David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Too restless to sit still, unwilling to risk a chance encounter with Kayiv or remain a prisoner in her chamber, she left the palace for the marketplace in Curtell city. There she passed much of the day wandering among the peddler’s carts and the stalls of the food vendors. It was a fair day, the sky bright blue and a warm breeze blowing down from the Crying Hills, but Nitara could think only of Dusaan. If he were a Weaver, he couldn’t truly be ill, could he? Surely a Weaver didn’t succumb to fevers as an Eandi or a common Qirsi might. He could heal himself. She wanted to believe this, but everywhere she walked, it seemed that a shadow followed. What if he died? What would happen to the movement? What would happen to her?

The minister finally returned to the palace just as night began to fall, and seeing a pair of guards in the corridor near her chamber, she approached them.

“How fares the high chancellor?” she asked.

Both men looked at her as though puzzled.

“He’s fine, so far as I know,” one of them said. “He’s with the emperor right now.”

Relief overwhelmed her, and she felt her face flush. Grateful for the dim light in the corridor, she thanked the men and hurried to her chamber.

She would go to him this night, she told herself. Having feared that she might lose him, she could no longer bear to keep from him her true feelings. But as the night went on, marked by the ringing of the twilight bells, and then the gate close, Nitara lost her nerve. She wanted to go to him, but she feared that he would turn her away, that he might think her foolish, or worse, weak. And too, she feared him. He was a Weaver, and so the most powerful Qirsi she had ever known.

Eventually she undressed, pulled on her sleeping gown, and crawled into bed, trembling with her fright and her disgust at what she had become.

Unable to fall asleep, she merely stared at the fire, much as she had the previous night. The midnight bell tolled and still she lay awake. She longed to ask him if it were true that he was a Weaver, to ask him if he thought he could love her. Yet she cringed at the idea of doing so. Perhaps he already had a woman. She had never seen him with anyone, but the palace was vast, and she really knew so little about him.

Look at you , a voice said within her mind. Kayiv’s voice. You’re a child with an infatuation, nothing more. He might pity you, he might laugh at you. But he won’t love you .

That of all things roused her from her bed. It wasn’t weakness to want him, she told herself. It was only weakness if she allowed herself to be mastered by her fears. She resolved to go to him then. She started to reach for her clothes, but already she felt herself beginning to waver once more. So she fled the chamber, dressed only in her shift, and made her way to Dusaan’s door.

She knocked quickly, as soon as she reached the high chancellor’s chamber, thus forcing herself to remain there. At first there was no response and she had to resist the urge to hurry away. She made herself knock a second time.

“Who’s there?”

She shivered at the sound of his voice. “Nitara.”

The door opened. He was still dressed. He hadn’t been sleeping.

“What do you want?”

“I–I wish to speak with you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Now?”

She suddenly found that she didn’t know what to say, and so she spoke the first words that came to her. “I know who you are, what you are.”

He glanced to both sides and she did as well, belatedly. The corridor was empty save for her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “You should return to your chamber.”

“Yes, you do.” She stepped forward gazing up into his eyes. “I don’t intend to tell anyone. I just want to be with you.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then pulled her into his chamber and closed the door.

“What is it you think you know?” he asked, turning to face her, his expression deadly serious.

“I believe you lead the movement,” she said, surprised to hear that her voice remained steady. She took a breath. “I believe that you’re the Weaver.”

For a long time he said nothing, his face revealing little more. “You came to me in your sleeping gown to tell me that?”

She felt her cheeks reddening once more, and she looked away. “Yes.”

“What of Kayiv?”

“He and I are no longer. . I don’t love him. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I meant, does he also believe that I’m the Weaver?”

Her eyes flew to his face. He was actually smiling, kindly, with none of the mockery she had feared seeing in his golden eyes.

“No, High Chancellor. He thinks me a fool.”

“Is this why you’re not with him tonight?”

“No. As I said, I don’t love him.”

He nodded, turning away and walking to his writing table. “When you first thought of coming here, to say what you have, how did you think I would respond?”

“I don’t know. I hoped. .” She stopped, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she said again, her heart aching.

“I can’t love you, Minister. At least not now. It would be dangerous for us both. The emperor demands that I devote my days to his service, and my nights belong to the movement. Someday, perhaps. But for now, you should go back to Kayiv.”

She fought to keep from crying, feeling like a chastised child, hearing Kayiv’s laughter in her mind. “I can’t.”

He turned to her. Tall, regal, powerful. How could she ever go back to any other man?

“Very well. But you understand why I have to turn you away, regardless of my desires.”

“Yes, High Chancellor.”

He paused, then, “Call me Weaver.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Then it’s true,” she whispered, breathless and awed.

Dusaan returned to where she stood, grasping her shoulders firmly. “You can speak of this with no one. Do you understand? If Kayiv raises the matter, tell him that you were wrong. Make him think that you feel a fool for even raising the possibility. My life depends upon it, and so yours does, too.”

“Yes. Weaver.”

The smile touched his lips again. Would that she could touch them as well.

“I’m. . pleased that you know. I didn’t think I would be, but I am.”

“Thank you, Weaver.”

“Go now. In the morning, you must act as if none of this ever happened. If you can’t do that, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.”

She knew that she should have been afraid, but for some reason she wasn’t. “Good night, Weaver.” She turned, reached for the door.

“How did you know?” he asked.

Nitara glanced back at him over her shoulder. “You have the look of a king,” she said, and left him.

City of Kings, Eibithar

With the arrival in the royal city of the thane of Shanstead and the duke of Tremain, the king seemed eager to begin discussions of the Qirsi threat and all that he had learned from the woman being held in his prison tower. Not surprisingly, therefore, Javan of Curgh and the others were summoned to the king’s presence chamber early the following morning. What did come as a great surprise to Fotir jal Salene and the other ministers was the king’s request that all Qirsi be excluded from the conversation. The guard who came to Javan’s chamber didn’t phrase the request quite that way. Rather, the minister received a separate invitation to meet with the king’s archminister and the other visiting Qirsi. But there could be no mistaking the king’s intent.

“You’re angry,” the duke said, after the guard had gone.

Fotir didn’t wish to lie to Javan, but neither did he think it appropriate to say anything critical of the king. So he gave a vague shrug, his gaze fixed on the floor. A year ago, he felt certain that his duke wouldn’t have even thought to speak of this. But the time they had spent together in Kentigern, struggling to win Tavis’s freedom and then fighting side by side against the invaders from Mertesse had strengthened their friendship. There may have been a time when Javan questioned Fotir’s loyalty, but in the wake of all they had shared those doubts had long since been laid to rest.