Shapers of Darkness: Book Four of Winds of the Forelands (Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy)

by David B. Coe

  But he surprised her.

  “Is that what’s stopping you?”

  She nodded, afraid to speak.

  “He’ll never hate you, Archminister. Even now, thinking you a traitor, he still loves you more than he can bear.” He reached out and took her hand, the first time he had ever done anything of the sort. His hand was callused and rough, but oddly comforting. “Come with me to his chamber and we’ll explain all of this to him. You shouldn’t leave; neither of you wants that.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “I know. But this is the only way. You know this as well as I do, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

  Keziah managed a weak smile.

  Gershon led her to the door, releasing her hand to pull it open and usher her into the corridor. She had thought herself frightened already, but by the time they reached the door to Kearney’s presence chamber she could barely stand for the shaking of her legs. Gershon knocked and gave her a quick smile.

  “It’ll be all right.”

  “Enter!” came the call from within.

  The swordmaster pushed the door open and led Keziah into the chamber. Marston was still with the king, and he stared at the two of them, his expression dark.

  “What is this, swordmaster?” Kearney demanded. “I instructed you to see to this matter for me.”

  “We need to speak with you, Your Majesty. In private.” This last he added with a glance at the thane. It occurred to Keziah that Gershon didn’t like Marston, that perhaps he resented the young noble’s sudden influence with the king.

  Marston started to object, but the king nodded to him. “It’s all right, Lord Shanstead. We’ll speak later.”

  Frowning, the thane left them, closing the door a bit too loudly as he did.

  Kearney eyed the swordmaster briefly, but refused even to look at Keziah. “Now, what is this about?”

  “The archminister has something to tell you, Your Majesty. I’d ask you to listen to what she has to say.”

  “Gershon—”

  “Please, Your Majesty. If, when she’s done, you still wish her to leave Audun’s Castle, I give you my word that she’ll be gone within the day. But give her a chance to speak.”

  Keziah saw the muscles in the king’s jaw clench, but after a moment’s hesitation he turned his gaze on her. And she very nearly lost her nerve. Better just to leave than to suffer through this.

  “Well?” He sounded so impatient, so eager to have her gone.

  The words wouldn’t come. She looked at the swordmaster, feeling panic grip her heart. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

  “Start with Paegar. That’s how all this began.”

  Kearney stared at her with narrowed eyes. “What about Paegar?”

  Paegar jal Berget had been high minister to the king, and Keziah’s one friend in Audun’s Castle in the first turns she spent in the royal city. He had also been a traitor, a member of the Qirsi conspiracy. Gershon was right. It all started with him.

  She began slowly, reminding the king of how he had asked her to see to the high minister’s personal belongings after Paegar’s death several turns before, and revealing that she had found over two hundred qinde in gold coins hidden in his wardrobe. She told of her belief that the minister had been a traitor, and of her decision to learn what she could of the Qirsi conspiracy. When she explained how she had done all she could to anger the king, to convince both Kearney and any traitor still living in the castle that she was ready to be turned to the renegades’ cause, she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes. Still she went on, telling of her first encounter with the Weaver, describing how he had hurt her, making it clear that if she refused him, he’d kill her. And finally, she told him how she had managed to convince the Weaver that she was indeed committed to his cause.

  As she spoke of this, Kearney stood and walked to the window, so that she could no longer see his face. Even after she finished,’ he didn’t turn, and for a long time no one in the chamber said a word.

  “I knew of all this from the beginning, Your Majesty,” Gershon said, after some time. “I supported the archminister’s decision to seek out the conspiracy, and I agreed that she shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Did you do all this to avenge Paegar?” Kearney asked, ignoring the swordmaster, his voice so low that at first Keziah wasn’t certain she had heard him properly.

  “I did it to strike at the conspiracy.” I did it for you. “I was grieving for Paegar, but I didn’t know at the time that the Weaver had killed him.” She paused, knowing what lurked behind his question, but unsure as to whether she should say more. In the end, she decided that she had little left to lose. “I never loved Paegar, Your Majesty. In my entire life, I’ve only loved one man.”

  He turned to her. “What is it this Weaver expects of you?” The way he asked the question one might have thought he hadn’t heard what she’d said. Keziah felt something within her wither and die.

  “He wants me to convince you to take a harder stance with the duke of Kentigern and those who stand with him. And he’s ordered me to kill Cresenne, which is why I can’t leave Audun’s Castle with her.”

  “She shouldn’t leave Audun’s Castle at all, Your Majesty. That should be obvious now.”

  The king glared at Gershon. Keziah would have fallen silent immediately had he looked at her so, but the swordmaster was not so easily cowed.

  “The archminister has given us an opportunity to learn a great deal about the conspiracy and this Weaver who leads it. We need to give her every chance to finish what she’s begun. And we have to do everything in our power to keep her safe. That means keeping her here with you, where we can protect her, and where it will seem to the Weaver that she continues to serve his cause.”

  “What role did your brother play in this?” Kearney asked her.

