David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“With all respect, Lord Renbrere,” the duke said, his voice shaking with anger. “I find your question insulting. It presumes that I would keep my house from fulfilling its duty to the realm and the Crown.”

“I meant no offense, Tebeo, but after our conversation the day I arrived-”

“The men of Dantrielle have fought and died in every war ever waged by this realm,” the duke broke in, leaning forward, his hands resting on the table. “We have acquitted ourselves nobly over the course of Aneira’s history. I would even say admirably, and while I am not a boastful man, my lord, I assure you that I would willingly compare Dantrielle’s performance in this regard with that of any house in the kingdom, including Solkara. For I have every confidence that Dantrielle would not suffer for the comparison.”

At last the duchess laid a hand on Tebeo’s arm. Glancing at her, the duke’s face colored and he sat back, lowering his gaze.

“Forgive me, my lord. I’ve said too much.”

“Not at all, Tebeo. I admire a man of passion. I only wished to know if we could count on you. Obviously, we can.”

The duke continued to stare at his hands. “I must add, my lord, though I risk angering you by doing so, that even as the soldiers of Dantrielle have shown their valor in defense of Aneira, when her dukes have seen the land being led toward a foolish and destructive war, they have never shied from saying so.”

Numar bristled. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Yes, my lord, it is.”

Abruptly the regent was on his feet. “How dare you speak to me so!”

“You forget, Lord Renbrere, that while you may be regent, I am a duke and you but a marquess. Further, sir, you are in my castle. If you speak to me thus, I will not hesitate to respond in kind.”

The regent straightened, the corner of his mouth turning up in a bitter smirk. “I may be but a marquess, Lord Dantrielle, but I speak for the queen and for House Solkara. I assure you that my words carry as much force as Carden’s ever did.”

The two men stared at each other for some time, and at last it was Tebeo who looked away. “I don’t doubt that they do, my lord. Forgive me if I spoke rashly.”

Numar smiled benignly, but Pronjed saw the satisfaction in his eyes. “As I said, I admire passion, misguided though it might be.”

The meal had almost ended and though both men seemed intent on not allowing the evening to end in anger, it was but a few moments before Numar excused himself from the great hall and returned to his chamber.

He said little to Pronjed as they walked through the corridors and he did not ask the archminister to join him in his quarters before retiring for the night. Pronjed hadn’t been entirely honest with the first minister when they spoke in the ward, but he had meant what he said about Numar’s mistrust of all he did. As far as he could tell, the regent viewed him as Chofya’s man. No doubt he always would.

Numar had the archminister awakened early in the morning, and the regent did not linger long in the castle before departing. The duke and duchess offered to serve them a formal breakfast, but Numar asked only that they be given provisions for their ride back to Solkara.

Tebeo and Numar did not speak as they rode through the streets of Dantrielle. When they reached the gate and dismounted to say their farewells, however, the duke bowed to Numar, then straightened, clearing his throat.

“I hope the good relations Dantrielle has enjoyed with House Solkara will not suffer for my reckless words. I know little of what you and the emperor have discussed, my lord. It was not my place to make judgments.”

“Don’t trouble your mind with it further, Tebeo,” the regent said, though his voice was tight. “Our houses have worked together for centuries, making Aneira great. Surely a friendship as old as that can weather a storm or two.”

The duke smiled. “My lord is too kind. May your journey home be swift and safe.”

Numar smiled, though it appeared forced, and began to leave the city. Pronjed bowed to the duke, murmuring a quick, “My lord.” Then, glancing at Evanthya, he nodded, and steered his mount through the gate.

For the balance of the morning the company from Solkara made its way through the Great Forest in silence, Pronjed riding just behind the regent. Around midday, however, as the sun finally burned through the dark clouds that had hung over the land for so long, Numar slowed his mount so that the archminister could ride beside him.

“A most interesting visit.”

“Indeed, my lord.”

“Did you learn anything of value from the first minister?”

“Very little.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

Pronjed glanced at the regent, who was gazing at the road ahead.

“Of course, my lord. I serve House Solkara, and though your brother may be called duke, only a fool would fail to see that you lead us.”

A grin flashed across the regent’s face and was gone. “An interesting choice of words, Archminister.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tell me about the woman.”

Pronjed shrugged. “She’s protective of her duke and wary of Dantrielle’s rivals.”

Numar laughed. “Solkara and Dantrielle are hardly rivals. The Solkaran Supremacy is well over four centuries old. We haven’t truly been rivals since the earliest days of the kingdom.”

“Perhaps not to the Solkaran mind, my lord. But with all that’s happened in the royal city over the past few turns, some of the other houses perceive weakness in the throne.”

“You can’t honestly think that Dantrielle has designs on the crown. He’d be a fool to challenge us.”

It had to be done carefully. There were soldiers all around them and though they rode at a respectful distance, they would notice anything unusual.

“And yet, I believe that in questioning the wisdom of the coming war, Tebeo has, in effect, declared his intention to defy you.” As he spoke the words, Pronjed reached out with his magic to touch the regent’s mind. He didn’t push hard, as he had when he forced Carden to plunge the dagger into his own chest. Rather, this touch was as light and gentle as a warm breeze in the growing turns. It was so soft that Numar never realized what had happened. He simply heard Pronjed’s words and believed them as if he himself had spoken them.

“I fear you’re right,” he said, nodding sagely.

Pronjed nearly laughed aloud. He had convinced Evanthya to oppose the war, and to counsel her duke to do the same. He hadn’t even drawn upon his magic for that. He had wounded her pride and then made her believe that he wanted Dantrielle to support the war. She would do all she could to oppose him.

And now, with what he had just done to Numar, he had ensured that Tebeo’s reluctance to send his men into battle would be seen as treason in Solkara. He still had to win back the Weaver’s trust, but if all in Aneira went as he thought it would, that would prove easy enough. He had long been one of the Weaver’s most valued chancellors and in time he would be again. In the end, the Weaver would see fit to give him charge of whatever realm he wanted.

Curtell, Braedon

“It is the wrong decision!” the older Qirsi said again, gesturing sharply for emphasis. “You know this is so, High Chancellor. You have to tell the emperor he’s made a terrible mistake!”

Dusaan shook his head, his frustration mounting by the moment. Didn’t the man know that it wouldn’t matter what he said to the emperor? Didn’t he understand how this emperor’s mind worked?

“I’ve spoken to him, Chancellor,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I’ve told him several times that his decision is likely to disturb several of the southern lords.”