the first swifts to return to Solkara were darting overhead, black as pitch against a sapphire sky.

“Good morrow, Your Highness,” Pronjed said as he approached her.

She looked up, shading her dark eyes with a slender hand. She wore a simple brown dress and soft leather shoes, much like those of the workers around her. But with her exquisite features and long black hair, which she had tied back from her face, none would have confused her for a common laborer. She still looked every bit the queen.

“Hello, Archminister. Kalyi isn’t here. I believe she’s with one of her tutors.”

“Actually, Your Highness, I was looking for you.”

She frowned. “For me?”

“Yes. May I speak with you for a moment?”

She glanced briefly at the laborers, as if reluctant to leave them. Then she followed the archminister to a deserted corner of the garden.

“Has something happened?” she asked, as he halted by an empty flower bed and turned to face her once more.

“No, Your Highness. Not yet. But you must know that we may be on the brink of war.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, looking troubled. “There seems to be nothing I can do to prevent it.”

He gaped at her, no doubt looking like a fool. “Prevent it? Why would you want to do such a thing?”

She looked away, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter, Archminister. I’m no longer queen, and even when I was, my opinions on these matters meant nothing. I managed to have Kalyi placed on the throne. Beyond that, my responsibilities to the land have never amounted to much. And it’s probably just as well.”

Pronjed cursed himself for beginning this conversation so clumsily. He needed to enlist the queen as an ally, and already he had made her more reluctant even to discuss the matter. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did. Please tell me why you object to this war.”

“I object to all wars, Archminister. I always have, though I kept my reservations to myself while Carden was alive.”

“Don’t you think it possible that a victory over Eibithar could strengthen the realm? Don’t you believe it would ensure a successful reign for your daughter?”

She shrugged. “I suppose it might.”

“And still you oppose it.”

Chofya eyed him briefly, seeming to search his face for some sign of what lurked behind his words. “You truly wish to know why I’m against it?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Very well. My husband viewed war as the solution to all problems. He never learned the art of statecraft or mastered the finer points of leadership. He ruled Aneira by threatening violence. And because of this, he was feared and hated throughout the land. Kalyi might not yet be queen, but her regency has begun. She’ll spend the next six years learning how to lead-all that she witnesses in this time will shape her, determining what sort of queen she’ll be. I don’t want her to rule as her father did. I don’t want her to turn to her army or her assassins every time she finds herself at odds with a duke or another realm.”

For a time, Pronjed said nothing, weighing what she had told him. Chofya, he realized, would never be his ally in this fight. At least not wittingly.

“You think me foolish,” she said at last, a thin smile on her lips.

“Not at all, Your Highness. On the contrary, I believe the queen is fortunate to have you nearby.”

“But still, you disagree with me.”

He acknowledged the point with a small nod. “I’m afraid I do. I hope that Kalyi will become the sort of leader you want her to be. But I believe that in this case, war is justified. We have an opportunity to weaken Eibithar, perhaps even destroy her. Isn’t it possible that by ridding ourselves of such a powerful enemy, we make it easier for the queen to rule with a gentle hand?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But even if we rid ourselves of the threat to the north, how long will it be before we face another from Sanbira or Uulrann, or even from Braedon? There will always be those who counsel war, Archminister, who see dangers in one realm or another. Better she should learn from the start that war is to be avoided, that other solutions are preferable.”

He forced a smile. “Of course, Your Highness. I understand.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Think nothing of it.” He gestured toward the laborers working at the far end of the gardens, and together they walked in silence back to where she had been when he first found her.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Your Highness,” he said, bowing to her. “Please forgive the intrusion.” He started to walk away.

“How soon do you think the war will begin?” she asked, forcing him to face her once more.

“I’m not certain, though I expect we’ll be at war before the end of the growing turns.”

Chofya nodded, tight-lipped and grim.

Pronjed made his way back toward the nearest of the castle towers. Before he had gone far, however, he glanced up toward the top floor of the castle and saw Numar standing at his window, marking the archminister’s progress through the castle ward. Their eyes met for just a moment, before the regent shifted his gaze, but he didn’t close the shutters, nor did he step away from the window. And almost as soon as Pronjed looked away, he sensed the man’s eyes upon him again.

