David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Walking in the sun now, she also noticed the glint of a gold band on his finger, and she gave an inward smile. Always the joined ones. Just once, why can’t I find a man who wears no ring?

She knew why they had left Kearney’s chamber. The thane wished to speak to the king of the conspiracy, and he didn’t want any Qirsi present. And no doubt he had instructed his minister to try to learn whether Keziah had betrayed the king.

“Isn’t this where you ask me if I can help you join the Qirsi movement?”

The man glanced at her, a slight smile on his lips. “In Shanstead we call it the conspiracy.”

Keziah grinned. So handsome. “Xivled, isn’t it?”

“Yes. My friends call me Xiv.”

“Does that mean that I can?”

He laughed. “Yes.”

“Thank you. Tell me, Xiv, does your thane believe me to be a traitor?”

“My thane knows little more about you than I do, Archminister. He makes no judgements as to your loyalty to the king, or lack thereof.”

“But he wonders.”

“Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t we all?”

“Not necessarily,” Keziah said, shaking her head. “You think you serve the realm by questioning the loyalty of every Qirsi in every court. But all you’re doing is fueling the doubts of our lords, widening the chasm that already divides Eandi from Qirsi. You’re making matters worse, and you’re not learning anything new. I congratulate you for unmasking the traitor in Tobbar’s court, but I fear that your success has made you too bold.”

“You’re wrong.” He halted, faced her, looking earnest and young. “We didn’t create the chasm of which you speak, nor are we responsible for the deepening mistrust between the races. But the conspiracy is real. There are traitors in nearly every court in the Forelands. That’s the reason the conspiracy is so strong, so dangerous. I was once a trusting person, as was Lord Shanstead. I wish I could be still. I don’t enjoy questioning the motives of every Qirsi I meet, or assuming the worst about a person until she can prove to me that she deserves my trust. But that’s the world in which we now live. The conspiracy has done this, and so long as we continue to trust without question, we enhance its strength.”

“I don’t believe that. Allowing the treachery of a few to destroy our ability to trust one another-that enhances their strength. They seek to divide us, and you’re making it easier for them.”

“We’re never going to agree,” he said. “We could argue this way until nightfall, and we’d still be just where we are now.”

“Probably.” Keziah began to walk again, and he with her. She had met a great number of Qirsi ministers over the years, particularly in the turns she had spent in Audun’s Castle. Many of them-most, really-had struck her as well-meaning, faithful servants to their lords. That was one reason she took exception to Xivled’s suspicions. But Xiv was the first she had met about whose loyalty she had no doubts at all. Perhaps it was because he questioned her fealty to the king, as he seemed to question the fealty of all ministers. Perhaps he had thought up the perfect way to hide his treachery. She smiled at the notion. This man was no traitor. Indeed, she found herself thinking that she could tell him of her attempt to win the Weaver’s trust. If anyone could see the merit in her plan, he could. She didn’t dare, of course. But she thought it a measure of the minister’s charm that she would even consider it. “So have you decided yet if I can be trusted?” she asked instead

“Not yet, no.”

“There are many in this castle who’ll tell you that I’ve been defiant of my king, that I’ve behaved strangely. Some, I’m sure, think me a traitor.”

“Are you?”

Keziah smiled again. “Either way, you know that I can only give you one answer.”

“That’s not true. You could simply confess and be done with it.”

“Must you argue with everything I say?”

He looked down, smiling once more, but looking embarrassed. “Forgive me, Archminister.”

“Let me ask you a question,” she said, pressing her advantage.

“Of course.”

“Now that we can prove Tavis’s innocence, do you believe Tobbar will ally himself with the king and Javan?”

The minister creased his brow and inclined his head slightly. “I can’t say. Lord Tavis’s guilt or innocence was always but one consideration among many in the duke’s decision to withhold support from both sides in this conflict. He fears that adding Thorald’s might to either side will tip the balance so greatly in that duke’s favor that he’ll feel emboldened and will attack the other. Nothing has happened to allay that concern.”

“And your lord is of the same mind?”

“Lord Shanstead would never presume to challenge his father on a matter of such importance.”

“At least not openly.”

“What are you suggesting, Archminister?”

“That Marston strikes me as a sensible but passionate man. I find it hard to believe that he would do anything to weaken the Rules of Ascension, particularly with his sons in line for the throne. But by the same token, I also have difficulty believing that he enjoys watching Thorald stand idly as the other houses line up against one another. He seems to understand that the kingdom must unite if it’s to face the Qirsi challenge, and with Tavis absolved of Brienne’s murder, he’ll be eager to throw Thorald’s support to Javan and end the threat from Kentigern.”

“You gathered all of this from the discussion we observed today?” Xiv asked, sounding impressed.

“And from what I’ve heard of him from others.”

The man nodded, his brow furrowing again. “You understand, I can only say so much. But I do believe that if my lord were duke. . matters might stand somewhat differently.”

“Thank you, Minister,” Keziah said, not bothering to mask her surprise. “I appreciate your candor.”

“I’d ask you not to repeat what I’ve said to anyone, Archminister. Not even the king, at least not yet.”

“Of course. I’ll merely tell him that these are my impressions of the thane.”

“Thank you.”

She considered asking the minister how much longer he thought the duke of Thorald would live, but some questions lay beyond the bounds of propriety, even for the highest-ranking Qirsi in the land.

Rather, she sensed that he was eager to rejoin his lord, so that they might share what they had learned from the king and from Keziah. “Was there more you wished to ask me, Minister?” she said. “Or am I free to return to the king?”

Before Xiv could answer, the city bells began to echo through the castle ward. Keziah glanced up at the sun. It was too early for the prior’s bells. “It seems the duke of Tremain has come,” she told him. “I should be at the gate to greet him.” She smiled. “Thank you for a most interesting conversation.”

She started to walk away, but Xivled called to her, making her face him again.

“I asked you before if you were a traitor,” he said. “You never answered me.” He wore a smile, but the archminister could see that he was keenly interested in her response, or more precisely, how she offered it.

“You’re right,” she answered, turning away once more. “I never did.”

With the arrival of the two lords, and the welcoming ceremonies and the grand feast planned for that evening, Audun’s Castle fairly hummed with activity. The royal guard marched to and from the city gates, accompanying the nobles and their ministers. Even in the prison tower, which was on the other side of the inner keep from the kitchen, Grinsa could hear the shouts of the kitchenmaster and smell the faint, appealing aromas of roasting meat and baking bread. And through it all, Cresenne slept, looking small and frail against the dingy linens on her bed. She flailed at times, crying out and raising her hands as if to ward off a blow, but she didn’t wake. The wounds on her ashen face, dark and ugly in the dim light of the chamber, seemed to scream at him, an accusation. How could you allow this to happen? You said you’d protect her. If only she told all she knew, you would do everything in your power to keep her safe, and the baby too . He spoke bravely of keeping the Weaver from hurting her again, but he knew that if the man was determined to harm her, even kill her, there was little anyone could do to stop him.