Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Twenty-Four

Curtell, Braedon, Amon’s Moon waxing

The high chancellor didn’t have to look at Nitara to know that she was watching him, following his every movement with her ghostly pale eyes. He felt her stares as he might the breath of a lover, stirring his hair, touching the nape of his neck, the harbinger of a kiss. He had regretted turning her away from his bed every night since their encounter in his chamber, though he knew he had been right to do so. For years he had dreamed of finding a woman with whom he could lead the Forelands when at last his plans bore fruit. He had thought to make Cresenne his queen, and when he realized that she had betrayed him, he had turned such thoughts to Jastanne. Certainly it had never occurred to him to look for his queen within Harel’s court.

There could be no denying that Nitara was beautiful and intelligent. When Dusaan first thought to turn Kayiv and her to his cause, he had considered the man the more promising of the two. Only as he spoke to them of the movement and its needs did he begin to see just how wrong he had been. She was brilliant, and Kayiv proved far more limited than the Weaver had hoped.

That she knew who and what he was only served to deepen Dusaan’s fascination with the woman. It was one thing to touch Jastanne with his mind as she stood naked before him, her hair dancing in the wind on the plain he had conjured for her dreams. It would have been quite another to lie with a woman who knew his face and his name, as well as the extent of his power. He realized, however, that there were dangers as well, and thus far, his caution had overmatched his need and his passion.

The greatest risk, he felt certain, came not from Nitara herself but rather from Kayiv, who had been her lover until recently. Dusaan didn’t know what she had told him, or how she had explained her decision to end their love affair. The Weaver had made her swear that she wouldn’t tell anyone what she knew about him, and he had urged her to go back to Kayiv and repair their relationship. But though she had promised to keep his secret, she had made it clear that she couldn’t love the minister anymore. And judging from the way Kayiv was glaring at the high chancellor, as the other Qirsi in the ministerial chamber argued some arcane point of Braedon law, Dusaan could only assume that the man had guessed where her affections were now directed. He might even have concluded that Nitara was already sharing the chancellor’s bed.

Dusaan didn’t fear the man. He had far more pressing matters with which to concern himself than the pique of a spurned lover. But the chancellor knew from what Nitara had told him that when she first began to consider that he might be the Weaver, she voiced these suspicions to Kayiv. If Kayiv’s resentment ran deep enough, he might repeat what he heard to other ministers, perhaps even to the emperor.

He thought he could ease Kayiv’s anger, and with it the danger that the man might act against Dusaan, if he could manage to speak with him in private. The mere need to arrange such a conversation, however, pointed to a far greater problem. Kayiv had cause to hate him, and therefore to spread rumors that he had betrayed the emperor, that he might in fact be far more than he admitted. Nitara, who knew for certain that he was the Weaver and did lead the movement, was in love with him. And though she seemed satisfied for now to love him from a distance, it was possible, even likely, that she would grow restive with time, coming to resent him for refusing to return her love.

Cresenne had betrayed him. Grinsa had seen his face. Yaella ja Banvel, first minister to the duke of Mertesse, had thought to blame him for the death of Shurik jal Marcine, her lover. In the past half year, the movement had lost, in addition to Shurik, Enid ja Kovar, first minister in Thorald, Paegar jal Berget, high minister to the king of Eibithar, and Peshkal jal Boerd, first minister to the duke of Bistari. Their deaths had little in common-one had died at the hands of a drunken musician, another succumbed to the poison of a ruthlessly ambitious Eandi noble, and yet another died at the hands of the Weaver himself, who had been forced to kill Paegar to guard the secret of his identity. Only Enid had died as a direct result of her duke learning that she served the Weaver’s cause. Yet it seemed to Dusaan that for the first time, his movement was in danger of being exposed to too much scrutiny. From what he had been told by his chancellor in Yserne, he gathered that the recent assassination attempt in Curlinte had fooled no one. The movement hadn’t suffered for this failure. A minister loyal to the courts had been killed in such a way as to convince the duchess and Sanbira’s queen that he was the traitor responsible for the assault. But they had been fortunate in this instance. A similar failure elsewhere might be disastrous.

