David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

He and Uestem hadn’t met since late in Amon’s waxing. But this very morning, Pillad had received a cryptic message asking him to come to the White Wave, the Qirsi tavern at which they had spoken many times before. He had known it would be crowded; with the Revel in the city all the taverns were, no matter the time of day. No doubt Uestem thought that they would be safe meeting here precisely because there would be so many people about. No one was likely to notice them.

Sitting now in the tavern, waiting for the merchant to arrive, Pillad reflected with some amazement on how quickly his life had changed. Just a turn or two ago he had been a loyal minister in the House of Galdasten. Now he was part of a great movement that would soon sweep away the Eandi courts and bring a Qirsi ruler to the Forelands. Not long ago he had been alone, friendless. Now he had Uestem. At least, he wanted to believe that he did.

The merchant entered the tavern just as the twilight bells began to toll at the city gates. He stood in the doorway for several moments, scanning the tables for Pillad. Seeing the minister, he strode to the table and sat, his expression grave. He had a lean face and eyes the color of sand on the Galdasten strand. He wasn’t particularly tall or powerfully built, but he carried himself with an air of importance. Whether his carriage was rooted in the wealth he had accrued as a merchant, or in the authority he held within the Qirsi movement, Pillad couldn’t say. The minister knew only that he envied the man his confidence.

“I’m glad to see you’re here already,” Uestem said. “We haven’t much time.”

“Why? Has something happened?”

“Something is on the verge of happening. What can you tell me of your lord’s plans for the coming assault?”

Pillad grimaced. “Not a great deal. As I’ve told you before, he’s lost faith in me. He doesn’t tell me much anymore.”

“And as I’ve told you, it’s time you began to win back his trust. You’re of little use to us as an outcast in the duke’s court.”

He tried to smile. “Yes, but-”

“Tell me what you do know.”

Pillad felt his face fall. This wasn’t at all the way he had wanted their conversation to go. In fact, it bore almost no resemblance at all to any of their previous encounters, except perhaps the last one, when Uestem had seemed a bit hurried. Perhaps that was the case today, as well.

“Quickly, Pillad. Time runs short.”

“From what I observed today, I gather that he has no intention of opposing the emperor’s army. I believe he plans to keep his soldiers within the city walls to guard against a siege. No doubt he wants to see Kearney’s forces weakened before committing his men to the war.”

Uestem nodded. “Good. Did you counsel this approach?”

For just an instant he considered lying to the man. Anything to earn his praise. But he had already admitted having little influence with his duke. Even if he claimed credit for this the merchant wouldn’t believe him. More likely the question was a test of sorts.

“No, I didn’t. And if I had, he might have done the opposite.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s possible. It seems the gods are smiling on you, Minister. This is just what we had hoped your duke would do. You need only to keep him on this path.”

“I’ll try.”

Uestem stood, and Pillad cast about for something to say-anything at all-that might keep the merchant with him for another few moments.

“When will we meet again?” he asked, then cringed at what he heard in his own voice.

Uestem glanced about as if fearing that others had heard. “When those we serve command it,” he said in a low voice.

“Can’t we meet. .? Must it always be to speak of these matters?”

The merchant smiled, though Pillad could tell that it was forced. “I think it best that way.” He stepped away from the table. “Good day, Pillad.”

Pillad opened his mouth to bid the man farewell, but he couldn’t even bring himself to say that much. Not that long ago, the day he agreed to join the movement, the man had actually touched his hand. He still remembered the warmth of the merchant’s fingers. He could still see the way Uestem smiled at him that day. Had he imagined it all?

He shook his head. It had to be the coming invasion. These were dangerous times for all who would play a role in this war, particularly those who had taken up the Weaver’s cause. Uestem couldn’t afford to be seen with the duke’s first minister. Not with the men and women of the movement so close to realizing their dreams. Pillad saw that now. Once the Eandi courts had been destroyed and the Weaver had taken his place as sovereign of all the Forelands, things would be different.

He waited until Uestem had been gone for some time before standing and leaving the inn himself. Upon stepping into the street, however, Pillad froze. A pair of the duke’s soldiers stood a short distance off, watching him from the entrance to a narrow byway. His first thought was to duck back into the tavern, though he knew immediately that this would be folly. No doubt the men had come to the city for some reason that had nothing to do with him. If he acted on his guilt and panic he would only raise their suspicions. Instead, he gathered himself, then walked right over to them.

Both men looked uncomfortable as he drew near. So much so that Pillad was forced to wonder if he had been mistaken a moment before. Perhaps these men were watching him and had just not expected to see him emerge from the inn so soon. He had lost Renald’s trust long ago. Would it be so unusual for an Eandi noble to have soldiers following his Qirsi?

“Are you looking for me?” the first minister asked, stopping in front of the men.

“First Minister?” one of the men said, glancing uneasily at his companion.

“Well, you’re here. I thought perhaps the duke had sent you to fetch me. Is there news?”

“No, First Minister.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“The duke asked us to keep an eye on you, First Minister,” the other man said. “I suspect he fears for your safety. With all this talk of conspiracies and such, I believe he thought a loyal minister would be in some danger. He wanted us to protect you. From a distance, of course, lest we embarrass you.”

It had to be a lie, but it was a clever one nevertheless. “Well,” Pillad said with false brightness, “I’m most grateful to both of you. I’ll feel safer knowing that you’re with me.”

The man bowed, and his companion hastened to do the same.

“We’re honored to be of service, First Minister.”

Abruptly, Pillad felt his face growing hot. What if Uestem was watching? What if there were others in the Weaver’s movement who could see him right now, standing with the duke’s men? Would they think that he had betrayed their movement to the duke? Or would they merely understand that Renald had sent these men to spy on him, as if he were some wayward child? Neither possibility appealed to him, though if they thought the latter the price would merely be humiliation. If they came to question his loyalty to the Qirsi cause they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

The minister found himself scanning the street for other Qirsi, eager now to be away from these men.

“If there’s nothing else,” he said, his voice tight, “I’ll be on my way back to the castle. I think I’ll be just fine, thank you. There’s no need for you to follow me.”

“We have our orders, First Minister.”

Damn you, Renald! “Fine, then.” He started away from them. “Do what you must.”

He started back toward the fortress, walking quickly, aware of the soldiers falling in step a few paces behind him. After going but a short distance, he realized that his hands were hurting. Looking down at them, he saw that he had balled them into fists, his knuckles white as Panya, the skin pulled tight over bone. He couldn’t recall ever being this angry before.