by DAVID B. COE
“You didn’t expect to see me, Kreazur?”
“Not here, my lady. The guard who summoned me said only that the duke wished to speak with me. To be honest, I feared that you still hadn’t returned. Your father has been worried.”
“Perhaps you thought your assassins killed me on the moor.”
“Assassins? On the moor?” He glanced at the duke. “Are you saying there was an attempt on your life?”
“You knew nothing of this?” Sertio asked.
“Of course I didn’t, my lord.” He looked at Diani again. “Were you wounded, my lady?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m touched by your concern.”
The Qirsi narrowed his eyes, bright yellow in the candlelight. “My lady, I don’t understand. Are you accusing me of being in league with these men?”
“Does it surprise you that I should have figured it out?”
“There is nothing to figure out! I didn’t have anything to do with this!”
He appeared genuinely alarmed, which only served to make his deception that much more galling.
“You deny being party to this conspiracy wreaking havoc across the Forelands? You deny paying these men to kill me?”
“I do! My lady, I have served your house since you were but a child, years from your Determining. I never gave your mother cause to doubt my loyalty. What cause have I given you?”
“Today’s attempt was cause enough.”
“You’re certain it was the conspiracy?”
“Of course it was!” She propelled herself from the chair angrily, gasping at the pain in her shoulder and thigh.
“You were wounded.”
She said nothing, refusing to look at him.
“She was struck by three arrows,” her father said. “Two near her shoulder and one in the leg. The healer who attended her says she’s lucky to be alive.”
Kreazur exhaled through his teeth. “I’m sorry, my lady. Truly. And I swear to you, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
She faced him, schooling her features. “What if I told you that we’ve captured the men, that they’ve already confessed to working on behalf of the Qirsi, and that they named you as the man who paid them?”
“I’d say they’re lying.” His voice didn’t waver, nor did his gaze. Not that she should have been surprised. He would have had to be an accomplished liar to have managed to fool her mother all these years. Or perhaps he just knew that she was lying.
“You expect us to believe you over them?”
“Yes, my lady, I do,” he said, pride and anger in his tone. “These men have just tried to murder you, while I have served House Curlinte faithfully for nearly ten years. How is it that they’ve earned your trust and I haven’t?”
Because they’re Eandi and you’re Qirsi. She couldn’t say it, of course. She couldn’t even believe she was thinking it. But there it was. With the conspiracy killing nobles throughout the seven realms, she realized that she would have been more willing to trust Eandi assassins than her mother’s first minister.
Kreazur seemed to sense the truth that lay behind her silence. He turned to Sertio.
“And you, my lord. Do you believe me a traitor as well?”
“I don’t want to, First Minister. Please believe that. But the men who attacked Diani used Brugaosan arrows and had their heads shaved like—”
“Father!”
He stared at her briefly, until Diani finally lowered her gaze.
“They had their heads shaved as Brugaosan warriors do.”
Kreazur shook his head. “The Brugaosans wouldn’t risk a war by killing the duchess. They have too much to lose.”
“Precisely,” the duke said. “Which leaves us with the conspiracy.”
“I see. But there are other Qirsi in Castle Curlinte. Why assume that I’m the traitor?”
“Because no other Qirsi in Curlinte wields as much influence,” she said, rounding on him. “Because no one else knows as much about my habits. Because no other Qirsi is paid so well, or is more likely to have allies throughout the Forelands.”
“So it’s precisely because I’m first minister. My reward for serving your mother so well is to be the most suspect in your eyes?” He shook his head. “That makes no sense at all!”
“Perhaps not to you. It seems perfectly reasonable to me. To whom else would the leaders of this conspiracy turn?”
“Even if they had turned to me, my lady, I would have refused them. If you can’t see that, then you’re far less wise than your mother believed.”
She felt her face color. “How dare you!”
“First Minister,” her father broke in, “perhaps you should leave us for a time so that I might speak with the duchess alone. We’ll summon you again shortly.”
“No!” Diani said, her wounds throbbing. Had that healer done anything more than close her skin? “He’s not to leave, at least not alone.”
“Diani!”
“I’m duchess now, Father—such matters fall to my discretion. Under Sanbiri law an attempt on my life is tantamount to an assault on our castle; it is, in essence, a declaration of war, and I intend to treat it as such.”
“A declaration by whom?” the minister asked.
“By the conspiracy. You yourself said that the Brugaosans wouldn’t have done this—and I came to the same conclusion while their arrows were still in my flesh.” She turned toward the door. “Guards!” she called.
An instant later the door opened and two guards entered the chamber.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I want the first minister taken to the prison tower.”
The Qirsi gaped at her. “What?”
She ignored him, keeping her gaze on the guards, who were eyeing the minister with manifest unease. As large and powerful as these men appeared, she knew that they feared Qirsi magic. She also knew, however, that Kreazur posed no real danger to them. Like most Qirsi, he was weak, and though he wielded powerful magic’s gleaning, mists and winds, language of beasts—they were not of a type to harm the soldiers.
