Weavers of War wotf-5

by DAVID B. COE

  Or so she had thought. For some still did, and these few would see a dark purpose in her whispered conversation with the archminister. And would they be wrong? Hadn’t she been plotting the traitor’s escape, ignoring the fact that he may well have been responsible for the death of Aneira’s king? She had used her own gold to buy the murder of a Qirsi traitor in Mertesse. Wasn’t she then an enemy of the conspiracy? Did sharing a bed with a traitor and wishing desperately to lie with her again negate all that she had done before?

  These questions plagued her as she made her way across the castle’s upper ward. Evanthya didn’t even notice the two soldiers standing in her path until she had nearly walked into them.

  “Pardon me,” she said, flustered and feeling slightly dazed. “I didn’t see you.”

  “Actually, First Minister, we was waitin’ for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. The duke wants a word right away.”

  The minister looked up at the window of Tebeo’s ducal chamber and saw that he was watching her, his round face lit by the morning sun.

  She nodded, swallowing. “Of course.”

  The two men fell in step on either side of her and in silence the three of them entered the nearest of the castle towers, climbed the stairway, and walked to Tebeo’s chamber. One of the guards knocked, and at the duke’s summons, he pushed open the door and motioned for Evanthya to enter. She nodded at the two men, trying with little success to smile, and stepped into the chamber. Neither man entered with her and an instant later she heard the door close.

  Tebeo was still at the window, his back to her. “Please sit, First Minister.”

  Evanthya took her usual seat near the duke’s writing table. Her heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder Tebeo didn’t notice.

  “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thank you, my lord.”

  “Wine perhaps?”

  She smiled, despite her fright. “I’m fine, my lord.”

  He turned at that. “Are you?”

  Evanthya shivered. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been impressed with your strength this past half turn since the breaking of the siege. You’ve done all that I’ve asked of you; as always your service to House Dantrielle has been exemplary.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I can only imagine how difficult it’s been for you.”

  She felt the blood rush to her face and looked away. There would have been no sense in denying it. “Yes, my lord.”

  “To be honest, I’m a bit surprised that you’re still here.”

  Evanthya could only stare at him.

  “I have some idea of how much you love her, and I know as well that you hate the conspiracy, that you’ve risked a great deal to strike at its leaders.”

  Not long ago, Evanthya had told him of hiring the assassin to kill Shurik jal Marcine, and though he hadn’t approved, neither had he punished her, which would have been well within his prerogative as her sovereign.

  “Had it been me,” he went on, “I would have gone after her already. That you haven’t speaks well of your devotion to me and this house.”

  “You honor me, my lord,” she managed to say.

  “I’m merely being honest. And I’d ask the same of you.”

  “My lord?”

  He came and sat beside her, a kindly look on his face. “What were you doing in the prison tower just now?” he asked, his voice so gentle it made her chest ache.

  She tried to answer, to say anything at all, but instead she began to cry.

  “There are only two men in the tower right now,” he said. “Numar and the archminister. And I doubt that you have much to say to the regent. That leaves Pronjed.”

  When she didn’t answer, he took a long breath.

  “After all we’ve been through these past few turns, I’ll never again question your loyalty. I think you know that.”

  Evanthya nodded, tears coursing down her face.

  “Still, I need to know what you and he discussed. As much as I trust you, I fear the archminister. You’ve told me yourself how dangerous he is. If my castle is in peril-”

  “It’s not, my lord.”

  In the next moment she thought of the last words Pronjed had spoken to her and the danger his escape might pose to Tebeo’s guards, and she regretted offering even this meager assurance.

  “You’re certain of this?”

  She lowered her gaze again. “Not for certain, no.”

  “You must tell me, Evanthya. You know you must.”

  A thousand denials leaped to mind, all of them lies. How different would she be from Fetnalla if she resorted to any of them?

  “He means to escape, my lord.”

  “Escape? How?”

  “He has mind-bending magic, mists and winds, and shaping power. It should be a fairly simple matter.”

  “Then why hasn’t he done so already?”

  “Because several days ago I informed him of my intention to follow him, and he fears a trap.”

  The duke expressed no surprise. His expression didn’t even change, save for a momentary closing of the eyes.

  “In other words, you meant to let him go, though surely his escape would strengthen the conspiracy.”

  “He can lead me to her, my lord.”

  “That hardly justifies it.”

  “We’d merely be exchanging one traitor for another. Pronjed might join them, but Fetnalla won’t.”

  His eyebrows went up. “You believe you can turn her from the renegades?”

  “I have to try. If that doesn’t work, I’ll find some other way to keep her from joining them. In any case, she won’t be fighting alongside her Weaver.”

  Tebeo frowned. “I hate to have to say this, Evanthya, but Fetnalla is dangerous, too. She used magic to kill Brall, and as you’ve often told me, yours are not the powers of a warrior. You’re still thinking of her as your love, but she’s your enemy now. You may not be strong enough to defeat her.”

  “I’m not without advantages of my own, my lord,” Evanthya said. “She may be formidable, but so am I, in my own way.” The minister was surprised at herself. Pride had always been Fetnalla’s failing.

