Weavers of War

Chapter Eleven

Glyndwr Highlands, Eibithar, Adriel’s Moon waning

Abeni ja Krenta, archminister of Sanbira, lay on the damp ground, staring up at the few pale stars that still lingered in the brightening blue sky. Around her, the camp was coming to life slowly, warriors awakening, horses nickering in anticipation of another day’s ride.

The archminister had been awake for some time. Her encounters with the Weaver always left her too unsettled to sleep, and on this past night he had come to her when the sky was still black, speaking to her only briefly before leaving her, no doubt to walk in the dreams of another of his servants. She had not entertained any hope of falling asleep again, but neither did she think it prudent to leave her sleeping roll and walk, as she often did back in Yserne after the Weaver came to her. So she lay where she was, trying to still her racing heart and slow her breathing, and turning over in her mind all that the man had told her.

Any doubts that might have lingered in her mind as to the purpose of this war in the north to which she and Sanbira’s army were riding had been dispelled tonight. Braedon’s invasion of Eibithar had been contrived by the Weaver’s movement-he had all but said so. The armies of the Eandi were destroying one another, so that when the Weaver and his army struck at them, they would be too weakened to defend themselves. That Sanbira’s queen had elected to join this war pleased him greatly.

“Your army should arrive at nearly the same time as the Solkarans,” he had said. “With so many of the Foreland’s powers there, making war on one another, our task grows simpler by the day. By convincing the queen to fight you’ve made our victory that much more certain. You’re to be commended.”

Abeni explained that she had little to do with the queen’s decision, but he continued to praise her, particularly after learning that the first ministers of Macharzo and Norinde, both of whom served his movement as well, rode with her.

“Three of you together,” he said. “Truly the gods must be with us.”

There was little she could say, except, “Yes, Weaver.”

“Don’t reveal yourselves yet. Do nothing to delay your queen’s arrival at the battle.” She could hear the excitement in his voice, and she found that she felt it, too. They were approaching the culmination of their efforts, the final battle for which they had been preparing these long years. Yet, even recognizing this, she hadn’t been prepared for what he said next.

“Look for me when you reach the battlefield.”

“What?”

“I’ll be there. I’m not going to reveal myself to you now, but you’ll know me, you’ll feel me as I reach for your power. Be prepared to give your magic to me so that I can wield it as my own against the enemy. Tell the other two to do the same. Our time is at hand. The Forelands will soon be ours.”

The archminister had nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

“One more thing. There’s a man with Eibithar’s army, a Qirsi named Grinsa jal Arriet. He claims to be a mere gleaner, but he’s far more. This man is dangerous. Keep away from him. When the time comes, I’ll deal with him myself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Weaver,” she whispered. “Do we also have allies among the Eibitharians?”

For a moment the Weaver said nothing, and Abeni wondered if she had angered him. When he did answer, however, his tone was mild. “Actually, yes. Usually, I don’t reveal such things, but it may be time that I started to bring together those who serve me in different realms. There is a woman-your counterpart actually.”

“The archminister?”

“Yes. But don’t approach her unless you absolutely must. The risks are far too great.”

“Yes, Weaver.”

“The hour of our victory approaches. Until then.” An instant later, she was awake, shivering in the darkness, though with excitement or fear or simply the cold, she couldn’t say. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have another take hold of her magic, to give herself over to a man so completely. Though she had never taken a husband, she had shared her bed with many, both men and women. She wondered if it would be anything like the act of love.

Since learning that the queen intended to ride to war, and listening as Olesya speculated as to whether this conflict was connected in some way with the conspiracy, Abeni had feared that the Eandi might yet find a way to thwart the Weaver’s plans. In the wake of her dream, however, she was reassured. The Weaver had spoken of the coming war with such confidence that she couldn’t help but take heart. There was a portent in this dawn she was witnessing, the promise of a new era in the singing of the larks and the earliest golden rays of sunlight. For the first time since leaving Yserne with the Sanbiri army, she was anxious to be riding. When at last the soldiers and nobles and other ministers began to stir, she rose, bundled her sleeping roll, and saddled her mount with the exuberance of a young warrior riding to her first battle.

