by DAVID B. COE
“Forgive me, High Chancellor. I forget myself.”
“Don’t give the matter a second thought.” Dusaan stared out the window, watching a raven circle over the palace walls. “Tell me, Kayiv, are you comfortable with your decision to join the movement?”
Even without looking at the man, the Weaver sensed his unease.
“Of course I am, High Chancellor. Don’t I appear to be?”
“I can’t say for certain. You were reluctant the first day I spoke to you of allying yourself with our cause. I seem to remember you saying that you didn’t trust me. At the time I assumed that Nitara would be able to convince you where I could not, and that the gold you were to be paid would do the rest, and I’ve continued to hope this would be the case in the days since. Now . . .” He opened his hands and shrugged. “I worry that perhaps your anger at Nitara will effect your relationship with us.”
“I hated the Eandi before I met Nitara, and I hate them still, though I’m no longer with her. One has nothing to do with the other.”
“Good. I’m pleased to hear that. But you haven’t really answered my question. Hating the Eandi is one thing, working with the movement to end Eandi rule in the Forelands is quite another.”
Kayiv nodded. “I know that. I’m with you, High Chancellor. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Minister. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
They sat a moment in silence.
“You’re free to go.”
The minister stood, though it seemed he wished to say more.
“There may come a time when I’ll need to speak with both you and Nitara together. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“It won’t be, High Chancellor.” He started toward the door, then halted, facing Dusaan again.
“What is it, Minister?”
He opened his mouth, closed it again, shaking his head. At last he smiled, though clearly it was forced. “It’s nothing. Thank you, High Chancellor.”
A moment later the minister was gone and Dusaan stood, intending to make his way to the emperor’s hall. Harel would be expecting him. Before he could leave, however, there came a knock at the door. He knew who it was even before he opened it. He hadn’t time for this.
Pulling the door open, he found Nitara standing before him, an odd mix of fright and pique in her sand-colored eyes. Two guards stood nearby.
“Have I displeased you?” she asked.
He took her arm and pulled her into the chamber, closing the door and whirling on her. “Are you mad?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice low. “Asking me a question like that in front of the emperor’s men? I should kill you where you stand!”
“I . . . I’m sorry. But after you sent me away like that—”
“I wished to speak with Kayiv in private. He thought that we’re lovers and I wanted to disabuse him of the notion before his jealousy overmastered his judgment.”
“Did he believe you when you told him that we weren’t? . . .” She faltered, swallowed. “That there was nothing between us?”
“I think he did. I can’t be certain.” He glowered at her. “You coming here so soon after he left doesn’t help matters.”
She lowered her gaze. “Forgive me, W—”
He stopped her with a raised finger. “Not here,” he whispered. “Not when there are guards outside the door.”
Nitara nodded, eyes wide.
“You must remember, Minister, that we’re not lovers, and that as far as anyone else knows, we have nothing more in common than our service to the emperor. Every time you come here like this, you draw attention to both of us. When I need to speak with you of matters pertaining to the movement, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, we’re to have no contact beyond our daily ministerial discussions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, High Chancellor.”
“Then go. No doubt the emperor is wondering where I am.”
She let herself out of the chamber, glancing back at him just once, looking young and lovely and dangerous. He followed her into the corridor, relieved to see that she had the sense to walk in the direction opposite his path to the emperor’s hall. The guards eyed him briefly, but kept their silence.
He had been eager to begin turning some of Harel’s Qirsi to his cause, he recalled, as he strode through the palace hallways. But he could no longer remember why. Between Kayiv’s suspicion and jealousy, and Nitara’s infatuation, he feared it was only a matter of time before one or both of them betrayed him, or, more likely, tried to take a blade to his throat themselves. All the more reason to push the emperor toward war.
Harel was eating when Dusaan reached the imperial chamber, his mouth full and a cup of honey wine in one hand. He waved the high chancellor into the hall, and once he had swallowed, offered Dusaan some food.
“Thank you, Your Eminence. I’ll eat later.”