  Tebeo smiled, as might an indulgent parent. “You needn’t try to convince me of your worth, First Minister. I saw you fight for this castle. I stood and did battle with my back to yours, and never did I fear that a killing blow would come from behind.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I fear losing you, not only because I value your counsel, but also because I count you as a friend.”

  “Then think for a moment as my friend, rather than as my duke. Do you honestly believe that I can simply remain here while Fetnalla fights beside the Weaver? After what she’s done, how can I not go after her?”

  He shook his head. “This wasn’t your fault, Evanthya. You couldn’t have known-”

  “But I should have! There’s no one in the world who knows her as I do. She was acting so strangely the last time we were together.” She brushed a tear from her cheek. “It should have been obvious.”

  “You ask too much of yourself.”

  “The person I love most in this world has revealed herself as a traitor and murderer. How can I not blame myself?”

  The duke winced, seeming to cast about for something to say.

  “You want to tell me that you can’t answer, that the duchess would never do anything of the sort. And of course you’re right. But until just a short time ago, I had no reason to think otherwise about Fetnalla.”

  The duke stood and walked back to his open window. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like,” he said, gazing out at the castle ward. He said nothing for a long time, until Evanthya began to wonder if he was waiting for her to say more. At last, however, he faced her again. “If it were simply a matter of giving you leave to go, I’d do so in an instant, despite my fears for your safety. But you’re asking me to allow Pronjed to escape, and that I can
’t do. We suspect him of the foulest crimes against the realm, and I fear he remains a threat to all of us.”

  “I can’t find her alone, my lord.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s going to escape whether I follow him or not! It’s simply a matter of how much damage he does to your castle and how many men he manages to maim and kill in the process!”

  “Don’t you believe I can stop him?”

  “Not if he’s determined to win his freedom, no.”

  Tebeo let out a short harsh laugh. “Evanthya, I command an entire army. He may be powerful, but he’s only one man.”

  “Then why is it so important that you keep him here?”

  The duke hesitated, then smiled wryly and shook his head. “You’re playing games with me, now.”

  “I assure you, my lord, this is no game. He can lead me to Fetnalla, and she, in turn, can lead me to the conspiracy. There’s far more to be gained by letting him go. If I can find Fetnalla, if I can turn her from this dark path she’s on, perhaps she and I together can strike a blow against the renegades. Wouldn’t that be worth something?”

  “It would, were it possible. But I don’t believe it is. I’m sorry, Evanthya, but I believe that Fetnalla has gone too far to turn back. And as you’ve told me yourself, the archminister is a threat to us all. I can’t let him escape, and I’ll look upon any attempt on your part to help him do so … as a most serious offense.”

  He had been going to say, “as an act of treason.” She was certain of it. It was a measure of how much he cared for her that he didn’t.

  The duke crossed to his door, pulled it open, and beckoned to one of the guards. “Have the master of arms sent to me immediately,” he said.

  “What are you going to do, my lord?” Evanthya asked, as Tebeo closed the door again.

  “I’m going to double the guard in the corridor outside his chamber, and place extra guards in every corridor that offers access to the prison tower.”

  The minister shook her head. “All you’re doing is placing more men in danger, my lord. A shaper can shatter bone with a thought. A Qirsi with delusion magic can make a man do nearly anything-it’s quite possible that Pronjed made the king kill himself.”

  “So what can I do?”

  “That’s my point. I’m not certain you can do anything without putting more lives at risk. This is one instance in which your army can’t help you. If he was in a courtyard surrounded by one hundred archers, you might be able to stop him, though his power of mists and winds would make it difficult. But he’s in a prison tower, where the corridors are narrow, and only a few men can stand against him at any given time.”

  “Surely four men outside his door will make his escape more difficult than would two.”

  “A bit. But in the end you’d merely have to build four pyres rather than two.”

  Tebeo rubbed a hand over his face, looking forlorn. “How does one fight such an enemy?”

  No doubt this was a question Eandi lords were asking themselves throughout the Forelands.

  “You fight them just as you would any cunning, powerful foe: by forging alliances, by using tactics that you’ve never thought to employ before, and by choosing your battles carefully.”

  He eyed her for several moments. “What do you suggest?”

  “You know what I want you to do, my lord. Let him go. Remove one of the guards from the corridor outside his chamber.”

  “What?”

  “If only one man is there, Pronjed can use his mind-bending magic on the man. He can free himself from the chamber without harming anyone. Indeed, if we plan this well, he can escape without hurting a single man.”

  “Did you speak to him of this as well?”

  Evanthya felt her face coloring once again. “Yes, my lord. Forgive me. I was-”

  “No. It’s all right. We’re living in extraordinary times. My loyal minister is conspiring with a Qirsi renegade to effect his escape in a way that saves Eandi lives. I suppose it’s funny, in a way.”

  “It’s a bitter jest, my lord. You should know that I hate this man. I do this for Fetnalla, and because I believe that I can help those who are fighting the conspiracy.”

  A lengthy pause, and then, “You’d be the only one of us.”

  Evanthya frowned. “My lord?”

