Bonds of Vengeance

Chapter Nine

Orvinti, Aneira, Elhir’s Moon waning

The arguments with Evanthya began almost as soon as Numar left his castle, forcing Tebeo to wonder what had passed between his first minister and the regent’s Qirsi during their conversation in the gardens of Castle Dantrielle. He asked the minister about it, but of course she told him nothing, saying only that she and the archminister had spoken of the coming war. Tebeo didn’t believe her. He had long been opposed to engaging the Eibitharians in battle; without going so far as to advocate war, Evanthya had often made clear her belief that a war, properly fought, could benefit the kingdom.

But abruptly they had reversed roles. After his disastrous encounter with the regent, Tebeo felt that he had little choice but to support Numar in whatever course the regent followed. He had come dangerously close to making an enemy of the man during the Solkaran’s visit. He risked being hanged as a traitor if he even spoke against the war again, much less withheld Dantrielle’s army from the effort as Evanthya now counseled.

Back and forth they went for the entire day after Numar’s departure and into the night. Their debate took them nowhere, and when Evanthya finally left him as the midnight bells tolled in the city, Tebeo was exhausted, but too frustrated to sleep. He avoided her the next day, even going so far as to deny her entry to his chamber when she came to speak with him.

During the course of that morning it occurred to him that Pronjed may have prevailed upon her to argue as she now did. At the time of Carden’s death, Brall and his first minister had speculated that the archminister was a traitor who had the power to control people’s minds. Tebeo knew far less of Qirsi magic than he should have, since he relied on Qirsi ministers for counsel nearly every day, but he knew enough to suspect that the first minister had fallen victim to one of her own. That was the only explanation that made any sense to him.

He said as much to her the following day when they resumed their dialogue. Naturally she denied it, and the more she made her case, the more the duke wavered. It didn’t help that he continued to question the wisdom of this war, or that he disliked Braedon’s emperor, or even that he was, at heart, a man of peace. But there was one other factor that he could not ignore, one that lent great strength to Evanthya’s argument.

Numar frightened him, perhaps not as much as Carden had or Grigor would have had he lived, but enough. He had the full force of the royal army behind him and if he chose to turn its might on Dantrielle the dukedom would be crushed in a matter of days. But it wasn’t just the power of Solkara’s army that frightened the duke. Numar, it seemed, was both more and less than he had appeared to be when Aneira’s dukes chose him as regent for Kalyi, the young queen. Tebeo, Brall, and many of the others had thought him a benign alternative to his older brother, intelligent enough to lead the kingdom until Kalyi was of Fating age, but lacking his brother’s ambition. Having faced his wrath, however, having heard him speak of war and the growing alliance with Braedon, Tebeo realized that he and his fellow dukes had seen only what they wanted to see. The regent was keenly intelligent, far more so even than Carden had been, and the duke feared that Numar harbored dark ambitions for Aneira and for himself.

The more Tebeo and his first minister spoke of the regent and his war, the more uncertain the duke grew, until he found himself advocating points of view with which he did not agree.

Evanthya, who knew him too well, seemed to sense her advantage, for after a time, she began to smile. When Tebeo stated that Aneira’s alliance with Braedon outweighed all other concerns, even his desire for peace, she actually laughed.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, shaking her head. “But I know that you don’t truly believe that, not unless you received word during the night that Harel has died and been replaced by a new emperor.”

He winced. “You shouldn’t jest about such things, First Minister.”

“My apologies, my lord. But the fact remains that you think Harel a poor leader and a dangerous ally for the kingdom. You’ve said as much to me several times in the past.”

“You’re right, I have. And I suppose I still feel that way.”

“Then why do you argue as you do?”

“Because I have no desire to stand alone against Numar. As it is, after what I said to him while he was here, I’m fortunate that he’s a generous man. He could easily have taken offense and he might still decide to punish Dantrielle for my impudence. I can’t risk angering him further.”

