by DAVID B. COE
“You don’t know that.”
He faltered, but only briefly. “Not for certain, no. But it makes sense.”
“Maybe it does, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Aindreas has already shown that he won’t listen to me, but he can’t ignore my father as easily. We have to tell the duke what we know, and we need to do so now, while he’s still strong enough to speak with Kentigern.” He managed a smile, though it seemed to Xiv that there were tears in his eyes. “We can’t stop the conspiracy on our own, Xiv. But we might be able to prevent a civil war. We just have to do it quickly, before my father dies.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Tobbar stared off to one side, his face burning with rage and humiliation and grief. If what his son and the boy’s Qirsi were telling him was true, he had been a fool for more years than he cared to count. Worse, it was possible that through carelessness, and his blind willingness to trust, he had allowed Filib the Younger’s death.
“I don’t believe any of this,” he said, his voice low. Or at least I don’t want to.
“You think Xiv would lie about such a thing?”
“He’s Qirsi, too. Who’s to say that he’s not the traitor here?”
“Father!”
The duke looked up at the young Qirsi, who stood near the hearth, silent and withdrawn, his gaze lowered. Tobbar knew that he should apologize to the man, but he couldn’t. “What gave you the right to speak with my minister in the first place?” he demanded instead. “In my castle, no less.”
“I asked him to, Father,” Marston said, forcing Tobbar to look his way. “If you want to rail at someone, rail at me. Xiv did this on my behalf.”
“Then you answer me. What gave you the right?”
Marston straightened, taking a breath. “I had no right. I feel that what we’ve learned justifies how we learned it, but you’re right. It wasn’t my place to send Xiv to your first minister without your approval. Forgive me.”
Damn the boy. Perhaps he knew more of statecraft than Tobbar realized. With his apology he forced Tobbar to look beyond the transgression to what their actions had revealed. Enid was a traitor, a part of this conspiracy that seemed to be everywhere. Ean Jtnew how long she had been lying to him, and what other things she had done to weaken Thorald.
“This isn’t a night for such things,” he said, sounding, he knew, like a peevish child. “Pitch Night in Bohdan’s Turn is a night for reflection and prayer, not for… for this.”
“Is there ever a good time for this? Will you be any more willing to speak with her tomorrow than you are tonight?”
Tobbar looked away once more. “Tell me again what she said.”
Xivled cleared his throat. “She told me that I would be contacted, that they’d probably give me gold first and that I might be instructed to carry out some task.”
“She didn’t say who would contact you?”
“No, and she warned me against asking too many questions.”
“Did she give you any sense at all of who her superiors were?”
“None at all. At one point she started to say something more, but she stopped herself and wouldn’t reveal anything when I pressed her on the matter.”
Tobbar nodded, still not looking at either of them. She betrayed me. Try as he might, he could think of no reason why Xivled would he about this. If he wished to be Thorald’s first minister he had only to wait. Certainly, if he belonged to the conspiracy himself, he gained nothing by drawing attention to the alleged treason of another Qirsi. Nor did he appear to be lying. Tobbar couldn’t sense such things, of course; none of the Eandi could, which was why so many of their nobles were dying. He had only his instincts, and though his faith in them had been badly shaken, he wasn’t ready to abandon them entirely.
“What would you have me do?” he asked at last, making himself meet Marston’s gaze.
“Simply speak with her, Father. I’m not asking you to accept what we’re telling you on faith.”
“Of course you are. You want me to summon my first minister to this chamber so that I can accuse her of betraying our house.”
Marston’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. How could he?
“That is what you want me to do, isn’t it? Confront her with what your minister has told us, and ask her to defend herself?”
“Yes,” Marston said. “That’s what I want you to do.”
“And what if Xivled is wrong? Enid has served me-has served this house-for nearly seven years. How do I repair the damage I’m about to do to my friendship with this woman? How do I justify accusing her of this?‘
“If she truly is your friend, Father, she’ll understand. Surely she’s heard of the conspiracy just as you have. She can hardly blame you for asking where her loyalties lie?”
“Would you be so understanding?” the duke asked, looking past his son to the Qirsi.
“This isn’t worth discussing,” Marston said before his minister could reply. “Xiv isn’t wrong, and bruising Enid’s pride should be the least of your concerns.” He stepped to Tobbar’s chair and knelt before the duke, forcing Tobbar to look him in the eye. “She betrayed us, Father. All of us. I have no doubt that she had Filib killed. We need to know what else she’s done. We need to know if there are others in the castle who have helped her. And then we need to imprison her and plan for her execution.”
He stared at his son, wishing at that moment that he could abdicate. Regardless of whether or not Marston was right, he didn’t want to face this. He was dying. Why couldn’t the gods simply let him go? Why couldn’t all of this have happened a year from now, when he was dead, or too ill to care anymore?
He knew the answer, of course. It echoed in his mind like thunder in the highlands. Enid was your choice. You brought her to this house. Her betrayal is your failure. He could no more escape blame than she could.
At last he nodded, closing his eyes against a throbbing pain in his head. “Summon her.” He rubbed his temple, listening as Marston crossed the room to the door and instructed one of the guards to bring Enid to the chamber.
