David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

The Plain of the Stallions remained a wild stretch of land, mostly devoid of towns and villages. A few farms could be found on the expanse, particularly in the regions just south and west of Lake Orvinti and just north and west of the Tall Grass River, but except for falcons and ptarmigans, wild dogs and, of course, the herds of horses for which the plain was named, there was little to be found between Dantrielle and Brall’s castle. For this reason, and despite the fact that it added several leagues to their journey, Tebeo and his company followed the Rassor along its south bank. Even on the river, there weren’t many towns. But there were a few, and every night of their journey they were able to find shelter.

On this night, because they were so close to the ducal city, the village was larger and the inn more comfortable than any they had encountered since leaving Dantrielle. Their meal, a spicy mutton stew and the black bread and light wine for which western Aneira was renowned, reminded Tebeo of nights spent in Bistari when Chago used to regale the other dukes with tales of his father’s blood feud with Farrad the Sixth of Solkara. Long after his soldiers had gone off to bed, Tebeo remained in the tavern’s hall, sipping wine and filling himself with fine food. Evanthya, who had long since stopped eating, stayed dutifully by his side, playing idly with her goblet. They had spoken little on this journey, and Tebeo wondered if she were merely anticipating her reunion with Fetnalla or distracted by weightier matters.

“It seems in recent turns that we don’t often speak unless we’re arguing,” the duke said at last, draining his goblet and motioning to the serving girl for more.

“Yes, my lord. I’ve noticed that as well.”

“I suppose I’m to blame.”

“No more than I am, my lord.”

Tebeo gave a small, dry laugh and shook his head. “Your courtesy is admirable, First Minister, but we both know better. You believe that I don’t trust you, that my fear of the conspiracy has made me wary of all Qirsi, even those who serve me well.”

Evanthya started to respond, no doubt to deny that this was true, as a good minister should, but the duke stopped her with a raised hand.

“Please don’t, Evanthya. The truth is, I don’t trust you, at least not as I did. I don’t really think that you’ve betrayed me or my house, at least not in the customary sense. I’m not even certain that you’re capable of such a thing. But I find myself wondering now about matters that never concerned me before. Do you serve House Dantrielle out of loyalty or because doing so brings you gold? Is the courtesy you show me genuine or is it a mask you wear to conceal your contempt for me?” The serving girl returned with more wine, which the duke accepted with a quick smile. He watched her as she returned to the bar, then took a small sip from his goblet. Turning his gaze back to the minister, he felt a sudden ache in his chest.

She was crying, silent tears coursing down her pale cheeks.

He hadn’t thought to wound her with his words. On the contrary, he had hoped to begin to bridge the rift that had grown between them. Only now, seeing the pain written on her thin face and thinking of what he had said, did it occur to him that his admission might hurt her. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much wine.

“First Minister, please. I-”

She shook her head so that tears flew from her face, staining the wooden table like raindrops on castle stone. “I’ve known you felt this way for some time,” she said. “I merely chose not to think about it. Perhaps it would be best-” She stopped, stifling a sob. “Perhaps I should leave your service now, before we reach Orvinti.”

Tebeo closed his eyes, wincing. What a fool he was. “I don’t want that,” he told her. “I rely on your counsel, Evanthya. I need you now more than I ever have.”

“How can you accept my counsel when you imagine me hating you, when you look for lies in my every word and gesture?”

“That’s not what I said.”

She swiped at the tears on her face. “It’s close; close enough, anyway.”

“Then I misspoke.”

“Did you, my lord?” She sounded angry, as if her pain had suddenly given way to rage. “It seems to me those were the most honest words you’ve spoken to me since the king’s death. You, Lord Orvinti, the regent-all of you see white hair and think ‘traitor.’ ”

“You liken me to Numar?”

“Yes, my lord. Just as you liken me to the archminister.”

“We have cause to be frightened, Evanthya. You yourself have spoken many times of the dangers of the conspiracy.”

“Yes, I have. But I should not be branded a traitor because other Qirsi have betrayed their lords. Would you expect me to accuse you of poisoning my wine tonight simply because Grigor poisoned the Council of Dukes in Solkara?”

He rubbed a hand over his brow. “Of course not.”

“My people have had to endure accusations of this sort for centuries, simply because the Qirsi wars ended with Carthach’s betrayal. The Eandi see us as a race of traitors, and no matter what we do, no matter how ably we serve in your courts, you’ll always see us that way.”

“Is it any wonder, First Minister? When Brall and I speak of ourselves, it’s always as Aneirans, or as men of our houses. But the Qirsi speak always of themselves as a race first. You’re Qirsi before you’re anything else. You may serve Dantrielle, you may live in Aneira, but you think of yourself as Qirsi.”

“That’s only because you won’t allow me to be anything else! I am Aneiran, and I would give my life for House Dantrielle, whether you believe it or not. But when you look at me, you don’t see an Aneiran. You see white hair and yellow eyes. You see me raising mists or whispering magic words to my mount. We’re a race of sorcerers. All of the Qirsi share that, just as we share the physical traits that make us so strange in your eyes. So yes, in some small way we may feel a bond to other Qirsi, regardless of what house or realm they serve. But what choice do we have when you won’t truly accept us as one of your own?” She shook her head, raking a rigid hand through her fine hair. “Still, it’s one thing to feel such a kinship, it’s another entirely to band with a handful of traitors simply because they happen to wield magic like mine. I hate the conspiracy, not only for what it’s done to the Eandi but also for what it’s done to me.”

“And what is that?”

She opened her arms, as if it should have been obvious. “This argument, your distrust, the ache in my heart every time I have to take care choosing a word for fear of raising your suspicions again. I hate all of it! And I hate them for doing this to me! If you only knew-”

She broke off, looking away as tears poured from her golden eyes once more.

He hadn’t been fair with her, not for several turns. He could see that now, though he didn’t know how to win back her friendship. “If I only knew what?” he asked, his voice as gentle as a caress.

“Nothing.”

“Please, Evanthya.”

Their eyes met for but a moment before she looked away again. “If you only knew how much I want to defeat them,” she whispered.

“We have that in common, don’t we?”

She shrugged, still not looking at him “I suppose we do,” she said, sounding unconvinced.

“I know it’s not much, but perhaps it’s a place to start. I don’t want you to leave Dantrielle, Evanthya, not only because I depend upon you for counsel but also because I’ve grown quite fond of you over the years. Pelgia and I both have.” He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. Her fingers were slender and small, almost like those of a child. These hands can raise a gale that would topple oaks . She didn’t take hold of his hand in return, but neither did she pull hers away. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he went on. “You’re right about us, the Eandi, I mean. We do see you as different, as not sharing our devotion to the kingdom. We should know better by now, but we don’t. That’s what makes this conspiracy so insidious and also so cunning. It strikes at our weakness, our inability to see beyond the differences between us, our inability to think of you and your people as anything more than failed invaders who were undone by treachery. We’ve made it too easy for them.”