Olesya, the queen, expected Abeni to ride with her, just as the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde, and the duchess of Macharzo assumed that their ministers would ride with them and their armies. The nobles of Sanbira had long since lost faith in their Qirsi, their trust shaken by the attempts on the life of duchess Diani of Curlinte and the death of Kreazur jal Sylbe, her first minister-or, more precisely, his murder, for which Abeni was responsible. Eager as the archminister was to tell Craeffe and Filtem of her dream, she would have to await an opportunity, or create one. Diani herself had ridden with the queen as well, and seemed to have taken it upon herself to keep watch on the archminister. Whether she expected Abeni to make an attempt on Olesya’s life or to flee the war party at her first chance, the minister couldn’t say, but as their journey into Eibithar continued, she had found the woman’s constant presence increasingly bothersome. On this day, she no longer cared. Let Diani of Curlinte indulge her suspicions and her lust for vengeance. Abeni had nothing to fear from her, nor did the movement. The woman would be crushed with the rest of them, destroyed by the combined might of the Weaver and those who served him.

Abeni actually smiled at the duchess as they began to ride.

“Good day, my lady. I trust you slept well?”

Diani frowned, as if confused by Abeni’s courtesy. “Yes, thank you. And you?”

“Very well, thank you.” The lie came to her with such ease that she nearly laughed aloud.

Even the prospect of another lengthy ride was not enough to dampen her spirits. They had come a great distance already-the ride from Yserne to Brugaosa alone had been over forty leagues-and Abeni, who had spent little time riding before then, was in agony day and night, her muscles aching.

Once the duke of Norinde and the duchess of Macharzo reached Edamo’s castle with their warriors, the journey began in earnest. After fording Orlagh’s River into Caerisse, the Sanbiri army rode northwest, between the duchies of Aratamme and Valde. They then forded the headwaters of the Kett River and began the arduous climb into the Glyndwr Highlands, crossing into Eibithar in the midst of a violent storm. Throughout their travels, Olesya had assured the minister that she would grow accustomed to riding, that her body would soon learn to move with her mount, but Abeni’s discomfort only grew worse, until she wondered how she would ever make it all the way to Eibithar’s Moorlands.

Over the past few days, however, as they made their way through the highlands passing close to Glyndwr Castle and its sparkling jewel of a lake, her pain had finally begun to subside.

Hearing the cheer with which Abeni greeted Curlinte’s duchess, the queen slowed her mount, allowing the two of them to catch up with her. Her master of arms, Ohan Delrasto, slowed as well, though he didn’t look pleased. Abeni had noticed that he often seemed to resent those who intruded upon his time with the queen, and she wondered if the old warrior fancied himself a suitor for Olesya’s affections.

“You’re in a fine mood today, Archminister,” the queen said. “I take it you and your mount have reached an understanding.”

Abeni grinned. There were times when she did like Olesya. “I suppose you could say that, Your Highness. It may be more accurate to say that my horse has finally succeeded in training me.”

The queen laughed. “Well said! I’ve long believed that the first step in becoming a true rider is giving up the illusion of control. As my mother used to say, we may hold the reins, but the horse holds us.”

Diani frowned again. “I’ve been riding since I was a child, and I always have control over my mount.”

“My mother also used to speak of the arrogance of youth,” Olesya said, a conspiratorial tone in her voice.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“It seems I’m outnumbered,” the duchess said, raising an eyebrow.

They crested a small rise, and beheld a sight that took Abeni’s breath away. Ahead, less than half a league off, the earth seemed to fall away, as if Elined had carved a great hole in the surface of her world. They had reached the edge of the Caerissan Steppe. To the east, the waters of Binthar’s Wash churned and rumbled, glimmering like a river of sapphires, toward a great waterfall from which rose a fine white mist. Beyond the rim of the steppe and a thousand fourspans below them, the Moorlands stretched toward the horizon. Brilliant green, they were bounded on the east by the wash, which looked like little more than a thin blue ribbon, and on the west by the great Sussyn River. Farther to the east, so dark that it looked almost black, stood Eibithar’s North Wood, nearly as vast as the Moorlands and divided by yet another river, the Thorald, if she remembered correctly.

