by DAVID B. COE
“All right. I don’t want you as an enemy.”
The duke stood, still grinning. “It may be too late for that.”
“I’ve already offered you the lands of Dantrielle. What more do you want?”
“I’m not convinced that Dantrielle is yours to offer. To be honest, I’m not certain that you’re in a position to offer me anything at all.”
“You’re wrong,” Numar said. “Long after those who oppose me have fallen, I’ll still be leading this realm, as regent, or as king.”
“You haven’t the faintest idea who opposes you, brother, much less how to defeat them. I’ll enjoy watching the battle, however. I’ll enjoy watching you fail.”
There was a knock at the door, but for several moments they merely held each other’s gaze, neither of them moving. The knock came a second time and Henthas leered at him.
“Duty calls, brother.”
“Yes, who is it?” Numar demanded.
“The archminister,” came the reply. “Queen Kalyi is with me. She wishes to speak with you.”
Henthas looked like he might laugh once more. “You should see yourself now, Numar. You truly believe that playing nursemaid to the girl doesn’t weaken you in the eyes of your dukes? Just look in any mirror.” He reached for the door handle. “When you find the time.”
The duke opened the door, revealing Pronjed and the young queen. Seeing Henthas, Kalyi shied away, hiding behind the minister as if she expected the duke to make an attempt on her life right there. From the beginning of the regency, Numar had taken care in his conversations with the girl to portray Henthas as a threat, as a man who would murder her, despite their blood relation, to satisfy his ambitions. Chofya had done the same, he knew, though out of a sincere belief that her warnings were justified. Clearly, the girl had taken these admonitions to heart.
The minister stepped into the chamber, urging Kalyi to follow. “Lord Rembrere,” he said nodding to the regent. Then, to Henthas, he added an icy, “My lord.”
“Archminister,” Numar said, mustering another strained smile and wondering if his brother was right after all. He bowed to Kalyi, who could barely bring herself to tear her eyes from Henthas. “Your Highness.”
“I should be on my way,” Henthas said, with an effortless smile. He eyed the girl. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing as well.
Kalyi flinched, then seemed to will herself to step forward from the archminister’s shadow. “Uncle,” she said in a small voice.
His smile broadening, Henthas left the chamber, closing the door smartly behind him.
“Forgive the interruption, my lord,” Pronjed said. “But as I say, the queen requested a word.”
Numar continued to stare at the door a moment longer before facing the Qirsi. And here, no doubt, is another enemy. Pronjed did not appear terribly formidable, with his ghostly eyes and narrow, bony face. But Numar sensed that the minister disliked him, or, more precisely, that he saw the regent—perhaps the regency itself—as an obstacle to his own ambitions. He had often sensed that the man was hiding something from him, and had even wondered if the minister might be part of the Qirsi conspiracy, though he had no evidence to support his suspicions. Regardless of where the Qirsi’s loyalties lay, whether with Chofya or with the conspiracy, Numar knew that he couldn’t trust the man. Or rather, he couldn’t trust him fully. For while their ambitions might have been at odds, Numar and Pronjed both needed House Solkara to remain strong in order to realize them. Thus they needed each other, at least for the time being. Of this the regent was equally certain.
“There’s no need to apologize, Archminister. I’m usually glad for any reason to end a conversation with my brother.” He glanced at Kalyi and gave a wink. The child grinned back at him.
“Of course, my lord,” the minister said. “I’m certain we won’t take but a moment of your time.”
“Nonsense. I’m always happy to speak with my niece.”
She smiled again.
“You can go, Archminister,” the regent said, with a quick look toward the Qirsi. “Kalyi and I will be fine.”
Pronjed hesitated, as if unwilling to leave the two of them alone together. “Are you certain, my lord? I’m happy to stay.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Kalyi turned to the white-haired man. “Good-bye, Pronjed.”
She said it with such innocence—Numar felt certain she had no idea what she was doing. But it had the effect of a dismissal.
Looking displeased, the Qirsi bowed to both of them. “My lord. Your Highness.”
When they were alone, Numar took a seat by the hearth, gesturing for Kalyi to do the same.
“I trust you’re well, Your Highness.”
“Yes, uncle,” she said, sitting beside him. “Thank you.”
“Good. Your tutors tell me that your studies are going quite well. Not that I’m surprised, you being such an intelligent young woman. But I am pleased.”
Actually, the tutors told him little, and he asked even less. But he needed something to talk about.
Her cheeks reddened, but she smiled shyly. “Thank you, uncle.”
“It’s very important that you continue to learn about Aneira and her neighbors. A queen must be knowledgeable about both her allies and her enemies in order to rule wisely.”
“Yes, uncle. I’m working very hard. I didn’t know being queen would be so much work.”
“Oh, yes. All nobles work very hard, kings and queens most of all.”
She nodded, and they sat a moment in silence.
“You wished to speak with me?” Numar prompted.
“Yes.” She paused, twisting her mouth, as if uncertain as to how to say what was on her mind. “Were you and my father very close?” she finally asked.
