David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“Take him now!” she said, steel in her voice.

“Yes, my lady.”

She heard the minister turn, the rustling of his robes like dried leaves in a chill wind. A moment later the door closed, and she and her father were alone once more.

Diani turned to him, allowing her anger to show on her features. “You shouldn’t contradict me like that, Father. Certainly not in front of my men. Mother is gone and I’m duchess now.”

“No one knows that better than I, Diani. And I’ll show you as much deference as I did her. But when your mother acted the fool, I was always the first person to tell her so. And I’ll do no less with you.”

“Kreazur is a traitor.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know anything for certain!”

“I know that I nearly died today!”

He grimaced. “Yes. And I know how frightened you are. To be honest, I am as well.”

She wanted to deny it, to tell him that she wasn’t afraid, that she truly believed this the best way to meet the Qirsi threat. But the words wouldn’t come, and he probably wouldn’t have believed them anyway.

“But fear doesn’t justify this,” he went on. “A leader who acts out of fear and suspicion is far more likely to make mistakes. Kreazur is right: there may be a traitor in the castle. And who better to find the real renegade among your Qirsi than the first minister?”

Listening to her father, she suddenly knew what she would do to fight her enemies. She wouldn’t have considered such a thing before today, but as long as she lived she would remember the sensation of that first arrow piercing her flesh. She was not the same woman she had been yesterday.

“I don’t need Kreazur’s help,” she said.

Sertio raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are there any shapers among the healers and other ministers?”

Her father hesitated. “I don’t believe so. Why?”

“Because I intend to confine all the Qirsi to the prison tower until I find the traitor, and I don’t want any of them shattering the walls that hold them.”

Sertio stared at her for so long without responding that Diani began to wonder if he had even heard her. At last, though, he shook his head and looked away, his brow creased.

“I had wondered when it would come to this, when Eandi nobles would begin imprisoning Qirsi for no more reason than the color of their eyes. But I never believed that Curlinte would be first. I certainly never thought it would be you who started it.”

Even after walked Diani back to her own chamber, urging her to sleep and silently hoping that a night’s rest would clear her mind, so that she might recognize the danger of what she had done, Sertio did not return to his bed. There would be no sleeping this night, certainly not until he had received word from the soldiers searching Curlinte Moor.

First Cyro, then Dalvia. And today someone-the Brugaosans, or the Qirsi, or some enemy they didn’t know-had tried to take Diani from him as well. He should have been enraged, but all he felt was afraid. Losing his son had scored his heart. Losing his wife had left him empty and joyless. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever find a way to laugh again. But losing Diani. . He shook his head as if to rid himself of the very notion. Losing his daughter would kill him.

His was an odd position, one few dukes in the other realms of the Forelands would have understood. As husband to the duchess in a matriarchal duchy, he had no claim to the Curlinte seat. He was master of arms because Dalvia had chosen him to take that post and Diani had asked him to continue to serve after his wife’s death. But he had no real power. Had Cyro still been alive, he, as the son of the late duchess, would have been next in line after Diani to lead the house. As matters stood now, were something to happen to Diani, Dalvia’s younger sister, the marchioness of Invelsa, would take her place. Once Diani married and had children, they would take their place in the line of succession ahead of the marchioness, who, though well-intentioned, possessed neither the wisdom nor the strength of will to govern one of Sanbira’s leading houses. Until then, however, Curlinte’s stability and continued influence with the royal house depended entirely upon Diani’s survival. Not that he needed more incentive to keep her alive.

He had sent nearly two hundred men into the countryside to search for the assassins, double what he had told Diani. She wouldn’t have approved, despite her fears. She would say that sending so many after only two men made them appear weak. Her mother had been the same way, and so Sertio would tell Diani the same thing he had told Dalvia. There was no sense in having a powerful army if you didn’t use it. Perhaps one hundred men would have been sufficient to find the archers, but two hundred would be more likely to succeed and would probably do so sooner. And they still had more than a thousand men remaining to guard the city and castle in the unlikely event of an attack.

He left his chamber and descended the nearest of the towers to the upper ward. Panya, the white moon, hung low, a narrow crescent in the eastern sky. Red Ilias had yet to rise. It would soon be Pitch Night, and then the new turn would begin. To the north, the beginning of Elhir’s waning meant only more snows, but in the southern realms, particularly along the eastern shores, Elhir’s turn usually brought storms and fierce winds. If someone wished to start a war with House Curlinte, this was a strange time to do it.

The click of a boot on stone echoed through the ward. Turning toward the sound, Sertio saw one of his captains approaching.

“What news?” the duke asked as the man halted before him.

“We’ve found nothing yet, my lord.”

“Nothing at all?”

“We found blood where the duchess was wounded, and crushed grass near some of the stones where the assassins must have hidden. But they left no trail to or from that spot.”

“Any sign of horses?”

“None, my lord.”

“Well, they didn’t fly to the moor. They must have left some other sign that they were there.”

The man stared at his shoes. “Perhaps they had a boat, my lord.”

He’d thought of that. The climb from the sea up to the moor and then back down again would have been difficult, but not impossible. If they had a boat, they were gone by now. Sertio and his men would never find them.

“Yes, that’s possible. Have some of the men search the shoreline when morning breaks. And I want the moor searched again as well, just in case they missed something.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You have someone looking in the villages and inns?”

The soldier nodded. “Of course, my lord.”

“Good. Widen your search southward to the north boundary of Kretsaal barony and tell all you meet that there’s a bounty on these men. Five hundred qinde, guaranteed by the duchess herself.”

The soldier’s eyes widened. “That’s certain to help, my lord.”

“I hope so.”

A lone cloud, thin and grey, drifted in front of Panya, darkening the castle for a moment.

“That’s all, Captain,” Sertio said. “Keep me apprised.”

“I will, my lord.”

The man spun away, and hurried back toward the west gate.

There was a part of Sertio that wanted to believe that the archers had come and gone by boat. He would gladly have traded their freedom for the knowledge that they were far from Curlinte and no longer posed any threat to Diani. But he knew better. Whoever hired them wanted her dead, and these men had seen her ride away from the headlands, very much alive.

On the thought, Sertio started across the ward toward the prison tower. It was quite late, and even confined to one of the small, sparse chambers, Kreazur was probably asleep. Still, the man would speak with him. What choice did he have?