David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

“What role did your brother play in this?” Kearney asked her.

“None, Your Majesty. He was as surprised to learn of it as you must be. And he was angry with me for even making the attempt.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

She lowered her gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I can’t decide if I should be railing at you for being so damned foolish or thanking you for risking so much for the realm.”

Gershon grinned. “I’ve done both by turns, Your Majesty.”

Kearney eyed the swordmaster briefly, but didn’t answer.

“Obviously I won’t be sending you from the castle,” the king went on a moment later. “I have no desire to endanger your life, and as the swordmaster points out, you may be able to tell us a good deal about the conspiracy.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

“What would you have me do about the woman?”

“She should remain here, Your Majesty.”

“I thought you said that the Weaver wants you to kill her. Won’t she be safer elsewhere?”

“No. As soon as the Weaver learns that I can no longer reach her, he’ll kill her himself. So long as he believes I intend to do this, he’ll leave her alone. He sees this as a test of my commitment to his cause, a test he wants me to pass.”

Kearney didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. “All right. She’ll remain here.” He started to say something more, then stopped himself. After a moment he said, “You can go, Archminister. We’ll speak of this again.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She bowed to him, glanced at Gershon, who was watching the king. Abruptly feeling self-conscious, she walked to the door. Before she opened it, however, she faced the king again. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

His expression didn’t change, but he nodded a second time. “Apology accepted.”

She let herself out of the chamber, and walked away from the guards standing in the corridor, all the while keeping a tight hold on her emotions. Only when she was safely back in her own quarters, with the door shut and locked, did she allow herself to cry. And once she began, she felt as if she never would stop.

The king waited until the archminister had gone and the sound of her footsteps in the corridor had faded to nothing before turning his wrath on Gershon.

“How could you allow her to do this?” he demanded, the look in his green eyes as hard as emeralds. “It’s reckless and dangerous and unbelievably foolish!”

Gershon’s father had told him long ago that when a noble was as angry as Kearney was now, it was best just to let him say his piece and be done with it. So the swordmaster merely stood in the center of the presence chamber, his head up, his eyes fixed on the wall before him, his hands at his side.

“I agree, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice even.

Never mind that the same could have been said of the affair Kearney had carried on with the woman for all those years in the highlands. Never mind that Gershon hadn’t been given a choice in this matter.

“Have you seen what this Weaver can do?” the king asked, stalking about the chamber. “Have you any idea of the power he wields? Because I have. I saw the face of the woman in our prison tower the morning after his assault on her. So I know what he’s capable of doing. And now Kez-” His face colored, but he only faltered for an instant. “The archminister is trying to deceive this man, as if he were nothing more than a. .” He shook his head, leaving Gershon to wonder what he had intended to say. An Eandi noble? Perhaps.

“This is madness! I should have been informed immediately-you should have come to me as soon as you suspected that Paegar had been involved with the conspiracy!”

“You’re quite right, Your Majesty. It was my fault.”

The king halted for a moment and glowered at him. Then he resumed his pacing.

“We have a war to worry about. There are two armies poised to strike at us, each of which would be a formidable foe on its own. And now we have to concern ourselves with this as well. How in Ean’s name am I supposed to keep her safe while I’m fighting the empire and the Aneirans? It’s enough that we need to watch for an attack from some phantom Qirsi army, but now the Weaver himself can reach us.” He shook his head a second time. “How long did she plan to go on with this, anyway? Was either one of you ever going to tell me?”

“I’m certain the archminister intended to eventually, Your Majesty.”

Kearney spun toward him. “Stop that!”

“Stop what, Your Majesty?”

“Stop what you’re doing! Calling me ‘Your Majesty’ like that, and trying to appease me with everything you say.”

“What would you have me do, instead?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you want me to tell you what I really think of all this?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Fine,” Gershon said. “I think you’re being a fool.”

The king recoiled, his eyes widening as if the swordmaster had slapped him.

“The archminister has risked her life for you, attempting something far more perilous than anything the King’s Guard has ever done, and all you can do is complain that we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I have a right to know.”

“And if you had known, would you have allowed her to go through with it? She felt certain that you wouldn’t, and I agreed with her.”

“I would have good reason to forbid it! It’s too dangerous! She shouldn’t be doing this at all!”

“Would you feel that way if Wenda had decided to try this? Or Dyre? Or are you only saying this because it’s Keziah, and you love her still?”

“You forget yourself, swordmaster!”

“Perhaps so, Your Majesty, but someone has to say these things. With all the risk she’s taking, I owe her this much. She didn’t believe that you could keep this secret to yourself. She feared that you’d treat her differently, that you’d try to protect her, and by doing so would in fact endanger her more. And seeing you carry on this way, I realize that she was right.”

“She needs protecting.”

Gershon shook his head, smiling fiercely. “No, Your Majesty, she doesn’t. She’s stronger and braver than either of us ever thought. And she’s clever as well. She can do this. She can fool the Weaver into believing that she’s betrayed you, and she can learn what he plans to do and when he intends to do it. Think of that. We’ve been dueling with wraiths for years now-not just you and me, not just your dukes, but all the nobles of the Forelands. This conspiracy has been weaving mists all around us, revealing itself just long enough to strike and then vanishing once more. And we’ve paid a heavy price for our inability to see.”

“Your point?”

“Keziah has given us a chance to clear away the mist, at a greater cost to herself than you can imagine. We have to let her see this through to the end, and we have to make certain that we do nothing to give her away. We don’t know who else in this castle has betrayed you, or which of the ministers traveling with their lords have cast their lot with the Weaver. But we have to assume that he has eyes everywhere. Any attempt you make to protect her will only serve to raise the Weaver’s suspicions.”

Kearney stepped to his throne and sat heavily, looking weary, as if his outburst had left him spent. “You’re right of course. But I still believe that she shouldn’t have been allowed to do this in the first place.”

“Knowing her as you do, can you really think that I had any hope of stopping her?”

The king actually smiled. “No, I suppose not.” He eyed the swordmaster, the smile lingering. “You see it now, don’t you-why I fell in love with her?”