by David B. Coe
Gorlan gave a small, breathless laugh. “You don’t lack for confidence.”
“No, I don’t. When we’ve won, those Qirsi who fought with us will help to rule the seven realms. Those who remained tethered to their Eandi masters will be executed as traitors to their people. The choice I’m giving you is a gift, one that I may not be extending to all who serve in the palace. You have a chance not only to save your life, but also to share in the glories that await those of us who lead this struggle.”
“Why me? Surely there are others who have been here longer, who are more deserving.”
This time it was Dusaan’s turn to laugh. “In this case, Minister, the length of one’s service to the emperor is not necessarily proof of one’s worthiness. Still, you ask a valid question. I’ve chosen you—and in the short time that remains, I may well choose a few others—because I see in you qualities that will be of use to the movement in its final days of preparation, and to our people, as we assume authority over the people of the Forelands. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and when you do, you often make a good deal of sense. Also, your powers are considerable.”
Gorlan looked at Nitara, his pale eyes locking on hers. “Why did you join?”
Because I love this man. Because he is like a god living among mortals. “I saw in the movement a way to improve the lives of our people, to ensure that my children, and their children, would grow up knowing that they could find paths to greatness that didn’t lead through Eandi courts, or leave them subject to the whims of foolish Eandi nobles.”
“But you swore an oath to serve the emperor.” Immediately Gorlan held up a hand, shaking his head. “Don’t answer. I already know what you’ll say.”
“What?” Dusaan asked with interest.
“She’ll tell me that we have a greater duty to our own people, and that there are many types of betrayal. Those who would put their service to the Eandi above such a movement are guilty of the worst kind of treachery.”
The smile returned to the high chancellor’s face. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. The question is, do you truly believe that, or were you merely anticipating her response?”
“You’ll think me a fool for answering this way, but I don’t know.”
“As I say, I admire your willingness to speak your mind.” A smile flitted across the Weaver’s face and was gone. “Even when you don’t know your mind. You have two days to think on it. After that I’ll expect a reply, and believe me when I tell you that I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”
The color drained from Gorlan’s face, but his expression didn’t change. “You don’t worry that I’ll go to the emperor with this?”
“No. I think you understand what will happen if you do. Our victory is close, Gorlan. Very close. And if I have to give myself away a bit sooner than I anticipated by killing you, then so be it.”
Gorlan looked at Nitara one last time, though she couldn’t say for certain what he was thinking. After a moment he stood, nodding to the high chancellor.
“Two days, then,” he said, and left.
A short time later, Dusaan made his way to the emperor’s hall, leaving Nitara in the corridor looking love-struck and just a bit sad. It was fortunate that he had this audience with Harel; much as he disliked the man, it served as a ready excuse to rid himself of the minister. Dusaan still thought her quite attractive—he had every intention of making her one of his queens when the time came—but he found her need of him stifling. She had killed for him, taking her blade to a man she once had loved, no less. There were few among his most trusted servants who could have done what she had. And she would be rewarded accordingly. But he remained convinced that her desire for him was as dangerous as it was bothersome, and that if he allowed her to lure him to her bed too soon, it might destroy all for which he had been working.
A part of him had hoped that she might be drawn to Gorlan; in many ways the minister reminded Dusaan of Kayiv, and also of a younger incarnation of himself. It seemed that these hopes were in vain.
He couldn’t say for certain what he thought Gorlan would decide to do. Faced with such a choice, most men, including those who opposed the movement in their hearts, would join with him and thus save their lives. But the Weaver sensed that this minister was different. In a way this made him that much more eager to have the man as an ally, but it also made what he had done today far more dangerous. If Gorlan concluded that he could not bring himself to join the Qirsi cause, he would go to the emperor. Dusaan was sure of it. There was no greater threat to a movement such as his than a man who didn’t fear death.
Reaching the emperor’s door, he knocked once and waited for one of the guards within to open the door and announce him to Harel. Instead, the door opened, and two guards joined him in the corridor.
They bowed to him, appearing somewhat uncertain of themselves.
“What is this?” he asked. “I was summoned by the emperor.”
“Yes, High Chancellor, we know. But we—” The man stopped, frowning and glancing at his companion.
“By order of His Eminence, Harel the Fourth, Emperor, of Braedon, Holder of the Imperial Scepter, Bearer of the Crown of Curtell, we must ask you to remove any arms you may be carrying before entering the imperial hall.”
He nearly laughed aloud. As if he needed a dagger to kill the man. He took his blade from its sheath and handed it hilt-first to the guard.
The guard swallowed. “We must also ask that you wear this.” He held up a white muslin hood.
Dusaan felt rage surge through him, so suddenly and with such force that it was all he could do not to shatter the man’s skull with a thought.
“What possible reason could the emperor have for asking this of me?” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“He knows that you have many powers, High Chancellor. He believes that you’ll be less capable of using them against him if you can’t see him.”
He would have liked to reveal himself then and there. Damned be his plans and his patience. He could kill them all in a matter of moments. With the help of just a few of the other Qirsi, he could control the entire palace within the hour. But he needed more time. Not much, but enough that he could not allow himself the luxury of venting his fury, at least not yet.
