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

by DAVID B. COE

  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.

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nbsp; “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.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Five

  Yserne, Sanbira

  For the better part of a turn in Castle Yserne, home of Sanbira’s queen Olesya centered on the death of Kreazur jal Sylbe, Diani’s first minister. After some initial confusion, there could no longer be any doubt as to the meaning of his murder. He had been found in a part of Yserne city known for attracting thieves and assassins. There had been an empty pouch beside him and two stray gold pieces under his shattered body. And though many of the nobles gathered in Castle Yserne were still reluctant to speak of the matter, most now believed that he had gone to the northwest corner of the city in search of a new blade to hire with his Qirsi gold. Perhaps he intended to have Diani killed, hoping to succeed where he had failed before. Or maybe he had some other victim in mind, another duchess, or, Ean forbid, the queen. Whatever his purpose, the gods had chosen to mete out their own justice. Some speculated that he had offered too little gold to the men he wished to hire, or had sought to impose conditions that weren’t to their liking. In either case, they took exception and, it seemed, threw him from the roof of one of the many ramshackle buildings lining the lane where he was found.

  Many of the duchesses had expressed their sympathy to Diani, as if she had lost a dear friend. Even the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde offered condolences for her loss, and seemed sincere in doing so. Diani, however, felt no grief. Her mother would have been aggrieved, she knew, just as was her father. Kreazur, Sertio kept reminding his daughter, had served House Curlinte for nine years and whatever he had become, he had once been a loyal counselor to the old duchess. But as far as Diani was concerned, the first minister’s betrayal negated all that he had done for her mother. No, she felt no sadness at his death. None at all. What she felt was vindication.

  Her father had scolded her for imprisoning the first minister and her other Qirsi, telling her that she had allowed her fears to cloud her judgment, as if she were still a child. The queen had done much the same, seeming to imply that she had been guided by her need for vengeance and her inexperience with the courts. Kreazur himself had tried to tell her that he had earned better treatment by serving the old duchess for so many years, as if he sought to use her guilt, and her grief at losing her mother, to win his freedom. Eventually Diani had given in to all of them. Now she knew—they all knew—that she had been right from the beginning.

  The white-hairs could not be trusted. If Kreazur was a traitor, how many other ministers might be as well? Olesya began to meet with her duchesses and dukes in closed audiences, with none of the Qirsi ministers present. Even Abeni ja Krenta, the queen’s own archminister, was excluded from these discussions, for in the wake of Kreazur’s death, even the most powerful Qirsi were suspect in the eyes of Sanbira’s Eandi nobles.

  Much else had changed as well. When Edamo of Brugaosa and Alao of Norinde first arrived in Yserne they were unwilling to concede that the conspiracy was behind the assassination attempts against Diani. Both men had been loath to cede any more authority to the Matriarchy, and since at the time Diani could offer no proof of Qirsi involvement in the attacks, the dukes were able to convince the other nobles that it was too early to do so.

  Now, though, with Kreazur dead and his treachery revealed, there could be no denying that the conspiracy had struck at the realm. It seemed obvious to Diani that the dukes still would have preferred to find some other way to meet the Qirsi threat, but with the other houses solidly behind the queen, they had little choice but to acquiesce. Within only a day or two of the first minister’s death, the nobles gave Olesya leave to conscript more men, to raise the levies necessary for waging a war, and to forge alliances with any realm that would join Sanbira in its fight against this so-called movement.

  Diani, who remained the youngest leader of any of Sanbira’s houses, and the least experienced, had seen her standing in the realm altered as well. Where she had once been made to feel ashamed of her decision to imprison all of Castle Curlinte’s Qirsi, she was now complimented for it. A turn before, Edamo had made her feel a fool for arguing so forcefully that Sanbira should be preparing for war with the renegade sorcerers. Now every noble in the land spoke as she had. Once there might have been some shame in leading the house that harbored Sanbira’s first known traitor. But by leading the call for action against the conspiracy, even in the face of opposition from other nobles, she had turned Curlinte’s disgrace into a triumph. Indeed, the assassination attempt itself had only added to her newfound stature. As word spread of all that had happened that day on the Curlinte coast—of the injuries she had suffered, of the three arrows that had pierced her flesh, and of her desperate escape and ride back to the castle—she became a hero of sorts. Soldiers from other houses cheered when they caught sight of her. In their audiences with Olesya, duchesses who had ruled their houses for years deferred to her, though she had only ruled Curlinte for a few turns. Even the queen was not immune, turning to Diani for counsel when, only a short time before, she would have gone first to Rashel of Trescarri of Ary of Kinsarta.

  Curlinte’s standing in the realm hadn’t reached such levels since the end of the Curlinte Dynasty more than five hundred years before, and Diani had every intention of taking advantage of her influence. She didn’t covet power; she remained loyal to the queen and had no desire to rule the land herself. But she was determined that no other houses in Sanbira would suffer as she had at the hands of white-haired traitors. She didn’t expect Olesya to order the imprisonment of all the Qirsi in the realm, or even of all the ministers currently in Castle Yserne. The queen lacked the will to go so far, and even had she not, the duchess realized now that such an approach carried risks as well. Rather, Diani wished to see the Qirsi remain free, but under constant watch from afar, so that when the next traitor tried to strike at the realm, the nobles would be ready. At Diani’s urging, Olesya had sent spies into the city to watch the Qirsi taverns and the marketplace. They were instructed to look not only for Qirsi who strayed from the castle at odd hours but also for any white-hairs, including the queen’s ministers and healers, who spent too freely at the peddler’s stalls or tavern bars.

  Of all the nobles in Castle Yserne, only her father
continued to argue against the measures they had taken, and, not by coincidence, only her father still maintained that Kreazur could not have been a traitor. Diani knew what lay behind his intransigence. To admit that the first minister was a traitor was to admit that his beloved Dalvia had erred in choosing Kreazur to serve House Curlinte so many years ago. Still, though the duchess found it hard to blame Sertio for his devotion to her mother, she did find her father’s repeated defenses of the first minister embarrassing. And earlier this day, the second of the new waxing, she had made the mistake of telling him so.

  They had been in the marketplace, strolling among the peddlers’ carts and stalls, enjoying the first clear day since the middle of the previous waning. A soft breeze ruffled the heavy cloth with which so many of the sellers covered their carts, and the air smelled clean and sweet, as from the blossoms that had begun to appear on the hills above the castle and city. Even with the guards walking ahead of them and behind, it would have been easy on a day such as this to forget about the Qirsi and their conspiracy, but Sertio wouldn’t allow it, staring glumly at the wares displayed by each vender, and saying little.

  “You should buy something, Father,” Diani said, hoping to pull him from his dolor. “A new blade perhaps, or at least a new sheath for the old one.”