Tad Williams - Shadowrise

“I will see that he has a good burial in Layandros,” she told Finn. Briony looked to where Prince Eneas waited with his men, deliberately staying at a distance so that she could have this reunion with what he supposed—what she herself had supposed—were her friends. “That’s the least I can do.”

“I say again, do not blame yourself, Princess. The roads are bad these days and we have spent much of our lives traveling. This might have happened whether we journeyed with you or not.”

“But you were traveling with me, Finn, and I didn’t give you any choice about it. Without me, Dowan could have stayed behind—could have gone off to tend a farm with Estir.”

“And caught the plague, or been gored by his own bull. I’m not certain I believe in the gods, but Fate is something else.” Finn shook his head. “Our deaths will find us, Princess—mine, yours, Estir Makewell’s—whether we hide from them or not. Dowan’s found him here, that’s all.”

She could not speak for a long moment. The weight of all she had lost and all she had failed to do felt as though it were pressing down on her so heavily she could barely breathe.

“Th–thank you,” she said at last. “You are a good man, Finn Teodoros. I regret involving any of you in my troubles.”

Now it was the playwright’s turn to fall silent, but it seemed a silence of consideration rather than emotion. “Come a little way aside with me before you leave us, Princess Briony,” he said at last.

They retreated back across the road until they stood a goodly distance from Eneas and his soldiers but still in sight, and far enough from the grieving Estir Makewell that Briony could breathe again.

“If there is something you want, ask me,” said Briony. “Dear Finn, you are one of the few people in this world who has done me nothing but kindness.” She could not forget the imperiousness she had shown him earlier—it made her wince to think of how she had threatened him with her rank. “You will be my historian, as I said, but I hope you’ll also still be my friend.”

For the first time since she had met him he seemed at a loss for words, but once again it seemed something other than raw feelings that kept him silent. At last he shook his head as if to throw off some nagging annoyance. “I must speak to you, Princess.”

“You puzzle me, Master Teodoros. Aren’t we speaking?”

“I mean in honesty. True honesty.” He swallowed. “You have suffered much for your people and risked even more, Highness. Listen to me now. Those whom you consider your friends and allies—well, some of them are not friends. Not at all.”

Dawet had said much the same to her on that day so long ago, back in Southmarch. That felt like another world. “What do you mean? I do not mean to mock you, but I can scarcely think of anyone who hasn’t betrayed my family’s trust—the Tollys, Hesper of Jellon, King Enander ...”

“No, I mean someone closer to you.” His usual air of amused cynicism was quite gone. “You know that I have long served Avin Brone, both as a scholar and as a spy.”

“Yes, and someday I will ask you to tell me what you can of those days, those tasks. Brone himself said that I was too trusting, that I needed to find my own spies and informants, but I confess I know little of the game ...”

Teodoros raised his hand, then thought better of displaying impatience to a princess. “Forgive me, Highness, but it is Brone himself I am talking about.”

It took a moment before she understood him. “Brone? Are you saying that Avin Brone is a traitor?”

His round face was full of pain. “This is difficult, my lady. Lord Brone has never been anything but just and fair with me, Highness, and neither has he ever said anything to me that suggested he was less than loyal to you… but he left me alone in his retiring room once, when one of his other spies was brought in unexpectedly from the South Road, wounded by an arrow ...”

“Rule. His name was Rule,” Briony said. “Merciful Zoria, I remember that night. I was there in Brone’s chambers.”

“And I was in a room nearby where the count does his business.” Finn glanced around to make sure they were still out of everyone’s earshot. “I am… I am a curious man, to tell you something that will not surprise you. By Zosim the Many-Faced, it is not my fault—I am a writer! I had never been left alone among Lord Brone’s things before, and… well, I must confess that I took the chance to look at some of his papers. Some of them were things I could not make much sense of—maps of places I didn’t know, lists of names—and others were simply reports about doings in Summerf ield, Hierosol, Jellon, and other places, obviously reports from his many spies. But at the bottom of a pile in his writing desk I found a vellum cover with the Eddon blazon upon it, but without a seal to keep it closed.”

“You know you should not have even touched such a thing,” said Briony. “You could have been executed for that if someone caught you reading it.” She said it almost lightly, but in truth she spoke only because she was stalling; she did not want to hear what he would say next.

“As I said, Princess, I am a writer, and as all know, that is another name for a fool. I stepped to the doorway to listen for anyone coming and then unfolded the cover. Inside was a list of people—those that I recognized were trusted agents of Lord Brone—who, at a certain time and at a certain signal, would kill or imprison the members of the royal family. There were also plans for consolidating power afterward and keeping the people pacified. And the scheme was in Brone’s handwriting. I know it as well as my own.”

“What… ?” She could not believe what she was hearing. “Are you telling me that Brone plans to murder us?”

Finn Teodoros looked miserable. “It could be that I am wrong, Highness. It could be that it was another report—some conspiracy that he had uncovered, and perhaps even thwarted, copied over in his own hand. Or something entirely different. I would not want to declare the count guilty on what I saw alone and have his death on my conscience. But I swear it was as I tell you, Princess. He had made a list in his own hand that looked very much like a plan of betrayal and assassination—a plan to seize the throne of Southmarch. I wish it were not so, but that is what I saw.”

The clearing beside the road suddenly seemed as unstable as the deck of a ship. For a moment Briony feared it would spin away from beneath her and she would faint. “Why… why do you tell me this now, Finn?”

“Because you are leaving us soon,” he said. “We will not be able to keep up with the prince’s soldiers and in truth we wouldn’t want to. We are not fighters, but there’s fighting ahead of you, the gods know.” Finn bowed his head as though he couldn’t meet her eye. “And… because you have been kind to me, Princess. I am fond of you. As you said, I would like to think of you as a friend—and not simply because of the power that comes with being close to royalty. Once I could convince myself that I might be mistaken, that it was none of my affair. Now… well, I know you too well, Briony Eddon. Princess. That is the truth.”

“I… I have to think.” As alone as she had felt since her twin brother marched away, this was worse. The world, already a dangerous and confusing place, had now proved to have no center and no sense at all. “I have to think. Please leave me alone.”

He bowed and went away. And when Prince Eneas came to speak to her, sensing something wrong, she waved him off as well. There was no comfort to be had in the company of other people. Not now, anyway. Perhaps never again.