Which brought him to the crux of the matter. He wasn’t ready to reveal himself and challenge the courts directly; the Eandi weren’t sufficiently weakened yet. But perhaps the time had come to push the emperor into a war with Eibithar. Such a conflict, if it succeeded in drawing Aneira, Caerisse, and Wethyrn into battle as well, might succeed where more subtle machinations no longer could. Even if the emperor gave the order to begin preparations for the invasion now, it would take another turn or two before the fighting began in earnest. Enough time, Dusaan believed, for the final pieces of his plan to be put in place.

Yes, the time had come at last. Perhaps this was a bit earlier than he had intended originally, but a skilled leader knew when to hold true to his initial designs, and when to change them to meet the exigencies of circumstance.

“Wouldn’t you agree with that, High Chancellor?”

He stared blankly at Stavel. He had completely lost the thread of their discussion. “I’m sorry, Chancellor. My mind must have wandered.”

The older man frowned. “I was saying that we may be able to satisfy both Muelry and Grensyn by making whatever solution we propose temporary.”

The high chancellor shook his head, finding it nearly impossible to believe that they were still discussing this foolish dispute among the southern houses. The matter should have been settled days ago. “No wonder my attention drifted,” he muttered.

A few of the ministers laughed, Nitara a bit too loudly. Kayiv didn’t even smile, nor, for that matter, did Stavel.

Dusaan laughed with the others, though inwardly he berated himself for his carelessness. He didn’t usually allow himself to be so thoroughly distracted. There could be no doubt: the time had come to move forward with his plans.

“Yes, Chancellor,” he said. “That does strike me as an equitable solution to the problem. I’ll mention it to the emperor, and I’ll be sure to tell him that it was your idea.”

Stavel nodded, obviously trying not to appear too pleased.

Dusaan stood. “Perhaps we should adjourn for the day.”

The others stood as well, Nitara lingering as if she wished to speak with him privately. The Weaver, however, was watching Kayiv, who strode past the older chancellors toward the door.

“Minister,” Dusaan called.

The man stopped, casting a dark look his way.

“A word, please.”

Kayiv looked at the door once more, seeming to consider leaving anyway. His mouth was set in a thin line, his hands flexed restlessly, but he remained by the door, allowing the other Qirsi to file past him.

Nitara stared at the high chancellor for several moments, until it occurred to Dusaan that she was awaiting an invitation to remain as well.

“Was there something you wished to discuss, Minister?” he asked.

She furrowed her brow. “No, I. . I merely thought. .”

“I won’t keep the minister long,” he said, indicating Kayiv with an open hand. “Perhaps you can wait for him in the corridor.”

Her face colored, her eyes straying to Kayiv briefly. An instant later she left the chamber, as if suddenly eager to get away. Dusaan closed the door.

“I hope you didn’t think to fool me with that little deceit.”

The Weaver gave a small frown. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please don’t play games with me, High Chancellor. You know as well as I that Nitara wasn’t interested in speaking with me. It’s you she wants.” He looked away, his gaze flitting about the chamber as if searching for an escape. “For all I know, she already has you.”

“She doesn’t.”

Their eyes met. Kayiv appeared to be trying to gauge whether Dusaan was telling the truth.

“Please,” the chancellor said, gesturing toward a pair of chairs in the center of the chamber.

After a moment, Kayiv stepped to one of them and sat. Dusaan did the same.

“You’re right. I do know that she wasn’t waiting for you. I said what I did to make her leave.” He paused. If he was to keep Kayiv from turning on him, he’d have to allay the man’s jealousy. And that meant being completely honest with him where the woman was concerned. “I’ll also grant that you’re right about Nitara. She has admitted that she harbors some. . affection for me. But nothing has come of it, and nothing will. I have more important matters with which to occupy my time.”

“I’m not certain I believe you.”

“That’s your heart talking, not your mind. Think about it for a moment. Given what I’ve told you-both of you-about my role in the movement, would I risk an affair with her, knowing that it would anger you, that if it ended badly, it would anger her as well? She’s an attractive woman, and under different circumstances I wouldn’t worry about bruising your feelings. But I’m not about to risk my life and the movement merely to bed her.”

