David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“How can you be so certain?”

He grinned, opening his hands as if to reveal the answer. “Which of us is the Jackal, and which is the Fool? The dukes may not yet trust me completely, but they’re genuinely afraid of you. To them, you’re just like Grigor. In fact, several of them are still convinced that you had as much to do with the poisoning of the queen and the Council of Dukes as our dear, late brother.”

“Thanks to you, no doubt.”

Numar merely shrugged.

“So what is it you want of me? You summoned me here. There must be something on your mind.”

“I require nothing but your patience, my lord duke. When the time comes, I’ll see to the girl. No one wants her dead more than I. But I’ve a war to fight as well, sooner rather than later if the missives from Curtell are to be believed. If all goes as the emperor says it will, we’ve much to gain from allying ourselves with Braedon. You need only to wait, and support me, and help keep the other dukes in the fold.”

“And how will my patience be rewarded?”

“Our success, and the continuation of the Solkaran Supremacy should be its own reward. But if you require more, I can offer you the lands of Dantrielle.”

Henthas sat forward. “Dantrielle?”

“If Tebeo opposes me, as I fully suspect he will, I’ll have little choice but to lay siege to his castle and seize his lands. The dukedom itself will remain, of course-my authority only goes so far. But as provided in the Volumes of Pernandis, his lesser holdings will be forfeit. And I’ll make certain that they’re given to you.”

“Can you do that?”

“I’ll have little choice, if he’s guilty of treason.”

Henthas shook his head. “I think you give the other dukes too little credit. As you said a moment ago, they chose you to be regent, not tyrant. They won’t stand by while you strip one of the major dukedoms of her lands. They might have allowed Father to do such a thing, but not you.”

“Treason is treason, Henthas, and the volumes are quite clear on the point. The other dukes will have no choice but to accept my decision.”

Henthas bared his teeth in what Numar took for a grin. “You think you’ve won already. Grigor was the same way, you know. He thought he’d won, and look how it turned out for him.”

“You forget. I’m the one who destroyed him. Grigor would have prevailed, but he took me too lightly. You’d be wise not to make the same mistake, brother.”

“You’re not as smart as you think you are, Numar. Not nearly.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m smarter than you.”

Henthas just stared back at him with an air of calm the regent had never seen in his brother before. That look, that air of grim resolve, frightened Numar far more than anything the duke had said to him. I know more than you think I do , it seemed to be telling him. I know things you don’t . Henthas had always been the least formidable of the brothers Renbrere, weaker than Grigor and Carden, with little of their intelligence. But he was still Tomaz the Ninth’s son, and thus a far more dangerous foe than nearly any other man in Aneira. Could he have finally mastered the art of court politics? Could he have discovered a path to power that Numar had missed?

The regent forced a smile. “We’re being foolish, brother. Father wouldn’t have wanted us to work at cross-purposes.”

Henthas actually laughed. “And would Father have wanted to see Grigor executed so that you could claim the regency?” He shook his head again. “This is a strange time for you to start worrying about what Father would and wouldn’t have wanted.”

“All right. I don’t want you as an enemy.”

The duke stood, still grinning. “It may be too late for that.”

“I’ve already offered you the lands of Dantrielle. What more do you want?”

“I’m not convinced that Dantrielle is yours to offer. To be honest, I’m not certain that you’re in a position to offer me anything at all.”

“You’re wrong,” Numar said. “Long after those who oppose me have fallen, I’ll still be leading this realm, as regent, or as king.”

“You haven’t the faintest idea who opposes you, brother, much less how to defeat them. I’ll enjoy watching the battle, however. I’ll enjoy watching you fail.”

There was a knock at the door, but for several moments they merely held each other’s gaze, neither of them moving. The knock came a second time and Henthas leered at him.

“Duty calls, brother.”

“Yes, who is it?” Numar demanded.

“The archminister,” came the reply. “Queen Kalyi is with me. She wishes to speak with you.”

Henthas looked like he might laugh once more. “You should see yourself now, Numar. You truly believe that playing nursemaid to the girl doesn’t weaken you in the eyes of your dukes? Just look in any mirror.” He reached for the door handle. “When you find the time.”

The duke opened the door, revealing Pronjed and the young queen. Seeing Henthas, Kalyi shied away, hiding behind the minister as if she expected the duke to make an attempt on her life right there. From the beginning of the regency, Numar had taken care in his conversations with the girl to portray Henthas as a threat, as a man who would murder her, despite their blood relation, to satisfy his ambitions. Chofya had done the same, he knew, though out of a sincere belief that her warnings were justified. Clearly, the girl had taken these admonitions to heart.

The minister stepped into the chamber, urging Kalyi to follow. “Lord Rembrere,” he said nodding to the regent. Then, to Henthas, he added an icy, “My lord.”

“Archminister,” Numar said, mustering another strained smile and wondering if his brother was right after all. He bowed to Kalyi, who could barely bring herself to tear her eyes from Henthas. “Your Highness.”

“I should be on my way,” Henthas said, with an effortless smile. He eyed the girl. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing as well.

Kalyi flinched, then seemed to will herself to step forward from the archminister’s shadow. “Uncle,” she said in a small voice.

His smile broadening, Henthas left the chamber, closing the door smartly behind him.

“Forgive the interruption, my lord,” Pronjed said. “But as I say, the queen requested a word.”

Numar continued to stare at the door a moment longer before facing the Qirsi. And here, no doubt, is another enemy . Pronjed did not appear terribly formidable, with his ghostly eyes and narrow, bony face. But Numar sensed that the minister disliked him, or, more precisely, that he saw the regent-perhaps the regency itself-as an obstacle to his own ambitions. He had often sensed that the man was hiding something from him, and had even wondered if the minister might be part of the Qirsi conspiracy, though he had no evidence to support his suspicions. Regardless of where the Qirsi’s loyalties lay, whether with Chofya or with the conspiracy, Numar knew that he couldn’t trust the man. Or rather, he couldn’t trust him fully. For while their ambitions might have been at odds, Numar and Pronjed both needed House Solkara to remain strong in order to realize them. Thus they needed each other, at least for the time being. Of this the regent was equally certain.

“There’s no need to apologize, Archminister. I’m usually glad for any reason to end a conversation with my brother.” He glanced at Kalyi and gave a wink. The child grinned back at him.

“Of course, my lord,” the minister said. “I’m certain we won’t take but a moment of your time.”

“Nonsense. I’m always happy to speak with my niece.”

She smiled again.

“You can go, Archminister,” the regent said, with a quick look toward the Qirsi. “Kalyi and I will be fine.”