He continued on toward the presence chamber of the Solkaran duke, Henthas, the regent’s older brother. He didn’t relish the thought of relying on this man for anything, but he couldn’t do all that the Weaver expected without help.

Henthas offered only a sneer by way of welcome.

“What do you want?” he demanded, sounding every bit the Jackal.

“Just a word, my lord. It won’t take long.” I’m no more eager to be here than you are to have me.

“Very well. What is it?” From the tone of the duke’s voice one might have thought that Pronjed was keeping him from some crucial task, but as far as the minister could tell, the man had simply been sitting by his window, staring out at the ward and the soldiers training there.

The archminister glanced at the servants standing by the door, before again regarding Henthas.

The duke twisted his mouth as if annoyed, but a moment later he ordered the servants from the chamber.

“Now for the third time,” he said, once they were gone, “what do you want?”

“I want to know if you’ve spoken with your brother recently.”

“My lord.”

Pronjed blinked. “What?”

“ ‘I want to know if you’ve spoken with your brother recently, my lord.’ I’m duke of Solkara, Archminister. You often seem to forget that.”

Pronjed gave a brittle smile. “How could I, my lord?”

Henthas said nothing, and cursing the man inwardly, the archminister surrendered the point.

“I was wondering if you had spoken with your brother recently, my lord.”

The duke smiled broadly. “Much better. As it happens we spoke yesterday. Why do you wish to know?”

“He’s told me little of his preparations for war, and even less of what he intends to do about Dantrielle and the dukes who oppose him. I thought perhaps you could tell me what you know.”

Henthas watched him for several moments, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Pronjed bit his tongue, tasting blood. “May I ask why?” he said at last, fighting to keep his voice even.

“If Numar has chosen to keep you ignorant of such matters, I can only assume that he has good reason. Far be it from me to work at cross purposes with my own brother.”

The minister would have laughed aloud had he not been so enraged. Henthas had, at one time or another, been working at cross purposes with everyone in the castle, including his brother. Especially his brother.

“It wasn’t long ago, my lord, that you and I were working together to protect the queen from the regent. The threat to her remains, and I needn’t remind you that the stronger Numar becomes, the less likely it is that you will ever be in a position to claim the throne for yourself.”

“Have you spoken to Chofya of the threat to her daughter?”

“Not yet, no.”

“I’m surprised. If you truly feared for the queen’s life you would have by now.”

Pronjed crossed the chamber and sat in a chair near the duke. He needed to be close to the man in order to use magic on him. “You’ve allied yourself with him, haven’t you?”

Henthas shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The minister smiled, but even as he did, he reached out with his power and touched the duke’s mind. “What did he offer you?”

“He offered nothing,” the man said, his face abruptly growing slack, a dull look in his dark eyes. “He told me that he fears you, that he thinks you might have killed Carden.”

Pronjed gaped at him. It was the last thing he expected the duke to say. The truth was he had killed Carden, by using his mind-bending magic to make the king plunge a dagger into his own chest. “Why does he think that?”

“He wouldn’t say. But he thinks you’re far more dangerous than we ever believed, and he convinced me of this as well.”

Numar must have known that he possessed mind-bending power. There was no other explanation for what Henthas had said, particularly since the minister’s power no longer worked on the regent.

“Tell me of Numar’s plans,” he finally commanded. Delusion was the most taxing of all his powers, and already he was tiring.

“There’s little to tell. He’s mustering a thousand more men into the army and sending most of them north to the Tarbin. When the naval war begins, they’ll attack.”

“And the dukes to the south?”

“Numar doesn’t believe they pose much of a threat. They oppose the war, but they haven’t the nerve to defy him openly.”

“So he has no intention of sending any part of his army to Orvinti or Dantrielle?”

“No.”

“Damn,” he said under his breath. He rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn’t going any better than had his conversation with Chofya. “And the girl? When does he plan to kill her?”

“He doesn’t, at least not for a long while. I think he’s grown fond of her.”