“What are these falls?” Diani asked in a hushed voice.

“Raven Falls, I believe,” the queen said. “I’d never go so far as to say that any realm was as beautiful as our own, but surely Eibithar comes closest.” She inhaled deeply, as if trying to breathe in the splendor. “We’ll rest here briefly before beginning the descent.” She cast a sympathetic glance at Abeni. “I’m afraid going down from the highlands will be no easier than the climb into them.”

A moment later they were joined by the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde, the duchess of Macharzo, and their Qirsi.

Craeffe and Filtem still looked ill at ease atop their mounts, and Abeni took some solace in knowing that however much she would suffer on the way down from the highlands, they would suffer more. She shared their cause, but she had never liked either of the Qirsi, particularly Craeffe, who had long envied Abeni’s status as a chancellor in the Weaver’s movement. Fortunately, their mutual dislike made it far easier for them to spend time in each other’s company without drawing the attention of Olesya and her nobles. The real danger was not Diani or the queen-Abeni and her allies knew better than to say anything revealing in front of them. But the fourth Qirsi in their midst, Vanjad jal Qien, Brugaosa’s first minister, remained loyal to his lord and to the realm. As far as Abeni could tell, the man had never even considered whether his duke deserved such devotion. He was, in her mind, the worst kind of Qirsi traitor.

But he stood with them now, as the Eandi spoke among themselves, keeping Abeni from relating to Craeffe and Filtem what the Weaver had told her.

“I trust you slept well, cousin?” Abeni said, eyeing Craeffe.

The woman seemed as unprepared for her graciousness as Diani had been. “I suppose,” she said. And then as an afterthought, “You?”

“Actually, no. I had a dream that kept me awake for much of the night.”

Craeffe’s eyes widened, and she looked sharply at Filtem. After a moment, he gave a nod that was almost imperceptible.

“Minister,” he said, placing a hand lightly on Vanjad’s shoulder, “I wonder if I might have a word with you, in private.”

“Of course, cousin.”

The two men walked off a short distance, leaving Abeni alone with Craeffe, who would tell Filtem later all he needed to know.

Abeni and Macharzo’s minister gazed out at the distant Moorlands, the wind stirring their white hair. To anyone watching, they would have seemed to be discussing the terrain.

“The Weaver came to you?”

“Yes. Our conversation was brief, but quite illuminating.”

“Strange that he didn’t contact Filtem or me as well.”

Abeni smiled, as if the minister had said something amusing. “Actually, cousin, it’s not strange at all. This is precisely why he has chancellors in his movement. He told me knowing that I would, in turn, tell you.” She extended an arm, as if pointing at some feature of Eibithar’s landscape, and Craeffe nodded, though Abeni could see that the muscles in her jaw were bunched. “I’m surprised that after all this time, you still haven’t gotten used to this.”

“Just tell me what he said, and be done with it.”

Craeffe pointed at something else, and Abeni looked off in that direction, passing a hand casually through her hair.

“Very well.” The archminister related her conversation, repeating as best she could exactly what the Weaver had said about how they would know him on the battlefield, and how he would reach for their power. Speaking the words, she felt her excitement return in a rush; by the time she had finished, her hands were trembling, and her cheeks burned as if she were a love-struck girl.

For all her carefully rehearsed indifference, Craeffe could not entirely conceal her own astonishment at what she heard.

“How long did he say it would be?” she asked, breathless and grinning.

“He didn’t. He just said to look for him when we reached the Moorlands. For all we know, he’s already there.”

“I’ve been with the movement for some time now,” she whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this for even longer. But until now, I don’t think I ever really believed it would happen.” She looked at Abeni with a diffidence the archminister had never seen in her before. “Forgive me, Chancellor. I hope you understand.”