“Is this why you asked me to stay? To tell me that she’s not your lover?”

“Not entirely, no. I did sense your jealousy, however. It concerns me that you conceal your emotions so poorly. Others in the movement, myself included, are depending upon you to be more subtle.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” He gripped the arms of his chair, as if waiting for the high chancellor to give him leave to stand.

“I’d like to believe that.” Dusaan regarded the man for a moment. “Nitara told you that she believes I’m the Weaver.”

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

The Weaver gave an easy laugh. “What do you think?”

“I think she’s so taken with you that she sees far more than is there.”

He made certain that the smile remained on his lips, but he allowed just a hint of anger to shade his voice when he said, “Careful, Minister. I may not be a Weaver, but I’m still high chancellor, and I do have some influence with the leaders of the movement.”

“Forgive me, High Chancellor. I forget myself.”

“Don’t give the matter a second thought.” Dusaan stared out the window, watching a raven circle over the palace walls. “Tell me, Kayiv, are you comfortable with your decision to join the movement?”

Even without looking at the man, the Weaver sensed his unease.

“Of course I am, High Chancellor. Don’t I appear to be?”

“I can’t say for certain. You were reluctant the first day I spoke to you of allying yourself with our cause. I seem to remember you saying that you didn’t trust me. At the time I assumed that Nitara would be able to convince you where I could not, and that the gold you were to be paid would do the rest, and I’ve continued to hope this would be the case in the days since. Now. .” He opened his hands and shrugged. “I worry that perhaps your anger at Nitara will effect your relationship with us.”

“I hated the Eandi before I met Nitara, and I hate them still, though I’m no longer with her. One has nothing to do with the other.”

“Good. I’m pleased to hear that. But you haven’t really answered my question. Hating the Eandi is one thing, working with the movement to end Eandi rule in the Forelands is quite another.”

Kayiv nodded. “I know that. I’m with you, High Chancellor. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Minister. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

They sat a moment in silence.

“You’re free to go.”

The minister stood, though it seemed he wished to say more.

“There may come a time when I’ll need to speak with both you and Nitara together. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“It won’t be, High Chancellor.” He started toward the door, then halted, facing Dusaan again.

“What is it, Minister?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, shaking his head. At last he smiled, though clearly it was forced. “It’s nothing. Thank you, High Chancellor.”

A moment later the minister was gone and Dusaan stood, intending to make his way to the emperor’s hall. Harel would be expecting him. Before he could leave, however, there came a knock at the door. He knew who it was even before he opened it. He hadn’t time for this.

Pulling the door open, he found Nitara standing before him, an odd mix of fright and pique in her sand-colored eyes. Two guards stood nearby.

“Have I displeased you?” she asked.

He took her arm and pulled her into the chamber, closing the door and whirling on her. “Are you mad?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice low. “Asking me a question like that in front of the emperor’s men? I should kill you where you stand!”

“I. . I’m sorry. But after you sent me away like that-”

“I wished to speak with Kayiv in private. He thought that we’re lovers and I wanted to disabuse him of the notion before his jealousy overmastered his judgment.”

“Did he believe you when you told him that we weren’t?. .” She faltered, swallowed. “That there was nothing between us?”

“I think he did. I can’t be certain.” He glowered at her. “You coming here so soon after he left doesn’t help matters.”

She lowered her gaze. “Forgive me, W-”

He stopped her with a raised finger. “Not here,” he whispered. “Not when there are guards outside the door.”

Nitara nodded, eyes wide.

“You must remember, Minister, that we’re not lovers, and that as far as anyone else knows, we have nothing more in common than our service to the emperor. Every time you come here like this, you draw attention to both of us. When I need to speak with you of matters pertaining to the movement, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, we’re to have no contact beyond our daily ministerial discussions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, High Chancellor.”

“Then go. No doubt the emperor is wondering where I am.”

She let herself out of the chamber, glancing back at him just once, looking young and lovely and dangerous. He followed her into the corridor, relieved to see that she had the sense to walk in the direction opposite his path to the emperor’s hall. The guards eyed him briefly, but kept their silence.