Just as Pronjed had suspected. At least that much of what he had told the Weaver was true. Weighing all that he had learned during the course of this morning, however, the archminister realized that matters were a good deal worse than he had feared. Numar, through cunning, or just good fortune, had managed to isolate him. He had befriended the young queen, he had won Henthas’s loyalty, at least for a time. And though Pronjed didn’t believe that Chofya would ally herself with the regent so long as he continued to pursue this war, he knew-and Numar must have as well-that she wanted no part of court politics anymore. She was content to raise her daughter and cultivate her gardens. Certainly, she was not about to take sides in any dispute between the regent and the archminister.

“What about me?” he asked, knowing that he couldn’t hold the duke’s mind for much longer. “Is he content simply to weaken my influence, or does he have something else in mind?”

“For now he plans nothing. But eventually he intends to prove that you’re a traitor, and have you executed.”

He should have expected as much. Still, hearing the words spoken made him shudder. He could only hope that the Weaver would move against the courts before Numar had a chance to destroy him.

Pronjed felt a dull ache at the base of his skull, and he knew that he had used his delusion magic for too long.

“You’ll remember nothing of this discussion when we’re done,” he said, his eyes locked on those of the duke. “We’ve spoken of the queen, and our desire to keep her safe. That’s all. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The archminister nodded and released him. “Does that mean you think we should double the guard on her bedchamber?” he asked, as if in the middle of a conversation.

“What?” Henthas squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then put a hand to his temple.

“Are you well, my lord?”

“No. My head hurts, and I can’t remember what I was saying.”

“You were telling me of your concern for Kalyi’s safety. You seemed to believe that she’s in some danger.”

“I don’t recall any of that.” He eyed the archminister warily. “What have you done to me?”

“I’ve done nothing, my lord,” Pronjed said, his heart pounding. Was this what had happened with Numar as well? Was he growing weak? At thirty-one he wasn’t an old man, not even by Qirsi standards. But neither was he young anymore. “Would you like me to call for the castle surgeon?”

“No.” Henthas made a vague gesture toward the door. “Leave me. I don’t want you near me anymore.” He was still rubbing his temple, as if in pain, and Pronjed wondered if he had damaged the man’s mind. That was said to happen occasionally when mind-bending magic was used carelessly. Had he held the duke under his power for too long?

“I’m concerned for you, my lord. Surely there’s something-”

“Get out!” Henthas said, getting to his feet and stumbling slightly. “Leave this chamber at once or I’ll have you removed!”

He had little choice but to try one last time. Reaching out with his magic once more, all too aware of how weary he was, the archminister touched the man’s mind a second time. “You’re angry with me because I suggested that you intend to harm the queen. You’ve forgotten the pain in your head.”

Pronjed released the duke again, watching him closely. Henthas’s hand strayed to his head again, but remained there for just a moment before falling to his side.

“Perhaps I should go, my lord,” the archminister said, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The duke frowned, appearing puzzled. “Perhaps not,” he said. “But you shouldn’t have spoken to me so.”

“You’re right, my lord. My apologies.”

He bowed to the man and quickly left the chamber, fearing that if he remained any longer it would only serve to undermine the memories he had planted in the duke’s mind.

Once in the corridor, he hurried to the nearest tower and ascended the stairs to the ramparts. His head throbbed and he nearly lost his balance on the stairway. He needed time to think, but he found it difficult to clear his mind. Two guards stood at the top of the tower, but they merely nodded to him and stayed where they were as he stepped past them and walked out onto the castle wall.

Just when he most needed to turn the Eandi in Castle Solkara to his purposes, he found himself unable to influence them at all. It seemed that events were spiraling beyond his control. Numar didn’t trust him; Chofya opposed him; and after today Henthas would be wary of him as well, no matter what the duke remembered from their encounter. If he could rely on his mind-bending magic, none of this would matter, but without it he was lost. He remained a powerful sorcerer, but delusion magic only worked on the unsuspecting and it suddenly seemed that no one in Castle Solkara trusted him, at least no one of any importance. It was just a matter of time before the Weaver returned to his dreams, learned of his newest failures, and killed him in his sleep.