“He can’t hurt you,” she said. “He wears a dagger on his belt, but I doubt you’ll have any trouble taking it from him.”
“You can’t do this!” the minister said, a plea in his golden eyes.
Her father took a step toward her. “He’s right, Diani. You mustn’t go through with this. We don’t know for certain that any Qirsi was involved. Imprisoning Kreazur won’t accomplish anything. Indeed, for all we know, you’re punishing an innocent man. That isn’t the Curlinte way.”
“What am I supposed to do, Father? Pretend that nothing happened today? Wait for them to try again?”
“The men who attacked you are lying, my lady,” Kreazur said. “I had nothing to do with this. Don’t you see? They’re trying to weaken House Curlinte by sowing distrust between us.”
Diani and her father exchanged a look.
“You should at least tell him the truth,” Sertio said, his voice flat.
She cast a quick look at the Qirsi.
His entire body appeared to sag. “You were lying. You haven’t captured the men. You’re acting on your mistrust and nothing more.”
She stepped to the hearth, her back to the soldiers and her minister. “Take him to the tower. He’s to be treated well. Fresh food from the kitchens, as many blankets as he needs, and whatever else he requests, within reason.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“You’re making a terrible mistake, Duchess. Even if these men were paid with Qirsi gold, it didn’t come from me. Imprisoning me will only deny you a faithful servant and make you that much more vulnerable when they make their next attempt on your life. I could help you find the traitor in your castle, if only you’d let me. But like a willful child you heed no counsel but your own. I fear for you, my lady. But mostly, I fear for Curlinte.”
“Take him now!” she said, steel in her voice.
“Yes, my lady.”
She heard the minister turn, the rustling of his r
obes like dried leaves in a chill wind. A moment later the door closed, and she and her father were alone once more.
Diani turned to him, allowing her anger to show on her features. “You shouldn’t contradict me like that, Father. Certainly not in front of my men. Mother is gone and I’m duchess now.”
“No one knows that better than I, Diani. And I’ll show you as much deference as I did her. But when your mother acted the fool, I was always the first person to tell her so. And I’ll do no less with you.”
“Kreazur is a traitor.”
“You don’t know that! You don’t know anything for certain!”
“I know that I nearly died today!”
He grimaced. “Yes. And I know how frightened you are. To be honest, I am as well.”
She wanted to deny it, to tell him that she wasn’t afraid, that she truly believed this the best way to meet the Qirsi threat. But the words wouldn’t come, and he probably wouldn’t have believed them anyway.
“But fear doesn’t justify this,” he went on. “A leader who acts out of fear and suspicion is far more likely to make mistakes. Kreazur is right: there may be a traitor in the castle. And who better to find the real renegade among your Qirsi than the first minister?”
Listening to her father, she suddenly knew what she would do to fight her enemies. She wouldn’t have considered such a thing before today, but as long as she lived she would remember the sensation of that first arrow piercing her flesh. She was not the same woman she had been yesterday.
“I don’t need Kreazur’s help,” she said.
Sertio raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“Are there any shapers among the healers and other ministers?”
Her father hesitated. “I don’t believe so. Why?”
“Because I intend to confine all the Qirsi to the prison tower until I find the traitor, and I don’t want any of them shattering the walls that hold them.”
Sertio stared at her for so long without responding that Diani began to wonder if he had even heard her. At last, though, he shook his head and looked away, his brow creased.
“I had wondered when it would come to this, when Eandi nobles would begin imprisoning Qirsi for no more reason than the color of their eyes. But I never believed that Curlinte would be first. I certainly never thought it would be you who started it.”
Chapter
Four
Even after walked Diani back to her own chamber, urging her to sleep and silently hoping that a night’s rest would clear her mind, so that she might recognize the danger of what she had done, Sertio did not return to his bed. There would be no sleeping this night, certainly not until he had received word from the soldiers searching Curlinte Moor.
First Cyro, then Dalvia. And today someone—the Brugaosans, or the Qirsi, or some enemy they didn’t know—had tried to take Diani from him as well. He should have been enraged, but all he felt was afraid. Losing his son had scored his heart. Losing his wife had left him empty and joyless. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever find a way to laugh again. But losing Diani . . . He shook his head as if to rid himself of the very notion. Losing his daughter would kill him.
His was an odd position, one few dukes in the other realms of the Forelands would have understood. As husband to the duchess in a matriarchal duchy, he had no claim to the Curlinte seat. He was master of arms because Dalvia had chosen him to take that post and Diani had asked him to continue to serve after his wife’s death. But he had no real power. Had Cyro still been alive, he, as the son of the late duchess, would have been next in line after Diani to lead the house. As matters stood now, were something to happen to Diani, Dalvia’s younger sister, the marchioness of Invelsa, would take her place. Once Diani married and had children, they would take their place in the line of succession ahead of the marchioness, who, though well-intentioned, possessed neither the wisdom nor the strength of will to govern one of Sanbira’s leading houses. Until then, however, Curlinte’s stability and continued influence with the royal house depended entirely upon Diani’s survival. Not that he needed more incentive to keep her alive.