The minister regarded him in silence briefly, her brow furrowed, as if she were struggling with something. Then, appearing to come to a decision, she asked, “What if you didn’t have to stand against him alone?”

“What?”

She licked her lips. “When I spoke with the archminister, he asked me if I thought you could prevail upon the southern houses to support the war if they proved reluctant.”

He gaped at her, not quite believing that Pronjed would think to ask her such a question. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

She lowered her gaze. “I was afraid to, my lord. Just as you fear Numar, I fear the archminister. Fetnalla and Lord Orvinti suspect that he may be a traitor, that he may even have used mind-bending magic to kill the king. If he learned that I had revealed to you anything of our conversation, he. . he might seek to do me harm.”

“How?” Tebeo asked, eyes narrowing. “Do you think he’d try to kill you?”

“Not directly, my lord. But he might accuse me of treason. These are difficult days for Qirsi and Eandi alike. It requires only a well-placed word to destroy the reputation of a minister.”

The duke nodded. That much at least he could understand. “Do you think he expects the southern houses to resist the war?”

“He told me he was merely preparing himself for all possibilities. But I don’t think he would have asked the question unless he thought it likely.” She hesitated, her bright gaze dropping once more. “He asked as well if I thought you would resist”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all, not after my conversation with Numar.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I thought you would send however many men Numar requested, that you were Aneiran before all else.”

It was the only proper response she could have given, but still he was relieved. “Thank you. And what about his other question? How did you answer that?”

“I wasn’t certain what to say, my lord. I told him that you were not as close to the new dukes in Tounstrel and Noltierre as you had been to their fathers, and that you didn’t have as much influence with them as the question implied.”

Tebeo frowned. “Frankly, First Minister, that’s more of an answer than such a question deserved.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Still, it’s close enough to the truth, and it doesn’t give Numar much hope that I can act on his behalf if Vistaan and Bertin the Younger refuse to comply. Under the circumstances, things could be far worse.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She opened her mouth to say more, then stopped herself, taking a breath and playing absently with the satin edge of her robe.

“Out with it, Evanthya. If there’s more to your conversation with Pronjed I’d best know it now.”

Still she paused, seeming to search for the correct words. “I’m not entirely certain that he was asking these questions on the regent’s behalf, my lord.”

He had thought that nothing more could surprise him, that between Numar’s unexpected visit and the archminister’s blunt questioning of his first minister he had been inured to shock. But this was too much. “Explain.”

“He told me that he didn’t think the regent trusted him and that Numar only brought him to Dantrielle and the other dukedoms because he didn’t trust the minister enough to leave him alone in Solkara.”

“Do you think the regent fears for the queen?”

She shook her head, playing now with a strand of white hair. “No, I think he fears Chofya and Pronjed’s ties to her.”

At that the duke felt a surge of hope. “Did Pronjed indicate that he still remained loyal to her?”

“Not really, my lord. He told me that he was asking me these other questions on no one’s behalf, but rather as one Qirsi to another.”

Just as quickly, the duke’s hope vanished to be replaced by a feeling of coldest, deepest dread. “What does that mean? Do you think he’s with the conspiracy?”

“I think it’s possible. It’s also possible that he thinks I am, and that he hoped to determine this for certain.”

“Why would he think you were a traitor?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he could see from the way she regarded him that he had failed.

“You of all people should know the answer to that, my lord.” She gave a sad smile. “With all that’s happened in Aneira and throughout the Forelands, all Qirsi are suspect. Traitors seem to lurk in every corner, be it in Solkara, or Orvinti, or here, in Dantrielle.”

Tebeo nodded again, but said nothing.

“I’ve told you this before, my lord, and I’ll say it again. I have not betrayed you, nor do I intend to. But I believe this war must be stopped before it begins. It will bring ruin to the realm, perhaps to all the Forelands.”

“Do you know this? Have you gleaned something?”

Evanthya shook her head. “No, my lord. This is my opinion, it’s not prophecy.”