For as long as the archminister could remember he had seen the movement as his path to glory and power. Now it seemed that it would bring his doom, that he wouldn’t even live to see its final success. Yet even as he struggled with his fear and his self-pity, the archminister sensed the kernel of an idea forming in the recesses of his mind. There remained one to whom he could turn, one who could help him redeem himself by remedying all that had gone wrong. He wouldn’t even have to use his magic against her. The pain still lingered at the base of his skull, but it had lessened a bit, enough so that he could get through this one last encounter.

He heard bells tolling in the city and actually managed a smile as he strode to the stairway in the next tower. Midday. He knew just where she would be.

Kalyi was on her feet as soon as the bells rang, gathering her scrolls in her arms and hurrying toward the door.

Zarev, her tutor, frowned as he watched her, his bushy grey eyebrows bristling like quills on a hedgehog, but the young queen pretended not to notice.

“Your Highness, you really must try to concentrate. I don’t think you’ve learned nearly as much as you should during the last few turns, and I fear your mother will not be pleased.”

She turned to face him, though she reached for the door handle with a free hand. “I’ve learned a lot, teacher. Truly I have. And if I haven’t learned as much as I should, I’ll make certain that Mother knows it was my fault and not yours.”

“That’s hardly the point-”

“I really have to go.” She smiled. By now she’d opened the door. “My thanks.”

She spun on her heel and was in the corridor before Zarev could say more. The last she saw of him, his frown had deepened and he was shaking his head.

No doubt he would speak with her mother at his first opportunity, which would lead in turn to another stern talk from her mother about the importance of her lessons. But how could she be expected to learn on such a perfect day? Even in the small chamber where she met with her tutors for her daily lessons, with its single narrow window, she could smell the clean air and feel the warm breezes blowing off the river. This was a day to be out-of-doors. Perhaps she could even prevail upon her mother to go riding after the midday meal, provided she found Chofya before the tutor did.

Reaching the nearest of the towers, she started down the stairs. She had only taken a few steps, however, when she heard a voice call from above her.

“Is that you, Your Highness?”

The archminister. Kalyi had to resist an urge to flee. Ever since overhearing Pronjed’s strange conversation with the master of arms, a conversation in which the Qirsi had seemed to force the armsmaster to do and say certain things, she had been terrified of the man. Uncle Numar thought that he might be a traitor, a part of the Qirsi conspiracy she had heard so much about over the past year. They had no proof of this, at least not yet. And the regent had told her that when she saw the archminister she had to try to behave normally.

“We mustn’t let him know that we suspect anything,” he had said. “If we show that we’re afraid of him, he might guess at what we’re thinking, and then we’ll never find the proof we need.”

She understood, but she couldn’t help but feel afraid every time the Qirsi came near her. Recently, she had come to fear all the white-hairs in the castle, though she knew better than to believe that they were all traitors. She just couldn’t help herself.

Swallowing and willing herself to be brave, Kalyi stopped on the stairs and waited.

“Yes, Archminister,” she said, pleased to hear that her voice didn’t shake. “It’s me.”

He descended the steps until he stood before her, appearing even taller and more formidable than usual in the narrow stairway. The dim light of the tower made his narrow, bony face look frightening and strange, like that of some evil bird of prey from Bian’s realm. Once more, Kalyi had to resist an urge to back away from him.

“I’m glad I found you, Your Highness. I have important matters to discuss with you.”

“Actually, I was on my way to the kitchens to find something to eat-”

“Splendid. You don’t mind if I walk with you, do you?”

What could she say? “No, Archminister. Of course not.”

“Good.” He indicated the stairs with an open hand.

Kalyi started down once more, the Qirsi just behind her. Her whole body had gone rigid, and she half expected him to plunge a dagger into her back. When they emerged from the tower into the castle ward, she began to feel better. He wasn’t quite so scary in the bright sun.

“I spoke with your mother a short time ago,” the archminister told her. “She’s concerned about this war the regent is planning.” He paused, glancing at her. “You have heard talk of the war, haven’t you, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” she said, insulted that he had to ask. “We’re entering into an alliance with the emperor of Braedon in order to fight Eibithar.”

“Yes, precisely. I believe your mother opposes the war. She feels it’s not the correct way to begin your reign.”

Kalyi hadn’t heard her mother say anything of the sort. In fact, thinking about it, she realized that her mother had never spoken to her of the war at all. It occurred to her that the archminister might be lying.

