David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

I thought we had decided to oppose the conspiracy. That was why we risked our lives and gave our gold to hire the assassin who killed Shurik. What happened?

“What happened?” A breathless laugh. “What do you think happened? At the same time that we were hiring that assassin, Brall was already treating me like a traitor. While the Eandi should have been fighting the renegades, they were instead trying to murder one another. Grigor’s poison nearly killed me. Don’t you remember that? Your precious courts are no place for a Qirsi. The nobles fear us, they mistrust us, they’re more than willing to kill a few of us if it means attaining the power they covet so, but they don’t care a damn about what happens to us.”

That’s not true. You can’t judge all of them because of men like Grigor and Brall .

“Can’t I?”

“. . You will tell him that, won’t you, First Minister?”

Evanthya blinked, searching the man’s face. “Yes, of course. We need laborers and stonemasons from the other houses.”

“Yes. And it’s also imperative that we see to the walkways first. He’ll want to repair the battlements-nobles always think the battlements are the most important part of the walls. They’re not. As long as my archers have somewhere to stand, they can protect the castle. The battlements are secondary.”

She stopped walking, hoping that she might extricate herself from the conversation. “I’ll be sure to say as much to the duke, armsmaster. You have my word.”

He nodded again, looking doubtful. “I’d be most grateful.” He indicated the rest of the wall with an open hand. “Do you wish to see more?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. You seem to have matters well in hand.”

Gabrys inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. “Thank you, First Minister.”

“Of course. I’m certain that we’ll have occasion to speak again soon. The duke will want me to keep him informed of your progress.”

“Until next time, then.”

She did her best to smile, then hurried away, descending the nearest of the tower stairways and following the shadowed corridors back toward her chamber.

“They don’t deserve your loyalty, Evanthya. Surely you see that. They’re weak-minded and selfish, and the only thing they can manage to agree on is their hatred of our kind.”

That’s not true of Tebeo .

“Of course it is. He may have managed to hide it from you up until now. But eventually the mask will slip, and you’ll realize that I’m right. And then you’ll come after me.”

Evanthya halted in midstride, reaching out a hand to steady herself against the stone wall of the passageway.

Go after her.

Thinking of it now, she could hardly believe that she hadn’t considered this sooner. True, there had been much to occupy her since the breaking of the siege, and naturally her duke would object. He might even forbid her from going. But that wasn’t the reason she hadn’t thought of this before. Even knowing that Fetnalla was alive, Evanthya had mourned as if her love had died. Her loss was that complete, that final. Fetnalla had murdered her duke and betrayed the realm. She might as well be dead.

“But I’m not.”

No, you’re not. And I’m going to find you .

“To what end?”

Her duke would ask the same question. What could she hope to accomplish by going after Fetnalla? Fetnalla would never turn her back on the conspiracy. She had killed for it, and if the renegades were truly led by a Weaver, her punishment for betraying them in turn would be swift and absolute. And even if Evanthya did manage to turn her against the conspiracy, Fetnalla faced certain execution here in Aneira. There was nothing to be gained by pursuing her.

“Yet you will.”

Yes .

“Why?”

I don’t know. But I have to try .

Evanthya straightened, removing her hand from the wall and taking a long breath. Then she went in search of her duke.

She found him near the north barbican, speaking with the master mason. Seeing her approach, he said something else to the man before walking toward her. “First Minister! I’m glad to see you. I was about to have you summoned.”

“Has something happened, my lord?”

He shook his head, looking grim. “No. But I believe the time has come for me to pay a visit to Numar and Grestos. I’d like you with me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I thought we might wish to speak with the archminister as well, but I wanted to ask your opinion before we did.”

Her first thought was that Pronjed might know something of Fetnalla’s whereabouts. She and her love had long wondered if the archminister was a traitor; Fetnalla and Brall had even speculated that Pronjed was behind the strange death of King Carden the Third, though this would have meant that the man possessed mind-bending magic, one of the rarest and deepest Qirsi powers.

In the next moment, however, she realized that no matter what the archminister might know, they would find it nearly impossible to pry the truth from him. If he did, in fact, possess delusion magic, he would be able to lie to them without detection.

“I doubt there’s much to be gained by speaking with him, my lord.”

“You fear him.”

“I do. But it’s more than that.” She faltered. Even a duke as tolerant of Qirsi as Tebeo would be horrified to hear of mind-bending power. It was not a magic most Qirsi discussed freely, for it exemplified all that the nobles of the Forelands feared about her people. It facilitated deception and allowed sorcerers to control the thoughts and actions of unwitting Eandi. “He might tell us a great deal, but determining what to believe and what to dismiss will be next to impossible.”

The duke smiled. “Come now, First Minister. I think that between the two of us, we can discern most of his lies.”

“No, my lord, we can’t. Pronjed may have delusion magic. Brall and Fetnalla both thought so, and I’ve wondered for some time now.”

“Delusion?”

“Mind-bending. Delusion is what we Qirsi call it, because it makes it possible for one Qirsi to lie convincingly to another.”

“Ah, yes. I remember now. They thought he had killed Carden.”

“Yes, my lord. And I’ve thought it possible that he used his magic to get information from me when he and the regent came to Dantrielle a few turns back.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t know for certain, my lord. I still don’t. I told you all that I could about the conversation itself, but I was afraid to say more.”

Tebeo pressed his lips into a thin line, eyeing her grimly. After a few moments he shook his head. “I don’t care what powers the man possesses. I want to speak with him. Brall and Fetnalla also believed he might be with the conspiracy-as I rememberit, you did as well. I need to learn what I can from him.”

She knew better than to argue the point further. “Yes, my lord.”

He started toward the prison tower, walking so swiftly that Evanthya nearly had to run to keep pace. The tower was brightly lit with torches and well guarded; Tebeo had stationed three times the normal number of men there since Numar’s capture. The men let Tebeo and Evanthya pass, of course, and four of them began to follow the duke up the stairs.

“No,” Tebeo said. “We’ll speak with the regent in private.”

One of the men, a captain, shook his head. “But, my lord-”

“He’s in chains, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then we have nothing to fear from him.” The man’s brow remained creased. “I’m armed, Captain,” the duke said, putting a hand to the hilt of his blade. “And I’ll have the first minister with me.”