David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“I’ve thought much the same thing,” the archminister said.

Wenda ja Baul, another of Kearney’s high ministers, looked from one of them to the other “How would we do that?”

“By joining the conspiracy ourselves,” Xivled said. He and Fotir shared a brief look. They had spoken of this before, during Qirsar’s turn, when Fotir and his duke journeyed to Thorald to speak with Tobbar and Marston. They had agreed then that if one of them could join the movement, it would allow them to learn a great deal about its leaders and its weaknesses. Xivled had raised this possibility with the thane only to have Marston reject the idea as too dangerous.

Evetta shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“It makes a good deal of sense to me,” Grinsa said. “There are risks, to be sure, but think of how much we could learn.”

“There isn’t a lord in the Forelands who would allow such a thing.”

“Sometimes,” the archminister said, staring at her hands, “we have to defy our lords in order to do what’s best for them.”

“Meaning what?” Evetta demanded. “You actually think this is a good idea?”

“I believe it’s worth considering.”

But Fotir thought the archminister meant even more than that. It occurred to him in that moment that she had already made up her mind to try this, that perhaps she had already succeeded in contacting the movement. His first response to the notion was to wonder how she could have been so foolish. Had it been Xivled, he wouldn’t have felt so; Xivled, if he failed, brought danger only to the court of Shanstead. If Keziah failed, she endangered the royal court of Eibithar. Still, he could not help but be impressed as well by her bravery. She was small and slight, with a face so youthful that he found it hard to imagine her in the court of a king, much less as archminister. And yet, it seemed possible that she had taken it upon herself to challenge a Weaver.

Evetta looked imploringly at the other ministers. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who believes this to be sheer folly.”

“Our lords have chosen to gather apart from us,” Fotir found himself saying. “We may take this to mean that they don’t trust us, that they only wish to keep us occupied as they speak of fighting the conspiracy. Or we may take it to mean that they expect us to devise our own strategy for defeating the Weaver and his movement. I choose to believe the latter, and I think this as promising an approach as any.”

“Do you believe Javan would approve of such a plan?”

“Perhaps not,” Fotir said. “But as the archminister says, the time may have come when we must act on behalf of our lords without their approval.”

He glanced at the archminister, only to find that she was already staring at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“One need only look at Cresenne to know how steep the price of failure will be,” Grinsa said.

“Does that mean you think it a bad idea?” Keziah asked.

“Not at all. Just perilous.”

Keziah regarded him another moment before eyeing the others. “What of the rest of you?”

“I agree with the first minister,” Wenda said, nodding toward Evetta. “I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

Dyre shook his head. “Nor do I.”

Two of the king’s underministers, who had said nothing up until now, voiced their opposition as well.

“It seems we’re outnumbered,” the archminister said with a small shrug. “I feel certain that before this conflict is over, we’ll have to take risks that seem unfathomable today, but for now we’ll honor the wishes of those who argue for prudence.”

Once more Fotir had the sense that there was more to what she was saying than she let on. Despite her words, the archminister seemed relieved to be in the minority, which made sense only if she were concealing something. Perhaps she was a traitor after all. But Fotir didn’t think so.

Dyre looked quite pleased, but Xivled continued to gaze at Keziah, as if he, too, were trying to gauge what lay behind her words.

“Isn’t it possible, Archminister,” he asked, “that as more nobles arrive in the royal city, and with them more ministers, a similar discussion might yield a different judgment?”

“Would that it were, Minister,” she said. “But the king doesn’t expect many more nobles to answer his summons. Kentigern won’t come, and neither, it seems, will Galdasten. And with both of them refusing to make the journey, Eardley, Sussyn, and Domnall have declined as well. Rennach has made no reply at all. We expect the dukes of Labruinn and Heneagh to arrive in the next few days, but even if both first ministers support our position, that leaves us with only a split vote.” She looked at the gleaner. “Forgive me, Grinsa. But in deciding matters of the court, I can’t allow you to have a formal voice.”

He inclined his head. “Of course, Archminister. I understand.”

“But with a split vote-”

“No, Minister. I don’t think it wise to take such a momentous step with the ministers so deeply divided. As I say, in time, I believe we’ll have little choice but to reconsider this question. But for now we’ll have to find another way to strike at the conspiracy.”

Shanstead’s minister continued to stare at her, tight-lipped and silent. And though Fotir couldn’t be certain, he could only assume from the man’s expression that Xivled thought the archminister a renegade.

“I’m not certain it’s our place to strike at the conspiracy at all,” Dyre said. “We serve the courts, and when our lords are ready to fight the traitors in earnest they will. My objection to what the minister proposed,” he went on, gesturing toward Xivled, “had little to do with it being dangerous, though surely it is that. Rather, I opposed it because the king would oppose it, as would the dukes, I imagine.”

“So we’re to do nothing, then?” Evetta asked. “Even I don’t believe that.”

“I’m not suggesting that we do nothing. But we can only do so much. We can remain loyal to our dukes and vigilant in looking for those who might betray them. We can recommend courses of action that the nobles might not consider, but then it becomes their choice as to whether to follow our advice or ignore it.”

“You’ve a narrow view of a minister’s role, cousin,” Fotir said.

“As is appropriate. Perhaps if the dukes of Thorald and Kentigern had kept their ministers on a tighter rein, the realm wouldn’t have suffered as it has over the past half year.”

Fotir saw Xivled bristle, but before the younger man could respond, the archminister stood, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. “We’re not going to do this. We’re not going to blame anyone for the actions of a few traitors and a Weaver we don’t even know. This conspiracy reaches across all the realms of the Forelands. It’s been claiming lives in the courts for far longer than any of us realized until recently. Either all of us are to blame for its success thus far, or none of us are. We can disagree as to what actions to take, but I will not allow this discussion to descend into a fight over which houses have failed the realm.”

She paused, staring at each of the Qirsi in turn, as if daring them to argue with her. “Now, given that we’ve decided not follow the minister’s suggestion, at least for now, what other options can we offer the king and his dukes?”

For a long time, no one spoke, and when finally the discussion did resume, the ministers could think of few suggestions to pass on to the nobles. When the midday bells rang in the city, Keziah reluctantly ended their discussion.

The king’s underministers left the hall immediately, speaking quietly among themselves. The others remained for a few moments until Grinsa stood and excused himself, explaining that he wished to return to Cresenne’s chamber in the prison tower. Fotir stood as well and the two men walked from the hall together.