He almost wished it had been a vision. A part of him felt just as his first minister did. But Dantrielle would fare no better if her duke was labeled a traitor and her castle besieged by the royal army. At least in this war, his people might have a chance to prove their mettle or die loyal subjects of the kingdom. The alternative was unthinkable.

“I share your fears, Evanthya. You know I do. But you’re asking me to exchange one war for another. If I defy House Solkara it will put us on a path to civil war, a hopeless war at that, and one that will be no less ruinous for the kingdom than this alliance with the empire.” He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

“You could at least speak with Lord Orvinti, my lord.”

“To what end? The regent told us that Brall supports this war.”

“Of course he did, my lord. What else would he say? But what if Lord Orvinti feels as we do, and only said what he did to avoid angering Numar? What if Bertin the Younger and Vistaan of Tounstrel do the same? The dukes chose Numar over Henthas because they didn’t want a kingdom governed by fear and the threat of violence. Yet isn’t that what we have?”

“Numar isn’t Henthas!” the duke said, flinging the words at her like a blade.

Evanthya looked away. “No, my lord.”

She didn’t deserve his anger. As with so many things, she was right about this. He feared the coming war, but had been compelled to pledge his support by a regent he feared even more. And Dantrielle was one of Aneira’s stronger houses. If Numar could force his compliance, couldn’t he do the same to the dukes of Kett and Noltierre, Rassor and Tounstrel?

“Have you received word from Fetnalla since the regent’s visit?” he asked. “Do you have any reason to believe that she and Brall have similar doubts?”

“I’ve heard nothing, my lord. For all I know, the regent was correct in saying that he had Lord Orvinti’s support. But if I may be so bold, even if Lord Orvinti is in favor of this war, as you seem to be, it strikes me that you would benefit from such assurances right now.”

“I probably would. But assurances can be conveyed by messenger. If we’re to discuss defying the regent, we’d best do so in Orvinti.”

Evanthya met his gaze again, her bright yellow eyes dancing like torch fire. It took the duke a moment to remember that she and Brall’s first minister were lovers. A journey to Orvinti meant more to her than just an opportunity to press her argument again.

“Then we’re going?” she asked.

“Yes. But hear this, First Minister: if Brall truly supports the war, this is over. There will be no correspondence with Noltierre or Tounstrel on the matter.”

“Of course, my lord. Without Orvinti we can’t stand against House Solkara.”

They held each other’s gaze for another moment before Tebeo sent her off to prepare for the journey. But long after she had left him, he continued to shake his head at the memory of this last comment. Notwithstanding her kind manner and reasoned thinking on matters of state, there were times when Evanthya spoke of war and rebellion with chilling indifference.

They rode at dawn the following day, steering their mounts into the teeth of yet another icy storm. Tebeo could not remember the snows lasting this long in past years. It almost seemed that the gods themselves were trying to keep the land’s armies from marching to war. The duke kept his company small, much as Numar had. Evanthya rode with him of course, as did eight of his finest soldiers, four swordsmen and four archers. Brigands tended to move south during the colder turns and though some of them might have come north again, fooled by the brief warm spell that had come at the end of Eilidh’s waning, most would not be haunting the roads again for another turn or two. Eight men would be more than enough.

He had sent a message ahead, informing Brall of his impending visit and telling the duke to expect him within the first five days of the waning. He hadn’t waited for a response, nor did he expect the messenger to find him again in the forest. Such was the nature of his friendship with Brall that no reply was necessary. Both the duke and Pazice, his wife, would have welcomed them even without such a courtesy, just as he and Pelgia would have opened their home to Brall. But in this case Tebeo reasoned that the nature of his visit would be enough of a surprise. There was no need to compound the matter by arriving unannounced.