He had been eager to begin turning some of Harel’s Qirsi to his cause, he recalled, as he strode through the palace hallways. But he could no longer remember why. Between Kayiv’s suspicion and jealousy, and Nitara’s infatuation, he feared it was only a matter of time before one or both of them betrayed him, or, more likely, tried to take a blade to his throat themselves. All the more reason to push the emperor toward war.

Harel was eating when Dusaan reached the imperial chamber, his mouth full and a cup of honey wine in one hand. He waved the high chancellor into the hall, and once he had swallowed, offered Dusaan some food.

“Thank you, Your Eminence. I’ll eat later.”

“Nonsense, High Chancellor. Sit.” He turned in his chair, and beckoned to the servants standing nearby. “Bring the high chancellor some wine.” Facing Dusaan again and taking a bite of fowl, he pushed a bowl toward the chancellor. “Try the pheasant,” he said, still chewing. “It’s superb.”

“Your Eminence is most kind.”

He began to eat, and had to admit, in response to Harel’s expectant gaze, that the food was indeed excellent.

“You’ve just come from your audience with the other Qirsi?” the emperor asked, after they had eaten for some time.

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

“And you gave further consideration to the dispute in the south?”

“Yes. It was agreed that you might wish to ease the concerns of Lord Grensyn by making whatever arrangement you decide upon temporary.”

Harel nodded slowly, as if weighing this. “A fine idea, High Chancellor. I may do just that.”

“It was Stavel’s idea, Your Eminence. He’ll be most pleased to know that you took his counsel to heart.”

“Stavel,” he repeated, frowning. “He’s one of the older ones, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

The emperor smiled, looking for just an instant like a boy who is praised by his tutors for a correct answer. “What else did you discuss?”

Despite the question, Harel already looked bored. If Dusaan didn’t raise the matter now, the emperor would turn their conversation back to food and it would be another day before the high chancellor could speak to him of the invasion.

“It was suggested by some, Your Eminence, that we might wish to begin the invasion sooner than we had planned.” There was some risk in lying about such a thing, but not much. Harel almost never spoke with his other ministers, and in this case he would see no need to. He had been eager for this invasion to begin since Dusaan first suggested the idea to him. He had begrudged every delay, and would probably have been willing to send his fleet into battle without any planning at all had the high chancellor and master of arms allowed it.

Harel had been about to take another bite, but he paused now, the pheasant leg hovering just in front of his face, his small green eyes fixed on Dusaan. “Sooner, you say?”

“Yes, Your Eminence. We’ve assumed for some time now that the longer we had to prepare, the better our chances of success. But some have begun to question whether by waiting we give our enemies time to strengthen their forces in the north.”

The emperor set the food on his plate, straightening in his chair, a strange expression on his face, as if he were trying not to smile.

“Are you one of those arguing so, High Chancellor?”

“Yes, Your Eminence, I am.”

“What of the Aneirans? Since Carden’s death you’ve counseled patience. You’ve said that the new regent will need time to consolidate his authority with the dukes and his army before committing to an alliance with the empire.”

“In recent days I’ve found myself rethinking this as well. Had power in Aneira fallen to another house, such a delay might be necessary. But House Solkara still holds the throne, and while the other dukes may not be familiar with the regent, they’re unlikely to oppose him on a matter of such gravity, particularly if it means war with the hated Eibitharians. Besides, even if we send word to the fleet commanders today, instructing them to begin their assault on Eibithar, it will take better than half a turn for the invasion to begin. The messengers need time to reach them and the commanders will need time to make their final preparations. You can send word to the regent, informing him of your intention to attack. That still leaves him a bit longer to speak with his dukes.”

“Your reasoning seems quite sound, High Chancellor. To be honest, I’ve thought all along that you were being a bit too cautious with respect to this war. I’m glad to see that you’ve come around to my point of view.”

Dusaan had to grit his teeth. “Yes. Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“Still, I think it wise to speak of this with Uriad before making my decision. Don’t you agree?”

Dusaan winced inwardly, but said only, “By all means, Your Eminence. I have no doubt that the master of arms will have much to say about this.”