The question caught him utterly unprepared. “We were brothers,” he said, hoping that would satisfy her. The truth was, none of the brothers Renbrere had ever shared anything even resembling affection. Carden and Grigor had been near enough in age to be rivals in every endeavor. Henthas had always been too full of spite and envy to be close to anyone. Even their mother had been afraid of him. And the three older ones had been so wary of each other that they barely took notice of Numar.
She frowned. “I know you were brothers. But Henthas and my father were brothers, too. And I don’t think my father liked him very much.”
A clever response.
“Your father and I were closer to each other than we were to Henthas.”
“Did it surprise you that he killed himself?”
He narrowed his eyes. Where was she going with this? “Yes. I suppose it did.”
Kalyi nodded. “Me, too. He always told me never to be afraid, that a soldier or a king learned to master his fear. I don’t think my father was afraid of anything.”
“Your father was a very brave man.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t think he would kill himself.”
Numar blinked. “What?”
She looked down at her hands, which she was twisting and turning in her lap. “Well, it seems to me that a person would have to be very afraid of something to want to kill himself. And you said yourself that my father was brave.”
“Your father was dying, Kalyi. The surgeon had told him so. That was why—” He was going to say, That was why Carden had the man garroted, but he thought better of it. There were other things he could have said to put her off, but he was forced to admit that she had a point. Numar and his brothers had given little thought to Carden’s death at the time it happened. They had seen it as an opportunity to be exploited, rather than a mystery to be explored. But thinking of it now, it did seem a strange way for Carden to die.
“So you think my father was afraid of dying?”
“I’m not certain,” he admitted. “But clearly you don’t.”
She shook her head.
“What is this about, Kalyi? Why are we speaking of your father’s death?”
“Because I want to know why he did it.�
�� She looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’d like your permission to try to find out.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “You don’t need my permission for this. You’re queen. This is your castle.”
Her face brightened. She so resembled her mother, with her dark hair and eyes. Even the golden circlet on the girl’s brow had once belonged to Chofya. It wasn’t the traditional headpiece of an Aneiran ruler, but it was far more fitting for the girl than was the great crown worn once by her father, and it became her, making her look older than she was and even prettier. She would be a beautiful woman and queen, were she to live that long.
“Really?” she said.
“Of course.” Chances were there was no mystery here at all. Numar had never imagined that Carden would die by his own hand, but there was no telling what a man might do when confronted with the prospect of his own death. Carden was brave, but he was also proud to a fault. Forced to chose between a quick death and a lingering one, turn upon turn wasting away in his shuttered bedroom, he probably would have chosen the former.
But what if the girl was right? What if there was more to this than any of them had guessed? With the surgeon dead, they might never know for certain. But it couldn’t hurt to have the child ask some questions. At least it would keep her busy while Numar saw to more important matters.
“If anyone refuses to help you,” he said, “tell them that I’ve asked you to look into this.”
She practically leaped to her feet, so eager was she to begin. “Thank you, uncle.”
“You’re welcome, my dear.”
She ran to the door, then stopped, facing him again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“I mean about Father’s death.”
He paused briefly. “All right.”
“They didn’t let me see his . . . see him. After, I mean. Did you see him?”
“No. By the time I arrived in Solkara, he had been taken to the cloister.”
“Well, everyone seemed so certain that he killed himself. I was wondering how they knew.”
Numar winced. The girl might have been intelligent beyond her years, but she was still only ten. Perhaps he had been too quick to encourage her in this endeavor. If Chofya learned that he had given Kalyi permission to look into Carden’s death, she’d have his head.
“I don’t think it’s my place to say. It’s enough for you to know that it was, from all I’ve been told, a rather gruesome sight. But not one that could be misconstrued. There can be little doubt that your father took his own life, Kalyi. I wish I could say there was, but I’d be lying to you. Your inquiry will be best served if you limit yourself to questions of why, rather than how.” He offered a sympathetic smile. “Do you understand?”
The girl nodded, looking far less hopeful than she had a moment before. “Yes, uncle. Thank you.”
She let herself out of the room, leaving Numar to ponder whether he had just made a terrible mistake.
The girl hadn’t been gone more than a few moments when there came yet another knock at the door. Pronjed.
“What do you want?” the regent asked as the Qirsi let himself into the chamber.
“You’ve had a busy morning, my lord. First the duke and now the queen.”
Numar raised an eyebrow. “Are you spying on me, Archminister?”
The Qirsi gave an easy laugh. “Of course not, my lord. But if I’m to serve you and this house, I should know as much as possible about the matters that occupy you.”
“I assure you, Archminister, if I determine that any of my private conversations pertain to you in any way, I’ll be certain to let you know.”
“You don’t trust me, my lord?”
The regent allowed himself a small grin. “No, I don’t. Nor do you trust me.”
“And yet we have a good deal to gain from working together.”
“I was thinking the same thing just a short time ago.”
Pronjed smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, my lord. Perhaps we can agree at last to put aside our differences, for the good of the queen, of course.”