They traveled swiftly despite the weather-or perhaps because of it. No one in the company had any desire to linger on the road. By midmorning on the sixth day, they had come within sight of the Hills of Shanae, rising above the Plain of the Stallions and gleaming with fresh snow. It would be another day before they reached Lake Orvinti and Brall’s magnificent castle, but seeing the hills, the duke felt his spirits rise. Even faced with the prospect of war, he looked forward to speaking with his friend. Brall had his faults. He could be arrogant at times, and he was even more likely than Tebeo to take a position in the Council of Dukes based not on what he believed but rather on what he thought the majority of dukes wanted. But he could also be thoughtful and uncommonly clever. And Tebeo knew that when the two of them spoke privately, he could depend upon Brall to be entirely honest with him. With Bertin and Chago dead, he could not say the same about any other noble in the realm.

The Plain of the Stallions remained a wild stretch of land, mostly devoid of towns and villages. A few farms could be found on the expanse, particularly in the regions just south and west of Lake Orvinti and just north and west of the Tall Grass River, but except for falcons and ptarmigans, wild dogs and, of course, the herds of horses for which the plain was named, there was little to be found between Dantrielle and Brall’s castle. For this reason, and despite the fact that it added several leagues to their journey, Tebeo and his company followed the Rassor along its south bank. Even on the river, there weren’t many towns. But there were a few, and every night of their journey they were able to find shelter.

On this night, because they were so close to the ducal city, the village was larger and the inn more comfortable than any they had encountered since leaving Dantrielle. Their meal, a spicy mutton stew and the black bread and light wine for which western Aneira was renowned, reminded Tebeo of nights spent in Bistari when Chago used to regale the other dukes with tales of his father’s blood feud with Farrad the Sixth of Solkara. Long after his soldiers had gone off to bed, Tebeo remained in the tavern’s hall, sipping wine and filling himself with fine food. Evanthya, who had long since stopped eating, stayed dutifully by his side, playing idly with her goblet. They had spoken little on this journey, and Tebeo wondered if she were merely anticipating her reunion with Fetnalla or distracted by weightier matters.

“It seems in recent turns that we don’t often speak unless we’re arguing,” the duke said at last, draining his goblet and motioning to the serving girl for more.

“Yes, my lord. I’ve noticed that as well.”

“I suppose I’m to blame.”

“No more than I am, my lord.”

Tebeo gave a small, dry laugh and shook his head. “Your courtesy is admirable, First Minister, but we both know better. You believe that I don’t trust you, that my fear of the conspiracy has made me wary of all Qirsi, even those who serve me well.”

Evanthya started to respond, no doubt to deny that this was true, as a good minister should, but the duke stopped her with a raised hand.

“Please don’t, Evanthya. The truth is, I don’t trust you, at least not as I did. I don’t really think that you’ve betrayed me or my house, at least not in the customary sense. I’m not even certain that you’re capable of such a thing. But I find myself wondering now about matters that never concerned me before. Do you serve House Dantrielle out of loyalty or because doing so brings you gold? Is the courtesy you show me genuine or is it a mask you wear to conceal your contempt for me?” The serving girl returned with more wine, which the duke accepted with a quick smile. He watched her as she returned to the bar, then took a small sip from his goblet. Turning his gaze back to the minister, he felt a sudden ache in his chest.

She was crying, silent tears coursing down her pale cheeks.

He hadn’t thought to wound her with his words. On the contrary, he had hoped to begin to bridge the rift that had grown between them. Only now, seeing the pain written on her thin face and thinking of what he had said, did it occur to him that his admission might hurt her. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much wine.

“First Minister, please. I-”

She shook her head so that tears flew from her face, staining the wooden table like raindrops on castle stone. “I’ve known you felt this way for some time,” she said. “I merely chose not to think about it. Perhaps it would be best-” She stopped, stifling a sob. “Perhaps I should leave your service now, before we reach Orvinti.”

Tebeo closed his eyes, wincing. What a fool he was. “I don’t want that,” he told her. “I rely on your counsel, Evanthya. I need you now more than I ever have.”

“How can you accept my counsel when you imagine me hating you, when you look for lies in my every word and gesture?”

“That’s not what I said.”

She swiped at the tears on her face. “It’s close; close enough, anyway.”

