Seeds of Betrayal: Book 2 of the Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy
Page 66
“It was five.”
He conceded the point with a small shrug. “All right, five. But that’s still less than half a year. Now we know what he looks like. We know his name, or at least the name he uses. He’ll be easier to find a second time.”
“He knows we’re looking for him now. Even if we find him, I won’t be able to surprise him again.”
“Maybe not. But then we’ll find some other way. No matter what it takes, we will prove your innocence to all the nobles of Eibithar. I don’t know what will happen with the Order of Ascension—the fate of the Glyndwr line lies beyond my control. But we will restore your name, that I promise you. You were born a noble of the House of Curgh, and you’ll be a lord of that court again.”
Tavis took a long breath and nodded, though he still looked grim. At last he spoke. “If all that you say is true, you risked a good deal more than your life freeing me from Kentigern’s dungeon. You risked the future of the Forelands.”
Grinsa was silent for a moment. “I suppose I did. I thought the risk was justified.”
“I’m grateful. But my point is that if you’re the only one who can stop this Weaver, then we have to do everything possible to keep you alive.”
“Don’t worry about me, Tavis. As I’ve already made clear, I wield many magics. I can take care of myself.”
The young lord looked away. “But it might be helpful if you had someone with you, watching your back. Someone who was good with a sword.”
Grinsa suppressed a smile. A joke came to mind, something about the lord becoming a liege man, but he kept it to himself. He had worked too hard trying to repair their friendship, and he sensed that this was important to the boy, that Tavis needed to feel that he had a role to play in the coming war, just as did his father and the king and Grinsa himself.
“Yes,” the gleaner said instead, keeping his expression solemn. “I think you’re right. I’d feel safer knowing such a person was nearby.”
Tavis nodded. “All right then.”
The gleaner watched him for a moment. “Does that mean you’re going to start talking to me again?”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”
Grinsa frowned. “On second thought, I think I enjoyed your silence.” He lay down again. “Sleep now. We’ve a long way to go and I’d like to cover at least three leagues tomorrow, notwithstanding the snow.”
“Where are we going, anyway?”
Grinsa glanced at him, a smile on his lips. “Don’t you know?”
The boy shook his head. “I’ve been occupied with other things. I know we’re headed east, toward the steppe. I assumed you just wanted to get as far from Mertesse as possible.”
“I did. But I have it in mind to cross into Caerisse and then turn north.”
“North?”
“Yes. I thought it might do you some good to go home, to Eibithar.”
“It would,” Tavis said, smiling for the first time in days. Almost immediately, however, his expression sobered again. “But Aindreas still wants me dead. Except for Glyndwr, I’m not safe anywhere in the realm.”
Grinsa summoned a small wind that extinguished the candle. “You haven’t been safe in Aneira either,” he said, closing his eyes. “And at least to the north you won’t have to rely on that awful accent.” He couldn’t be expected to keep all of his jokes to himself.
Chapter Thirty-six
Dantrielle, Aneira, Eilidh’s Moon waning
“Numar writes of overtures from the emperor of Braedon,” Tebeo said, pacing the chamber as he always did when unsettled. “It seems he intends to strengthen our ties to the empire.”
Evanthya looked up from the parchment she was reading, which bore the Solkaran seal. “Does this surprise you, my lord?”
“I suppose not. Carden had already begun the process.”
“But it troubles you.”
The duke gave her a quick look, a sour expression on his round face. “You don’t think it should?”
“I only wish to understand why it does, my lord.” Evanthya felt certain that she had finally put to rest Tebeo’s suspicions about her loyalty, but their conversations remained difficult. It almost seemed that because her eyes were yellow, he blamed her for the Qirsi conspiracy, even as he convinced himself that she was not party to it. “As you say, the late king started us down this path some time ago.”
“But it’s more dangerous now than it was when Carden was alive. The emperor wants Aneira as an ally in the event of a naval war with Eibithar. The Eibitharians must know this, in which case we invite an attack by tying ourselves to the empire. With all that’s happened in the past few turns, we can hardly afford a war on the Tarbin.”
“With all that’s happened we’re more vulnerable than ever,” Evanthya said. “Isn’t it just as likely that an alliance with Braedon will keep the Eibitharians from attacking?”
“I’d considered that, First Minister,” he said sharply. “I’m not simple.”
“Of course, my lord,” Evanthya said, looking away.
He stopped pacing and ran a hand over his beard. “Forgive me, Evanthya. You didn’t deserve that. An alliance with Braedon may well give the Eibitharians pause. I’m sure that’s what Numar thinks.” He returned to the chair behind his writing table and sat, rubbing his eyes with a meaty hand. “I’ve never taken the threat from Eibithar lightly, and I never would. But I think you’ll agree with me when I say that Aneira faces far greater dangers than King Kearney and his army. This is no time to go looking for a war. Rather, we should be trying to reach beyond old hostilities. If we’re arrayed against one another, we have no hope of defeating the conspiracy.”
Evanthya nodded, remembering that the gleaner’s friend, the Eandi boy she believed to be Tavis of Curgh, had said much the same thing in Solkara. “Is it possible that the emperor is reaching out to Numar for just that reason?”
Tebeo gave a sad smile. “Have you ever met the emperor, First Minister?”
“No, my lord.”
“I did once, at Carden’s investiture. I barely spoke to him, of course. We sat near each other at the banquet that night, but Carden was so busy flattering the man that he left the rest of us little opportunity to say anything at all. Still, that one night was enough for me to see that he is a singularly unimpressive man. He thinks of war and of wealth, and of little else. I doubt very much that he’s ready to lead an alliance against the conspiracy. More likely, he’ll continue to follow his petty ambitions, even if they lead all the Forelands to ruin.”
