Seeds of Betrayal: Book 2 of the Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy

by DAVID B. COE

  He expected his father to rail at him again, but the duke surprised him. “I don’t know what to believe about the boy. The Revel was in Thorald at the time, and I warned him that there were thieves about.”

  “But there were Qirsi here, as well.”

  Tobbar eyed him briefly before turning his gaze on the fire again. “Yes.” He frowned. “That doesn’t mean the conspiracy killed him. Whoever it was cut off his finger to get the Thorald signet ring. I still think it was probably thieves.”

  “But?”

  His father looked at him again, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But with all that’s happened since, I have to wonder if someone wished to have the House of Thorald removed from the Order of Ascension.”

  Marston started to agree, but his father stopped him with a raised finger.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to send away all my ministers,” he said. “As you say, the Revel was here, and with it all its gleaners and fire conjurers. If the Qirsi were behind his death, it would have been one of them. I’m certain of it.”

  Once more, Marston wanted to argue the point, but his father had already admitted that Filib’s murder might have been an assassination, rather than a simple act of thievery. Marston had never thought the duke would come that far. Continuing the discussion was only likely to anger him further.

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Tobbar raised an eyebrow. “Are you humoring me, whelp?”

  Marston grinned. “Maybe I should go. You look tired.”

  “I am tired. But you can’t leave yet.” The duke lifted a scroll off the table and handed it to him. It was tied with two satin ribbons, one tawny, the other black. The colors of Tremain.

  Marston looked at his father a moment before unrolling the scroll.

  “It arrived at Shanstead a few days ago. Your brother brought it to me, thinking it might be too important to keep until your return. Forgive me, but I read it, though it’s addressed to you.”

  “Of course,” Marston said absently, beginning to read the message.

  It was from the Lathrop, duke of Tremain. He wished to know where Marston stood in the conflict between Curgh and Kentigern, and he offered to ride to Shanstead to discuss the matter.

  The message was brief and rather vague, but the last line caught Marston’s eye.

  With the kingdom at the very precipice of war, it behooves all of us who honor the Rules of Ascension and cherish the peace they have brought to our land, to stand with the king. I hope you will agree.

  “It seems Aindreas isn’t the only one interested in cultivating an alliance with you,” Tobbar said, as Marston began reading the message a second time. “I get the feeling they don’t expect me to live much longer.”

  Marston looked up. “Father, no. I don’t think they—”

  “It’s all right,” Tobbar said, smiling. “I’d do the same, were I in their position. You are the future of this house, you and your brother.”

  “Did Chalton read this as well?”

  “No. He left it with me, stayed just the one night, and returned home.”

  Marston nodded, eyeing the message again. “Why would Lathrop write to me? He’s yet to take sides in this matter, and yet asks me to do just that.”

  “I’d imagine Kearney asked him to do it.”

  “But why. If the king wishes to ask one of his thanes where he stands on a matter of such importance, surely he can send the message himself.”

  “Think, Marston. You’re going to be duke someday. It’s time you began to see the world through a noble’s eyes. Kearney has sent me several messages since his ascension. I’ve already spoken for the house, and I’ve made it clear to him I won’t commit Thorald to either side of this fight. But he needs to know what will happen when I’m gone. If he were to send a message to you directly, it would be an affront to me, an indication that he no longer considers me Thorald’s leader.”

  “Is Tremain’s message any less of an affront?”

  “He’s the duke of a minor house, and as you said, he hasn’t sided with either Javan or Aindreas. Under the circumstances, he was an appropriate choice. Strictly speaking, I’d be justified in taking offense, but as a practical matter, Kearney needed to get a message to you, and this was the best, quickest way for him to do so.” He gazed at Marston for several moments, a slight smile on his pallid face. “The question is, how are you going to respond?”

  The thane shrugged. “Just as you have, and just as I told Aindreas I would. Thorald wants no part of this fight.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Surely I don’t have to convince you of this, Father. If we commit Thorald’s army to either side, it will embolden one of them and bring us to war. You’ve said so yourself a dozen times.”

  “Yes, I have,” Tobbar said, nodding. “But I’m too old for a war. You’re not. And it may be that there’s something here worth fighting for.”

  “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “Do you want Davin to sit on the throne?”

  The question silenced him. What man of Thorald didn’t dream of seeing his son crowned as king? The Rules of Ascension didn’t allow Marston or Chalton to aspire to the throne, but with Filib’s line dead, their sons could rule. Though only if Glyndwr relinquished the crown.

  “Of course I do,” he answered at last. “But I won’t destroy the kingdom to put him there.”

  “Is that what it would take?” his father asked mildly.

  “Yes. Kearney has a son. And someday the younger Kearney probably will as well. Glyndwr won’t give up the throne. It would have to be taken, and that means war. It also means defying the Rules of Ascension. And if we abandon the rules, then even when Glyndwr’s line does fail, Thorald may need to fight to reassert its supremacy.” He shook his head. “Much as I’d like to see Davin as king, the price is too high. I won’t choose between Javan and Aindreas, and if one of them challenges the king, they’ll have to defeat our soldiers as well as the King’s Guard. I’ll lead the army myself.”