“Then I misspoke.”

“Did you, my lord?” She sounded angry, as if her pain had suddenly given way to rage. “It seems to me those were the most honest words you’ve spoken to me since the king’s death. You, Lord Orvinti, the regent-all of you see white hair and think ‘traitor.’ ”

“You liken me to Numar?”

“Yes, my lord. Just as you liken me to the archminister.”

“We have cause to be frightened, Evanthya. You yourself have spoken many times of the dangers of the conspiracy.”

“Yes, I have. But I should not be branded a traitor because other Qirsi have betrayed their lords. Would you expect me to accuse you of poisoning my wine tonight simply because Grigor poisoned the Council of Dukes in Solkara?”

He rubbed a hand over his brow. “Of course not.”

“My people have had to endure accusations of this sort for centuries, simply because the Qirsi wars ended with Carthach’s betrayal. The Eandi see us as a race of traitors, and no matter what we do, no matter how ably we serve in your courts, you’ll always see us that way.”

“Is it any wonder, First Minister? When Brall and I speak of ourselves, it’s always as Aneirans, or as men of our houses. But the Qirsi speak always of themselves as a race first. You’re Qirsi before you’re anything else. You may serve Dantrielle, you may live in Aneira, but you think of yourself as Qirsi.”

“That’s only because you won’t allow me to be anything else! I am Aneiran, and I would give my life for House Dantrielle, whether you believe it or not. But when you look at me, you don’t see an Aneiran. You see white hair and yellow eyes. You see me raising mists or whispering magic words to my mount. We’re a race of sorcerers. All of the Qirsi share that, just as we share the physical traits that make us so strange in your eyes. So yes, in some small way we may feel a bond to other Qirsi, regardless of what house or realm they serve. But what choice do we have when you won’t truly accept us as one of your own?” She shook her head, raking a rigid hand through her fine hair. “Still, it’s one thing to feel such a kinship, it’s another entirely to band with a handful of traitors simply because they happen to wield magic like mine. I hate the conspiracy, not only for what it’s done to the Eandi but also for what it’s done to me.”

“And what is that?”

She opened her arms, as if it should have been obvious. “This argument, your distrust, the ache in my heart every time I have to take care choosing a word for fear of raising your suspicions again. I hate all of it! And I hate them for doing this to me! If you only knew-”

She broke off, looking away as tears poured from her golden eyes once more.

He hadn’t been fair with her, not for several turns. He could see that now, though he didn’t know how to win back her friendship. “If I only knew what?” he asked, his voice as gentle as a caress.

“Nothing.”

“Please, Evanthya.”

Their eyes met for but a moment before she looked away again. “If you only knew how much I want to defeat them,” she whispered.

“We have that in common, don’t we?”

She shrugged, still not looking at him “I suppose we do,” she said, sounding unconvinced.

“I know it’s not much, but perhaps it’s a place to start. I don’t want you to leave Dantrielle, Evanthya, not only because I depend upon you for counsel but also because I’ve grown quite fond of you over the years. Pelgia and I both have.” He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. Her fingers were slender and small, almost like those of a child. These hands can raise a gale that would topple oaks. She didn’t take hold of his hand in return, but neither did she pull hers away. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he went on. “You’re right about us, the Eandi, I mean. We do see you as different, as not sharing our devotion to the kingdom. We should know better by now, but we don’t. That’s what makes this conspiracy so insidious and also so cunning. It strikes at our weakness, our inability to see beyond the differences between us, our inability to think of you and your people as anything more than failed invaders who were undone by treachery. We’ve made it too easy for them.”

Evanthya grimaced slightly. “You’re not alone in that. For every Eandi lord who assumes that his minister has betrayed him, there are three ministers who think the same of their colleagues.” She looked up. “The conspiracy has brought out the worst in all of us, my lord. As you say, that’s what it makes it so dangerous.”

“All the more reason to defeat it, then, First Minister. I’d be honored to fight this battle beside you.”

The woman actually smiled, wiping away her tears again.