Abeni wasn’t certain what to say. It occurred to her that if the promise of seeing the Weaver could humble Craeffe ja Tref in this way, his powers must truly be great. But this she kept to herself. “I think I do understand, First Minister,” she said at last. “We’ve all been waiting so long. But we can’t allow our anticipation of what awaits us on the Moorlands to make us careless, not when we’re so close.”

Craeffe nodded. Were those tears glistening in her pale eyes?

“You’ll speak with Filtem?”

“Of course, Archminister.”

“What powers does he possess?”

“Gleaning, fire, and mists and winds,” she said. “And I have gleaning, fire, and shaping.”

Abeni nodded. “I have gleaning, shaping, and mists and winds. No wonder he’s so pleased that we’re together. Our powers blend quite well.”

Filtem and Vanjad were walking back in their direction, chatting amiably, though Filtem had an eye on Craeffe.

“Sorry to abandon you, cousins,” the minister said, grinning at them. “But occasionally the common interests of our dukes make it necessary for us to speak beyond the hearing of those who serve Sanbira’s matriarchs.”

It was a fine cover for what he had done. Norinde and Brugaosa were closely allied, in large part because the two dukes did not trust Olesya or her duchesses.

“You’re forgiven, cousin. At least this time.”

Vanjad gave an earnest look. “I assure you, Archminister, we spoke only of matters pertaining to our houses. We did not speak ill of the queen or those who serve her.”

“The thought never entered my mind, First Minister.”

A few moments later, the queen, her master of arms, and the nobles returned as well. Behind them, soldiers were climbing onto their mounts once more. Diani was regarding the ministers warily, as if she regretted going off with the queen and leaving the Qirsi to themselves.

Olesya swung herself onto her horse and glanced back at the ministers. “Are you ready to ride on, Archminister?”

“I am, Your Highness.”

The queen nodded and kicked at her mount.

Abeni gave a quick smile to Craeffe and the others. “See you at the bottom,” she said. She remounted and soon had pulled abreast of the queen and the duchess of Curlinte.

Diani refused to look at her, but Olesya glanced over, her dark eyes dancing.

“Judging from the way your fellow ministers looked, I gather that Qirsi don’t ride much.”

“Some do, Your Highness, but not many. Still you needn’t worry; I have no doubt that we’ll all manage the descent.”

“I should hope so. We’ll have need of you once we reach the Moorlands.”

Abeni had to smile. “We’ll be ready, Your Highness. You have my word on that.”

* * *

She knew the Qirsi was lying, that in fact everything the archminister said and did was a pretense intended to disguise her treachery. Diani was galled by every kind word that came from the woman’s mouth, every courtesy she extended to the queen or Sanbira’s other nobles. The duchess could almost see the blood staining her hands, the wraiths hovering at her shoulder, reminders of every murder committed in the name of the conspiracy. She looked at the woman, and she felt anew her grief over the garroting of her brother. She heard Abeni’s voice, obsequious and smooth, and she winced at the remembered pain of the arrows that had pierced her own flesh on the Curlinte headlands.

Abeni ja Krenta, archminister to the queen of Sanbira, was a traitor. Diani wanted to shout this at the top of her voice, she wanted to brand the woman as such with hot irons. But she hadn’t the proof.

Ean knew that it wasn’t for lack of trying-she and her father had searched Castle Yserne time and again for any sign that the archminister had joined cause with the renegades, and Diani had hardly allowed the woman out of her sight since they left the royal city. Thus far, she had found nothing. She would have liked to listen to Abeni’s conversation with Macharzo’s first minister that morning, as they stood at the edge of the steppe. For that matter, she would also have been interested to know what the first ministers of Norinde and Brugaosa discussed as they walked off on their own. As far as the duchess was concerned, they were all traitors until they proved their fealty. Her father would have scoffed at her suspicions, seeing in them the rash prejudice of a child. Olesya would have felt the same way. So, Diani didn’t speak to anyone of her suspicions. She needed evidence, and though Abeni had been uncommonly clever thus far, Diani remained convinced that she could not conceal her treachery much longer.

