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

by DAVID B. COE

  “You’re right,” the queen said. “I believe it would be a mistake even to inform the other nobles.” She gave a small smile. “It seems the two of you have a bit of work to do.”

  Diani frowned. “Your Highness?”

  “As you just said, Lady Curlinte, we need more information. And it seems I have little choice but to leave it to the two of you to find it for me.” She stood, as if to signal an end to their audience. “You’re to start immediately, and work as quickly as possible. I agree that loyal Qirsi will be invaluable to us in the coming war. The sooner we can begin to win back their trust and offer them ours, the better.”

  “But, Your Highness,” Diani began. “How—”

  “You can begin by searching the quarters of all the Qirsi who live in Castle Yserne,” the queen told her. “It worked in Curlinte, perhaps it will work here as well.”

  “Very well, Your Highness.” Diani met her father’s gaze and held it briefly. After a moment, they both started toward the door.

  “Lady Curlinte,” the queen said, stopping her. “I assume that you came to my chamber looking for me. Was there another matter you wished to discuss?”

  She had forgotten. “Yes, Your Highness. I just had a conversation with Lord Brugaosa and Lord Norinde. They’re eager to return to their duchies, fearing that if they remain here you’ll take command of their armies. They intend to request that you give them leave to go, and they tried to convince me to support them in this. I refused, but I thought you should know what they have in mind. They may go to the other duchesses.”

  “No doubt they will,” the queen said, looking pensive. “Thank you, Diani. I’ll deal with the dukes. You just find the traitors in my castle.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” she said, pulling the door open. “It will be my pleasure.”

  Abeni had known it would come to this, that in making it appear that Kreazur was a traitor and thus confirming in the minds of all the worst suspicions of Diani of Curlinte, she would deny herself the one asset that made her most valuable to the Weaver: her access to the queen. Given some time, she felt reasonably certain that she could regain Olesya’s trust, but until that happened, she lived in constant fear of her next encounter with the movement’s leader.

  She actually believed some good might come of the queen’s refusal to confide in her, though she knew that explaining this to the weaver might prove difficult. Among the Qirsi who had come to Castle Yserne with their ladies and lords, two were already pledged to the movement—the first ministers of Macharzo and Norinde. The rest remained loyal to the courts. For now. But with each day that passed, the queen and her nobles made it easier for Abeni to draw others to the Weaver’s cause. She sensed the growing resentment of the loyal Qirsi. Olesya and Diani may have believed that they were guarding themselves from further treachery by keeping the ministers from their discussions, but in fact they were making it more likely that others would turn against them.

  At the same time they were also allowing Abeni to win the ministers’ trust. During the past turn, she had begun to convene discussions of her own. She claimed that these audiences, like those of the queen, were intended to find some way to combat the movement. “If we can help our lords and ladies,” she told the others at their first gathering, “perhaps we can prove to them that we deserve their faith.”

  In fact, she hoped to determine which ministers were most angered by the way they had been treated, and to begin forging deeper friendships with these few. And she wished to remind all of them as frequently as possible that she was no better off than they were, that she had been shut out by the queen, just as they had been by their lords and ladies. She was one of them, a victim of Eandi suspicion and prejudice. Perhaps, when the time came for the Weaver to reveal himself and for his followers to strike at the courts, she would be able to deliver to him not one or two ministers but many.

  She also knew, however, that she could not allow her ties to Olesya to become too tenuous. To that end, every few days, she requested and was granted an audience with the queen. On this day, Olesya did not see her until after the ringing of the prior’s bell, as the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, its golden light reflected in the still waters of Lake Yserne.

  “Good day, Your Highness,” the archminster said, stepping past the guards into the queen’s presence chamber and bowing before the throne.

  “Archminister.”

  “I trust you’re well?”

  “Yes, quite.” As an afterthought, the queen added, “And you?”

  Olesya seemed particularly distant this day. Abeni wondered if something more had happened, if perhaps word had come from one of the other realms of another betrayal.

  “I wish I could say that I was well, Your Highness.”

  The queen glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “Does something ail you?”

  “Of course. The same thing that ails all the ministers in your castle. I’m concerned, not only for myself and for the other Qirsi but for you and the nobles as well. The Qirsi in this realm seek only to serve the courts, and you must know that you’re stronger for the counsel we offer. This rift between us must end.”

  “I agree, Archminister. But until I know who among you can be trusted and who among you can’t, I fear that your service to the courts is more dangerous than it is valuable.” There was something strange in the queen’s manner. It almost seemed that she knew of Abeni’s ties to the movement.

  “But perhaps we can help you in that regard, Your Highness,” she said, searching the queen’s face.

  Olesya smiled, though the expression in her dark eyes didn’t change. “Can you see into the hearts of others, Abeni? Is that one of the powers you wield?”

  “No, Your Highness. I think you know it’s not.”

  “Then how can you possibly help me? How can you even ask me to let you try, when you can’t prove beyond doubt your own fealty to House Yserne.”

  “Haven’t I served you well for all these years, Your Highness? Isn’t that proof enough?”