“I don’t get to see him—” He stopped himself, with a smirk and a shake of his head. “I don’t get to speak with him unless I wear this?”
“I’m afraid not, High Chancellor.”
“Very well.”
As they covered his head, tying the hood loosely at his throat, Dusaan vowed that he would avenge this humiliation, that whatever suffering he had originally intended for Harel would be trebled and more.
When the hood was in place, the two guards led him through the doors and into Harel’s hall. A Weaver had powers of perception that went far beyond sight and hearing, though Harel wouldn’t have known this, any more than he knew that Dusaan was a Weaver. It was the Eandis’ ignorance of Qirsi magic as much as anything that would bring their downfall. Even blind, Dusaan could sense the emperor and the other guards. There were eight of them in all. Two of Harel’s wives were there as well, eyeing the high chancellor with curiosity and, he thought, just a touch of amusement.
Laugh all you like, Eandi whores. In the end you’ll suffer as well. All of you will.
The guards led him to Harel’s throne, one on either side of him, as if he were a prisoner rather than high chancellor. Once there, the two men stepped back to the doorway, leaving Dusaan to kneel before the emperor.
“You may rise, High Chancellor,” Harel said, pushing himself from his throne and beginning to circle the chamber.
He hopes to make himself a more challenging target, Dusaan thought with some amusement. As if it would have mattered.
The Weaver stood, facing the throne, though he marked the emperor’s path with his mind. After a moment’s silence, he gestured at the hood. “You do me a disservice, Your Eminence.”
“Forgive me, H
igh Chancellor,” Harel said, sounding anything but contrite. “But I feel safer knowing that you can’t see me. In light of recent events, you can’t blame me for taking certain precautions.”
“Have I given you cause to fear me?”
“The death of my minister—what was his name again?”
“Kayiv, Your Eminence.”
“Yes. Kayiv’s death has given all of us cause to fear. It’s one thing for a man to attack a woman as he did. But my guards tell me that she claimed he was a traitor. They say he tried to turn her against me.”
It had been Dusaan’s idea for Nitara to say these things. He had thought to deflect questions about the circumstances of Kayiv’s death by making a traitor of the man. He had also wanted to raise just the sort of fears Harel was expressing now, believing that the emperor, by his behavior, might drive a few more of the palace Qirsi to Dusaan’s cause. He still thought that this might work, but at the very moment he couldn’t help but wonder if he had pushed Harel too far.
“I heard that as well, Your Eminence. But to assume that every Qirsi in your palace is a traitor—”
“Is only prudent.” Harel halted near one of the windows. “Any one of you might be a part of this conspiracy so I have no choice but to assume that all of you are. If this displeases you, Dusaan, I’d suggest that you learn as quickly as possible who the traitors are and bring them to me.” He resumed his pacing. “If I were you, I’d begin with that woman he attacked. She was quick to accuse him once he was dead, but I find it hard to believe that a bed was all they shared.”
It was surprisingly clever of the man, trying to pit Qirsi against Qirsi in this matter. “Of course, Your Eminence. I’ve been searching for other traitors since the day of Kayiv’s death, beginning of course with the woman. But I’ve found no evidence that any of the others have betrayed you.”
“Then I’d suggest that you look harder.”
“You ask this of me, Your Eminence, and yet you treat me as if I had betrayed you. Does this mean that you have others looking for evidence that I’m with the conspiracy?”
For some time the emperor said nothing, although the Weaver sensed that he had stopped walking again. “I have to check on everyone, Dusaan. Surely you understand that.”
Of course I do, you fat fool. But who have you asked to find evidence of my betrayal? If it was merely the palace guards, Dusaan didn’t care. They would find nothing, and they would soon be dead or in the palace dungeon. But what if he had found a minister or chancellor to do his spying? What if he had already managed to divide the palace Qirsi?
“Of course I understand, Your Eminence. But I also know that the precautions you’ve taken today—disarming me, hooding me—are a humiliation. I’ve served you well for nine years. Don’t I deserve better than this?”
“Perhaps. But I expect that today’s experience will convince you of how seriously I take this matter, and maybe it will encourage you to find the traitors more quickly.”
The high chancellor had to smile. Again, the man had surprised him with his cunning. Could there be more to the emperor than he had realized?
“Is this why you called me here today, Your Eminence? To impress upon me how eager you are to find the renegades?”
“In part, yes. I also wish to ask you about the fee accountings.”
For the first time, Dusaan knew a moment of fear. Harel had long entrusted him with the fee accountings for all the realm, and Dusaan had used Braedon’s treasury to pay those he turned to his cause. A friend of his, a Qirsi merchant named Tihod jal Brossa, had created a network of couriers who delivered the gold to those who had earned payment through their efforts on behalf of the movement. Without access to Harel’s coffers, he would never have gotten this close to the realization of his ambitions. At this point, with success so near, his need for the emperor’s gold was not as great as once it had been, but nevertheless, he was loath to lose access to the accountings. And the mere thought of it raised a deeper fear, one that he had managed to keep from his mind so far this day.