The ride down the face of the Caerissan Steppe consumed much of the day. The distance wasn’t great, but the steepness of the path at times forced the riders to dismount and lead their horses on foot. With Raven Falls thundering nearby, filling the air with a fine, cool mist and the soft, sweet scent of lush ferns and mosses, the day never grew too hot. But even for an experienced rider like Diani, the descent was exhausting.

When at last they reached the base of the slope, her back and legs were aching, and her riding clothes were soaked with sweat. At the bottom of the steppe they turned eastward, riding to the banks of Binthar’s Wash. There they made camp, though nightfall was still some time off. This close to the bottom of Raven Falls, the river churned and frothed like some great beast, its wild waters reflecting the brilliant golden light of the late-day sun. Diani could see the famed walls of Eibithar’s City of Kings in the distance, also bathed in the sun’s glow, and she wondered briefly if they would stop there before continuing on to the Moorlands. It made no sense to do so, she knew, but she had always dreamed of seeing Audun’s Castle.

After unsaddling her horse, she returned to where the queen was speaking with her master of arms. Diani had long since decided that even if she couldn’t convince Olesya that her archminister was a traitor, she could do everything in her power to make certain that the queen came to no harm. She rarely let Olesya out of her sight and had privately vowed that she would give her own life before she allowed the conspiracy to strike at Sanbira’s queen.

Diani nodded once to Ohan before facing the queen. “The soldiers are making camp, Your Highness. The captains tell me that we have ample stores to see us through the rest of the journey, but a few of the archers have gone back up the slope to hunt for supper. I didn’t see anything wrong with this, so I told them to carry on.”

Olesya gave an indulgent smile, reminding Diani of her own mother. “That’s fine, Lady Curlinte. Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Your Highness?”

“No, thank you. The master of arms and I are going to walk back to the base of the falls. I’ve never been so close to them, and have heard about them all my life.”

“Of course, Your Highness. That sounds very nice.” Diani continued to stand there, waiting for the queen to lead the way.

“Actually, we intended to go alone.”

The duchess blinked, then glanced at the master of arms. Ohan was blushing to the tips of his ears, his dark eyes fixed on the ground. He was tall and lean, with the shoulders and chest of a warrior, but at that moment he resembled nothing so much as a shy boy. Quite suddenly Diani understood that Ohan and the queen were in love, or close to it. The young duchess, her own cheeks growing hot, stared at the queen, who gazed back at her placidly.

“But, Your Highness, it could be dangerous.” She wasn’t quite sure what she was warning Olesya against, but still she forged on. “I believe it would be best if I accompanied you-”

“Diani, think for a moment. Don’t you think that Ohan is capable of protecting me? He is, after all, the finest swordsman in the land.”

“With the possible exception of your father,” the master of arms added hastily.

“Of course, but-”

“Rest, Diani. Go find Naditia. She’s been riding with Edamo and Alao all day. I’m sure she’d be grateful for your company.”

The duchess looked away, feeling foolish. “Yes, Your Highness. Enjoy your walk.”

“Thank you. We will.”

The two of them strolled off, leaving Diani alone with her embarrassment. After standing there for several moments, she decided that she would seek out the duchess of Macharzo as Olesya had suggested. She and Naditia had never been close, but if Diani had been forced to spend the entire day with the dukes of Norinde and Brugaosa, she would have been grateful for any companionship at all. She had just started walking in Naditia’s direction, however, when she saw Abeni speaking with one of the other Qirsi. As she drew nearer to them, she realized that it was Macharzo’s first minister. It was perfect-just the excuse she needed to intrude.

She walked to where they stood, noting that they fell silent at her approach.

“Forgive the interruption, Archminister, but I was wondering if the first minister could tell me where I might find her duchess.”

“You’re not interrupting at all, my lady,” Abeni said pleasantly.

But the other woman regarded her cautiously, overlarge yellow eyes staring out from a small, thin face, so that she looked more like a waif than a minister.

“I believe she’s down beside the river, my lady,” the first minister said at last. “That’s where I saw her last.”

“Thank you.” Diani faced Abeni again, scouring her mind for anything that she might say to prolong their conversation and learn what the two women had been discussing.