He had sent nearly two hundred men into the countryside to search for the assassins, double what he had told Diani. She wouldn’t have approved, despite her fears. She would say that sending so many after only two men made them appear weak. Her mother had been the same way, and so Sertio would tell Diani the same thing he had told Dalvia. There was no sense in having a powerful army if you didn’t use it. Perhaps one hundred men would have been sufficient to find the archers, but two hundred would be more likely to succeed and would probably do so sooner. And they still had more than a thousand men remaining to guard the city and castle in the unlikely event of an attack.
He left his chamber and descended the nearest of the towers to the upper ward. Panya, the white moon, hung low, a narrow crescent in the eastern sky. Red Ilias had yet to rise. It would soon be Pitch Night, and then the new turn would begin. To the north, the beginning of Elhir’s waning meant only more snows, but in the southern realms, particularly along the eastern shores, Elhir’s turn usually brought storms and fierce winds. If someone wished to start a war with House Curlinte, this was a strange time to do it.
The click of a boot on stone echoed through the ward. Turning toward the sound, Sertio saw one of his captains approaching.
“What news?” the duke asked as the man halted before him.
“We’ve found nothing yet, my lord.”
“Nothing at all?”
“We found blood where the duchess was wounded, and crushed grass near some of the stones where the assassins must have hidden. But they left no trail to or from that spot.”
“Any sign of horses?”
“None, my lord.”
“Well, they didn’t fly to the moor. They must have left some other sign that they were there.”
The man stared at his shoes. “Perhaps they had a boat, my lord.”
He’d thought of that. The climb from the sea up to the moor and then back down again would have been difficult, but not impossible. If they had a boat, they were gone by now. Sertio and his men would never find them.
“Yes, that’s possible. Have some of the men search the shoreline when morning breaks. And I want the moor searched again as well, just in case they missed something.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You have someone looking in the villages and inns?”
The soldier nodded. “Of course, my lord.”
“Good. Widen your search southward to the north boundary of Kretsaal barony and tell all you meet that there’s a bounty on these men. Five hundred qinde, guaranteed by the duchess herself.”
The soldier’s eyes widened. “That’s certain to help, my lord.”
“I hope so.”
A lone cloud, thin and grey, drifted in front of Panya, darkening the castle for a moment.
“That’s all, Captain,” Sertio said. “Keep me apprised.”
“I will, my lord.”
The man spun away, and hurried back toward the west gate.
There was a part of Sertio that wanted to believe that the archers had come and gone by boat. He would gladly have traded their freedom for the knowledge that they were far from Curlinte and no longer posed any threat to Diani. But he knew better. Whoever hired them wanted her dead, and these men had seen her ride away from the headlands, very much alive.
On the thought, Sertio started across the ward toward the prison tower. It was quite late, and even confined to one of the small, sparse chambers, Kreazur was probably asleep. Still, the man would speak with him. What choice did he have?
Climbing the winding stairs, he saw that nearly all the tower chambers were occupied by ministers and healers, white-hairs all. Some slept. Others stared out of their chambers through the narrow barred windows in the steel doors, their yellow eyes luminous in the torch fire.
Kreazur was on the top floor, in a chamber by himself. A guard in the corridor stood as Sertio emerged from the stairway
, but the Qirsi’s cell remained silent.
“I believe he’s sleeping, my lord.”
Now that he was in the tower, faced with the prospect of waking the minister from a sound sleep, Sertio found his resolve wavering. He couldn’t even say what he had come to ask the man, much less why his questions couldn’t wait for morning.
“Perhaps I’ll return with the morning bells,” he said quietly, turning to leave.
Before he reached the stairs, however, he heard the rustling of blankets and the scrape of a boot on the stone floor.
“My lord?” the minister said, his pale features appearing at the small window. His hair looked wild in the fire glow and his cheeks and eyes were swollen with sleep. “Has something happened?”
“No, nothing. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, First Minister. I’ll speak with you during the day.”
“It makes no difference, my lord. I have nothing to do come morning, unless you’re here to release me. I can sleep anytime.”
Sertio nodded, feeling awkward and still not knowing why he had wanted to speak with the man.
“I take it the duchess is resting?” the Qirsi asked.
“Yes. The herbmaster gave her a tonic of comfrey and common wort to aid healing and ease her pain. I expect she’ll sleep through much of the morning.”
“Good.”
They stood for several moments, saying nothing.
“You have more questions for me, my lord?”
Sertio glanced at the guard. “Open the door. I wish to speak with the minister in his chamber”
“Yes, my lord,” the man said, crossing to the door and fitting a large iron key in the lock.
“You can go,” the duke said, stepping past the man and pulling the door closed behind him. “I’ll call for you when I’m done.”
The guard eyed the minister, looking uneasy. “Yes, my lord.”
The cell was dark, save for the dim light of the torches seeping through the grate of the door. Sertio wished he’d remembered to take a torch from the wall outside the chamber, but he saw no sense in calling the guard back just for that.