  “Men from Mertesse and Solkara marched north to fight the Eibitharians, but I doubt that they’ll join forces with the enemy to fight this Weaver and his renegades. And even if we had a king to lead us, I’m not certain that we could provision an army and send it north in time to take part in a war against the conspiracy. Be it through our own foolishness or the machinations of the traitors, Aneira has been effectively removed from this battle. You’d be the only one of us who could strike a blow.”

  She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Does that mean you’ll let me go, my lord?”

  He exhaled heavily, his whole frame seeming to sag with his surrender. “I must be mad,” he muttered.

  “My lord?”

  “I won’t try to stop you.”

  Her heart was pounding once more, with excitement, with fear, with the anticipation of war. “And the archminister?”

  “You say that if there’s only one guard up there, he won’t harm the man?”

  “He’d have no reason to.”

  “Save for his hatred of the Eandi.”

  She shrugged, then nodded, conceding the point.

  Before she could answer, there came a knock at the door. Tebeo stared at her a moment, before calling for whoever had come to enter. The door opened and Gabrys DinTavo, Tebeo’s master of arms, entered the chamber.

  Seeing Evanthya, the man hesitated and gave a small nod. Then he faced the duke and bowed.

  “You sent for me, my lord?”

  “Yes, armsmaster.” The duke returned to his writing table and sat, his face pale. “How many men do we currently have standing guard in the prison tower?”

  Gabrys cast a quick glance at Evanthya. “There are four, my lord, two each outside the chambers of the regent and archminister. Plus we have men in the ward outside the tower, and along the corridors that lead to it. That would be sixteen men in all, my lord.”

  “That strikes me as being quite a few.”

  “Yes, my lord. It would be for ordinary prisoners. But these men are far from ordinary. We’ve felt all along that one or both of them may try to escape.”

  “But wouldn’t we be well served to have some of these men working on the ramparts and battlements? The repairs are going slowly.”

  The master of arms looked at Evanthya once more, suspicion in his dark eyes.

  “Perhaps he should know, my lord,” she said, thinking again of the soldiers outside Pronjed’s chamber.

  Tebeo nodded. “Very well.”

  “Know what, my lord?”

  “We intend to allow the archminister to escape. I want only one guard positioned by his door, and I want the south corridor on the ground level cleared of men entirely.”

  To Gabrys’s credit, he offered no reaction, other than to say, “May I ask why, my lord?”

  “This was my idea, armsmaster,” Evanthya said. “I’m going to follow him when he leaves the castle. I believe Pronjed can lead me to … to the leaders of the Qirsi conspiracy.”

  Before becoming master of arms, Gabrys had seemed wary of her, as so many Eandi warriors are distrustful of all Qirsi. But after Tebeo named him as successor to Bausef DarLesta, who was killed during the recent siege, the new master of arms put aside his suspicions, appearing to recognize that Evanthya had the duke’s trust. And Gabrys, of all people, understood how desperately she fought to save Castle Dantrielle. She sensed that he no longer doubted her loyalty.

  Still, she was not yet ready to reveal to him that she sought her beloved. And he was not ready to trust her on this matter.

  “With all respect, First Minister, this is madness. What’s to stop him from killing you once he’s free? For that matter, wh
at’s to stop him from helping the regent escape and allowing the Solkarans to menace us once more?”

  She shook her head. “He has no interest in helping the regent, armsmaster. All he wants to do is go north to join his fellow renegades. As for killing me…” She looked away. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

  “My lord-”

  “I know what you’re going to say, Gabrys. I’ve already argued as you would. But Evanthya has convinced me that we risk more by trying to keep the archminister here. He means to escape, and given the powers he wields, we’ll have a difficult time stopping him.”

  “We can put him in the dungeon.”

  To her horror, Tebeo appeared to consider this.

  “Please don’t,” Evanthya said, crying again, cursing herself for her weakness. “You have to understand, armsmaster. I need this man. No one else can help me find her.” She regretted the words as soon as they crossed her lips.

  “Her?” the master of arms repeated, his eyes narrowing.

  “It’s all right, Gabrys,” the duke said quietly. “She refers to Lord Orvinti’s first minister. She believes the archminister can lead us to her as well.”

  The man frowned. “Again, my lord, I must advise you not to do this.”

  “I know. I share your concern, Gabrys, but against my better judgment I’m going to do as Evanthya requests.”

  Gabrys was a soldier, and Evanthya had to give him credit for his discipline. Clearly he wished to argue the matter further, but he nodded once, not even glancing in the first minister’s direction, and said, “Is there anything else, my lord?”

  “No, armsmaster, thank you. See to the removal of the guards.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He let himself out of the chamber, closing the door quietly, and leaving Evanthya alone with her duke. Perhaps for the last time.

  “You’re certain about this?” Tebeo asked.

  Abruptly she was trembling. “I am, my lord.”

  Tebeo stood and walked to where she was sitting. Taking her hands in his, he made her stand as well, and then he gathered her in his arms.

  “You have served me as faithfully as any minister has ever served a noble,” he whispered. “And you’ve defended this house as bravely as any soldier who’s ever worn its colors. Whenever you return, you’ll still be first minister of Dantrielle, and so long as I live, no other person will ever bear that title.”