“Is there anything else, my lady?” the archminister asked, eyeing Diani as if she thought the duchess simple.

“Actually,” she said, “I’ve been wondering if you’ve given any more thought to the questions my father and I asked you while we were still in Yserne.”

She sensed the woman’s annoyance. “You mean about traitors in the queen’s court?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid, my lady, that I have little more to tell you than I did the last time we spoke of this. After Kreazur’s death, I tried to think of who in Yserne might have been working with him, but I hadn’t cause to suspect any of the Qirsi in our court. That hasn’t changed.”

“A pity.” She glanced at the other woman. “And you, First Minister?”

“My lady?”

“Well, surely you’ve heard of the attacks on me, and the death of my first minister.”

The minister nodded, her expression revealing little. “Yes, I did, my lady. I was horrified, as was all of Macharzo.”

“I’m sure. And since then, has anything happened to make you question the loyalty of the Qirsi in your duchess’s castle?”

“No, my lady. But then, that’s not my way.”

Diani narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

The woman faltered. “Nothing, my lady,” she said, shaking her head. “Forgive me. I should have simply answered your question and left it at that.”

“But you didn’t. And I want to know what you meant.”

The minister glanced at Abeni, but the archminister was staring at the ground, her lips pursed. “It just seems to me that you’ve allowed the treachery of one minister to color your perceptions of all Qirsi. I wouldn’t do that.”

Diani knew that she should have been enraged. This might not have been her own Qirsi speaking to her so, but the woman was just a minister and Diani was a duchess. Instead she felt like crying. The criticism stung too much for her to respond at all. Hadn’t her father said the same thing to her before she left Yserne with Olesya’s army? Hadn’t the queen herself done so as well? Here she had thought to trick these women into revealing something of themselves, and all she had done was give them cause to hate her and question her motives.

“Yes, well, you shouldn’t presume to judge me, First Minister. If the attempt had been made on your life, you might feel differently.”

She knew that this made little sense, but she didn’t care. She only wished to be away from them, and without another word, she stalked off toward the river, her face flushed with shame. Diani no longer felt much like speaking with Naditia, but she had asked the minister where to look for the duchess, and she couldn’t very well walk in the opposite direction.

She found Naditia sitting on a large stone by the water’s edge, staring up at the rim of the steppe, a large hand raised to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. Seeing Diani approach, she stood, looking uncomfortable, as though she wished to be alone.

“Forgive the intrusion, Lady Macharzo.”

“Not at all. Has something happened?”

“No. The queen told me you might like some company after spending the day with the dukes.”

Naditia smiled at that. She was a large woman, built more like a man, and a powerful one at that. Her features were blunt, her yellow hair cropped short. It was said that she favored her father, and that this was unfortunate, for her mother, the old duchess of Macharzo, had been quite beautiful. But her smile softened her face, even made her pretty, in a coarse way.

“If I’m disturbing you, I’ll go.”

Naditia sat again, shaking her head. “It’s all right.”

Diani found a stone on which to sit, and gazed up at the steppe. Much of the cliff face was shrouded in shadow, but she could make out the rocky crags and gnarled old trees that lined the top. Swifts darted along the edge of the bluff, chasing one another in tight circles and veering so suddenly that it took her breath away just to watch them.

“The dukes weren’t that bad,” the duchess said after a long silence, her eyes still fixed on the ridge. “They mostly just talked to each other and ignored me.”

Others might have been offended by this, but Naditia, Diani knew, was so painfully shy that she probably was grateful.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. But I’m certain that if you wanted to ride with the queen tomorrow, she’d be pleased to have you join us. I know I would.”

The woman smiled again, glancing at Diani just for an instant, then shaking her head. “Thanks, but I should ride with my warriors.”

It was custom for the army of a lesser house to ride or march behind that of the queen. Because Macharzo was considered a weaker house than either Brugaosa or Norinde, Naditia’s warriors rode last in the column.

“I understand,” Diani said. “But I couldn’t do it. I’d rather ride alone than with Edamo and Alao.”