Uriad Ganjer, the emperor’s master of arms, was one of the most intelligent and formidable Eandi the Weaver had ever met. Dusaan actually liked the man, though he knew that when the time came to wrest control of the empire from Harel, Uriad would have to be the first man to die. The master of arms was also a talented military strategist who weighed risks carefully and cared a good deal about the men under his command. Dusaan fully expected Uriad to oppose any attempt to hurry the invasion along. He felt equally sure, however, that when faced with conflicting advice from the chancellor and the master of arms, the emperor would side with Dusaan, not because he trusted the Qirsi more but rather because he wanted to invade now.

The emperor called to one of his guards and instructed the man to have Uriad summoned to the chamber at once.

“Do you have evidence that the Eibitharians are building up their forces?” the emperor asked, as he began to eat again.

“Nothing certain, no. But they will have noticed our ships in the Scabbard and the Strait of Wantrae. They’d have to be fools not to see this as a threat to their fleet and their northern shores. In addition, we have some reports of discussions between Eibithar’s new king and dukes from Wethyrn and Caerisse. Kearney may be hoping to gather allies in preparation for a war.”

Harel nodded, chewing vigorously. “No doubt he is. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“Quite so, Your Eminence.”

Uriad arrived a few moments later, his face flushed and damp with sweat. He was a tall man, and lanky. His hair and eyes were black, making it clear to all who saw him that while he now served the empire, he had been born elsewhere. As Dusaan understood his family history, the man’s father had been a merchant from Tounstrel in southern Aneira who took his family from that realm when the wharfages imposed by the Solkaran king became too onerous. Uriad had been but a boy at the time and he spoke without a trace of an Aneiran accent.

He dropped to one knee just inside the doorway, bowing his head to the emperor.

“Rise, Uriad,” the Emperor said, waving him toward the table. “Join us.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” the armsman said, standing and walking to where they sat. He nodded to Dusaan. “High Chancellor.”

“Good day, Commander.”

“Forgive my appearance, Your Eminence. I was working the men when you summoned me.”

“Of course. Please sit. I’ve called you here to discuss the invasion. The high chancellor has informed me that he and the other Qirsi believe we should begin the assault on Eibithar sooner than we had planned.”

Again the chancellor winced. Harel might not have any inclination to speak with the other ministers and chancellors about this, but if the master of arms was angry enough, he surely would.

Uriad frowned, turning to Dusaan. “Why would we do such a thing?”

Harel answered before the chancellor could speak. “We fear that by delaying, we give the Eibitharians time to prepare.”

“I’ve heard of no troop movements along the northern coast. Most of Kearney’s army is still guarding the Aneiran border.” He looked from the emperor to Dusaan. “There’s no need for this.”

“Kearney has been speaking with dukes from Wethyrn and Caerisse.”

“Yes, Your Eminence, I imagine he has. But again, I believe he does this because he expects to be at the war with the Aneirans, not with us. Our plans for the invasion are sound, but they require additional preparation. If we act too quickly, this opportunity will be wasted.” He looked at Dusaan again, as if pleading with the chancellor for his support.

Harel toyed with his wine goblet, clearly displeased. “I thought our fleet was ready.”

“It is, Your Eminence, but the Aneiran army is not. The failed siege in Kentigern weakened the army of Mertesse, and though the new duke has begun to fill his ranks once more, his army is not yet at full strength and many of the men are poorly trained.”

“Aneira has other dukes, Commander.”

“Of course it does, Your Eminence. But the men of Mertesse will lead any attack across the Tarbin. And even if they don’t, there are new dukes not only in Mertesse but also in Bistari, Tounstrel, and Noltierre, not to mention the new regent. It’s simply too soon to ask the Aneirans to join us in this war. In six turns perhaps, or better yet ten, they should be ready, but-”

Harel looked horrified. “Ten turns? Now you want me to wait the better part of a year for this war? I’ve already waited too long.”

“We might only have to wait six, Your Eminence. I was merely saying that ten-”

“Even six is too many! I’m tired of waiting. You’ve had ample time to prepare the fleet and the army, Commander. It’s time this invasion began. Send word to your captains that they’re to begin their assault on Eibithar as soon as possible.”