  “None, Your Majesty. He was as surprised to learn of it as you must be. And he was angry with me for even making the attempt.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.”

  She lowered her gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “I can’t decide if I should be railing at you for being so damned foolish or thanking you for risking so much for the realm.”

  Gershon grinned. “I’ve done both by turns, Your Majesty.”

  Kearney eyed the swordmaster briefly, but didn’t answer.

  “Obviously I won’t be sending you from the castle,” the king went on a moment later. “I have no desire to endanger your life, and as the swordmaster points out, you may be able to tell us a good deal about the conspiracy.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

  “What would you have me do about the woman?”

  “She should remain here, Your Majesty.”

  “I thought you said that the Weaver wants you to kill her. Won’t she be safer elsewhere?”

  “No. As soon as the Weaver learns that I can no longer reach her, he’ll kill her himself. So long as he believes I intend to do this, he’ll leave her alone. He sees this as a test of my commitment to his cause, a test he wants me to pass.”

  Kearney didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. “All right. She’ll remain here.” He started to say something more, then stopped himself. After a moment he said, “You can go, Archminister. We’ll speak of this again.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” She bowed to him, glanced at Gershon, who was watching the king. Abruptly feeling self-conscious, she walked to the door. Before she opened it, however, she faced the king again. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

  His expression didn’t change, but he nodded a second time. “Apology accepted.”

  She let herself out of the chamber, and walked away from the guards standing in the corridor, all the while keeping a tight hold on her emotions. Only when she was safely back in her own quarters, with the door shut and locked, did she allow herself to cry. And once she began, she felt as if she never would stop.

  Chapter

  Three

  he king waited until the archm
inister had gone and the sound of her footsteps in the corridor had faded to nothing before turning his wrath on Gershon.

  “How could you allow her to do this?” he demanded, the look in his green eyes as hard as emeralds. “It’s reckless and dangerous and unbelievably foolish!”

  Gershon’s father had told him long ago that when a noble was as angry as Kearney was now, it was best just to let him say his piece and be done with it. So the swordmaster merely stood in the center of the presence chamber, his head up, his eyes fixed on the wall before him, his hands at his side.

  “I agree, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice even.

  Never mind that the same could have been said of the affair Kearney had carried on with the woman for all those years in the highlands. Never mind that Gershon hadn’t been given a choice in this matter.

  “Have you seen what this Weaver can do?” the king asked, stalking about the chamber. “Have you any idea of the power he wields? Because I have. I saw the face of the woman in our prison tower the morning after his assault on her. So I know what he’s capable of doing. And now Kez—” His face colored, but he only faltered for an instant. “The archminister is trying to deceive this man, as if he were nothing more than a . . .” He shook his head, leaving Gershon to wonder what he had intended to say. An Eandi noble? Perhaps.

  “This is madness! I should have been informed immediately—you should have come to me as soon as you suspected that Paegar had been involved with the conspiracy!”

  “You’re quite right, Your Majesty. It was my fault.”

  The king halted for a moment and glowered at him. Then he resumed his pacing.

  “We have a war to worry about. There are two armies poised to strike at us, each of which would be a formidable foe on its own. And now we have to concern ourselves with this as well. How in Ean’s name am I supposed to keep her safe while I’m fighting the empire and the Aneirans? It’s enough that we need to watch for an attack from some phantom Qirsi army, but now the Weaver himself can reach us.” He shook his head a second time. “How long did she plan to go on with this, anyway? Was either one of you ever going to tell me?”

  “I’m certain the archminister intended to eventually, Your Majesty.”

  Kearney spun toward him. “Stop that!”

  “Stop what, Your Majesty?”

  “Stop what you’re doing! Calling me ‘Your Majesty’ like that, and trying to appease me with everything you say.”

  “What would you have me do, instead?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Do you want me to tell you what I really think of all this?”

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  “Fine,” Gershon said. “I think you’re being a fool.”

  The king recoiled, his eyes widening as if the swordmaster had slapped him.

  “The archminister has risked her life for you, attempting something far more perilous than anything the King’s Guard has ever done, and all you can do is complain that we didn’t tell you sooner.”

  “I have a right to know.”

  “And if you had known, would you have allowed her to go through with it? She felt certain that you wouldn’t, and I agreed with her.”

  “I would have good reason to forbid it! It’s too dangerous! She shouldn’t be doing this at all!”

  “Would you feel that way if Wenda had decided to try this? Or Dyre? Or are you only saying this because it’s Keziah, and you love her still?”

  “You forget yourself, swordmaster!”

  “Perhaps so, Your Majesty, but someone has to say these things. With all the risk she’s taking, I owe her this much. She didn’t believe that you could keep this secret to yourself. She feared that you’d treat her differently, that you’d try to protect her, and by doing so would in fact endanger her more. And seeing you carry on this way, I realize that she was right.”

  “She needs protecting.”

