DAVID COE - Seeds of Betrayal

“Do you think I’d kill a man over lightering fees? Is that the kind of king you think I am?”

Brail closed his eyes briefly. If only he had listened to Fetnalla, and given this journey more thought.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that any king must guard against those who would incite opposition to his authority. Chago was angry about the fees, and he may have gone too far in his efforts to fight them.”

The king’s eyes widened. “So you think he deserved to die. Did you come all this way to congratulate me on his murder?”

“Of course not, my liege.”

“Well, Brail, I’m afraid you have me confused. First you imply that I’m a murderer, and then you seem to suggest that I was foolish to let the man live as long as I did. Which is it?”

The duke hesitated again, feeling like a prentice doing battle with a master swordsman. “Neither,” he finally said. He took a breath. “Perhaps I should leave, my liege. I’ve offended you, which was not at all my intent. Unless Your Majesty wishes to imprison me, I should best be starting back to Orvinti tonight. After what I’ve said, I don’t deserve your hospitality.”

“What was your intent, Brail?”

There was little use in trying to be circumspect any longer. Best just to say it and be done, no matter the consequences.

“To find the truth, my liege. We-” He winced. “I feared that perhaps a darker force was at work here. There’s been talk of a Qirsi conspiracy. I worry that Chago’s murder might divide the kingdom against itself, and I’ve wondered if others were responsible and tried to make his death appear to be the work of House Solkara.”

For the first time that night, Carden looked afraid. It lasted but a moment, like the flickering of a candle in a sudden wind. In that one instant, however, he was no longer the ruthless Solkaran king, but rather a young noble seemingly out of his depth. Brail had his answer.

Carden drained his goblet. A servant hurried toward the table from the doorway, as if intending to refill it, but Carden waved the boy away and poured his own wine, not bothering to offer any to Brail. And though it might have been a trick of the dancing torch fire and the shadows cast by the blaze in the hearth, it seemed that his hand trembled.

“I don’t know if you’re the bravest man I’ve ever met, or the most foolish,” the king said a moment later, taking up the dagger once more. “You must realize that I can’t offer you any answers. I would never admit to anyone that I had one of my dukes killed, even if it was clear to every man and woman in the land that I was responsible. Nor would I ever concede that I had allowed myself to be blamed for the crime of another.”

“Of course, my liege. I understand.”

“You understand, and yet you came here hoping that I would acknowledge doing one or the other.”

“I came hoping that I could glean something from our conversation. I never expected you to admit anything.”

“And what have you gleaned, Lord Orvinti?”

He might have been a fool, as the king said. But his foolishness did not run that deep. “Nothing, my liege. I will return to my castle as confused as I was when I left.”

The king smiled thinly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” The fire popped loudly, and the king glanced toward the hearth. “I will tell you,” he continued, “that I share your concerns for the kingdom. For better or worse, Chago’s death has angered my enemies, though it’s forced them to quiet their voices for a time.”

“Have you heard talk of the conspiracy, my liege?”

The king’s mouth twisted. “I have, and it… concerns me as well.”

“So you believe what you’ve heard?”

Carden gave a wan smile. “Do you honestly think that a year ago I would have sent my archminister from the room, even at your request?”

It was a more frank response than the duke had any right to expect, and he found himself wondering if perhaps he had judged the king unfairly.

Carden fell silent, staring at the crystal blade.

“I should leave you, my liege,” Brail said again. “I’m deeply sorry if I gave offense.”

The king made a vague gesture and shook his head, but he didn’t give the duke leave to go.

“Do your friends think I killed him?” he asked.

“The other dukes harbor the same questions I do, my liege. There’s much uncertainty in the land.”

Carden looked up, meeting his gaze, a small smile on his angular face.

“Come now, Brail. You mean to say that Bertin hasn’t been denouncing me as a murderous tyrant?”

Brail couldn’t help but grin. “It is true that there may be somewhat less uncertainty in Noltierre.”

The king actually laughed, though it lasted only a moment or two, and seemed to leave him in an even darker mood than he had been in before. “I don’t doubt it. The man’s an old goat. My father always thought so, too.”

“In his own way, he’s as loyal to Aneira as any of us, my liege.”

“Don’t worry, Brail. I won’t be sending assassins to Cestaar’s Hills any time soon.” He paused, eyeing the duke. “Nor will I be throwing you in my dungeons, as you suggested before. Fool or not, you showed some courage coming here today. And I admire the loyalty you’ve shown your friends. In times like these, a loyal man is more valuable than gold.”

“Thank you, my liege.”

“You’re free to go when you like, but the nights get cold this time of year. Why don’t you take a chamber on the west side of the castle. That’s where the queen will put your Qirsi.”

Brail stood, sensing that the king had just ended their conversation. “Very good, my liege. Again, my thanks.”

He stepped away from the table, and started toward the doorway leading out of the great hall.

“What about your Qirsi, Brail?”

The duke stopped and faced the king once more. “My liege?”

“Do you trust her?”

“I brought her with me, my liege, so I must trust her some. But I never told her why we were riding to Solkara.”

Carden nodded once, but said nothing. A moment later, he raised his goblet again, as if bidding the duke goodnight.

“Forgive me for asking, my liege,” the duke said. “But are you well?”

“Am I well?” the king repeated. He emptied his goblet again. “Do you fear for me, Orvinti?”

“I am your loyal subject, my liege. Like any good Aneiran, I wish for the good health and heart of my king.”

Carden poured more wine, smiling thinly. “Of course you do.” He took a long drink, nearly draining his goblet once more. “It’s not your concern, Brail. For all matters that pertain to you and your people, I’m well enough.”

“Yes, my liege,” Brail said, knowing better than to pursue this any further. He turned once more to leave.

“Brail.”

He looked back at the king.

“Don’t ever come here unannounced again. I’m not one of your earls to be caught unawares. If you ever again arrive at my gates without first sending a messenger, I’ll crush you as I would an attacking army. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, my liege.”

The king stared at him a moment longer, then shifted his chair so that he faced the fire and raised his goblet to his lips.

Maybe he should have been angry. No matter the answer Brail expected him to give, the question itself bordered on impudence. Add to that the duke’s admission that he hoped to glean something from their talk-as if a king might just give away information without intending it-and Carden would have been justified in having the man garroted right there in the great hall.

For an instant he had been tempted to do just that. It might have taught Tebeo, Benin, and the others a lesson. A frightened duke was a timid duke, and in these times Carden felt far more comfortable knowing that his dukes feared him. He understood, however, that a king could take this too far. While Chago’s murder might have tamed his more rebellious dukes, killing Brail as well would only serve to make him appear scared. The last thing he needed was for all Aneira to know how frightened he had grown these last few turns.