David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“Brall agreed with me, Tebeo. And even Bistari’s new duke admitted to seeing the logic in this approach, though he reserved his judgment for now.”

“What of the queen, my lord? Does she agree as well?”

Numar seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “The girl? You expect me to consult with her on such matters? She’s but a child.”

“Forgive me, my lord. I meant the queen mother. Chofya.”

Carden’s widow, the daughter of a lesser noble whose beauty had attracted the eye of the young lord, much to the chagrin of his father, who had intended to marry Carden to the daughter of a more powerful house.

“Chofya,” Numar repeated, his expression darkening. “To be honest with you, Tebeo, I saw no need to discuss the matter with her either. She cares for the girl and she manages many of the social affairs of the dukedom, for which my brother Henthas has neither patience nor aptitude. But she is no statesman.”

“Of course not, my lord.”

The regent smiled, and again it looked forced. “Perhaps I should retire to my quarters for a time. My ride has left me weary, and I sense that our discussion is not going as either one of us might have hoped.”

Numar stood, as did Tebeo, who bowed to the regent as he had at the city gate. “I hope my lord finds his quarters satisfactory.”

“I’m sure I will. The hospitality of House Dantrielle is legendary throughout the realm.”

“Thank you, my lord. We will feast in the great hall this evening, at your convenience, of course.”

Numar was already striding to the door. “I’ll look forward to it.” He stopped, with his hand resting lightly on the door handle and turned to face the duke again. “Would Chofya’s opinion truly have mattered to you, Tebeo?” he asked. “Would you trust her judgment more than you would mine?”

Evanthya held her breath, her eyes flitting from the regent to her duke and back again. She sensed that their conversation had taken a most perilous turn. Tebeo seemed to understand this as well, for he cleared his throat, his gaze straying to her face for just an instant.

“No, my lord, I wouldn’t,” he said, facing the regent again. “As you observed before, I’m discomfited by discussions of war. Given the choice between going to war and maintaining the peace, I would invariably choose the latter. No doubt this makes me a poor leader, one who is far better suited to running a dukedom than an entire kingdom. I merely asked about the queen mother because I wished to know if any others in the realm share my concerns. I meant no offense.”

Numar smiled again, and this time it appeared genuine. “Then I’ll take none and will look forward to dining with you and the duchess this evening.”

He pulled open the door and left the chamber, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. Pronjed started to follow, then hesitated, turning once more to face Evanthya.

“May I have a word with you, First Minister?” He glanced at the duke. “With your permission, of course, my lord.”

“What?” Tebeo said, obviously distracted. “Oh, yes. That would be fine.” He waved a hand vaguely toward the door. “You may accompany him back to his chamber, First Minister.”

I’d rather not . “Yes, my lord.” She followed the archminister into the hallway, pulling the duke’s door closed behind her.

They began to walk toward the west end of the castle, where the guest chambers were located, neither of them speaking.

“Why don’t we walk in the ward?” Pronjed said at last.

Evanthya nodded and led him down the winding stairway of the cloister tower and out into the swirling snow. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and lowered her head against the storm.

“Your duke took a great chance just now,” the archminister said, raising his voice so that it would carry over the wind that keened like a demon among the castle walls. “The men of Solkara have little patience with those who would question their decisions. I don’t know whether to ascribe your duke’s actions to courage or folly.” She glanced at him and he grinned, looking gaunt as a cadaver. “Perhaps we should call it both.”

“Perhaps we should call it honesty, Archminister. My duke is a man who is not afraid to speak his mind, even to those who might be disturbed by what he has to say.”

“A trait he shares with his first minister.”

“I’m not certain I know what you mean,” she said, the lie coming to her easily. In the days after Carden’s death, Evanthya had argued forcefully against accepting Grigor, the eldest of the king’s surviving brothers, as Aneira’s new ruler, though she knew that defying him might lead to civil war. Pronjed never said anything to her, but she had seen the venom in his yellow eyes when he looked at her, and she knew that he had spoken to Fetnalla, hoping to convince her that Evanthya’s approach would lead Aneira to ruin.

“Of course you do. You were willing to oppose Grigor no matter the consequences for yourself or your duke. And as it turns out, you were right. A man who could resort to poisoning the queen and her Council of Dukes would have been capable of even greater atrocities once on the throne. We owe you a great debt, First Minister.”

“Thank you, Archminister.” It was the last thing she would have expected him to say. This was part of what made him so dangerous. He could be charming when he wished to be. Walking with him now, Evanthya had to remind herself that Fetnalla believed Pronjed might possess delusion magic-a powerful Qirsi magic that allowed him to bend the minds of Eandi to his purposes and to lie without fear of detection to other Qirsi. Fetnalla and her duke had even surmised that the archminister had used this power to make Carden take his own life. If he’s flattering you he must want something . The warning echoed in her mind, as if Fetnalla were shouting the words to her all the way from Orvinti.

“What is it you want of me, Archminister?”

“Want of you?”

Evanthya actually smiled. Delusion magic or not, he could be rather transparent at times.

“Never mind that you asked me to speak with you, the fact is that you’ve never cared for me, nor I for you, your compliments notwithstanding. So I ask you again, what do you want?”

He smiled in return, a cold, thin smile that actually struck her as being more guileless than any other expression she had seen on his bony features that day.

“Very well, First Minister. I want to know how far your duke will go in opposing the regent’s plans for war.”

Evanthya felt her stomach tighten. “Is a war imminent?”

“What do you think? Would a Solkaran leader travel this far in the midst of the snows merely in the interest of building good relations with his dukes?”

She said nothing, her silence an admission that he must be right.

“Would Lord Dantrielle withhold men from the royal army?”

“You know I can’t answer that,” she said quietly. “Even if I knew the duke’s mind, which I don’t, I couldn’t tell you. You’re the regent’s man.”

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

Evanthya looked at him sharply.

“I was Carden’s archminister,” he told her, “and Chofya’s after that. But I’ve never seen myself as belonging to the Solkarans. I’m Qirsi, First Minister, as are you.”

“But you’re here with the regent.”

“Yes, and I still don’t know why.”

Evanthya hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and she found herself wondering if he was deceiving her. Did delusion magic work on other Qirsi if they were aware of its use?

“I don’t think the regent trusts me,” Pronjed went on. “If I had to guess, I’d say that he brought me along because he felt safer knowing where I was and what I was doing. I don’t believe he trusts the queen mother either-that’s why he responded as he did to your duke’s question about her. He knows that I supported her against Grigor, and he fears that she and I will plot against him as well.”