“If I was in your position I’d feel the same.”

“I’m not certain I know what you mean.”

Naditia looked panicked, as if she wished she hadn’t spoken. Why did everyone around her seem so afraid of making her angry?

“I shouldn’t have said that. I just was … I meant that with your brother … and then the attempt on your life. It’s no secret that Curlinte and Brugaosa have been enemies for a long time.”

“It’s all right. My father hates Edamo a lot more than I do. I actually believe that the conspiracy was behind both the attack on me and the murder of my brother.” She gave a small smile. “Still, I know what you mean. Edamo and I will never be friends.”

Naditia nodded, her relief palpable.

“Have you seen any evidence of the conspiracy in Macharzo?” Diani asked, thinking once more of her strange conversation with Naditia’s first minister.

“None at all. That doesn’t mean it’s not there, of course. Only that its members have been careful.”

“Do you trust your minister?”

“Craeffe?” She shrugged, a frown creasing her forehead. “I used to. I’m not certain anymore.”

“Why not?”

“She’s changed in recent turns, grown quieter, more sullen. But I’m sure I’ve changed, too. She may sense that I have doubts about her, and probably she resents it.”

“I often see her speaking with the archminister.”

Naditia stared at her, nodding. “I’ve noticed that, too. And she spends a good deal of time with Alao’s first minister. I believe they’re lovers.” She blushed and looked away. “Though that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe it does.” Diani paused. “Some time ago, not long after my first minister was killed, the queen asked me to keep watch on the archminister. I haven’t been able to prove anything yet, but I don’t trust her. If you’d be willing to keep an eye on her as well, along with your own minister and Alao’s, I’d be grateful.”

“Of course.”

Diani smiled. “Thank you.”

They spoke for a while longer. It turned out that Naditia remembered Diani’s mother quite vividly. Once, while visiting Yserne with her own mother, she had entered a chamber uninvited only to find Dalvia and the queen having a private conversation. The queen had said little, but Diani’s mother spoke to her quite sternly before sending the girl on her way. The incident had left enough of an impression that even after becoming Macharzo’s duchess, Naditia had still been intimidated by Dalvia.

“That sounds like mother,” Diani said, laughing at the story. “She was very kind, really, but she could seem terribly cross when she wanted to.”

“That’s a fine skill for a noble to have. I know, because I don’t.”

Diani grinned, realizing that she liked this woman far more than she had imagined she would.

A moment later, they heard voices calling out from west of the river. Scrambling up the riverbank with Naditia at her side, Diani saw that the archers had returned, carrying four stags, several does, and a good number of partridges.

“It seems we’re going to eat well tonight.”

Naditia nodded, and together they walked back to the camp.

* * *

“You’re a fool!” Abeni said under her breath, as she watched the duchess walk away. “You couldn’t just leave it, could you? You should have just answered her question and let it be. But no. You had to say more. ‘That’s not my way.’ Demons and fire, Craeffe! What were you thinking?”

“Calm yourself, cousin,” the minister said, though without her usual composure. “She’s just a dull-witted girl, barely old enough to rule her house.”

“And you’re an idiot. That dull-witted girl has managed to convince the queen that Kreazur’s death was more than it seemed.”

“That would seem to be your fault, wouldn’t it?”

“She has Olesya’s ear, and she’s just gone to speak with your duchess. If we give her cause to question our loyalty-as you just did-she’ll destroy us.”

Craeffe gave a small breathless laugh. “Now I know that you’re fretting for no reason. My duchess is no more a threat to this movement than my horse. Even if she learned something of our movement, she’d be too afraid to voice her suspicions. If her mother was still alive, perhaps I’d share your fears. But the daughter is nothing.”

“I hope you’re right. As it is, the Weaver won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

Craeffe blanched. “There really isn’t any need to mention it to him, is there, Chancellor?”

“That depends on you, Minister.”

Craeffe lowered her eyes. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to imply that you had made a mistake with Kreazur.”

“Yes, you did. But I’ll take that as an apology and assume that you won’t speak of it again.”