“Nonsense, High Chancellor. Sit.” He turned in his chair, and beckoned to the servants standing nearby. “Bring the high chancellor some wine.” Facing Dusaan again and taking a bite of fowl, he pushed a bowl toward the chancellor. “Try the pheasant,” he said, still chewing. “It’s superb.”
“Your Eminence is most kind.”
He began to eat, and had to admit, in response to Harel’s expectant gaze, that the food was indeed excellent.
“You’ve just come from your audience with the other Qirsi?” the emperor asked, after they had eaten for some time.
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“And you gave further consideration to the dispute in the south?”
“Yes. It was agreed that you might wish to ease the concerns of Lord Grensyn by making whatever arrangement you decide upon temporary.”
Harel nodded slowly, as if weighing this. “A fine idea, High Chancellor. I may do just that.”
“It was Stavel’s idea, Your Eminence. He’ll be most pleased to know that you took his counsel to heart.”
“Stavel,” he repeated, frowning. “He’s one of the older ones, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
The emperor smiled, looking for just an instant like a boy who is praised by his tutors for a correct answer. “What else did you discuss?”
Despite the question, Harel already looked bored. If Dusaan didn’t raise the matter now, the emperor would turn their conversation back to food and it would be another day before the high chancellor could speak to him of the invasion.
“It was suggested by some, Your Eminence, that we might wish to begin the invasion sooner than we had planned.” There was some risk in lying about such a thing, but not much. Harel almost never spoke with his other ministers, and in this case he would see no need to. He had been eager for this invasion to begin since Dusaan first suggested the idea to him. He had begrudged every delay, and would probably have been willing to send his fleet into battle without any planning at all had the high chancellor and master of arms allowed it.
Harel had been about to take another bite, but he paused now, the pheasant leg hovering just in front of his face, his small green eyes fixed on Dusaan. “Sooner, you say?”
“Yes, Your Eminence. We’ve assumed for some time now that the longer we had to prepare, the better our chances of success. But some have begun to question whether by waiting we give our enemies time to strengthen their forces in the north.”
The emperor set the food on his plate, straightening in his chair, a strange expression on his face, as if he were trying not to smile.
“Are you one of those arguing so, High Chancellor?”
“Yes, Your Eminence, I am.”
“What of the Aneirans? Since Carden’s death you’ve counseled patience. You’ve said that the new regent will need time to consolidate his authority with the dukes and his army before committing to an alliance with the empire.”
“In recent days I’ve found myself rethinking this as well. Had power in Aneira fallen to another house, such a delay might be necessary. But House Solkara still holds the throne, and while the other duke
s may not be familiar with the regent, they’re unlikely to oppose him on a matter of such gravity, particularly if it means war with the hated Eibitharians. Besides, even if we send word to the fleet commanders today, instructing them to begin their assault on Eibithar, it will take better than half a turn for the invasion to begin. The messengers need time to reach them and the commanders will need time to make their final preparations. You can send word to the regent, informing him of your intention to attack. That still leaves him a bit longer to speak with his dukes.”
“Your reasoning seems quite sound, High Chancellor. To be honest, I’ve thought all along that you were being a bit too cautious with respect to this war. I’m glad to see that you’ve come around to my point of view.”
Dusaan had to grit his teeth. “Yes. Thank you, Your Eminence.”
“Still, I think it wise to speak of this with Uriad before making my decision. Don’t you agree?”
Dusaan winced inwardly, but said only, “By all means, Your Eminence. I have no doubt that the master of arms will have much to say about this.”
Uriad Ganjer, the emperor’s master of arms, was one of the most intelligent and formidable Eandi the Weaver had ever met. Dusaan actually liked the man, though he knew that when the time came to wrest control of the empire from Harel, Uriad would have to be the first man to die. The master of arms was also a talented military strategist who weighed risks carefully and cared a good deal about the men under his command. Dusaan fully expected Uriad to oppose any attempt to hurry the invasion along. He felt equally sure, however, that when faced with conflicting advice from the chancellor and the master of arms, the emperor would side with Dusaan, not because he trusted the Qirsi more but rather because he wanted to invade now.
