David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“We have no evidence that the conspiracy had anything to do with this,” he said calmly. “The message the emperor received from Lachmas made it sound like an accident. Tragic to be sure, but completely innocent.”

Kayiv smirked. “Of course it did. Lachmas dies in a hunting accident. Filib of Thorald is killed by common road thieves. Carden of Aneira takes his own life. Grigor, his brother, is hanged for poisoning the queen and her dukes. And we’re just to accept that all of these deaths have nothing to do with the conspiracy, that Eandi nobles are dying in great number by sheer coincidence.” He shook his head. “I, for one, don’t believe it.”

“I see.” Dusaan glanced at the others. “And the rest of you?”

“It does seem odd,” Stavel said. Others nodded. “You say that the emperor was distraught. Was there more to it than that? Is it true that he trebled the palace guard?”

Dusaan hesitated, as they would expect. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s true.”

“Is there reason to believe that an attack on the emperor is imminent?”

The high chancellor had to smile. “There is no reason to believe that there has been any attack, or that any is forthcoming.”

“It wouldn’t matter if there was,” Kayiv said, and Dusaan thought he heard a hint of pride in the young man’s voice. “If the conspiracy decides that our emperor is next on their list of Eandi nobles to be killed, all the guards in Curtell won’t be able to stop them.”

Stavel eyed him warily. “You speak as would one of these renegades, Minister. You’d best take care you’re not branded a traitor.”

Kayiv glared at the man. “Branded by whom, Chancellor? Traitors come in many forms.”

“That’s enough! Both of you,” Dusaan added, glowering at Kayiv and Stavel in turn. He could foresee a day when having Harel’s ministers and chancellors questioning each others’ loyalty might serve his purposes, but that time had not yet come. The emperor was frightened enough already. Any whisperings among his Qirsi to the effect that one or more of them might be disloyal would convince the emperor that no white-hair could be trusted, not even Dusaan. “I will not have the Qirsi of this palace casting accusations at one another like quarrelsome children! For the last time, Lord Lachmas died as a result of a hunting accident, and until we have proof to the contrary, we shall not discuss the matter further. Those of you who can’t accept that should leave the palace at once.” He allowed his gaze to travel the chamber, as if waiting for any number of them to walk out of the room. “Good,” he said at last, lowering his voice. “The emperor is imagining Qirsi traitors in every corner. The last thing he needs right now is to have his most trusted advisors fueling his suspicions.”

Kayiv gave a small mirthless laugh. “He hasn’t trusted us for some time now. Lachmas’s death is probably just the excuse he’s been looking for to have us all hanged.”

For all the promise the Weaver saw in this young man, he also found him thoroughly exasperating, in no small part because of comments like these. The minister seemed to assume that Dusaan was just another fawning Qirsi advisor who had turned his back on their people to devote himself to the Eandi courts. Well, the time had come to banish that notion from his mind.

“This discussion is over,” he said. “We’ll meet again tomorrow.”

He watched as the underministers stood and began to leave his chamber, some of them whispering among themselves, but most of them silent and withdrawn.

Dusaan did not usually allow himself to grow anxious about anything-in his position, how could he? But waiting for the ministers to go, he felt his pulse racing like that of a war stallion driven beyond endurance. There was a risk here. Not much of one, to be sure. He had studied these two for some time, and he felt fairly confident of how they would respond. But there was danger nonetheless, far more than he had ever entertained before.

“Minister, would you stay a moment?” he called, just as Kayiv reached the door. His voice sounded even, calm.

The woman remained as well. They had to be lovers. Normally he would not have tolerated her presence, but in this case he had expected it, even hoped for it. The promise that had drawn him to the one could be found in both.

He wouldn’t tell all. Not even his most trusted servants knew that much. But all wouldn’t be necessary.

“Close the door.”

Kayiv and Nitara exchanged a look. Then he pushed the door closed and they returned to their seats. They made a fine pair, he slender and muscular for a Qirsi, she lean as well, but with a round, attractive face, and full lips. Just the kind of young nobility that the Weaver would need to lead the Forelands when the Eandi courts finally fell.

“You need to learn when to speak your mind and when to remain silent,” the Weaver said, taking a seat near theirs. “You’ve nearly got old Stavel convinced that you’re a traitor.”

Kayiv looked away. “We’re all Qirsi here,” he said, a bitter note in his voice. “We should be able to say what we wish without worrying that others will go running to the emperor spouting tales of the conspiracy.”

“Come now. You can’t really be that simple.”

The younger man glared at him, but Dusaan was watching Nitara. All this time he had been planning to turn Kayiv, with the hope that the woman would follow. But it suddenly occurred to him that she was the more reasonable of the two, the one who could control the other.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, clearly understanding already.

“Just what you think I do. To say that we’re all Qirsi is to ignore the lessons of our people’s history. No doubt the Weavers who led the Qirsi invasion nine centuries ago thought much as Kayiv does, just before Carthach betrayed them to the armies of the north.”

She sat forward, light yellow eyes wide and eager. “Lachmas was killed by the conspiracy, wasn’t he?”

Dusaan smiled. He wasn’t ready to answer her just yet. “Why would the conspiracy want him dead?”

Kayiv shrugged. “Because he’s Eandi.”

“You think that’s reason enough?”

Nitara shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t be. They have to see some gain in it, some way in which it would weaken the empire.”

“Good,” Dusaan said, nodding. “Can you think of any?”

She sat still for several moments, her eyes trained on the floor, as if she were looking for answers in the patterned carpet. “Lachmas and Curtell were rivals in the earliest days of the empire,” she said at last. “But for the past several centuries, the lords of Lachmas have been among Curtell’s more reliable allies.” She looked up. “Is it possible that they wanted to make it seem the act of one of the other houses, say Qestryd or Hanyck? Houses that have been more vocal in their dissatisfaction with the Curtell Dynasty.”

Dusaan pressed his fingertips together, watching her reason it out. She really was quite lovely. “Perhaps. To what end?”

Nitara frowned, looking to Kayiv for help. “Could they be trying to start a civil war? That’s been their aim elsewhere. At least that’s how it seems.”

Kayiv shook his head. “It wouldn’t work here. The ruling houses in the other realms need at least a few allies among the rest of the houses. Without it they could be overthrown. But here. .” He shrugged. “House Curtell is really the only power in Braedon. The emperor could crush any dissent before it became a threat to his hold on the throne.”

Dusaan nodded. “Good,” he said again. “Very good.”

“So then why was Lachmas murdered?” Nitara asked, her brow creased.

The Weaver regarded her placidly. “Actually he wasn’t.”