David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“I proposed that we search her chamber for gold, knowing that the conspiracy pays its servants well. She refused, of course. That was when my father knew she had to be lying. When the duke said as much to Enid, she admitted everything, calling him the foulest names and making it clear to all that her charm and wit had only served to conceal a black heart.”

“Did you learn anything from her?”

“No, my liege. She took her own life before we could question her. She remained loyal to her cause to the very end.”

“This must have come as a blow to your father.”

Marston nodded. “It did, my liege, in more ways than you may think. Enid came to Thorald shortly after the death of Filib the Elder. For years we assumed that the murder of Filib the Younger was the work of thieves who had come to Thorald with the Revel. My father and I now believe that his death may actually have been the work of assassins hired by the first minister.”

Gershon sat forward. “Demons and fire! Do you have evidence of this?”

“No, not yet.”

“It makes a good deal of sense, Your Majesty,” Keziah said. “Galdasten had been removed from the Order of Ascension several years before, and Filib’s death removed Thorald, thus making Curgh and Kentigern the two leading houses in the land.”

Kearney looked incredulous. “Are you suggesting that the conspiracy was already planning Brienne’s murder when Filib died?”

“Not exactly. I doubt they could have foreseen all the circumstances that led to Brienne’s death. But if they wished to use the Rules of Ascension to push the land toward civil war, it would have made sense for them to eliminate as many of the major houses as possible from the order. They would find it far easier to turn events to their purposes if they only had to concern themselves with two or three houses rather than four or five.”

“My pardon, my liege,” Marston said, looking from Kearney to Keziah. “But you speak of Brienne’s murder being the work of the Qirsi with such certainty. Are you convinced that this woman you hold in your dungeon is telling the truth?”

“I am, Lord Shanstead, though you should know that she’s in the prison tower, not the dungeon.”

“But why, my liege?”

“She has a newborn babe and despite what she’s done in the past, she’s cooperating with us now. I saw fit to show her a measure of mercy.”

Marston didn’t look at all pleased, but he seemed to know better than to argue the point further. “She can offer proof that the conspiracy had Kentigern’s daughter killed?”

“She claims to be the one who planned the murder and hired the assassin.”

Marston’s eyebrows went up. “Then you can prove Lord Tavis’s innocence.”

“We can.”

“Does Lord Kentigern know of this? Is he coming here?”

Kearney glanced at Gershon, who couldn’t keep the frown from his face. “Lord Kentigern has yet to reply to my summons,” the king said at last. “I don’t hold out much hope that he will.”

“But surely the others. .” The younger man trailed off, a plea on his face.

“We haven’t yet heard from Galdasten, Sussyn, or Eardley.”

“Damn,” Marston said, shaking his head.

“Javan arrived yesterday,” the king told him, as if this were consolation, “and we expect Lathrop before nightfall.”

“Yes, but they were allies already. We need the other houses.”

Kearney gave a wan smile. “I know.”

“Forgive me, my liege. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No apology is necessary, Marston. I share your frustration.”

Marston glanced at his minister, who stared back at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Archminister,” the Qirsi said. “May I have a word with you?”

Keziah faltered, looking toward the king.

“It’s all right,” he said.

She forced a smile and led Shanstead’s minister from the chamber, leaving the king, with Gershon and Marston.

“You wish to speak without the ministers present?” Gershon asked, eyes narrowing.

The thane looked weary and young in the dim light of the chamber, and though he was eyeing the swordmaster, he addressed himself to the king. “Again, my liege, forgive my presumption. I’ve found, in discussing such matters with my father, that it’s easier to speak freely when there are no Qirsi listening to the conversation.”

“Do you doubt your minister, Lord Shanstead?”

Marston took a breath. “No, my liege.”

“So it’s my archminister whose loyalty you question.”

The thane winced and Gershon had to keep himself from smiling, even as he sympathized with the man. It was one thing to speak so with one’s father, even when he was duke of a major house. But it was quite another to raise the matter with a king.

“I’m afraid I haven’t handled this very well, my liege.”

“It’s all right, Marston. You may speak, though you should understand that I’ve known Keziah for a long time. I daresay I know her as well as any man in the realm. She’s no traitor.”

“Of course, my liege. In that case I’ll say no more, save to ask you if you’ve noticed anything unusual in her behavior.”

This time it was Kearney’s turn to falter, and abruptly there was no longer anything amusing about their conversation.

The king looked at Gershon, who had little choice but to say, “She has been acting oddly since Paegar’s death.”

“Paegar?” the thane asked.

“One of my underministers. He fell in his chamber, striking his head on the edge of the hearth. He and the archminister were close, and after his death she. . changed. She grew defiant and embittered. I finally had to threaten to have her removed from the castle permanently. Since then, she’s been more like herself.”

“If I may ask, my liege, were she and this Paegar lovers?”

“No,” Kearney said, a bit too quickly.

“I see. You say that he fell in his chamber.”

“I know how it sounds, Lord Shanstead, but the door was locked from within. It was an accident, albeit a strange one.”

Gershon wanted desperately to leave it at that, but he knew that he couldn’t, that the archminister would have been the first to tell him so. The swordmaster had long questioned the wisdom of what she was doing and he feared for her life, but he had also sworn to help her in this endeavor. To keep silent now, after she had worked so hard to draw the attention of the conspiracy’s Weaver, made no sense at all.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

“Gershon?”

“It’s probably nothing, Your Majesty. Merely something the surgeon said the day we found Paegar’s body. I gave it little thought at the time. As you say, the door was locked from within. But after what happened last night to the woman. .” He shrugged.

“Go on.”

Both men were watching him intently.

“He said that he had rarely seen a simple fall result in such a severe wound. He went on to say that he still thought the fall had killed the minister-the way the blood had stained the floor made him all but certain. But now, after seeing what can be done to a person in their sleep, I have to wonder if the Weaver found some way to make him fall.”

“The Weaver?” Marston repeated, looking truly frightened.

The king nodded. “That’s one of the things we’ve learned from the Qirsi woman. It seems the conspiracy is led by a Weaver who can communicate through the dreams of those who serve him.”

“Gods save us all!”

“Indeed,” Kearney said. “We learned last night that this Weaver not only can communicate across great distances with his underlings but can attack them as well. It seems he learned somehow that the woman is helping us and sought to silence her. She’s lucky to have survived the encounter.” He turned to Gershon. “And now you believe he may have attacked Paegar as well?”