A moment later his son closed the door again then returned to Tobbar’s side.
“Are you all right?”
The duke opened his eyes. “No, I’m not all right. I’m old and I’m dying, and I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
Marston recoiled as if Tobbar had struck him.
“I didn’t mean you,” the duke said quickly. “You know that.”
His son regarded him briefly, his lips pressed thin. Then he nodded, though Tobbar could see in his eyes that he was still hurt.
Marston stood once more and began pacing the room. Xivled remained by the hearth, and the duke sat motionless in his chair, gazing at his own hands, wondering how they had grown so thin. None of them spoke.
Finally the duke looked up at Marston’s minister. “I owe you an apology, Xivled. I shouldn’t have said what I did before. Your father served me for more than ten years and never did I have cause to question his loyalty or his courage. Our families have been tied to each other for too long. You deserve better than my suspicion.”
“Thank you, my lord. My father always spoke of you as a friend, and your son has always treated me as no less.”
They fell silent again, waiting for Enid. It seemed to take her hours to answer his summons. When at last the knock came at the door, Marston halted and looked toward the duke, as if suddenly unsure of himself.
“Enter,” the duke called.
The door swung open and the first minister walked in, appearing terribly frail. It struck Tobbar that this was a waste of all their time. He and his minister would both be dead before long. Why not let this pass?
But he knew better. Seeing her now, allowing himself to wonder if she had indeed betrayed him, the duke felt anger welling in his chest. In spite of everything he had said to Marston a few moments earlier, he wanted to know the truth. And if she had killed his nephew or paid others to do so, he wanted her dead.
“You called for me, my lord,” she said, glancing at each of the three men.
“Close the door, Enid.”
The minister hesitated, perhaps sensing from his tone that this was to be no ordinary conversation. She pushed the door closed and took her customary seat by his writing table.
“How may I serve, my lord?” she asked, a brittle smile on her lips.
“The thane’s minister was just telling me of a conversation he had with you in your chambers.”
“Yes. He asked me to tell him of your correspondence with the king. I thought it an odd request, since your son could just as easily have asked you, but I saw no reason to keep anything from him. Would you have preferred that I say nothing?”
“That’s not the conversation to which I was referring.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you, my lord. It’s the only conversation we’ve had.”
She looked and sounded as calm as ever. Even searching for some sign that she was lying to him, Tobbar saw none.
“According to Xivled, you offered to put him in touch with the leaders of the Qirsi conspiracy. You even promised him gold.”
The minister laughed. “Did I offer as well to make him emperor of Braedon?” She looked over at Marston, as if expecting to hear him laugh with her. When he didn’t-when none of them did-she sobered, facing the duke again. “You’re not serious, my lord.”
“You deny it?”
She paled. “Of course I do. I know little more about the conspiracy than you do, my lord. I’ve certainly had no contact with anyone involved with it. And I have no gold to promise.”
“You’re lying!” Marston said, striding toward her.
“Be quiet, Marston!” Tobbar eyed her for several moments, trying to decide how to proceed. “So you’re telling me that the two of you spoke only of the messages I’ve exchanged with the king? There was nothing more?”
Enid glanced at Xivled, looking uncomfortable. “That’s not entirely the case. I’m reluctant to say anything that might harm the reputation of another Qirsi, but your son’s minister spoke of the thane in terms that can best be described as insulting. He questioned Lord Shanstead’s judgment and intelligence, and expressed great bitterness at the treatment he had received from the thane.” She turned in her chair to look at Marston. “Were I in your position, my lord, I would be reluctant to place much faith in this man. I believe in time he will betray you.”
“As you’ve betrayed my father?”
“I’ve done no such thing, Lord Shanstead. If this minister of yours has told you otherwise, he’s a liar.”
“I know him too well to believe that,” Marston said.
“Apparently the years you’ve spent together mean little to him, my lord. He’s yet to deny that he said those things about you.”
Marston grinned darkly. “I don’t expect him to deny it. I told him to speak to you so, knowing that you’d reply by asking him to join the conspiracy.”
Enid glared at him for a moment before looking at Tobbar again. “You knew about this?”
“No,” the duke said. “They did this on their own, and I’ve already chided them for it. But what Xivled told me about your conversation disturbed me greatly. I was hoping you could explain.”
“So you believe I’ve betrayed you. You’re willing to take this man’s word over mine, though I’ve served you well for all these years.”
‘ ’This man,‘ as you put it, is the son of my former first minister, the Qirsi you replaced. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you.“ Tobbar exhaled heavily. ”But still, I don’t know who to believe. One of you must be lying, and so one of you must be a traitor. So what is your counsel, First Minister? How am I to decide?“
For the first time, he saw her falter, as if she thought the question itself a trap. In truth, Tobbar hadn’t intended it as such, though he realized now that it placed her in an awkward position. If she had betrayed him, she could only offer more denials and accusations.