Uriad held himself still, his jaw clenched, and for just an instant Dusaan thought he might argue the point further, or even refuse to carry out the emperor’s order. In the end however, he wisely chose to comply. Harel might have been a fool, but he had little tolerance for dissent and often dealt cruelly with those who showed the least defiance.

Uriad bowed a second time, murmured, “Of course, Your Eminence,” and turned on his heel to leave the chamber, casting a dark look at Dusaan as he did.

After watching the master of arms leave, Dusaan took a last sip of wine and stood. “Perhaps I should leave you as well, Your Eminence.”

“Yes, very well,” Harel said peevishly. “Have word sent to me as soon as the orders are dispatched to my fleet.”

Dusaan bowed. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

As he had expected, the master of arms was waiting for him outside the chamber.

“How could you let him do that?” Uriad demanded, heedless of the soldiers standing nearby. “How could you and the other Qirsi even suggest such a thing?”

“It was my idea, Commander. I honestly feel that further delay might keep us from victory.”

“You can’t possibly be that foolish, High Chancellor. I know you too well.”

Dusaan made himself smile. “Is it foolishness merely because you say so?”

“When it comes to matters of war, yes. I’m more qualified than any man in this palace to make judgments pertaining to our fleet and army.”

“Including the emperor himself?”

Uriad faltered, his eyes darting in the direction of the guards. “The emperor depends upon my counsel at times like these, and I, in turn, expect others to defer to my knowledge of military planning.”

“In this case I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry, Uriad. Truly I am. But I believe I’ve done the right thing.”

“You’ve doomed our invasion to failure is what you’ve done.”

Exactly. “I hope that’s not true, for your sake as well as mine.”

The man stared at him another moment, shaking his head. Then he walked away, leaving Dusaan to hope that he wouldn’t see fit to speak of this with any of the other Qirsi.

Stavel ate his midday meal alone in the kitchen as he did each day, reflecting with satisfaction on the morning’s discussion. He knew that the high chancellor didn’t particularly like him, and that the younger ministers thought him too cautious. But he knew as well that voices of reason were needed in a court like this one, that at times it was more important that a chancellor be respected than liked.

This matter in the south was a perfect example. It would have been too easy to advise the emperor to capitulate to the demands made by Lord Muelry. No one wanted to see the people in Muelry starve, Stavel least of all. He had been born in the city of Muelry. Even after his mother and father journeyed to Hanyck so that his father could become a minister in the court there, his mother continued to refer to Muelry as their home. Few in the palace knew this about him. He had told the emperor once, many years ago, but no doubt Harel had forgotten. None of the other Qirsi had ever bothered to ask.

Nevertheless, his loyalties to Muelry were of little importance, and though he didn’t wish to see the people there suffer, he also didn’t believe that customs were to be abandoned lightly. The people of Grensyn had long laid claim to the lands in question, and they deserved consideration as well. That was why he had been so pleased when he thought of the compromise he presented that morning, and why he had been even more delighted when the high chancellor agreed with him. Serving in the emperor’s court was a great honor, but it could be disheartening at times. Harel had so many Qirsi advisors that a man like Stavel, who lacked the ambition of others, could find himself ignored more often than not. All of which made what had happened that morning so gratifying.

There had been a time when Stavel thought he might become high chancellor. He had been here longer than most, and when the former high chancellor died, many expected that the emperor would choose Stavel to replace her. But around that time Dusaan came to the court, and though he was young, even Stavel could see that he was not like other Qirsi. He carried himself with the confidence of a warrior and made no secret of the fact that he wielded four magics, more than most Qirsi. Harel, who had long taken pride in the number of powerful Qirsi he attracted to his court, saw this new minister as a prize, and immediately offered to make him high chancellor. Dusaan, of course, accepted, as any Qirsi would have done. Stavel’s friends in the court were outraged, though naturally they kept their anger to themselves, fearing the emperor’s wrath. For his part, Stavel accepted the emperor’s decision with equanimity. He thought himself a formidable man-intelligent, passionate when passion was warranted, and powerful in his own right, possessing gleaning, fire, and shaping magic. But he couldn’t compete with a man who wielded four magics, and so he didn’t even think to try. Whatever disappointment he felt was tempered by his knowledge of how difficult was the life of a high chancellor. He didn’t envy the man, at least not much.