  Gershon shook his head, smiling fiercely. “No, Your Majesty, she doesn’t. She’s stronger and braver than either of us ever thought. And she’s clever as well. She can do this. She can fool the Weaver into believing that she’s betrayed you, and she can learn what he plans to do and when he intends to do it. Think of that. We’ve been dueling with wraiths for years now—not just you and me, not just your dukes, but all the nobles of the Forelands. This conspiracy has been weaving mists all around us, revealing itself just long enough to strike and then vanishing once more. And we’ve paid a heavy price for our inability to see.”

  “Your point?”

  “Keziah has given us a chance to clear away the mist, at a greater cost to herself than you can imagine. We have to let her see this through to the end, and we have to make certain that we do nothing to give her away. We don’t know who else in this castle has betrayed you, or which of the ministers traveling with their lords have cast their lot with the Weaver. But we have to assume that he has eyes everywhere. Any attempt you make to protect her will only serve to raise the Weaver’s suspicions.”

  Kearney stepped to his throne and sat heavily, looking weary, as if his outburst had left him spent. “You’re right of course. But I still believe that she shouldn’t have been allowed to do this in the first place.”

  “Knowing her as you do, can you really think that I had any hope of stopping her?”

  The king actually smiled. “No, I suppose not.” He eyed the swordmaster, the smile lingering. “You see it now, don’t you—why I fell in love with her?”

  “She is an extraordinary woman, Your Majesty.” It was the closest he could bring himself to condoning their love.

  “I suppose even that is quite an admission for you, isn’t it, Gershon?” When the swordmaster didn’t respond, he went on. “You said a few moments ago that she had done all this at a terrible cost to herself. What did you mean?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She loves you, just as you love her. Yet she’s spent the last several turns doing everything she could to make you doubt her loyalty, angering you to the point that you were ready to banish her from your castle. Your disapproval has hurt her more than anything the Weaver might have done to her.”

  Kearney winced, as if remembering all that he had said to her since Paegar’s death. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

  “She understands that.”

  “I suffered as well. I had no idea what had made her turn against me so suddenly. I imagined . . . all sorts of things.”

  “I’m sure Lord Shanstead was quite helpful in that regard.”

  “You don’t trust him.”

  Gershon furrowed his brow, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t think he’s trying to deceive you or weaken the realm. But he’s young, and he’s too quick to assume that all white-hairs are traitors. He can’t learn of what the archminister is doing. He’ll assume the worst, and worse, he’ll voice his suspicions to anyone who’ll listen. You can’t tell him, Your Majesty.”

  “I won’t,” Kearney said. He smiled faintly. “You realize, of course, that you were much the same way not too long ago.”

  “I know. To be honest, I’m still wary of most Qirsi. I suppose I will be for the rest of my days. But even knowing that the conspiracy is real, that it can reach every court in the Forelands, I’ve also come to realize that there are Qirsi in this land who would rather die than betray their realms.”

  “Marston is a good man, Gershon. I agree with much of what you’ve said, but I also believe that he’ll be a valuable ally in our wars with the empire and the conspiracy.”

  “I’m sure he will, Your Majesty.”

  Kearney grinned. “You’re doing it again.”

  The swordmaster had to laugh. “Yes, I am. Just be wary of him,” he said, growing serious once more. “Don’t confuse his passion for wisdom and don’t allow his suspicions to color your perceptions of those around you.”

  “Is that what you think I did with Keziah?”

  “I can’t be certain. But I do wonder if you cou
ld have given the order to have her removed from the castle without Marston pushing you in that direction.”

  The king appeared to consider this, until eventually Gershon began to wonder if he ought to leave.

  “Perhaps I should return to the ward, Your Majesty. The men have been training since midmorning bells, and I’ve yet to join them.”

  “Yes, all right,” Kearney said absently. “You’ve been watching her all this time?” he asked, before Gershon could even start toward the door. “You’ve been keeping her safe?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. To the extent that I can. I can’t protect her from the Weaver, of course. I don’t believe anyone can. But I check on her whenever I can.”

  “I’m grateful to you. And I apologize for what I said before. This isn’t your fault. Truth be told, no one’s to blame.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you continued to watch her for me. As you said before, there’s little I can do for her without drawing the attention of the Weaver’s servants.”

  “You have my word, Your Majesty. I’ll do whatever I can for her until it’s time for me to ride to the Tarbin.”

  The king frowned, as if he had forgotten that they would be riding to battle before long. “Yes, of course. Thank you, swordmaster.”

  Gershon bowed and left the chamber, making his way through the corridors to the nearest stairway. Even had the king not asked it of him, he would have continued to watch over the archminister. He felt bound to her in this matter. It might not have been his fault, but to the extent that anyone allowed her to do anything, he had allowed her to do this. He might even have encouraged it.

  Still, he was relieved to be sharing the burden of this secret with Kearney. His one regret was that he wouldn’t get to see Marston’s face when the thane learned that Keziah would be remaining with the king after all.

  The archminister finally roused herself from her bed late in the day, as the ringing of the prior’s bells echoed through the castle. Unwilling to remain in her chamber any longer, and not yet ready to face Gershon, or Kearney, or the other ministers, she made her way to the prison tower.