Bonds of Vengeance: Book 3 of Winds of the Forelands (Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy)

by DAVID B. COE

  Evanthya held her breath, her eyes flitting from the regent to her duke and back again. She sensed that their conversation had taken a most perilous turn. Tebeo seemed to understand this as well, for he cleared his throat, his gaze straying to her face for just an instant.

  “No, my lord, I wouldn’t,” he said, facing the regent again. “As you observed before, I’m discomfited by discussions of war. Given the choice between going to war and maintaining the peace, I would invariably choose the latter. No doubt this makes me a poor leader, one who is far better suited to running a dukedom than an entire kingdom. I merely asked about the queen mother because I wished to know if any others in the realm share my concerns. I meant no offense.”

  Numar smiled again, and this time it appeared genuine. “Then I’ll take none and will look forward to dining with you and the duchess this evening.”

  He pulled open the door and left the chamber, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. Pronjed started to follow, then hesitated, turning once more to face Evanthya.

  “May I have a word with you, First Minister?” He glanced at the duke. “With your permission, of course, my lord.”

  “What?” Tebeo said, obviously distracted. “Oh, yes. That would be fine.” He waved a hand vaguely toward the door. “You may accompany him back to his chamber, First Minister.”

  I’d rather not. “Yes, my lord.” She followed the archminister into the hallway, pulling the duke’s door closed behind her.

  They began to walk toward the west end of the castle, where the guest chambers were located, neither of them speaking.

  “Why don’t we walk in the ward?” Pronjed said at last.

  Evanthya nodded and led him down the winding stairway of the cloister tower and out into the swirling snow. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and lowered her head against the storm.

  “Your duke took a great chance just now,” the archminister said, raising his voice so that it would carry over the wind that keened like a demon among the castle walls. “The men of Solkara have little patience with those who would question their decisions. I don’t know whether to ascribe your duke’s actions to courage or folly.” She glanced at him and he grinned, looking gaunt as a cadaver. “Perhaps we should call it both.”

  “Perhaps we should call it honesty, Archminister. My duke is a man who is not afraid to speak his mind, even to those who might be disturbed by what he has to say.”

  “A trait he shares with his first minister.”

  “I’m not certain I know what you mean,” she said, the lie coming to her easily. In the days after Carden’s death, Evanthya had argued forcefully against accepting Grigor, the eldest of the king’s surviving brothers, as Aneira’s new ruler, though she knew that defying him might lead to civil war. Pronjed never said anything to her, but she had seen the venom in his yellow eyes when he looked at her, and she knew that he had spoken to Fetnalla, hoping to convince her that Evanthya’s approach would lead Aneira to ruin.

  “Of course you do. You were willing to oppose Grigor no matter the consequences for yourself or your duke. And as it turns out, you were right. A man who could resort to poisoning the queen and her Council of Dukes would have been capable of even greater atrocities once on the throne. We owe you a great debt, First Minister.”

  “Thank you, Archminister.” It was the last thing she would have expected him to say. This was part of what made him so dangerous. He could be charming when he wished to be. Walking with him now, Evanthya had to remind herself that Fetnalla believed Pronjed might possess delusion magic—a powerful Qirsi magic that allowed him to bend the minds of Eandi to his purposes and to lie without fear of detection to other Qirsi. Fetnalla and her duke had even surmised that the archminister had used this power to make Carden take his own life. If he’s flattering you he must want something. The warning echoed in her mind, as if Fetnalla were shouting the words to her all the way from Orvinti.

  “What is it you want of me, Archminister?”

  “Want of you?”

  Evanthya actually smiled. Delusion magic or not, he could be rather transparent at times.

  “Never mind that you asked me to speak with you, the fact is that you’ve never cared for me, nor I for you, your compliments notwithstanding. So I ask you again, what do you want?”

  He smiled in return, a cold, thin smile that actually struck her as being more guileless than any other expression she had seen on his bony features that day.