He had hoped to build a friendship with the new high chancellor, just as he had with Dusaan’s predecessor, but it soon became apparent that Dusaan and the emperor meant to change the high chancellor’s responsibilities from what they had been. What little contact Stavel and the other Qirsi had with the emperor diminished even further. Dusaan became a conduit of sorts, meeting first with the emperor and then with the other ministers and chancellors, carrying orders from one and counsel from the other. Stavel could see where the new arrangement might be attractive to Harel, keeping his audiences brief and simple, but it left many of the Qirsi feeling superfluous, even resentful. For his part, Stavel accepted this new state of affairs, realizing that there was little he could do to change it. “All that matters,” he told himself and any others who would listen, “is that we continue to offer sound advice to the emperor.”

He viewed days like this one as a vindication of his forbearance.

When he had finished his meal, he returned to his chamber, as he did each day, to write out the minutes of the day’s discussion. No one had ever asked him to do it; he had taken on the task himself. But Dusaan had once mentioned that he found the documents helpful, and so Stavel had continued the practice. Once he completed his work, he walked to the gardens, enjoying the late-day sunshine and the warm breezes blowing down from the hills.

It was there, wandering among the swelling buds of the roses, blackthorns, and woodbine, that he encountered the emperor. Harel was with the youngest of his wives, and several guards walked before them and behind. Stavel stood to the side and allowed them to pass, bowing as the emperor and empress stepped by him.

The emperor nodded to him, then hesitated.

“You’re Stavel, aren’t you?” he asked.

The chancellor could not help but smile as he said, “Yes, Your Eminence, I am.”

“The high chancellor told me it was your idea to make our solution in the south a temporary one, as a way of appeasing Lord Grensyn.”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

“A fine idea, Chancellor. Well done.”

Stavel bowed again, his heart racing. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“I was also pleased to hear that the rest of you thought it wise to begin the invasion early. It’s good to see all the gold I pay you Qirsi being put to good use.”

Harel started to walk on

“Yes, Your Eminence,” the chancellor called after him, abruptly confused. “Thank you.”

They hadn’t even discussed the invasion. Not at all. They hadn’t spoken of it in days. Certainly the ministers and chancellors as a group had reached no decision at all regarding the timing of the assault on Eibithar. Stavel doubted that they would decide anything of the sort without hearing first from the master of arms. And even then, he didn’t see how rushing the invasion could serve any purpose. For a moment he considered following the emperor to ask just what Dusaan had told him, but he quickly thought better of it. Harel had honored him by speaking to him at all. For Stavel to ask any more of him, and in particular to ask him about a conversation he and the high chancellor had in private, would have been utterly inappropriate. There was no telling how the emperor would respond.

Instead he chose to find Dusaan, hoping that the high chancellor might be able to explain the emperor’s comment. Before he reached the man’s chamber, however, he remembered hearing Dusaan ask the young minister, Kayiv, to remain behind so that they could speak. Perhaps the two of them had discussed the invasion and the emperor had merely confused Kayiv for Stavel.

He stopped at Kayiv’s door and knocked. He heard no reply from within, and was about to leave in search of Dusaan when the door opened, revealing the minister, his bright yellow eyes bleary with sleep, his hair disheveled.

“Forgive me, Minister. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Kayiv peered into the corridor as if to reassure himself that Stavel was alone.

“What can I do for you, Chancellor?”

Now that he was standing before the man, Stavel wasn’t certain how to ask the question. The two of them had never gotten along very well, in part because they invariably found themselves on the opposite sides of every argument. Stavel thought the minister ill-mannered, and no doubt Kayiv saw him as weak and narrow-minded.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you remained with the high chancellor after our discussion today.”

Kayiv narrowed his eyes. “Yes. What of it?”

“Did you and he speak of commencing the invasion earlier than we had planned?”

The man’s brow furrowed. “The invasion?”

