David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

Tebeo had been raising his goblet to drink, but now he returned it to the table, taking a slow breath. Bertin the Elder would have leaped at any chance to oppose House Solkara, but Tebeo couldn’t be so certain about the young duke. This was a dangerous time for him; had it been Tebeo’s place to offer counsel, he certainly wouldn’t have advised the man to take up arms against the royal house. But he hadn’t come to give guidance.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve come to speak of the regent’s plans for war and his pursuit of an alliance with Braedon.”

“And are you here to speak on Numar’s behalf?”

Tebeo grimaced. “Hardly.”

“Good. Then I’m more than happy to listen.”

Truly his father’s son.

Bertin eagerly pledged all the resources of his house to Tebeo’s cause, even going so far as to offer to march with Tebeo back to Dantrielle three days hence.

“No,” Tebeo said. “For now you should see to the safety of your people. Numar will hear of my journeys to Kett and Noltierre, just as he’ll learn of Brall’s discussions with the dukes of Bistari and Tounstrel. And I’m certain he’ll know the reason for them soon enough, if he hasn’t divined our intentions already. I don’t know yet how he’ll respond, but he may choose to strike first at those who support us. Increase the guard on your city walls, and make certain the castle is provisioned for a siege.”

“What if Numar strikes instead at you and Lord Orvinti?”

“We’ll send word.” He smiled. “Along with a request for aid.”

The young duke merely nodded, grim-faced and earnest. “And you’ll have it.”

Back in Castle Dantrielle several days later, on the tenth morning of the waning, Tebeo still recalled how his gratitude for Bertin’s pledge of support had been tempered by his fear that he was leading the young man and his house to their doom.

Everything now depended on whether Brall had succeeded in convincing Silbron of Bistari and Vistaan of Tounstrel to join them as well. With the duke of Orvinti expected to arrive at his gates within the next few hours, Tebeo could barely keep himself still. He had guards posted on the southern ramparts, watching the road from Tounstrel for any sign of Brall’s company, but still he had climbed the tower three times that morning hoping to glimpse the riders himself, shielding his eyes from the sun and straining to spot any sign of Orvinti’s blue, white, and green banners.

He was on his way to the tower stairs to check the road yet again, when he heard the gate bells ringing in the city. At first he assumed that these were the midday bells, but when Evanthya appeared in the corridor, her cheeks flushed, and a small smile on her lips, he knew that Brall had arrived, and with him his first minister, Fetnalla ja Prandt. Tebeo had known for some time now that Fetnalla and Evanthya were lovers, and though another duke might have been troubled at the thought of his first minister sharing a bed with a Qirsi from another house, his close friendship with the duke of Orvinti allowed him to be somewhat more lenient.

“They’re on the road?” he asked before his first minister could speak. For once he was as eager for the arrival of Brall and his company as she.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Have an honor guard sent to greet them. Instruct the soldiers to ride forth from the gates before Brall reaches the city walls. They’re to accompany the duke to the east entrance so that he and the minister can enter the castle without crossing through the city. No doubt Numar has spies in the city, perhaps even in the castle, and I’d like them to see as little as possible.”

“What of the bells, my lord?”

“They can’t be helped. Anyone watching us would think it strange if they didn’t ring at the approach of so many riders.”

Evanthya nodded. “Yes, my lord.” She turned and hurried toward the stairway.

Tebeo returned to his presence chamber to await Brall’s arrival. It seemed but a matter of moments before Brall reached the chamber, accompanied by both Fetnalla and Evanthya. Orvinti’s duke looked as he always did, hale and tall, with broad, kind features and hair as white as a Qirsi’s. His clothes were travel-stained, his face ruddy from the sun and wind. He grinned as he strode across the chamber to grip Tebeo by the shoulders.

“How is it you convinced me to ride from Bistari to Tounstrel?” he asked. “And how is it we agreed to meet here rather than in Orvinti?”

“You miss your castle, my Lord Duke.”

“My castle, my bed, my wife. I’m road-weary. We’re too old for this nonsense, Tebeo.”

“Actually, I found my ride quite invigorating.”

Brall frowned. “You’re younger than I am.”

“Not by much.”

“By enough.”

Tebeo smiled again, but regarding him more closely, the duke could see that there was more to Brall’s complaints than mere jesting. His friend looked tired, and not just physically. It seemed his journeying had taken a toll.

“I know that it’s no substitute for your home, Brall, but whatever hospitality Pelgia and I have to offer is yours.”

“I’m grateful, my friend, and I hope you’ll thank the duchess for me. You and Pelgia have always made me feel welcome here. But I think I’ll stay only the one night. I’m ready to be back in Orvinti.”

Tebeo indicated a chair with an open hand. “Please sit.” He glanced at the ministers. “The two of you as well. We have much to discuss.” He turned to his servants. “Food and wine for the duke and his minister. In fact, for all of us. We’ll take the midday meal in here.”

Both servants bowed and left them.

“You spoke with Silbron and Vistaan?” Tebeo asked, facing Brall once more.

“I did.”

“And?”

“Vistaan is with us. He blames all the Solkarans for Vidor’s death, though he knows that only Grigor was responsible. He wants no part of Braedon’s war, and even if he did, I don’t think he’d allow his men to march with the royal army.”

“That’s good news.”

Brall gave a small shrug. “I suppose.”

“You have doubts?”

“Tounstrel is the weakest of Aneira’s houses to begin with, and I’m not convinced that Vistaan is ready to lead his army into war. He still grieves for his father.”

“I’d expect no less.”

“Of course. But in many ways he’s too much like Vidor for his own good. He’s younger than his years and stubborn to the point of foolishness. He’s bent on vengeance; it almost seems an obsession. I fear that he’ll do more harm than good as our ally in this cause.”

“Yet, we need him.”

“Yes, we do, even more than you know.”

Tebeo felt his stomach tighten. “Silbron?”

Brall shook his head. “He has no desire to oppose the regent.”

“Damn!” Tebeo looked away. He had never thought that he would be so avid for civil war, but after his successes in Kett and Noltierre he had come to believe that they could stop Numar’s war, that they might even be able to wrest the crown from Solkara if the regent refused to heed their calls for peace. “So it’s over, before it’s even begun.”

“Perhaps not,” Brall said. “He won’t oppose Numar, but neither will he stand with him against us. Lord Bistari intends to remain above the fray.”

“He told you that?”

“Those were his words. I believe he’s taken a lesson from the Thorald clan in Eibithar. As the second-strongest house in Aneira, Bistari has the power to tip the balance in this conflict one way or another. By remaining neutral, Silbron leaves the outcome of any civil war very much in doubt.”

“You think he seeks to prevent such a war?”

“Maybe. Or perhaps he expects we’ll fight anyway, and when we’ve destroyed each other, Bistari will be left as the realm’s preeminent house.”