“What about them, Your Eminence?” His voice remained even, though he felt sweat running down his temples.
“I’ve been thinking that perhaps it would be best to let Uriad have control of them until the war is over. Most of the gold we pay out right now goes to the fleet and army anyway, and it seems to make sense that the master of arms should oversee the accountings. That way he can send gold where it’s needed without having to bother you.”
Dusaan should have expected it. On some level he had. None of what he had done with Harel’s gold could ever be traced; he had made certain of that from the very beginning. But once more his rage threatened to overwhelm him. That he should have to debase himself before this man was bad enough. That Dusaan’s movement should suffer for Harel’s fear and mistrust, however justified they might be, was nearly intolerable.
“As you wish, of course, Your Eminence. But let’s not weave mists with our words. You wish to give Uriad control of the fee accountings because you no longer trust me with them. Isn’t that so?”
He sensed the emperor’s discomfort and knew that he was right.
“Until I know for certain that you can be trusted, wouldn’t I be a fool to allow you such open access to my treasury?”
“I see your point, Your Eminence.”
“Good. When all this unpleasantness is over, I’m certain that everything will go back to the way it was before.”
“I hope you’re right, Your Eminence.”
“You disagree?”
He regretted his choice of words. No doubt it would have been safer to let the conversation end with the emperor’s false hope. But he had spoken and now had little choice but to respond.
“I think that when you make clear your mistrust, you risk driving away those who have served you loyally. I won’t lie to you, Your Eminence. There are many among your ministers and chancellors who are offended by the treatment they’ve received over the past turn.”
“And are you as well?”
Dusaan could hear indignation in the emperor’s voice, and he knew that he had angered him. Not that he cared anymore. If Harel was intent on taking the fee accountings from him, there was nothing more to be gained by flattering the man or humbling himself. He wasn’t about to give the emperor grounds to banish him from the court, but he saw no need to continue offering obeisance at every turn.
“Yes, Your Eminence, I suppose I am.”
“Well, that’s too bad! I would have thought that you would understand, High Chancellor! You of all people know what kind of man I am! I would never do these things unless I believed the danger was real. And if you can’t understand that, then perhaps I don’t know you as I thought I did.” Dusaan heard the scrape of a shoe on stone, and he could almost see Harel turning his back to the high chancellor in pique. “You can go, High Chancellor. Send word to me when you’ve found the traitors. Until then, I don’t expect to hear from you.”
“Yes, Your Eminence.” He bowed, though he knew that Harel couldn’t see. The guards could, and they would be all too quick to say something if he failed to show the proper respect.
Once more, two men took hold of his arms. They turned him and led him back into the corridor. Once there, they removed the hood from his head.
His face and neck sticky with sweat, Dusaan held out his hand. “My dagger.”
“Yes, High Chancellor.”
He heard the change in their voices. They had seen how Harel treated him, they had tied a hood over his head. There had been deference in their greeting when he reached the chamber a short time before. It was gone now. Damn the man to Bian’s fires.
He sheathed his weapon, then turned smartly on his heel and walked away, saying nothing more to the soldiers.
Nitara was waiting for him in the corridor near his chambers. He sensed her there before she stepped from the shadows, diffident and alluring.
“Can I speak with you, High Chancellor?”
He nodded, though
he would have preferred to be alone. She followed him into his chambers, stepping to his window as he closed the door.
“What is it you want? I’ve told you before, it’s dangerous for us to be seen together too often.”
“I wanted to make certain that I hadn’t angered you today.”
“When?”
“During our conversation with Gorlan. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to say, how honest you wanted me to be.”
He forced a smile. He was growing increasingly impatient with her weakness, yet he knew that he needed her, particularly now that his source of gold was gone, at least temporarily. He couldn’t afford to lose any of his servants just now. “You did just fine. I want him to join our cause and I believe he will, thanks in part to what you said. I’m . . . I’m pleased.”
She lowered her gaze. “Thank you, Weaver,” she whispered.
“Now, go. I have matters to which I must attend.”
“Yes, of course.” But still she made no movement toward the door.
“Is there something else?”
Clearly there was. He felt her confusion, the turmoil within her heart. He had no time for this.
“No, Weaver,” she said at last. She made a vain attempt at a smile and crossed to the door, hesitating once more as she gripped the handle.
She had been this way since killing Kayiv. It almost seemed that she had still harbored some affection for the man after all. He found himself thinking of Cresenne, of how her seduction of Grinsa jal Arriet had turned to love, rendering her useless to his movement, and then leading her to betray the cause entirely. Brilliant and strong as she was, she had also been terribly young to bear the burdens he had placed upon her. Much like Nitara. Too late, he had come to understand that matters of the heart were more difficult for the younger ones. He would have to take care that this one didn’t turn on him as well.
Matters of the heart. He walked to where she still stood, taking her hands in his and forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You’ve served me well these past several turns. You’ve done more in so short a time than many have done for me over the course of years. And I’m grateful.”