  Tobbar nodded, the smile still on his lips. “Very good, Marston. Very good, indeed. The house will be in good hands when I’m gone.”

  “You’re not fooling me, old man. You’re too stubborn to die.”

  He grunted, facing the fire again. “Hardly. I’m tired, boy. The healers have given up on me, and I haven’t the strength or the will to fight this battle alone.”

  Marston felt a strange tightening in his throat and he had to blink his eyes to keep the tears back. He wondered if his father had said any of this to Chalton.

  “You needn’t grieve,” the duke said, firelight in his grey eyes. “I’ve had a good life. I’ve been in love, I’ve seen my boys grow to manhood, and I’ve ruled the land’s finest house. Few men can say as much. I would have liked to have more time with your mother, but Bian wanted her for himself.” He glanced at Marston, the smile touching his lips again for just an instant. “I’m eager to see her, even if it is in the Underrealm.”

  Marston tried to grin. Failed. “Isn’t it enough to see her on the Night of the Dead?”

  Tobbar shook his head, looking away once more. “I want to hold her hand. I want to kiss her. You can’t hold a wraith in your arms.”

  He searched for something to say, but nothing came to him. “Perhaps I should leave you, Father. We can speak again later, when you’ve had some time to rest.”

  The duke nodded.

  Marston leaned forward and kissed his father on the cheek, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He stood and started to walk away, but Tobbar caught his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting him go.

  Stepping out of the warmth of his father’s chamber into the cool air of the castle corridor, Marston paused. He was hungry, and he would have liked to lie down in a comfortable bed. But first he wanted to speak with the castle surgeon. I’m not ready to be duke. He needed to know how much time he had to prepare.

  Xivled remained in his chamber long enough to gi
ve his thane time to reach Tobbar’s quarters. Then he left, descending the tower stairs to the ward, and crossing to the north end of the castle, where the ministers had their rooms.

  “Ask her about the messages Father has exchanged with the king,” Marston had instructed. “Father could probably tell me himself, but with his illness worsening, this is something the two of you can discuss. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  It was a simple enough task, one that was appropriately handled by ministers.

  But in this case, Xivled hoped it would be merely a pretext for another conversation.

  The minister half expected to find her chambers empty. She rarely left the duke’s side, and he thought it likely that she’d be with him this day as well. It seemed, however, that the gods were with him. Knocking on her door, he heard a rustling of scrolls and then footsteps approaching the door. An instant later, the door opened, and Enid ja Kovar stood before him, her ministerial robes hanging on a frame that appeared to be more bone than flesh.

  She had once been a pretty woman. Xiv remembered thinking so during his first few visits to Thorald as Marston’s minister. Youth and beauty could be fleeting among his people, however, and Enid had grown old more quickly than most. She still wore her white hair tied back from her face, and her pale eyes still held the same look of keen intelligence and barely suppressed amusement he remembered from earlier visits to the castle. But her face had grown even thinner and more sallow than it once had been, making her resemble a cadaver more than a living woman.

  “Cousin,” she said, obviously surprised to see him. “I didn’t know the thane had returned. Otherwise I would have been with the duke.”

  “We reached the castle just a short time ago.”

  She said nothing for several moments, as if expecting him to speak. When he didn’t, she gave a forced smile. “Well, have you come to fetch me, and bring me to the duke’s chambers?”

  “Actually, no. I believe the thane wished to have some time alone with his father. He asked me to find you and learn what I could of his father’s correspondence with the king.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t he ask his father just as easily?”

  “With the duke ill, my lord thought it best that he trouble Lord Thorald as little as possible with such matters. But if you prefer, I can seek out one of the underministers.”

  This time her smile appeared genuine. “No, that’s not necessary. I can’t remember the last time I entertained such a charming young man in my bedchambers.”

  Xiv gave a small laugh, hoping it would mask his discomfort.

  “Please come in, cousin,” the first minister said, stepping to the side and waving him into her room.

  He took a seat in a lone chair by the hearth. The minister walked to her writing table and sat, eyeing him with unconcealed curiosity.

  “So you wish to know about Tobbar’s correspondence with the king.”

  “My lord does, yes.”

  She gave a slight frown. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. The king sends a brief message nearly every turn, stating his belief that the conflict between the lords of Curgh and Kentigern threatens to tear the kingdom apart, and asking the duke not to commit himself or his army to either man.”

  “Does he tell the duke much of events in Curgh or Kentigern?”

  “No. Indeed, I expect Lord Shanstead knows more of what is happening in Kentigern than does his father. For that matter, I imagine you know more than I do. Perhaps you can tell me something of your visit to the tor.”

  “Of course, First Minister, though we were in Kentigern for less than a day.”

  She let out a small breathless laugh. “Less than a day?”

  “When the thane made it clear to Aindreas that he agreed with his father’s decision not to commit Thorald’s army to Kentigern’s cause, the duke demanded that we leave.”

  “I see.”

  “You’ve told me of the king’s messages. How does Lord Thorald respond to them?”

  “As any dutiful Eandi noble would. With assurances of his continued fealty to the crown and promises that he will do as the king asks.”

