David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“And Renald,” she added, lowering her voice and glancing toward the door. “If I were you, I wouldn’t speak of this with Pillad.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because he’s Qirsi, you fool. Didn’t Kearney’s message teach you anything? Brienne is dead because the Qirsi wished her dead. Eibithar is poised to fall into turmoil because the Qirsi wished it so. A noble who continues to trust his white-hairs with all matters of the realm risks a similar fate.”

“But Pillad-”

She raised a finger to her lips, silencing him. Her eyes flicked to the door once more. Then she walked back to where he sat.

“Please, Renald,” she said, her voice low. “Don’t tell me that you know him too well, that he’s served your house for too long, that he couldn’t possibly betray you.”

The duke just stared at her, groping for a response and feeling like a chastised child.

“He’s Qirsi,” she said, “and therefore he’s dangerous. You may be right about him, he may be as loyal as a hound. But you’ve come too far to take that chance.”

He nodded to her a second time, knowing that she was right, hating her for it.

“We’ll speak again later,” she told him. “After you’ve spoken with the others.”

She turned away from him, her gown swirling, and left the chamber, leaving the door open as she favored the two men in the corridor with a gentle smile.

“Good day, my lord,” Ewan said entering the chamber.

Pillad followed him in and bowed to Renald. “My lord.”

“Close the door,” the duke said sourly.

The Qirsi shut the door quietly and both men sat near the hearth. Renald eyed them both for several moments. Confronted now with the need to dismiss the Qirsi from his chamber, the duke wasn’t certain how to proceed. Living in a realm in which nobles gathered Qirsi ministers according to their status and rank, Renald should have been able to attract to his court the wisest and most powerful. Eandi leaders in the Forelands had been collecting Qirsi for centuries, for their magic to be sure-their ability to glean the future, to weave mists that could conceal an entire army, and to shatter swords or whisper dark words to the horses of enemy soldiers-but also because a powerful minister enhanced the reputation of the man he served. Javan of Curgh was a formidable man in his own right, but having Fotir jal Salene as his first minister served to make him seem that much more impressive.

Had he been in line for the throne, Renald might have lured such a Qirsi to his own court. Instead, he had Pillad. The man was a capable minister whose visions had proven to be of value once or twice over the years. But Pillad would have been the first to admit that the powers he possessed-gleaning, fire, and healing-were not among the deeper Qirsi magics. He would have been less likely to admit what brought him to Galdasten, though Renald knew. Under most circumstances, a Qirsi of his limited abilities could never have expected to serve the duke of a major house in one of the Forelands’ most powerful realms. But when Renald became duke, he was served by an aging woman whose powers were no more impressive than Pillad’s, and when she died, Pillad saw an opportunity to serve in a dukedom, despite his shortcomings. With Galdasten removed from the Order of Ascension, other Qirsi weren’t exactly flocking to Renald’s castle, and though one or two of the others who did come had a bit more to offer than this man, something in Pillad’s manner drew the duke’s attention.

He had little doubt that his minister remained loyal to the house and despite the soundness of Elspeth’s reasoning, Renald was loath to exclude him from the discussion.

But can you be certain?

“How goes the training of the men?” he asked Ewan, stalling.

The swordmaster looked puzzled. “Well, my lord. As always.”

“Would you trust them to prevail in a fight?”

“Against whom, my lord?”

“The army of another major house.”

“Excuse me, my lord,” Pillad broke in. “But are you expecting to go to war?”

“No, Minister, I’m not. But with Kentigern threatening rebellion, I feel that we should be prepared for the worst. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“I’d put our men up against any in the land, my lord,” Ewan said, a note of pride in his voice, his black beard bristling.

“Of course, Ewan,” the duke said. “Forgive the question.”

In his own way, the swordmaster was as limited in his capabilities as the minister. He was a fine swordsman, nearly a match for Hagan MarCullett in Curgh. But once more, measuring the men who served him against those serving Javan, Renald found that he suffered for the comparison. Ewan was not quite as skilled with a blade as Hagan, nor could he have prevailed against Curgh’s swordmaster in a battle of wits. His men loved him and would have followed him into battle against a host of demons and wraiths. But Kell’s swordmaster had succumbed to the pestilence with the old duke, and replacing him with as fine a soldier had proven difficult.

Once more the duke could hear his wife mocking them all. I can hardly imagine Ewan or Pillad being of much help. Their minds are no more nimble than yours . And though it galled him to think it, he had to concede that she was right about this as well.

Pillad pressed his fingertips together. “Have you given any more thought to the king’s message, my lord?”

“Yes, though I haven’t yet decided on any course of action.”

“You still believe he may be lying.”

“Possibly.” The duke narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think?”

“Actually it is. I’ve given the matter a good deal of thought, and I find it hard to imagine a member of the conspiracy admitting so much to any Eandi noble. I’d advise you to put little stock in that letter.”

Renald nodded, though he suddenly felt cold. Perhaps the duchess was right about him after all. The one thing the duke and his wife agreed on was that Kearney wouldn’t have lied about such a thing. Yet here was the minister arguing that the king had done just that.

“It’s a fair point, Minister. I’ll consider it. For now, however, I’d like to speak with the swordmaster in private.”

It was clumsily done-Elspeth would have handled it far better. But Renald could barely keep his hands steady. He just wanted the man out of his chamber.

Pillad merely stared back at him, his face expressionless, his yellow eyes wide, so that he looked like a great owl. “My lord?”

“I wish to speak with Ewan of the men and of their training. I see no need to keep you here for a discussion that could consume the rest of the morning. I’ll call for you later.”

The minister glanced at Ewan, then stood and sketched a small bow. “Of course, my lord.”

Still he stood there, as if confused. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. After another moment he walked to the door and slipped out of the room, saying nothing more.

“Damn,” the duke muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“You’ve lost faith in him.”

“It’s that apparent, is it?”

“I’m afraid so. Can you tell me why?”

“Something the duchess said about the dangers of trusting any Qirsi in these times. And then his suggestion that Kearney’s letter was a deception.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I agree with him.”

Renald felt his stomach heave. Damn the woman! “You do?”

“From what I’ve heard of these Qirsi traitors, it seems they’d rather die than betray their cause. You remember what happened in Thorald?”

Indeed he did, not merely because it had been only a few turns before but also because the tidings had left him badly shaken. Faced with accusations that she was a traitor, Tobbar’s first minister admitted as much, but then took her own life before the duke and his men could question her.