“Do you agree with her?” the queen asked.

“Actually, I don’t. I’ve long been in favor of the alliance and the attack on Eibithar.” His brow creased. “Still. .” He paused, as if lost in thought. Finally he shook his head and smiled, though Kalyi could see that he remained troubled. “It’s not important.”

“What isn’t?”

“Well, it’s just that your mother isn’t the only one who’s against the war. The dukes of Orvinti and Dantrielle oppose it as well, and so do several of their allies.”

They had reached the entrance to the kitchen tower, and they halted there, lingering in the ward.

“Why are they against it?”

“I believe they don’t trust Braedon’s emperor; they don’t want him as an ally.” He hesitated. “And I fear they don’t trust your uncle, either.”

“You mean Uncle Numar?”

He nodded.

“Why wouldn’t they trust him?” she demanded, growing angry.

“The same reason they didn’t trust your father. The same reason I’m afraid they won’t trust you. They fear the Solkaran Supremacy. They don’t want our house to grow too powerful.”

Kalyi shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Wars are strange things, Your Highness. They can weaken us, or they can make us stronger. Quite often a war strengthens the royal house, because it’s the king or queen who leads the army.”

“Or the regent?”

“Yes,” the archminister said, his face brightening. “Or the regent. And here I was afraid you were too young to grasp all of this.”

Kalyi couldn’t help but smile, though she quickly grew serious again. “But don’t we want our house to be strong? Shouldn’t all this make us want a war even more?”

“Well, that’s where this gets a bit confusing. Of course we want House Solkara to be strong, but we need balance as well, among all the houses of Aneira. It’s best for the realm if we maintain good relations with the other dukedoms. We don’t want the other houses to have cause to hate House Solkara, or her queen.”

Her queen! The last thing Kalyi wanted was for the other dukes to hate her. She looked away, not wanting Pronjed to see how much the idea of this bothered her. “I guess that makes sense,” she said. She chewed her lip for a moment before remembering that her mother had told her queens weren’t supposed to. “So what should we do?”

“Well, I can only offer counsel, Your Highness. Ultimately this is up to you and the regent. But I believe we’d be best served by speaking with the dukes who oppose the war. Perhaps not all of them, but certainly Tebeo of Dantrielle, and Brall of Orvinti. Their houses are the strongest of those in question. And we should see if we can address their concerns, even if it means delaying our attack on Eibithar by a turn or two. The realm will be stronger if we’re united in this war.”

Kalyi frowned. She wasn’t certain that her uncle would think much of this idea. “I should speak of this with Uncle Numar.”

“Of course, Your Highness. I’d suggest though that you not tell him the idea came from me. He and I don’t always see eye-to-eye on matters such as these.”

She wasn’t certain about that part either. She didn’t like to lie to her uncle. But she nodded to the archminister. “All right.”

They stood in silence for a moment, before Pronjed gave a small bow. “Well, Your Highness. I’ve taken too much of your time already. Good day.”

“And to you,” she called as he walked away.

The scent of fresh baked bread reached her from the kitchen, but the queen was no longer so hungry. She watched the archminister cross the ward. And when he had entered the castle corridors, she made her way to her uncle’s chamber.

The guards standing outside the chamber bowed to her as she approached the door and knocked, and another soldier pulled the door open from within.

“Her Highness the queen, my lord,” the man said, glancing back at Numar.

Kalyi couldn’t see his face, but she had noticed in the past that he didn’t always seem happy to see her, though he was always kind to her when she came to see him.

When he came into view this day, he was smiling broadly. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing.

“Good day, Uncle.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, but he didn’t ask her into the chamber. “I’m rather busy at the moment, but I had hoped to speak with you later. Can you return when the priori’s bells are rung?”

Kalyi hesitated, started to chew her lip again, but caught herself.

The smile returned to her uncle’s face, though there was a brittleness to it this time. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

“It’s about the war.”

“The war.” He took a breath. “Very well. Please come in. We can sit for a moment or two.”

He nodded to the guard, who immediately left the chamber, closing the door as he did. Numar led her to the chair in which she usually sat and then pulled the adjacent one closer to hers.