“Do you intend to speak with the regent then, my lord?”
“Perhaps, when the planting begins. Numar is still new to his power. I don’t want him mistaking such a conversation for a challenge to his authority. He may not be as ruthless as Carden and Grigor, but he’s still Tomaz’s son.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“You think I’m foolish to wait?”
“I wouldn’t presume to judge, my lord. I share your concerns about the conspiracy and about any possible conflict with Eibithar. But as long as the regent and the emperor aren’t making plans for war, I’m not certain that I see the harm in building on our friendship with Braedon.”
“As long as they’re not planning a war, neither do I. I’m just not certain I trust either of them to maintain the peace.”
There was a knock at the door, and a moment later the duchess stepped into the room. Seeing Evanthya, she faltered, looking uncertain.
“Forgive me. I thought the duke was alone.”
Evanthya stood and returned the parchment to Tebeo’s table. “I was just leaving, my lady.” She faced the duke and bowed. “My lord.”
“Thank you, First Minister. We’ll speak of this again.”
“Of course, my lord.”
She let herself out of Tebeo’s chamber and descended the stairs of the nearest tower to the castle’s upper ward. It had snowed the night before, though only briefly, and a fine white powder coated the grass, like flour on a warm loaf of b
read. The sun burned brightly overhead, and already the snow on the battlements and towers of the castle was melting, darkening the stone walls beneath.
Evanthya crossed the ward quickly, pulling her robes tightly around her shoulders. Before she reached the tower leading up to her quarters, however, she heard a guard calling to her from the lower barbican. She stopped and turned, waiting as the man strode toward her.
“A peddler just came to the gate, First Minister,” the man said as he drew near. “He told me to give you this.”
He handed her a small scrap of parchment.
Evanthya unfolded it and read the brief message scrawled in black ink. The words held no meaning for her.
“You say a peddler brought this?”
“Yes, First Minister.”
She stared at the parchment, her brow furrowing.
“Did he say who it was from?”
“No. He said only that he had come from the north, and that it had been given to him just outside of Mertesse.”
Her eyes snapped up, meeting his. “Mertesse?” she whispered.
“Yes, First Minister.”
Of course. Abruptly the missive made sense, cryptic though it was. Evanthya’s mouth had gone dry and her heart raced as might that of a soldier marching toward his first battle. She knew the guard was watching her, that he could see how her hand trembled. But she felt powerless to walk away, or even to dismiss him.
“Are you well, First Minister?”
“Yes, thank you.” She made herself look up and smile.
The man nodded and, after a moment’s hesitation, left her.
She should have hurried from the ward. Better to ponder the meaning of this note in the privacy of her quarters. Fetnalla would want to know as well. She would have to send word to Orvinti. But still she just stood, unable to look away from the message.
Three words. “It is done.”
They could have meant anything, which of course was the point. Only she would know that “It is done” actually meant “Your gold has bought the blood of another Qirsi.” Only she would understand that the traitor had died, simply because she wanted him dead. Only she would see this message for what it was: a proclamation of war. Just as the loosing of a single arrow high over a battle plain signaled the commencement of combat, so the death of this one man declared her intent to oppose the conspiracy, no matter the cost.
Terror and exhilaration warred within her, one gaining supremacy over the other, only to retreat in turn. Even with Fetnalla at her side, she knew that she could not stand against a movement that seemed to grow more vast by the day. Yet this first skirmish was theirs, and the taste of their success served only to make her hunger for more.
That she had taken the life of a Qirsi gave her pause. Her people would suffer greatly before this war was over. With each new betrayal, it became more likely that they would never again be trusted by the nobles of the Forelands. More to the point, it had been nine centuries since Carthach’s betrayal, and still the Qirsi battled among themselves over what the traitor had done. This war she had taken it upon herself to wage would only deepen an age-old rift. She tried to tell herself that this couldn’t be helped, that by striking at the Eandi courts, the conspiracy had made itself the enemy of all those who were loyal to the realms, no matter the color of their eyes. But she was a gleaner, and though she had glimpsed only vague images of what the future might hold for the Qirsi, she quailed at what she saw.
“It is done.”
Only Evanthya could have understood so much from the assassin’s simple words. Still, as she stood there in the brilliant sunlight, holding this token of her triumph, even she couldn’t explain why her eyes stung with tears for the man she had killed.
About the Author
DAVID B. COE grew up just outside New York City, the youngest of four children. He attended Brown University as an undergraduate and later received a Ph.D. in history from Stanford. He briefly considered a career as an academic, but wisely thought better of it. Seeds of Betrayal is the second volume of Winds of the Forelands. He is currently working on volume three, Bonds of Vengeance.
He has published four other novels and was the 1999 recipient of the William L. Crawford Memorial Fantasy Award. He lives in Tennessee with his wife, Nancy J. Berner, their daughters, Alex and Erin, and, of course, Buddy, the wonder dog.
Books by David B. Coe
The Lon Tobyn Chronicle
Children of Amarid
The Outlanders
Eagle-Sage
The Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy
Rules of Ascension
Seeds of Betrayal
Available from Tor Books
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
SEEDS OF BETRAYAL: BOOK 2 OF WINDS OF THE FORELANDS TETRALOGY
Copyright © 2003 by David B. Coe
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Edited by James Frenkel
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Coe, David B.
Seeds of betrayal / David B. Coe.—1st ed.
p. cm.—(Winds of the Forelands tetralogy; bk. 2)
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN: 978-0-312-87808-5
I. Title.
PS3553.O343S44 2003
813'.54—dc21
2003041018
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
About the Author
Books by David B. Coe
Copyright
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
C
hapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
About the Author
Books by David B. Coe
Copyright