  “Very well, First Minister. I want to know how far your duke will go in opposing the regent’s plans for war.”

  Evanthya felt her stomach tighten. “Is a war imminent?”

  “What do you think? Would a Solkaran leader travel this far in the midst of the snows merely in the interest of building good relations with his dukes?”

  She said nothing, her silence an admission that he must be right.

  “Would Lord Dantrielle withhold men from the royal army?”

  “You know I can’t answer that,” she said quietly. “Even if I knew the duke’s mind, which I don’t, I couldn’t tell you. You’re the regent’s man.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m not.”

  Evanthya looked at him sharply.

  “I was Carden’s archminister,” he told her, “and Chofya’s after that. But I’ve never seen myself as belonging to the Solkarans. I’m Qirsi, First Minister, as are you.”

  “But you’re here with the regent.”

  “Yes, and I still don’t know why.”

  Evanthya hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and she found herself wondering if he was deceiving her. Did delusion magic work on other Qirsi if they were aware of its use?

  “I don’t think the regent trusts me,” Pronjed went on. “If I had to guess, I’d say that he brought me along because he felt safer knowing where I was and what I was doing. I don’t believe he trusts the queen mother either—that’s why he responded as he did to your duke’s question about her. He knows that I supported her against Grigor, and he fears that she and I will plot against him as well.”

  “Then do you ask about my duke’s intentions on her behalf?”

  “No. As I told you, I’m Qirsi before I’m anything else. I ask you, Qirsi to Qirsi, because I want to be prepared for all contingencies.”

  Qirsi to Qirsi. She had heard it said that members of the conspiracy spoke to each other in this way, placing their devotion to the Qirsi people above all else. Was that what he had in mind? To turn her to the Qirsi conspiracy?

  “Can’t you tell me anything?” he prodded again.

  “As I’ve already explained, Archminister, the duke has told me nothing. I have no knowledge of his plans.”

  “But you know him. Even without knowing his mind, you know his tendencies, what he’s capable of doing. I’m not asking you to betray Tebeo’s confidence. I merely wish to know if you think that his desire for peace is more powerful than his fear of defying the regent.”

  She stopped, turning to face him as a gust of wind whipped her white hair about her face. “Forgive me for saying so, Archminister, but I believe you are asking me to betray Tebeo’s confidence. You would never think to ask me such questions in front of the duke, nor would you tolerate such questions from me as they pertained to the regent or the queen mother.”

  “Actually, you’re wrong about that. As a servant of House Solkara I couldn’t tell you anything. But speaking with you in private, Qirsi to Qirsi, I’ll answer any question you ask me.” He grinned, adding, “Within reason, of course.”

  Evanthya just stared at the man, uncertain as to whether to believe him.

  “How soon will this war be starting?” she finally asked.

  “Very soon. Perhaps within half a year. The regent awaits word from the emperor, but already he’s making plans to expand the army so that it’s half again as great as it is now.”

  “Doesn’t the regent understand that by attacking Eibithar, we risk drawing every realm in the Forelands into the conflict?”


  “I believe he does. Despite what others have said about him in the past, he’s no fool, and even Harel, who may well be a fool, must realize where their attack on Eibithar will lead.”

  “And yet they make their plans anyway?”

  The archminister raised an eyebrow. “That should tell you something.”

  Evanthya nodded. “They’re that confident.”

  “Yes. Whether they have cause to be is open to debate, but there’s no doubt that they expect to prevail, no matter the scope of the conflict.” He paused, eyeing her closely. “So, First Minister, in light of what you know of your duke, faced with the prospect of this war, will he defy the regent, or will he commit Dantrielle’s men to the effort?”

  Evanthya looked away, taking a long breath. She could hardly refuse to answer him now, not after he had answered her questions so directly. It seemed to the minister that Pronjed had led her here, knowing all along that he could compel her to reply, and once more she wondered if he had been using magic to cloud her perception of the truth.