“I won’t, Chancellor,” the woman said through clenched teeth. “You have my word.”

Abeni grinned, knowing that she was enjoying herself far too much.

A short time later, the soldiers returned with food for the evening meal. Gradually the nobles returned as well. Diani and Naditia gave no indication that they had gleaned anything from Craeffe’s insolence, but they did seem to have forged a bond at the river, and once more Abeni found herself cursing the minister’s recklessness.

The balance of the evening passed without incident, as did the next several days. Now that the army had reached the moors of Eibithar, Olesya pushed them harder than ever. They covered nearly ten leagues each day, riding due north toward Galdasten, where the empire’s army was said to have made land. On the third day after their descent from the steppe, as they drew nearer to the central moorlands, they began to see columns of smoke rising into the sky far off toward the horizon. Sensing that they were near the warring armies, Olesya began to send out scouting parties, several at a time ranging to the east and west as well as to the north.

Early the following morning, just after they had set out from camp, the western party returned, bearing news of a great army marching from the southwest.

“Is it Kentigern?” Olesya asked the lead rider as he steered his mount next to hers.

“No, Your Highness. They’re burning crops and homes as they go. This is an invading army.”

“What colors do they fly?”

“Gold and red, Your Highness.”

The queen cast a dark look at Ohan and Diani.

“What would the empire be doing down here?” the duchess asked.

“It’s not the empire. Think, Diani. Braedon isn’t the only realm that flies banners of gold and red.”

Diani’s eyes widened. “Solkara! It’s the Aneirans.”

Olesya nodded. “Yes.” She faced the rider again. “How many are they?”

“More than a thousand, Your Highness. But they’re on foot.”

“We can stop them,” Ohan said. “Keeping to our mounts and using our bowmen wisely, we can defeat an army that size.”

“No!” Abeni bit her tongue, furious with herself for speaking so rashly. Both Olesya and Diani were staring at her as if she had just told them of the Weaver.

“You have something to say, Archminister?” the queen demanded. Abeni could hear the distrust in her voice.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was merely going to suggest that we might be better off joining with Kearney’s army first. We’re on horseback. Aneira’s men aren’t. We’ll reach Eibithar’s army well before they do, and we can warn the king of Aneira’s approach. That way, Kearney won’t be caught unawares, and we won’t have to risk fighting a larger army.”

The master of arms appeared to weigh this. “Actually, she makes a good point.”

The duchess continued to glare at her as if she hadn’t heard.

“Did they see you?” the queen asked her scout.

“I don’t believe so, Your Highness, but I can’t be certain.”

“All right. Go tell the dukes and Lady Macharzo what you’ve seen. Tell them we’ll continue to ride through the day and well into the night. By the time the sun sets we’ll be far enough from the Aneirans to light torches. Except for brief rests, we won’t stop again until we find Kearney and his army.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Once you’ve delivered that message, I want you and your party to ride west again. Keep pace with us, and watch the Aneirans for as long as you can. If they change direction or do anything unexpected, return here immediately and inform me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed to her as best he could atop his mount before riding off toward the other nobles.

Abeni gazed straight ahead, revealing nothing with her expression, but inside she was smiling with relief. The Weaver wanted both armies at the battle on the Moorlands. And he would have them.

The queen, with Ohan at her side, had pulled ahead of the archminister again. It took Abeni a moment to realize that the duchess wasn’t with them.

“You’re one of them.”

The archminister started at the sound of Diani’s voice. Somehow the woman was right beside her, hatred in her black eyes.

“That’s why you didn’t want us to attack. I’m sure of it now.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” But Abeni could hear the flutter in her own voice.

“Yes, you do. You got your way this time. I commend you for that. Somehow you convinced the master of arms that you had the army’s interests at heart. But I’ll be watching you as never before. And at the first move you make against the queen, I’ll kill you.”

She kicked at her mount and rode ahead of Abeni, her back straight, her dark hair dancing in the wind.

Despite the pounding of her heart, Abeni nearly laughed aloud. At the first move … By then it would be too late.