“Forgive me for what I said, Evanthya. I’m frightened by the conspiracy-I prefer an enemy I can see. But I didn’t wish to hurt you, nor do I want to drive you away.”

She took a long breath, her eyes meeting his for just an instant before flitting away again. After some time she nodded.

They returned to their rooms a short time later and rose the next morning to complete their ride to Orvinti. The air had grown warmer overnight, but it rained on the company throughout the day. When finally they followed the road around the south end of Lake Orvinti and into the castle, all of them were soaked and shivering.

The duke of Orvinti was not a man to waste time on formalities, and he soon had all of them taken to their quarters, where they could change clothes and warm themselves before being fed. Orvinti’s duchess joined the two dukes and their ministers for the meal, but left them after the final course was served, claiming to be weary. Tebeo knew better. Unlike his own wife, Pazice had little interest in matters of state, but she knew enough of such things to understand that Tebeo’s visit was unusual, and that the two men wished to discuss whatever had brought him to her home.

Once the duchess was gone, Brall stood, glancing first at Tebeo and then at the first ministers. He looked just as he always did, tall and hale, youthful for his age despite the shock of thick silver hair that hung over his brow. If he still suffered any lingering effects from the poisoning in Solkara, he showed no sign of it. His broad face may have had a few more lines than Tebeo remembered, but his eyes were still clear and as blue as the sky in the harvest turns.

“Shall we return to my chambers and talk there?” he asked, gesturing with a meaty hand toward the door of the hall in which they were sitting.

“Why don’t we speak alone tonight, and allow our ministers to renew their friendship? The four of us can meet tomorrow.”

Evanthya favored him with a smile of such profound gratitude that the duke felt his cheeks coloring. Brall, on the other hand, did not look at all pleased. When Fetnalla looked at him, however, a question in her yellow eyes, he nodded his assent.

When the ministers had gone, and the two dukes began to wind their way back through the dim corridors to Brall’s quarters, the tall duke cast a dark look at Tebeo. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Give Fetnalla and Evanthya leave to go.”

Tebeo gave a small shrug. “I wished to speak with you in private, and I saw no harm in allowing them to have their privacy as well.” He didn’t think that Brall knew of the ministers’ love affair, but apparently he had given offense where none was intended and he didn’t wish to compound his error with lies.

“There is harm in it,” Brall said harshly. “You might as well give them leave to plot against us.”

“You’d rather they were party to our conversation?”

“At least then we could watch them, make certain we know what they’re doing.”

Tebeo gave a small laugh. “And would you also have us stay up through the night, so that our slumber doesn’t give them opportunity to weave their conspiracies?”

Brall just stared at him, his expression unchanged. “Make your jokes, my friend. But I assure you, in this castle, my sleep does not afford the Qirsi any opportunities.”

It took him a moment. “You have her watched?”

“Of course I do. You should do the same with Evanthya. These times require no less of us.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“But I am. Haven’t you been paying heed to all that’s happened in this kingdom since the harvest? Haven’t you been listening to the tidings brought to your city by merchants and the festivals? The conspiracy is real, Tebeo. It’s not just rumors anymore. Nobles are dying, not just here but all through the Forelands.”

“But to have her watched, as if she were already a known traitor. .” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do such a thing.”

“So instead you wait until their treachery is revealed. That’s the fool’s way, Tebeo. That’s what Chago did, and Carden, and who knows how many others who are already in Bian’s realm.”

They came to Brall’s chamber and stopped before the door. Guards stood on either side of the door, both dressed in Orvinti colors, blue and green. Brall pulled a key from within his ducal robe, unlocked the door, and indicated with an open hand that Tebeo should enter. In all his years as duke of Dantrielle, Tebeo had never locked his chambers.

Tebeo and Brall sat in the large chairs in the center of the chamber while a servant threw a pair of logs into the hearth and squatted to stir the glowing embers.

“I suppose you have guards watching her?” Tebeo asked.