  Xiv smiled inwardly at the opening she had given him. “You don’t approve, First Minister?”

  She smiled again, her small, sharp teeth looking as yellow as her eyes in the light of the fire. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. I merely offer my counsel.”

  “But you speak of Lord Thorald’s sense of duty to his king as if it’s a fault.”

  She regarded him silently for several moments, as if trying to gauge how much she could say.

  “Speaking Qirsi to Qirsi,” she finally said, “I do find the blind devotion with which Eandi nobles follow their king somewhat…disturbing.”

  “You’d rather your duke joined Aindreas of Kentigern in challenging the king’s authority?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be a fool. I merely believe that the Eandi are so concerned with honoring the nobles above them that they do their leaders a disservice. The king would be much better served if his dukes could express themselves honestly, without fear of being branded traitors.”

  “Do you think Lord Thorald wishes to respond differently to the king’s messages than he has?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe so. My lord is a good man, but he doesn’t think boldly.”

  Xiv nodded. “It seems the son doesn’t step far from his father’s shadow.”

  “Really? I always thought the thane an intelligent young man.”

  “He is, for an Eandi.” Xiv met her gaze. “That is what we’re talking about here, isn’t it? The difference between the Eandi and the Qirsi?”

  “I’m not certain I understand what you mean,” she said, smiling in a way that told him she did.

  Xiv gave a small shrug and stood. “Forgive me. I thought you would.”

  He started toward the door, but before he was halfway across the room, she stopped him.

  “Perhaps I do understand. Sit, cousin.” She hesitated, then added, “Please.”

  After a moment’s pause, Xiv returned to his chair.

  For a long time she just stared at him, as if she expected to read his thoughts from what she saw on his face. At last she stood and walked to the hearth, bending to place another log on the fire.

  “You’ve known the thane for a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Since we were boys in his father’s court.”

  “I would think that after all these years, you’d be loyal to the man. Few of us have friendships that last half that long.”

  “It’s because of how long I’ve known him that I feel no loyalty to him whatsoever.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Xiv looked away. “Our friendship is nearly as old as memory, yet he treats me like a servant. He’s known the captain of Shanstead’s army for three years, maybe four. But the two of them hunt together, their children play together, their wives speak to one another as sisters. All because they’re Eandi. Just once, I’d like him to address me as—” He stopped himself, exhaling loudly through his teeth. “The years we’ve known each other mean nothing to him,” he said, his voice low. “Why should they mean any more to me?”

  She nodded. “You’re right; they shouldn’t. Has anyone contacted you yet?” she asked, picking up a poker and stirring the embers. “Have you received any gold?”

  “No, nothing.”

  She glanced at him. “Then what is it you want from me?”

  “To join,” he said. “With all respect, First Minister, neither you nor your duke can live forever. With the thane assuming leadership of the House of Thorald, I feel certain that I’d be a valuable addition.”

  Enid smiled thinly. “I’m delighted to hear my failing health has created such a wonderful opportunity for you.”

  “I didn’t wish this on you, First Minister. But you’ve lived a full life, and I’d be a fool to let this chance slip by. I needn’t tell you that there’s a good deal of gold at stake.”<
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  “This is about more than gold,” she said, her voice hardening. “This is about bringing Qirsi rule to the Forelands. It’s about allowing our children to dream of being more than court servants and Revel fools. You’d do well to remember that if you’re to join this cause.”

  “Of course. Forgive me. I only meant that—”

  “I know just what you meant. A few years ago, the gold meant a good deal to me, too. But as I’ve grown older, as my capacity for enjoying wealth has diminished, I’ve come to realize that the riches mean nothing next to the advancement of the Qirsi people. The W—” She stopped abruptly, her face coloring. “With time, you’ll understand this as well.”

  “You were going to say something else.”

  The minister shook her head. “It was nothing.” She paused, then, “You’re wrong about one thing though. I haven’t lived a full life. It may surprise you to learn that I’m only in my thirty-seventh year.”

  Xiv couldn’t keep his eyes from widening. He would have guessed she was at least five years older than that.

  She smirked. “Yes, I know. I appear far older. My mother died young, even for a Qirsi. It seems we share that fate.”

  “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t certain what else to say.

  “Don’t be. I regret only that I won’t see this movement bear fruit.” She straightened and returned to her chair by the table. “Return to Shanstead with your thane. You’ll receive your first payment in the next turn or two, and soon after you’ll be contacted.”

  “By whom?”

  “It’s not my place to say,” she told him. “You may be given a task to complete, or you may be told to wait. Not long ago, there was a great deal happening here in Eibithar. Since Aylyn’s death, however, and the events in Kentigern, the movement has turned its attention to the southern kingdoms.”

  Xiv shuddered, as if a frigid wind suddenly had swept through the chamber. “Was the…the movement responsible for Aylyn’s death?”

  “Again, it’s not my place to say.”

  “What about all that happened in Kentigern? Brienne’s death, the siege?”

  “If you want to be welcome in this movement, cousin, you’ll stop asking questions. Each of us knows little of what the others do. Those who lead us prefer it that way. You’ll know what’s expected of you, and for now that should be enough.”