The emperor called to one of his guards and instructed the man to have Uriad summoned to the chamber at once.
“Do you have evidence that the Eibitharians are building up their forces?” the emperor asked, as he began to eat again.
“Nothing certain, no. But they will have noticed our ships in the Scabbard and the Strait of Wantrae. They’d have to be fools not to see this as a threat to their fleet and their northern shores. In addition, we have some reports of discussions between Eibithar’s new king and dukes from Wethyrn and Caerisse. Kearney may be hoping to gather allies in preparation for a war.”
Harel nodded, chewing vigorously. “No doubt he is. We can’t allow that to happen.”
“Quite so, Your Eminence.”
Uriad arrived a few moments later, his face flushed and damp with sweat. He was a tall man, and lanky. His hair and eyes were black, making it clear to all who saw him that while he now served the empire, he had been born elsewhere. As Dusaan understood his family history, the man’s father had been a merchant from Tounstrel in southern Aneira who took his family from that realm when the wharfages imposed by the Solkaran king became too onerous. Uriad had been but a boy at the time and he spoke without a trace of an Aneiran accent.
He dropped to one knee just inside the doorway, bowing his head to the emperor.
“Rise, Uriad,” the Emperor said, waving him toward the table. “Join us.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence,” the armsman said, standing and walking to where they sat. He nodded to Dusaan. “High Chancellor.”
“Good day, Commander.”
“Forgive my appearance, Your Eminence. I was working the men when you summoned me.”
“Of course. Please sit. I’ve called you here to discuss the invasion. The high chancellor has informed me that he and the other Qirsi believe we should begin the assault on Eibithar sooner than we had planned.”
Again the chancellor winced. Harel might not have any inclination to speak with the other ministers and chancellors about this, but if the master of arms was angry enough, he surely would.
Uriad frowned, turning to Dusaan. “Why would we do such a thing?”
Harel answered before the chancellor could speak. “We fear that by delaying, we give the Eibitharians time to prepare.”
“I’ve heard of no troop movements along the northern coast. Most of Kearney’s army is still guarding the Aneiran border.” He looked from the emperor to Dusaan. “There’s no need for this.”
“Kearney has been speaking with dukes from Wethyrn and Caerisse.”
“Yes, Your Eminence, I imagine he has. But again, I believe he does this because he expects to be at the war with the Aneirans, not with us. Our plans for the invasion are sound, but they require additional preparation. If we act too quickly, this opportunity will be wasted.” He looked at Dusaan again, as if pleading with the chancellor for his support.
Harel toyed with his wine goblet, clearly displeased. “I thought our fleet was ready.”
“It is, Your Eminence, but the Aneiran army is not. The failed siege in Kentigern weakened the army of Mertesse, and though the new duke has begun to fill his ranks once more, his army is not yet at full strength and many of the men are poorly trained.”
“Aneira has other dukes, Commander.”
“Of course it does, Your Eminence. But the men of Mertesse will lead any attack across the Tarbin. And even if they don’t, there are new dukes not only in Mertesse but also in Bistari, Tounstrel, and Noltierre, not to mention the new regent. It’s simply too soon to ask the Aneirans to join us in this war. In six turns perhaps, or better yet ten, they should be ready, but—”
Harel looked horrified. “Ten turns? Now you want me to wait the better part of a year for this war? I’ve already waited too long.”
“We might only have to wait six, Your Eminence. I was merely saying that ten—”
“Even six is too many! I’m tired of waiting. You’ve had ample time to prepare the fleet and the army, Commander. It’s time this invasion began. Send word to your captains that they’re to begin their assault on Eibithar as soon as possible.”
Uriad held himself still, his jaw clenched, and for just an instant Dusaan thought he might argue the point further, or even refuse to carry out the emperor’s order. In the end however, he wisely chose to comply. Harel might have been a fool, but he had little tolerance for dissent and often dealt cruelly with those who showed the least defiance.