“Guards, servants. Occasionally I use some of Pazice’s ladies.” He glanced at the servant. When he began again, he had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Pazice knows nothing of this, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell her.”

“Of course.” He sat still a moment, watching as the servant tried to rekindle the fire. “So, has Fetnalla done anything. . unusual? Have you any reason to believe that she’s betrayed you?”

“Not yet. But she may have some idea that I’ve been keeping watch on her. It may be that I’m keeping her from joining the conspiracy.”

I think it more likely that you’re driving her to it. He didn’t say this, though he wanted to. Theirs was a strong friendship, but still Brall would have taken offense. Tebeo had never seen him so suspicious of anyone, not even the Eibitharians. Moreover, it occurred to him that if Fetnalla was under constant observation, Brall was about to receive tidings of a different sort. Best he hear it first from Tebeo.

“There’s something I should tell you, Brall. If your watchers are doing their jobs properly, you’ll learn of it soon enough, but since I’ve known for some time now, I ought to be the one to tell you.”

Brall narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what?”

Tebeo took a breath, watching as the servant finally lit the blaze and left the chamber. The Brall he knew a year ago would have been surprised, by what he was about to say. He might even have disapproved, though he would have had the good sense to keep his thoughts to himself. But Tebeo wasn’t certain how the man before him would respond. Distrustful as he was of his own minister, and frightened as he seemed to be of all Qirsi, there was no way to know for certain.

“What is it, Tebeo? You’re scaring me.”

“It’s nothing really. Fetnalla and Evanthya are. . they’re in love.”

The man’s brow creased. “What?”

“Our first ministers-”

“Do you mean in love with each other?”

He nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you certain it’s not a trick, a story they’ve told you to hide something else?”

“Brall, please! Stop imagining traitors at every turn and think for a moment! If our ministers wanted to plot against us, and wished to find time alone to do so, they would simply claim friendship and have done with it. They certainly wouldn’t go to this length, not when it’s bound to draw more attention to them rather than less.”

Orvinti eyed him a moment, looking angry. Then he gave a small nod and glanced at the fire.

“So they’re lovers,” he said, a look of distaste twisting his features.

Tebeo smiled. “Yes.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since around the time of Carden’s funeral.”

“She told you?”

“I guessed.”

Brall raised an eyebrow. “You guessed?”

“I could tell from the way Evanthya spoke of your minister, from the way she behaved when they were together.” He grinned. “I may be old, but I still remember what it is to be in love.”

The silver-haired duke shook his head. “If I had your eyes, I’d never wonder again about Fetnalla’s loyalty.” He paused briefly, watching the blaze. “Do you approve of this love?”

“I’m not certain it’s my place to approve or disapprove. If Fetnalla served another duke I might be uncomfortable with it, and I did tell Evanthya that if ever you and I had a falling-out, their affair would have to end or she would have to leave my service. But as matters stand now, I see nothing wrong with it.”

“The prelates would tell us that it’s. . unnatural.”

“Probably. In certain respects I remain a man of the Old Faith. Besides, they’re Qirsi. They worship in the sanctuaries, not the cloisters. They should be governed by the old teachings.”

Brall shrugged. “You may be right. Just the same, I’d prefer you didn’t mention this to Pazice either.”

“Careful, Brall. You’re accumulating secrets in your old age. You know the saying: a man who keeps his own counsel is doomed to suffer from bad advice.”

For the first time since Tebeo’s arrival in Orvinti, Brall smiled. “My old age? You’ve got nerve calling me old, Dantrielle. What are you, three years younger than I am?”

“Actually, it’s four.”

Brall gave an exaggerated nod. “Ah, four years, then.” He laughed, as did Tebeo. After a few moments their laughter subsided, and Brall fixed his gaze on the duke, his expression growing grim once more. “Why are you here, Tebeo? What’s happened?”

“The same thing that happened here. Numar’s visit.”

“I should have guessed. You’re concerned about the alliance with Braedon.”

