David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Nitara nodded, eyes wide.

“You must remember, Minister, that we’re not lovers, and that as far as anyone else knows, we have nothing more in common than our service to the emperor. Every time you come here like this, you draw attention to both of us. When I need to speak with you of matters pertaining to the movement, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, we’re to have no contact beyond our daily ministerial discussions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, High Chancellor.”

“Then go. No doubt the emperor is wondering where I am.”

She let herself out of the chamber, glancing back at him just once, looking young and lovely and dangerous. He followed her into the corridor, relieved to see that she had the sense to walk in the direction opposite his path to the emperor’s hall. The guards eyed him briefly, but kept their silence.

He had been eager to begin turning some of Harel’s Qirsi to his cause, he recalled, as he strode through the palace hallways. But he could no longer remember why. Between Kayiv’s suspicion and jealousy, and Nitara’s infatuation, he feared it was only a matter of time before one or both of them betrayed him, or, more likely, tried to take a blade to his throat themselves. All the more reason to push the emperor toward war.

Harel was eating when Dusaan reached the imperial chamber, his mouth full and a cup of honey wine in one hand. He waved the high chancellor into the hall, and once he had swallowed, offered Dusaan some food.

“Thank you, Your Eminence. I’ll eat later.”

“Nonsense, High Chancellor. Sit.” He turned in his chair, and beckoned to the servants standing nearby. “Bring the high chancellor some wine.” Facing Dusaan again and taking a bite of fowl, he pushed a bowl toward the chancellor. “Try the pheasant,” he said, still chewing. “It’s superb.”

“Your Eminence is most kind.”

He began to eat, and had to admit, in response to Harel’s expectant gaze, that the food was indeed excellent.

“You’ve just come from your audience with the other Qirsi?” the emperor asked, after they had eaten for some time.

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

“And you gave further consideration to the dispute in the south?”

“Yes. It was agreed that you might wish to ease the concerns of Lord Grensyn by making whatever arrangement you decide upon temporary.”

Harel nodded slowly, as if weighing this. “A fine idea, High Chancellor. I may do just that.”

“It was Stavel’s idea, Your Eminence. He’ll be most pleased to know that you took his counsel to heart.”

“Stavel,” he repeated, frowning. “He’s one of the older ones, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

The emperor smiled, looking for just an instant like a boy who is praised by his tutors for a correct answer. “What else did you discuss?”

Despite the question, Harel already looked bored. If Dusaan didn’t raise the matter now, the emperor would turn their conversation back to food and it would be another day before the high chancellor could speak to him of the invasion.

“It was suggested by some, Your Eminence, that we might wish to begin the invasion sooner than we had planned.” There was some risk in lying about such a thing, but not much. Harel almost never spoke with his other ministers, and in this case he would see no need to. He had been eager for this invasion to begin since Dusaan first suggested the idea to him. He had begrudged every delay, and would probably have been willing to send his fleet into battle without any planning at all had the high chancellor and master of arms allowed it.

Harel had been about to take another bite, but he paused now, the pheasant leg hovering just in front of his face, his small green eyes fixed on Dusaan. “Sooner, you say?”

“Yes, Your Eminence. We’ve assumed for some time now that the longer we had to prepare, the better our chances of success. But some have begun to question whether by waiting we give our enemies time to strengthen their forces in the north.”

The emperor set the food on his plate, straightening in his chair, a strange expression on his face, as if he were trying not to smile.

“Are you one of those arguing so, High Chancellor?”

“Yes, Your Eminence, I am.”

“What of the Aneirans? Since Carden’s death you’ve counseled patience. You’ve said that the new regent will need time to consolidate his authority with the dukes and his army before committing to an alliance with the empire.”

“In recent days I’ve found myself rethinking this as well. Had power in Aneira fallen to another house, such a delay might be necessary. But House Solkara still holds the throne, and while the other dukes may not be familiar with the regent, they’re unlikely to oppose him on a matter of such gravity, particularly if it means war with the hated Eibitharians. Besides, even if we send word to the fleet commanders today, instructing them to begin their assault on Eibithar, it will take better than half a turn for the invasion to begin. The messengers need time to reach them and the commanders will need time to make their final preparations. You can send word to the regent, informing him of your intention to attack. That still leaves him a bit longer to speak with his dukes.”

“Your reasoning seems quite sound, High Chancellor. To be honest, I’ve thought all along that you were being a bit too cautious with respect to this war. I’m glad to see that you’ve come around to my point of view.”

Dusaan had to grit his teeth. “Yes. Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“Still, I think it wise to speak of this with Uriad before making my decision. Don’t you agree?”

Dusaan winced inwardly, but said only, “By all means, Your Eminence. I have no doubt that the master of arms will have much to say about this.”

Uriad Ganjer, the emperor’s master of arms, was one of the most intelligent and formidable Eandi the Weaver had ever met. Dusaan actually liked the man, though he knew that when the time came to wrest control of the empire from Harel, Uriad would have to be the first man to die. The master of arms was also a talented military strategist who weighed risks carefully and cared a good deal about the men under his command. Dusaan fully expected Uriad to oppose any attempt to hurry the invasion along. He felt equally sure, however, that when faced with conflicting advice from the chancellor and the master of arms, the emperor would side with Dusaan, not because he trusted the Qirsi more but rather because he wanted to invade now.

The emperor called to one of his guards and instructed the man to have Uriad summoned to the chamber at once.

“Do you have evidence that the Eibitharians are building up their forces?” the emperor asked, as he began to eat again.

“Nothing certain, no. But they will have noticed our ships in the Scabbard and the Strait of Wantrae. They’d have to be fools not to see this as a threat to their fleet and their northern shores. In addition, we have some reports of discussions between Eibithar’s new king and dukes from Wethyrn and Caerisse. Kearney may be hoping to gather allies in preparation for a war.”

Harel nodded, chewing vigorously. “No doubt he is. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“Quite so, Your Eminence.”

Uriad arrived a few moments later, his face flushed and damp with sweat. He was a tall man, and lanky. His hair and eyes were black, making it clear to all who saw him that while he now served the empire, he had been born elsewhere. As Dusaan understood his family history, the man’s father had been a merchant from Tounstrel in southern Aneira who took his family from that realm when the wharfages imposed by the Solkaran king became too onerous. Uriad had been but a boy at the time and he spoke without a trace of an Aneiran accent.