“Of course.”
The Qirsi just gazed at him, as if waiting for something.
“Is there anything else, Archminister?”
“In fact there is, my lord. I’ve been charged by the queen mother with the responsibility of overseeing the girl’s studies.”
“And so you wish to know what we discussed.”
Pronjed shrugged. “If I may be so bold as to ask.”
“It was nothing, Archminister. She questioned me about her father.”
“Her father, my lord?” Something in the way the minister’s expression changed gave the regent pause.
“Yes. She wanted to know if we had been close as children. If I remembered what Carden was like as a boy, before he became duke and king.” He smiled. “It’s only natural, really. Having lost him at so tender an age, she finds herself desperate to learn all she can of him. Still, I thought it touching in a way, and just a bit sad.”
“Indeed.” The minister pressed the tips of his fingers together. “And your conversation with the duke? What was that about?”
He would have liked to tell the man to mind his own affairs, that a regent did not answer to a mere minister. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he told Pronjed the truth.
“He fears that I’m wasting time. That I ought to be planning for the girl’s murder already.”
“Why does he think this?”
“Because he thinks the dukes are more likely to follow a king than a regent.”
“He sees no danger in killing the girl so soon?”
“He claims not to, but I think there’s a part of him that would like to see me fail.”
“Even knowing that your failure could bring an end to the Solkaran Supremacy?”
“Yes.”
“How did you respond when he urged you to kill the girl?”
“I told him to be patient, that eventually I would rule Aneira as king, and when I did he would be rewarded for supporting me.”
“And did he pledge his support?”
“No. He thinks I’m destined to fail. He says I have enemies close by who will destroy me.”
“Did he say who they were?”
“No.”
The minister said something else, though Numar couldn’t say for certain what it was. Indeed, a moment later he found that he couldn’t remember at all what he had just been saying.
“My lord?”
He stared at the Qirsi for a moment. “What?”
“You were telling me that you’ve yet to hear from the emperor as to his request for soldiers.”
“Was I?”
“Yes. And so you don’t know how high to set the quotas for the other houses.”
“That’s right, I don’t. I expect it will be at least five hundred men from each.”
“Some of the dukes may object. Dantrielle, for instance.”
“Yes. Dantrielle, Bistari, perhaps Tounstrel. I’m aware of the problem.” He frowned. The man always seemed to be prying into Numar’s affairs, as if he considered himself regent. “The dukes are my concern, Archminister. I’d ask you to leave them to me.”
The Qirsi inclined his head slightly and stood. “Of course, my lord. Forgive me. I’ll leave you now.”
“Yes, please.”
He watched the minister leave, and only when the door finally closed did he feel his anger begin to sluice away. He would have to be more wary of Pronjed. The man was probably every bit as dangerous as Henthas. Numar walked back to his writing table and began to search for the most recent message from Braedon’s emperor. After a few moments he paused, however, gazing at the door once more.
Something about his conversation with the Qirsi disturbed him. If only he could remember what it was.
Pronjed strode through the castle corridors, his rage threatening to break free at any instant. It was bad enough that he had to humiliate himself before the Weaver, begging his forgive
ness for actions that should have been lauded rather than punished. But to have to tolerate such treatment from the regent was almost too much. Numar might have been intelligent for an Eandi, he might even have been the canniest of the brothers Renbrere, but he was still a weak-minded oaf. Bending the man’s will and mind was proving itself all too easy. Unfortunately, what he had learned from this most recent encounter had disturbed him greatly. Numar, it seemed, was but one dolt among many.
Reaching the door he sought, he rapped hard on the oak and pushed the door open in response to the summons from within.
He was careful to close the door before saying anything. But once it was shut, he whirled toward the figure standing by the open window, leveling a rigid finger at him.
“You’re a fool!”
Henthas grinned, though his eyes blazed angrily. “No, Archminister. I’m a Jackal, remember. I believe you’ve just come from the Fool.”
“This is no joke!”
“ ‘This is no joke, my lord.’ Isn’t that what you mean?”
“You told him he had enemies in the castle?” Pronjed said, ignoring comment. “You told him that he was destined to fail?”
Henthas eyed him keenly. “How do you know what I said to him?”
“I have my sources. I’ve lived in this castle, and among these people, far longer than you have.”
“You had someone listening to our conversation?”
“Why would you tell him these things? Are you so childish that you just have to gloat, or is it more than that?” He took a step toward the man. “Are you planning to betray me to him? Is that it? Are you playing both sides of this?”
He knew, of course, that Henthas was doing just that, but he needed to give the duke an opportunity to deny it. Which the man did, quite convincingly.
“Calm yourself, Archminister. I’m not planning to betray you, and I’ve done far less damage than you seem to think. Numar has never trusted you—you’ve been Chofya’s ally from the very beginning, at least that’s how it seemed to Numar, and to Grigor as well. He’s thought of you as his enemy for so long that I’d imagine he’s looking elsewhere trying to decide who I meant. All I’ve done is confuse him.”