  “I can’t answer with any certainty,” she said at last, feeling as she spoke that she was betraying the duke’s trust. “But if forced to guess, I’d say that he’ll send men as the regent asks. My duke values peace, but he is Aneiran above all else. He won’t allow men from the other houses to fight and die without adding Dantrielle’s army to their cause.”

  Pronjed appeared to weigh this. “And if any of Dantrielle’s allies considered defying House Solkara—the new dukes in Tounstrel or Noltierre, for instance—would Tebeo be able to prevail upon them to commit their armies as well?”

  It struck her as an odd question. “Do you expect the southern houses to oppose you?”

  “I expect nothing, First Minister. But as I told you already, I must prepare myself for every possibility.”

  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you with this, Archminister. I know little about the dukes in question. As you must know, Tebeo was quite close to Bertin of Noltierre and Vidor of Tounstrel. But he only met their sons on a few occasions, and the younger men keep their own counsel. Even if Tebeo tried to sway them one way or another—and I’m not certain that he would—I don’t believe they would be moved.”

  Evanthya frowned slightly, realizing that she had answered his question after all. She hadn’t sensed him using his powers on her, but the effect had been much the same. She couldn’t decide which notion she found more disturbing, that he might be able to use his magic against her without her knowledge or that he could turn her to his purposes so easily without using any magic at all.

  Another gust of wind swept through the ward, making the snow whirl and dance like tiny, frenzied wraiths.

  Pronjed cast a look back toward the great hall and the tower from which they had come. “Perhaps we should return. The storm seems to be worsening.”

  “Yes. And you’ve learned all that you had hoped from our conversation.”

  Pronjed faced her again, his eyes, the color of sand on the Wethy shores, locking on hers. “Do you feel used, First Minister? You shouldn’t. This was a profitable exchange for both of us. You probably know more about the regent’s intentions than any other first minister in Aneira.” A thin smile touched his lips and was gone. “I do hope that you use the knowledge wisely.”

  He turned again and started back the way they had come, leaving Evanthya little choice but to follow.

  I intend to use it wisely, you bastard. I’ll tell Fetnalla and every other first minister who’ll listen to me. Maybe my duke and I can stop this war after all.

  The rest of their visit to Dantrielle went just as Pronjed had anticipated. Or rather, just as the Weaver had said it would. The archminister had ideas of his own as to how they ought to proceed from here, but after nearly destroying the Weaver’s plans with his decision to kill Carden a few turns before, and nearly getting himself killed in the process, Pronjed kept such thoughts to himself. For now at least, he would follow the Weaver’s instructions without deviation. There had been a time when Pronjed believed himself essential to the movement. He knew better now. One day he would assert his influence again—when the Weaver’s plans bore fruit, he would need trusted servants to run the various realms of the new Qirsi empire, and Pronjed had every intention of being one of those fortunate few. But during the next few turns he needed to repair the damage he had done to the Weaver’s trust.

  On the third morning since their arrival in Dantrielle, Numar, his small company of soldiers, and the archminister gathered in the castle’s lower ward, mounted their horses, and, accompanied by the duke, duchess, and first minister, began to wend their way through the city streets.

  He still sensed a residue of the tension that had clouded much of their stay in Tebeo’s castle, but he could see as well that both Eandi men were trying to end their encounter cordially, Tebeo, no doubt, out of fear of the Solkaran temper, Numar out of his desire to appear reasonable until he had gathered enough power to let his true nature show.

  The evening before, after avoiding any discussion of the coming war for more than a day, the regent had returned to the subject once again, asking the duke if he could foresee any circumstances under which Dantrielle might allow its army to join with those of the other houses to wage war against the Eibitharians.

  Tebeo’s first minister glanced at Pronjed, looking uncomfortable, as if the question itself had revealed to all the substance of their discussion in the ward. The duke, however, did not appear to notice. He had been sipping from his wine goblet and now he placed it carefully on the table and glared at the regent, firelight reflected in his dark brown eyes.

