David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

As he turned the corner onto the corridor where his chamber was located, he saw Nitara waiting outside his door. Kayiv slowed, silently cursing his heart for pounding so at the very sight of her.

“What did he say to you?” she asked, standing there with her back against the wall, one foot resting against the stone as well, her knee bent at a perfect angle.

He should have told her to leave him alone, that what had passed between him and the high chancellor was none of her concern. Qirsar knew that he wanted to. But it seemed he wasn’t capable of speaking to her so. He stepped past her, opening his door and motioning for her to enter. She hesitated, then pushed herself away from the wall and walked into his chamber. Kayiv followed, closing the door behind him.

“He wanted to know why I was speaking with the master of arms,” he said.

“And what did you tell him?”

He had his limits, and his pride. “Why do you care?”

She shrugged, wandering restlessly around the small room. “I don’t. I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Does he have you watching me now? Is that why you went to him in the first place?”

Her cheeks burned red, and for just an instant Kayiv thought that she would deny it. But then she smiled, cold and certain. “I told him because he should know such things. Even if there was nothing more to your conversation with the master of arms than an exchange of pleasantries, the high chancellor needs to be informed.” Her eyes sparkled, the smile deepening. “And clearly there was more than that to what the two of you said. It almost appeared that you were plotting together.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that your loyalty to the cause is so absolute.”

“It is, Kayiv,” she said, earnest now. “You shouldn’t doubt that for a moment. I cared for you once, but I won’t allow that to keep me from serving the movement.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Only if you’re foolish enough to make one necessary. What were you doing with him?”

“Are you asking me that as a servant of the movement, or asa. . a friend?”

“I’m asking as someone who pledged to end Eandi rule in the Forelands, just as you did.” Her gaze slid away. “And also as someone who doesn’t want to see anything. . happen to you.”

For so long, he had wanted to hear her say something like this. But even having tied himself to the master of arms, Kayiv wasn’t immune to fear of the high chancellor. Any satisfaction he took in her last words was negated and more by the terror that settled deep in his gut. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he said, hoping he sounded brave. “I was merely asking Uriad about preparations for the invasion. When you speak with Dusaan, as I’m sure you will, he’ll tell you that I said the same to him. He’ll also tell you that he gave me his permission to continue building a rapport with the armsmaster.”

Nitara frowned. “Dusaan instructed you to speak with him?”

“This time I did it on my own. But I’ll speak with him again soon, on the movement’s behalf.”

“Why did Uriad look so angry with you?”

Sun from the narrow window lit her white hair, making it glow like Panya, the pale moon. Kayiv had to remind himself that this woman was no longer his lover, but rather a servant of the Weaver. In many ways she was the most dangerous person in the emperor’s palace, at least as far as he was concerned.

“He’s angry with all of Harel’s Qirsi,” he answered, looking at anything but her. “He believes we’re responsible for the emperor’s decision to rush the invasion.” Their eyes met for just an instant, before Kayiv looked away again. “I guess Dusaan saw to that, didn’t he?”

“He had his reasons,” she said abruptly, sounding defensive.

Kayiv wished he’d kept the thought to himself; this wasn’t an argument he wanted to have just now. “I’m sure he did. I was just trying to explain why Uriad looked angry.”

“I should go.”

“All right.”

Nitara walked to the door, pulling it open quickly. She paused on the threshold, though she didn’t turn to look at him again. “He’ll be watching you. You know that. And I will be, too. He. . he expects it of me.”

“I understand.”

She nodded, then left him, closing the door behind her.

By now he should have been used to this aching in his chest; he’d felt it every day since their romance ended, and that had been a long time ago. Or so it seemed. Maybe this was just something to which a person couldn’t grow accustomed.

They would be watching, and that would make what he needed to do next even more difficult, though not much. He had known from the start that enlisting Uriad’s aid would be the least of his worries. Now he needed to turn Stavel to his purposes, and with him as many of the other Qirsi as possible.

A voice in his mind screamed for him to stop, to forget this madness and simply follow Dusaan to whatever future his movement managed to create. He owed nothing to the emperor or his people. Even if Dusaan turned out to be a tyrant-and with each day that passed Kayiv grew ever more convinced that he would-he would be a Qirsi tyrant. And wouldn’t that be preferable to what Braedon had now?

As if in answer, Kayiv saw once more in his mind the way Nitara’s face flushed at the mere mention on the high chancellor. He wanted to believe that he acted out of more than jealousy and the pain of losing her. But all of it seemed tied together now in some great, impenetrable knot: his broken love, his hatred of Dusaan, his hunger for revenge, his fear of what the high chancellor might do to the Forelands if given the chance, his desperate need to make Nitara love him again. He couldn’t explain anymore what he was doing, or what end he hoped to achieve. He merely knew that he had to act.

Which meant that he had to approach Stavel.

By the time Kayiv awoke the following morning, much of his resolve from the night before had vanished, leaving doubts that threatened to undo all that he had accomplished the previous day. The minister forced himself out of bed and was soon walking across the palace courtyard toward Uriad and his men, intending to speak with the master of arms again. Dusaan had given him permission to build on their growing rapport, and Kayiv was determined to take advantage of the opportunity given to him by the high chancellor.

Upon seeing him, however, Uriad furrowed his brow, striding in Kayiv’s direction, so that they met far enough from the training men to ensure that none could hear them.

“You’ve already spoken with the other ministers and chancellors?” the armsmaster said.

“Well. . well, no. But I-”

“Then what’s happened?”

“Nothing, armsmaster. I merely thought that. . after yesterday. .”

“We’re not friends, Minister. You asked for my help, and I’ve given you my word that when the time comes, I’ll be there beside you. But I have to assume that the invasion is going to begin when the emperor says it will. I have men to train, and I certainly don’t have time to chat idly with you.”

“Of course. I was-”

“Good day, Minister.”

Before Kayiv could say anything more, Uriad had turned away from him and was making his way back to the soldiers. He was certain that Nitara was watching-he could feel her gaze as if it were sunlight on a stifling day. No doubt she was laughing at him, shaking her head at his folly. Any alarm the high chancellor had felt the day before learning of Kayiv’s conversation with the master of arms would be gone soon enough. After standing there alone for several moments, feeling like an idiot, Kayiv returned to his chamber and awaited the midmorning bells. He would attend the daily audience with Dusaan, and then he would contrive to speak with Stavel.