“Now,” he said, “what about the war?”

She sat with her hands twisting in her lap, unsure now of how to begin. “I’m worried about our balance,” she said at last, knowing even as she spoke the words that this wasn’t quite right.

Numar looked puzzled. “Our balance?”

“I think we should be strong-our house I mean-but I don’t want us to be so strong that it’s bad. We should talk to the others even if it means that we don’t go to war right away. It’ll be better if we’re-”

“Wait,” the regent said, sitting forward. “Are you suggesting that we delay our attack on Eibithar?”

She nodded. “So that we can talk to the others.”

His eyes narrowed. “What others?”

“Dantrielle, Orvinti. The other houses. The ones that are afraid of us.”

“Kalyi, what are you talking about?”

She looked down at her hands, feeling her cheeks burn. “The war. I want to make certain that we don’t make the others hate us. I don’t want them to hate me.”

“Why would you think-?” He regarded her briefly. “Kalyi, did someone send you here? Your mother perhaps? The duke? The archminister?”

She looked up, then immediately lowered her gaze again.

“Did Pronjed tell you to speak with me, Kalyi?” When she didn’t respond, he took her hand, making her look at him. He was smiling now, his brown eyes locked on hers. “Was all of this his idea?”

“He didn’t really send me here,” she said.

“But he put these ideas in your head, made you think the other houses are going to hate you.”

She nodded, afraid that Numar would grow angry with her.

But his voice remained gentle as he said, “Why don’t you tell me everything you and he talked about?”

She related her conversation with the archminister, answering her uncle’s questions when he interrupted, and trying her best not to leave out any details.

“You tell me that he didn’t send you here,” the regent said, once she had finished, “but he did recommend that you speak to me about all of this, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but. .”

“But what, Kalyi?”

“But he told me not to tell you that he was the one who thought of all this. He said that you and he don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

Numar actually gave a small laugh, though he didn’t look at all happy. “That’s true enough.”

“Was I wrong to tell you?”

“No, not at all.” He stood and began to walk around the chamber. “Kalyi, do you remember the conversation you overheard between Pronjed and the master of arms?”

She would never forget it. They had been in one of the tower stairways, and though she had known that it was wrong to listen, she had been unable to help herself. Pronjed had spoken to the armsmaster as if he were a child, telling him what to think and how to behave. And Tradden Grontalle, the leader of Solkara’s army, one of the most powerful warriors in all the realm, had obeyed him without a word of protest. Kalyi guessed at the time that the archminister used magic to control Tradden’s mind, and her uncle had agreed that it was possible. “Of course I do, Uncle,” she said.

“And do you remember that we wondered at the time if the archminister might be a traitor?”

She nodded. This had occurred to her as well.

“Do you think it’s possible that he was saying all of this not to help you, but rather to hurt you, and House Solkara as well?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shivering. “Do you?”

“Yes, I suppose I do. House Solkara needs to be strong, and Aneira needs to fight this war when the leaders of our army tell us it’s time. If we do as the archminister suggests, and delay our attack, we could ruin everything.”

“But what about the houses that are against the war?”

“Tell me again, what Pronjed said about them.”

“He told me we should speak with the dukes of Dantrielle and Orvinti, that we should address their concerns.”

The regent nodded slowly. “I see,” he said, his voice low. “So the minister wants us to appease them.”

Kalyi wasn’t certain what “appease” meant, but she asked, “Is that what we’re going to do?”

“No, it’s not.” He had ceased his pacing and was standing near the window, gazing out over the castle ward. After a few moments he faced Kalyi again. “Your Highness, I believe the time has come to take a harder stance with those houses that would oppose your will. Only enemies of the realm would want to keep Solkara weak. So I would suggest that we do all that we can to demonstrate how strong your house can be. What do you think?”

She still didn’t understand all that was happening, but she knew that Pronjed scared her, and that when her uncle spoke of strengthening House Solkara it seemed to make a good deal of sense. “I think you’re right,” she said, drawing a smile from the regent. “If the other houses really want Aneira to be strong, then they should listen to us, and go to war when we tell them to.”

Numar fairly beamed, making the queen blush. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Your Highness.”