  “Yes, you have, and no, it’s not.” Olesya hesitated, as if considering something. But then the thought seemed to pass and she said, “After Kreazur, I don’t know if I can ever trust a Qirsi again.”

  Even Abeni could see the irony. She had killed the man and made him seem a traitor to conceal her own treachery, and yet by doing so, she had made herself suspect in the queen’s eyes. Somewhere in the Underrealm, the first minister was laughing at her.

  They held each other’s gaze for several moments, Olesya’s face grim but composed. At last, Abeni looked away, wondering what she would tell the Weaver if he came to her that night.

  “It seems there’s nothing more to say.”

  “No, I don’t suppose there is.” The queen continued to watch her, as if she expected the minister to attack her at any moment. Something definitely was wrong.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Abeni bowed, then stepped to the door.

  “If you were to help me,” the queen said, forcing her to turn once more, “what would you do?”

  “Your Highness?”

  “Just now you offered to help us determine which Qirsi are loyal and which are not. Is there a way to do that?”

  She briefly considered lying, telling the queen that there was. But she knew that eventually Olesya would learn the truth, and when she did, Abeni’s life would be forfeit.

  “None that I know of, Your Highness. At least none short of torture. That’s what makes this movement so . . . insidious.”

  Olesya nodded. “I thought as much. Thank you, Archminister.”

  Abeni bowed a second time and left the queen’s, chamber, making her way back to her own. Was it possible that Olesya knew something? she wondered, winding through the corridors. Kreazur had been dead for more than a turn. Surely if his death had raised the queen’s suspicions, Abeni would have known it long before now. And nothing had happened since that would give Olesya cause to question Abeni’s loyalty in particular.
Yet, there could be no mistaking the change in the queen’s manner.

  The archminister was so preoccupied with her thoughts of the queen that she was nearly to her chamber before she noticed that someone was there in the corridor, leaning against the stone wall beside her door. Craeffe, Macharzo’s first minister.

  Abeni glanced behind her, fearing that there might be guards nearby. There were none. Still, she was hardly in the mood to speak with anyone right now, even another member of the movement.

  “Archminister,” the woman said, straightening as Abeni approached and sketching a quick bow. “I assumed you were meeting with the queen.” She pitched her voice to carry, in case there were others nearby. “I was hoping that you had managed to convince her that she and the nobles had been wrong to doubt us.”

  “Not yet,” Abeni said.

  “May I have a word with you, Archminister? In private.”

  Abeni took a breath, scanning the corridor a second time. “Briefly,” she said at last.

  She unlocked her door and pushed it open, waving the woman inside, then following.

  “Is everything all right, cousin?” Craeffe asked, once the door was closed.

  “I’m not certain. I just had a strange conversation with the queen. She seemed more guarded than usual.”

  The woman shrugged. “Isn’t that to be expected? I know that you’ve served her a long time, but with every other noble in the castle afraid of their Qirsi, it’s only natural that her suspicions should grow as well.”

  It was a fair point. “You may be right.”

  “Then again, it was your rapport with the queen that first drew the Weaver’s attention, wasn’t it? I don’t suppose he’d be pleased to hear that she’s growing more wary of you.”

  Abeni regarded her for some time, a small smile on her lips. Craeffe had always been a bit too ambitious for Abeni’s taste. Though they had long been tied to each other by their service to the Weaver, Abeni had never fully trusted the woman. She didn’t look formidable. Like so many of their people, she was slight, almost frail. She had a long, narrow face and overlarge yellow eyes that made her look like some strange white owl from the northlands. But the archminister knew that she was quite clever, and she gathered from what she knew of other men and women recruited by the Weaver that she must also be a rather powerful sorcerer.

  “I don’t expect that the Weaver will hear anything of the sort, cousin,” Abeni said. “I have no intention of telling him, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

  Craeffe raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence. “Of course not.”

  The archminister was already tiring of the woman’s company. “You came to me,” she said. “Why?”

  “I’ve just had an interesting conversation of my own, and I thought you’d want to hear about it.”

  “With whom?” Abeni asked, hoping that she sounded bored.

  “The first minister of Prentarlo. I believe she could be convinced to join us.”

  “What did you say to her?” the archminister asked, bored no longer. “You know that I’m the only one the Weaver wants speaking to newcomers.”

  Craeffe grinned, showing sharp white teeth, like some crazed demon of Bian’s realm. “Don’t worry, cousin. I didn’t tell her anything; I just listened. And given what I heard, I believe she’s hurt and angry enough to turn against her duchess.”

  Abeni nodded, though she wasn’t pleased. She should have been. This was what she wanted. This was how she would convince the Weaver that the queen’s distrust hadn’t lessened her value to the movement. But she didn’t like feeling beholden to Craeffe, not even in this small way.

  “That’s good news,” she managed. “I’ll be certain to speak with her as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

  “Or you could let me do it for you.”

  “I just told you—”

  “Yes, I know. The Weaver wants you to handle these matters. But he needn’t know. I’ve already won her trust. Wouldn’t it be easier to let me do the rest?”

