David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Easier perhaps, but Abeni had little doubt that Craeffe would tell the Weaver as soon as she possibly could, presenting what had happened in such a way as to make herself appear a genius, and a liability to the Weaver’s cause.

“Thank you, cousin. I know that you wish only to serve the movement as best you can. But the Weaver has been quite clear on this point.”

The forced smile again. “Of course, cousin. I understand.”

They stood in silence for several moments before Craeffe finally returned to the door. “I suppose I should be going.”

“So soon, cousin?”

The woman didn’t even bother looking at her. “I hope that this rift between you and your queen doesn’t widen, Archminister. Now more than ever, the Weaver needs Qirsi who serve the major courts.”

A moment later she was gone, and Abeni was left to wonder who was the greater threat to her standing in the movement: the queen or Macharzo’s first minister.

Kentigern, Eibithar

A indreas stared at the words scrawled on the outside of the scroll, unwilling to remove the ribbon that held it and read what was written inside. The ribbon was white. Of course, He would have known from whom the message had come even without the “ White Erne ” penned in a neat, bold hand for all to see. No doubt the time had finally come for the duke to fulfill his promise to the conspiracy-there could be no other reason for her to contact him. They wanted him to act on their behalf. And he was too frightened to unroll the scroll and see what it was they expected of him.

“Father.”

He looked up, seeing Brienne in the doorway, her golden hair gleaming in the torchlight.

“Not now, my love,” he said, his voice low.

“But Mother is asking for you. There are men riding toward the gate.”

As she spoke, Aindreas realized that the city bells were ringing, that in fact they had been for some time.

He frowned. “Tell her I’ll be along shortly.”

“She said I should bring you to her immediately.”

The duke exhaled through his teeth. “Very well. I’ll be there in just a moment.”

“But-”

“I told you, I’ll be along soon. Now leave me, Brienne!”

The girl winced, looking as if she might cry. “But I’m Affery.”

Aindreas stared at her, his vision swimming. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing them with a meaty hand. Opening them again, he saw that it was indeed his younger daughter standing before him, golden haired and pretty as her sister had been at this age, but not yet grown to womanhood.

“Affery,” he said, the name coming out as a whisper. He rose and stepped around his writing table to where she stood. She looked afraid, and he knelt before her, taking her in his arms. “I’m sorry, my love. Of course I knew it was you.”

She nodded, but said nothing. When he released her, he saw that there were tears on her cheeks. “Do you miss her, Father?”

“Very much,” he said, his voice suddenly rough.

“So do I. I think Mother does, too.”

“We all do. But your mother is better now than she was, and. . and so am I.”

Again the girl nodded.

“You said there are men approaching the castle?”

“Yes.”

“And where is your mother?”

“She’s atop the tower, watching the city gates.”

“Very well. Tell her I’ll be there very soon. Have her instruct the men not to allow anyone into the castle before I arrive.”

“All right.” Still she didn’t move. “Are they coming to attack us again?”

For a moment, he wasn’t certain what to say, By ignoring Kearney’s summons to the City of Kings, Aindreas had made himself a renegade in the king’s eyes. Glyndwr would have been justified in sending the royal army to Kentigern. But Aindreas had known Kearney a long time. The man didn’t want a war, and would go to great lengths to avoid one. He wouldn’t have sent his army, at least not yet.

“No one’s going to attack us,” he told her, making himself smile. “They probably just want to talk to me.”

Affery smiled in return, looking relieved.

“Go now. I’ll be along in a moment.”

She kissed his cheek, then turned and ran from the chamber.

Aindreas returned to his writing table, lowered himself into his chair and picked up the scroll again, his hand beginning to tremble. For a moment he was tempted to throw it on the flames dancing in his hearth, as if by burning the parchment he might rid himself of the Qirsi. Instead, he pulled off the ribbon and unrolled the scroll.

Lord Kentigern:

Events have begun to unfold more swiftly than we had anticipated. We can no longer wait for you to convince other houses to oppose the king. You must break with Kearney now, and hope that others will follow. We will be watching to see that you do as we expect. Do not disappoint us.

Jastanne ja Triln

Captain, the White Erne

Perhaps he should have been surprised. Certainly he had a right to be angry. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything at all. Somehow the Qirsi felt that they could order him about as he himself might a servant, or a foot soldier in his army. And though he was appalled by the mere notion of it, he also knew that he had only himself to blame.

“What will you do?”

He looked up to find Brienne standing beside him, looking lovely and so very young. No wonder he had confused Affery for her.

“I don’t know.”

“You should go to the king. You should tell him what you’ve done and beg for his mercy.”

“He’ll have me hanged as a traitor.”

“He might. But perhaps if you can show honor and courage at the end, it will save our house from disgrace. Don’t Affery and Ennis deserve that? Doesn’t Mother?”

The city bells continued to toll and Aindreas glanced toward the window. “There are men coming. I have to-”

Turning to Brienne once more, he saw that she was gone. He took a long shuddering breath and stood, walking slowly from his presence chamber to the nearest set of stairs, and then up to the ramparts of the tower. He found Ioanna there, wrapped in a woolen cloak, though it wasn’t particularly cold. A stiff wind made her golden hair dance wildly, and she gazed eastward, squinting in the sun, though she had both hands lifted to her brow to shade her eyes. Ennis and Affery were with her. Seeing Aindreas, she pointed toward the road, a dark band of brown dirt that wound past tawny fields and small farmhouses to the city’s easternmost gate. It was a long way off, but following the line of her gaze, Aindreas could see riders approaching the tor, bearing the purple and gold of Eibithar. The king’s men.

“I sent Villyd to the gate,” the duchess told him, her eyes never leaving the horsemen. “I hope that’s all right.”

“Yes. I would have done the same.”

She glanced at him. “Will you go as well?”

He had yet to decide. Had it not been for the missive from the Qirsi, he probably would have. After Kearney’s last message, with its tidings of the Qirsi woman being held in the prison tower of Audun’s Castle, the duke had been searching for any path to reconciliation with the Crown. This was a time to end his conflict with Glyndwr and Curgh, to accept that he had been wrong, and unite the realm so that it might face the conspiracy united and strong.

His alliance with the Qirsi would not allow this, however. He had cast his lot with the white-hairs, and he had little choice but to fulfill his pledge to them. To do less was to invite disgrace, not only in the eyes of Eibithar’s other nobles but also in those of his wife and children. Had it been only his life hanging in the balance, he would have gladly humbled himself before the king rather than help the whitehairs. But he could not bear the thought of bringing such humiliation to Ioanna or damning Ennis to lead a shamed house.