“Yes. I’ve just come from the gardens, where I saw the emperor. He complimented me on the compromise I proposed for the dispute in Grensyn, and then said that he had been pleased to hear that we were in favor of beginning the invasion early. I thought perhaps you would know what he meant.”

For several moments Kayiv said nothing. He was staring past the chancellor, chewing his lip.

“Did you speak of this with the high chancellor?” Stavel asked after a time, the silence making him uncomfortable. “I thought perhaps that you and he had talked about the invasion after the rest of us left, and that the emperor had simply mistaken me for you.”

“Did the emperor say anything else?”

Stavel shook his head. “No. Just that he was pleased that the rest of us liked the idea-and by ‘the rest,’ I gathered that he meant the other ministers and chancellors aside from Dusaan. Then he said he was pleased that all the gold he paid us was doing him some good, or some such thing. And that was all.” He watched Kayiv for a moment. “Do you know what he meant?”

Again, it took the man some time to reply. But finally he gave a disarming smile, and said, “Yes, Chancellor, I believe I do. This is all a misunderstanding, just as you thought.”

“Well, I suppose I’m relieved. Though I must say that if the high chancellor wishes to offer counsel to the emperor on matters of such importance, he should speak with all of us, not just a select few.”

“Yes. Perhaps you should mention this to him during tomorrow’s discussion.”

Stavel felt the blood drain from his face. He had no more desire to anger the high chancellor that he did the emperor, especially in front of the other Qirsi. “I’m certain he had good reason for offering this counsel the way he did. It’s not my place to question him.”

“Of course, Chancellor. I understand.”

Stavel couldn’t tell whether the man was mocking him or being sincere, but he didn’t care to find out. “Thank you, Minister,” he said, turning away.

“You’re welcome. Good day, Chancellor.”

Stavel turned and walked away, and, a few seconds later, heard the door close gently behind him. He made his way back to his chamber, wondering if he had been wise to raise the matter with Kayiv or if he would have been better off keeping it to himself. Palace politics could be a perilous game, the rules of which he had once known, the subtleties of which he had once taken the time to master. But that had been long ago and much of what he had known was lost to the years. At this point in his life, he was far too old to begin learning these things anew.

He waited until he heard Stavel’s door open and close before leaving his chamber silently and stepping carefully to another door. He knocked once, just loud enough for her to hear. Belatedly he remembered that his hair probably looked a mess and that his clothes were rumpled. It doesn’t matter. She loves another now.

He didn’t have to wait long. She pulled open the door, revealing a chamber bright with lampfire. Her hair was down and her eyes seemed to glow like the stars. Kayiv felt his stomach tighten and he cursed himself for being so weak.

“What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“To talk. It will only take a moment.”

She hesitated, then turned away, stepping farther into her chamber but leaving the door open. An invitation.

He closed the door, watching her pace.

“You don’t look well,” she said. “Are you sleeping?”

“I’m well enough.”

She shrugged, said nothing.

“You were right about him, weren’t you?”

Nitara halted, stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked, though clearly she already knew.

“Dusaan. He is the Weaver, isn’t he?”

“I thought you said I was a fool for even thinking it.”

“I did. I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t. I was a fool. He’s just another Qirsi. That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you, Nitara. He leads the movement, and it seems he’s just convinced the emperor to begin the invasion of Eibithar early.”

“What? How do you know this?”

“Stavel told me. Apparently Dusaan presented it to the emperor as counsel recommended by all of us.”

“Then it’s begun,” she whispered.

“So it would seem. We’re about to go to war, and Dusaan is poised to make himself ruler of all the Forelands.”

“I already told you. He’s not-”

“Yes, I know.” Kayiv smiled, though his chest ached. There could be no question as to her loyalty to the high chancellor. “He’s just another Qirsi.” He walked to the door, pulled it open. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

He thought briefly about returning to his chamber, but he suddenly felt the need to leave the castle. Perhaps a walk in the city marketplace would do him good.

But Kayiv knew better. Dusaan was the Weaver, the man who would lead the Forelands if the Qirsi movement succeeded. And though the minister no longer had any doubts as to the truth in all the high chancellor had told him about the movement, he still couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. Quite the opposite. He was more afraid of him now than ever.