  Easier perhaps, but Abeni had little doubt that Craeffe would tell the Weaver as soon as she possibly could, presenting what had happened in such a way as to make herself appear a genius, and a liability to the Weaver’s cause.

  “Thank you, cousin. I know that you wish only to serve the movement as best you can. But the Weaver has been quite clear on this point.”

  The forced smile again. “Of course, cousin. I understand.”

  They stood in silence for several moments before Craeffe finally returned to the door. “I suppose I should be going.”

  “So soon, cousin?”

  The woman didn’t even bother looking at her. “I hope that this rift between you and your queen doesn’t widen, Archminister. Now more than ever, the Weaver needs Qirsi who serve the major courts.”

  A moment later she was gone, and Abeni was left to wonder who was the greater threat to her standing in the movement: the queen or Macharzo’s first minister.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Six

  Kentigern, Eibithar

  A indreas stared at the words scrawled on the outside of the scroll, unwilling to remove the ribbon that held it and read what was written inside. The ribbon was white. Of course, He would have known from whom the message had come even without the “White Erne” penned in a neat, bold hand for all to see. No doubt the time had finally come for the duke to fulfill his promise to the conspiracy—there could be no other reason for her to contact him. They wanted him to act on their behalf. And he was too frightened to unroll the scroll and see what it was they expected of him.

  “Father.”

  He looked up, seeing Brienne in the doorway, her golden hair gleaming in the torchlight.

  “Not now, my love,” he said, his voice low.

  “But Mother is asking for you. There are men riding toward the gate.”

  As she spoke, Aindreas realized that the city bells were ringing, that in fact they had been for some time.

  He frowned. “Tell her I’ll be along shortly.”

  “She said I should bring you to her immediately.”

  The duke exhaled through his teeth. “Very well. I’ll be there in just a moment.”

  “But—”

  “I told you, I’ll be along soon. Now leave me, Brienne!”

  The girl winced, looking as if she might cry. “But I’m Affery.”

  Aindreas stared at her, his vision swimming. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing them with a meaty hand. Opening them again, he saw that it was indeed his younger daughter standing before him, golden haired and pretty as her sister had been at this age, but not yet grown to womanhood.

  “Affery,” he said, the name coming out as a whisper. He rose and stepped around his writing table to where she stood. She looked afraid, and he knelt before her, taking her in his arms. “I’m sorry, my love. Of course I knew it was you.”

  She nodded, but said nothing. When he released her, he saw that there were tears on her cheeks. “Do you miss her, Father?”

  “Very much,” he said, his voice suddenly rough.

  “So do I. I think Mother does, too.”

  “We all do. But your mother is better now than she was, and . . . and so am I.”

  Again the girl nodded.

  “You said there are men approaching the castle?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where is your mother?”

  “She’s atop the tower, watching the city gates.”

  “Very well. Tell her I’ll be there very soon. Have her instruct the men not to allow anyone into the castle before I arrive.”

  “All right.” Still she didn’t move. “Are they coming to attack us again?”

  For a moment, he wasn’t certain what to say, By ignoring Kearney’s summons to the City of Kings, Aindreas had made himself a renegade in the king’s eyes. Glyndwr would have been justified in sending the royal army to Kentigern. But Aindreas had known Kearney a long time. The man didn’t want a war, and would go to great lengths
to avoid one. He wouldn’t have sent his army, at least not yet.

  “No one’s going to attack us,” he told her, making himself smile. “They probably just want to talk to me.”

  Affery smiled in return, looking relieved.

  “Go now. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  She kissed his cheek, then turned and ran from the chamber.

  Aindreas returned to his writing table, lowered himself into his chair and picked up the scroll again, his hand beginning to tremble. For a moment he was tempted to throw it on the flames dancing in his hearth, as if by burning the parchment he might rid himself of the Qirsi. Instead, he pulled off the ribbon and unrolled the scroll.

  Lord Kentigern:

  Events have begun to unfold more swiftly than we had anticipated. We can no longer wait for you to convince other houses to oppose the king. You must break with Kearney now, and hope that others will follow. We will be watching to see that you do as we expect. Do not disappoint us.

  Jastanne ja Triln

  Captain, the White Erne

  Perhaps he should have been surprised. Certainly he had a right to be angry. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything at all. Somehow the Qirsi felt that they could order him about as he himself might a servant, or a foot soldier in his army. And though he was appalled by the mere notion of it, he also knew that he had only himself to blame.

  “What will you do?”

  He looked up to find Brienne standing beside him, looking lovely and so very young. No wonder he had confused Affery for her.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You should go to the king. You should tell him what you’ve done and beg for his mercy.”

  “He’ll have me hanged as a traitor.”

  “He might. But perhaps if you can show honor and courage at the end, it will save our house from disgrace. Don’t Affery and Ennis deserve that? Doesn’t Mother?”

  The city bells continued to toll and Aindreas glanced toward the window. “There are men coming. I have to—”