“It is a difficult matter, my lord,” she said slowly. “You must consider all that you know of both of us. You may have known the minister’s father, but do you know him? Do you know all that you should about his feelings for your son? For while he may hold you in esteem, his opinion of the thane may be more difficult to fathom.”
“To be honest, Enid, I can’t claim to know either of you, at least not as you suggest. The Qirsi may have magic that allows them to see into a person’s heart and mind, but I’m just an Eandi noble.”
“Perhaps the minister will allow us to search her chambers,” Marston suggested.
“To what end?” Tobbar asked, facing his son. “What would we be searching for?”
“Gold,” Xivled said.
They all looked at the younger minister.
“If she’s allied with the conspiracy, they’ll be paying her. From what I’ve heard, the leaders of this movement have a good deal of gold and pay their underlings quite well.”
“Where does this wealth come from?” the duke asked.
Xivled shook his head. “I don’t know, my lord.”
Tobbar eyed Enid for several moments. “What do you think of that, First Minister. May we search your chambers?”
“Who will search his?” she demanded, pointing at Marston’s minister.
“I will,” Marston said. “As soon as we return to Shanstead. You have my word.”
“Well, Enid?”
“This is foolishness,” she said, refusing to look at the duke. “I’ve told you already, I have nothing to do with this conspiracy. If there had ever been gold lying around in my chamber, I’d have spent it long ago.”
Marston opened his hands. “Then you have nothing to fear from letting us examine your quarters.”
She sat motionless in her chair, her eyes trained on the floor, wide and wild, like those of a treed wildcat.
And in that instant, Tobbar knew. Marston had been right all along. Enid had betrayed him for the Qirsi conspiracy. Somewhere in her chambers lay a pouch of gold that would prove beyond doubt that she was a traitor, an enemy of every Eandi in the Forelands. A part of him wanted to strike her; a part of him wanted to weep as he hadn’t since Liene’s death. Until just then, he hadn’t realized how much he valued Enid’s friendship-or rather, the illusion of friendship she had offered him all these years.
Which might have been why he deigned to give her one last chance at redemption.
“If you tell me everything,” he said, his voice so gentle he might have been speaking to a lover, “I’ll spare your life. You can live out your last days in the prison tower. I promise you comfort, meals, warmth in the colder-”
Enid began to laugh, a chilling sound that made the duke shudder and flinch away.
“You offer me the comfort of an Eandi prison?” she asked. “And knowing what you do now, you expect me to accept?” The woman shook her head, a harsh grin frozen on her face. “You’re an even greater fool than I believed. I’d sooner endure the tortures of your pitiful dungeon than tell you anything. You might as well kill me here, Tobbar.”
“You could at least tell me why,” he said. “I never did anything to you but offer you my trust, my friendship, and the opportunity to serve this house.”
“ ‘The opportunity…’?” she repeated, laughing again. “Could you truly be such an ass? The only opportunity you ever gave me was the opportunity to strike a blow at the Eandi courts of this kingdom. I came to you a traitor, you fool. I have been true to my heart since the day I first set foot in this castle. I am grateful for your trust and your friendship, but only because they enabled me to serve my people so well for so long.”
Tobbar stared at her, groping for something to say. It almost seemed that she had transformed herself before his eyes from his minister to some demon from Bian’s realm. He no longer knew her. If she was to be believed, he never had.
Enid cast a withering glare at Xivled, her yellow eyes like ward fires in a besieged castle.
“You think you’
ve struck a great blow against the movement, cousin. You’ve done nothing. I’m an old woman, a relic from a time when the movement sought to cripple Eibithar. We’ve already done that. You’re too late. This is a war, and the important battles are now being waged elsewhere. You may have beaten me, but there will be no spoils from this victory.”
“You’ll tell us what you know,” Marston said, standing over her. “We’ll at least learn what you’ve done and who you serve. We can start with Filib’s murder and your role in that. Then you can tell us about what happened in Kentigern earlier this year.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. “I won’t tell you anything.”
“In all your years in Thorald Castle, have you ever been in her dungeons? Have you ever seen what torture does to a prisoner?”
Enid smiled, allowing herself to look up at him once more. “As I said, Lord Shanstead, I’m an old woman. My body will fail long before my will. If I must die to serve my people, so be it. It will be a far more glorious death than I had any right to expect.”
Marston opened his mouth to say more, but Tobbar stopped him with a raised hand.
“I’ve heard enough,” he said, his voice flat. “Guards!” he called, the word echoing through the chamber like the meeting of swords.
The door opened, and two of Thorald’s soldiers entered the room.
“Yes, my lord? ‘ one of them said.
“Take the first minister to the dungeon.”
The two men exchanged a look. “My lord?”
“You heard me. She’s to be taken to the dungeon and placed in chains. I don’t want her hurt-at least not yet-but beware. She’s Qirsi, and therefore dangerous.” He racked his mind, trying to remember what powers she possessed. But he knew only that she was a gleaner, as were most of her people.
Looking as frightened as probationers facing their first battle, the two man walked to where Enid sat.
Enid eyed them both before gazing once more at the duke, the smile lingering on her face. “This is a useless, spiteful gesture, Tobbar. It doesn’t become you at all.”