“Of course,” Tebeo said. “Shouldn’t we all be? This war could be a disaster for Aneira and all the Forelands.”

“It could also be our greatest triumph.”

Tebeo felt a dull ache in his chest. He had expected Brall to balk at the notion of defying the regent, but he never imagined that his friend might actually be eager for battle. Not that he could fault the man for what he said. Tebeo had argued much the same point with Evanthya in the wake of Numar’s visit.

“Is that really what you believe?” he asked.

Brall exhaled through his teeth. “I certainly wish it was. I don’t think much of Harel and I’ve no appetite for war. We’ve just lost Chago, Bertin, and Vidor. I’ve had enough of funerals for a lifetime.” He gave Tebeo a long look. “But surely you didn’t come all this way merely to exchange opinions on an ill-advised war.”

“No,” Tebeo said, shaking his head. He told Brall briefly of his unpleasant encounter with the regent and his lengthy discussions with Evanthya. “I came at the minister’s urging,” he concluded. “She believes that I should try to convince you, Bertin the Younger, and Vistaan to defy the regent when he asks for men for the war.”

Brall’s eyes widened. “We’d be trading one war for another.”

“I know.”

“Yet you came anyway.”

“Not to convince you but rather to ask your opinion.”

“My opinion? She’s mad. Or she’s a traitor.”

Tebeo gave a small smile and shook his head again. “She’s neither. She may be young, perhaps a bit reckless, but she’s loyal, and I fear she’s right about this.”

“No, Tebeo, she’s not! The royal army would crush us in no time. It would be a futile gesture, one that would bring disaster to all of our houses.”

“Perhaps not. I’ve been thinking of this since I left Dantrielle. The four of us might not be able to withstand Numar’s assault, but if Bistari were to join us, and Ansis of Kett, we’d have a chance.”

Brall appeared to consider this. “Have you spoken with Silbron?”

“No. I won’t mention it to any of the others unless you agree to join me.”

Brall grinned again. “Afraid to swing alone, eh?”

“Chago would have agreed to this in an instant, but no one hated the Solkarans more than he did. Silbron isn’t like his father. He’s more ambitious, and more sensible. I believe he wants Bistari to reclaim it’s place as one of Aneira’s leading houses and the only way to do that is to end Bistari’s feud with House Solkara.”

“Then he’ll be reluctant to stand with us.”

“That’s why we need Ansis. If we have Kett and Bistari, there will be no war. Numar would have to lead the royal army against six houses. He’d only have Rassor and Mertesse by his side, and Mertesse is still recovering from its failed assault on Kentigern Tor. We could actually stop the attack on Eibithar without plunging the land into civil war.”

Brall put a finger to his lips, looking thoughtful. “That might actually weaken the Solkarans.”

“Exactly. Silbron doesn’t want to anger Numar so long as the regency remains powerful. But if he sees this as a way to weaken the Solkaran Supremacy, I think he’ll leap at the chance.”

“Then we’re still talking about leading the realm to civil war. Perhaps not immediately, but that’s where this is headed.”

Tebeo faltered, though only for an instant. “I suppose it is. I’m willing to risk that. This is no time for the Eandi realms to be weakening themselves by fighting foolish wars. That’s exactly what the conspiracy wants us to do.”

“Are you sure?” Brall asked. “It seems to me that the conspiracy has been fomenting dissent within the realms, not between them. Chago’s death increased the likelihood of civil war here in Aneira, as did Carden’s. We can’t say for certain that either of them was killed by the Qirsi, but the fact remains that their deaths weakened the kingdom. And the houses of Curgh and Kentigern actually fought a battle on the Moors of Eibithar before riding back to Kentigern to fight off Rouel’s siege. Isn’t it just as possible that this civil war you’re willing to risk is precisely what the Qirsi want?”

“Yes, it’s possible. But as you said yourself, the risk of civil war isn’t immediate.” Tebeo gave a wan smile. “We’re dancing with wraiths, my friend. We have no choice but to evade them one at a time.”