Uriad bowed a second time, murmured, “Of course, Your Eminence,” and turned on his heel to leave the chamber, casting a dark look at Dusaan as he did.
After watching the master of arms leave, Dusaan took a last sip of wine and stood. “Perhaps I should leave you as well, Your Eminence.”
“Yes, very well,” Harel said peevishly. “Have word sent to me as soon as the orders are dispatched to my fleet.”
Dusaan bowed. “Yes, Your Eminence.”
As he had expected, the master of arms was waiting for him outside the chamber.
“How could you let him do that?” Uriad demanded, heedless of the soldiers standing nearby. “How could you and the other Qirsi even suggest such a thing?”
“It was my idea, Commander. I honestly feel that further delay might keep us from victory.”
“You can’t possibly be that foolish, High Chancellor. I know you too well.”
Dusaan made himself smile. “Is it foolishness merely because you say so?”
“When it comes to matters of war, yes. I’m more qualified than any man in this palace to make judgments pertaining to our fleet and army.”
“Including the emperor himself?”
Uriad faltered, his eyes darting in the direction of the guards. “The emperor depends upon my counsel at times like these, and I, in turn, expect others to defer to my knowledge of military planning.”
“In this case I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry, Uriad. Truly I am. But I believe I’ve done the right thing.”
“You’ve doomed our invasion to failure is what you’ve done.”
Exactly. “I hope that’s not true, for your sake as well as mine.”
The man stared at him another moment, shaking his head. Then he walked away, leaving Dusaan to hope that he wouldn’t see fi
t to speak of this with any of the other Qirsi.
Stavel ate his midday meal alone in the kitchen as he did each day, reflecting with satisfaction on the morning’s discussion. He knew that the high chancellor didn’t particularly like him, and that the younger ministers thought him too cautious. But he knew as well that voices of reason were needed in a court like this one, that at times it was more important that a chancellor be respected than liked.
This matter in the south was a perfect example. It would have been too easy to advise the emperor to capitulate to the demands made by Lord Muelry. No one wanted to see the people in Muelry starve, Stavel least of all. He had been born in the city of Muelry. Even after his mother and father journeyed to Hanyck so that his father could become a minister in the court there, his mother continued to refer to Muelry as their home. Few in the palace knew this about him. He had told the emperor once, many years ago, but no doubt Harel had forgotten. None of the other Qirsi had ever bothered to ask.
Nevertheless, his loyalties to Muelry were of little importance, and though he didn’t wish to see the people there suffer, he also didn’t believe that customs were to be abandoned lightly. The people of Grensyn had long laid claim to the lands in question, and they deserved consideration as well. That was why he had been so pleased when he thought of the compromise he presented that morning, and why he had been even more delighted when the high chancellor agreed with him. Serving in the emperor’s court was a great honor, but it could be disheartening at times. Harel had so many Qirsi advisors that a man like Stavel, who lacked the ambition of others, could find himself ignored more often than not. All of which made what had happened that morning so gratifying.
There had been a time when Stavel thought he might become high chancellor. He had been here longer than most, and when the former high chancellor died, many expected that the emperor would choose Stavel to replace her. But around that time Dusaan came to the court, and though he was young, even Stavel could see that he was not like other Qirsi. He carried himself with the confidence of a warrior and made no secret of the fact that he wielded four magics, more than most Qirsi. Harel, who had long taken pride in the number of powerful Qirsi he attracted to his court, saw this new minister as a prize, and immediately offered to make him high chancellor. Dusaan, of course, accepted, as any Qirsi would have done. Stavel’s friends in the court were outraged, though naturally they kept their anger to themselves, fearing the emperor’s wrath. For his part, Stavel accepted the emperor’s decision with equanimity. He thought himself a formidable man—intelligent, passionate when passion was warranted, and powerful in his own right, possessing gleaning, fire, and shaping magic. But he couldn’t compete with a man who wielded four magics, and so he didn’t even think to try. Whatever disappointment he felt was tempered by his knowledge of how difficult was the life of a high chancellor. He didn’t envy the man, at least not much.