  “With all respect, Lord Renbrere,” the duke said, his voice shaking with anger. “I find your question insulting. It presumes that I would keep my house from fulfilling its duty to the realm and the Crown.”

  “I meant no offense, Tebeo, but after our conversation the day I arrived—”

  “The men of Dantrielle have fought and died in every war ever waged by this realm,” the duke broke in, leaning forward, his hands resting on the table. “We have acquitted ourselves nobly over the course of Aneira’s history. I would even say admirably, and while I am not a boastful man, my lord, I assure you that I would willingly compare Dantrielle’s performance in this regard with that of any house in the kingdom, including Solkara. For I have every confidence that Dantrielle would not suffer for the comparison.”

  At last the duchess laid a hand on Tebeo’s arm. Glancing at her, the duke’s face colored and he sat back, lowering his gaze.

  “Forgive me, my lord. I’ve said too much.”

  “Not at all, Tebeo. I admire a man of passion. I only wished to know if we could count on you. Obviously, we can.”

  The duke continued to stare at his hands. “I must add, my lord, though I risk angering you by doing so, that even as the soldiers of Dantrielle have shown their valor in defense of Aneira, when her dukes have seen the land being led toward a foolish and destructive war, they have never shied from saying so.”

  Numar bristled. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “Yes, my lord, it is.”

  Abruptly the regent was on his feet. “How dare you speak to me so!”

  “You forget, Lord Renbrere, that while you may be regent, I am a duke and you but a marquess. Further, sir, you are in my castle. If you speak to me thus, I will not hesitate to respond in kind.”

  The regent straightened, the corner of his mouth turning up in a bitter smirk. “I may be but a marquess, Lord Dantrielle, but I speak for the queen and for House Solkara. I assure you that my words carry as much force as Carden’s ever did.”

  The two men stared at each other for some time, and at last it was Tebeo who looked away. “I don’t doubt that they do, my lord. Forgive me if I spoke rashly.”

  Numar smiled benignly, but Pronjed saw the satisfaction in his eyes. “As I said, I admire passion, misguided though it might be.”

  The meal had almost ended and though both men seem
ed intent on not allowing the evening to end in anger, it was but a few moments before Numar excused himself from the great hall and returned to his chamber.

  He said little to Pronjed as they walked through the corridors and he did not ask the archminister to join him in his quarters before retiring for the night. Pronjed hadn’t been entirely honest with the first minister when they spoke in the ward, but he had meant what he said about Numar’s mistrust of all he did. As far as he could tell, the regent viewed him as Chofya’s man. No doubt he always would.

  Numar had the archminister awakened early in the morning, and the regent did not linger long in the castle before departing. The duke and duchess offered to serve them a formal breakfast, but Numar asked only that they be given provisions for their ride back to Solkara.

  Tebeo and Numar did not speak as they rode through the streets of Dantrielle. When they reached the gate and dismounted to say their farewells, however, the duke bowed to Numar, then straightened, clearing his throat.

  “I hope the good relations Dantrielle has enjoyed with House Solkara will not suffer for my reckless words. I know little of what you and the emperor have discussed, my lord. It was not my place to make judgments.”

  “Don’t trouble your mind with it further, Tebeo,” the regent said, though his voice was tight. “Our houses have worked together for centuries, making Aneira great. Surely a friendship as old as that can weather a storm or two.”

  The duke smiled. “My lord is too kind. May your journey home be swift and safe.”

  Numar smiled, though it appeared forced, and began to leave the city. Pronjed bowed to the duke, murmuring a quick, “My lord.” Then, glancing at Evanthya, he nodded, and steered his mount through the gate.

  For the balance of the morning the company from Solkara made its way through the Great Forest in silence, Pronjed riding just behind the regent. Around midday, however, as the sun finally burned through the dark clouds that had hung over the land for so long, Numar slowed his mount so that the archminister could ride beside him.