DAVID COE - Seeds of Betrayal

She walked back to the window to push the shutters closed again. “You’re not old, Paegar,” she said, glancing back at him. “Not even for a Qirsi.”

The high minister had stepped to the hearth and was piling new wood for a fire. “You’re most kind, Archmimster, but I’m a good deal older than you and far closer to the end of my life than I am to the beginning of it.”

Bolting the shutters, she turned to look at the man. In many ways he reminded Keziah of her father. Like Dafydd, and unlike most older Qirsi, he had a full, healthy face. To be sure, there were lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, but his cheeks weren’t sunken like those of some, and his color remained a healthy white, rather than the sallow yellow that crept into the faces of Qirsi nearing the end of their lives.

“I’d say you have some years left,” she told him with a grin. “I expect you to be showing me the city’s better taverns for a long time to come.”

“Hardly a pursuit worthy of the king’s ministers.” Paegar placed one last log in the hearth and sat back on his heels. “The wood is ready, Archminister, but I’m afraid I don’t have fire magic. Only gleaning and mists and winds.” He gestured toward the hearth. “Can you?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Gleaning, mists and winds, and language of beasts. How embarrassing. Here we are, two of the king’s most trusted Qirsi, and between us we can’t even light a fire.”

Paegar grinned. “Indeed.” He glanced around the chamber, but Keziah kept no candles or lamps burning during the night.

“Wait just a moment,” Keziah said. She stepped into the corridor, lit a tinder with the torch mounted by her door, and, returning to the hearth, handed it to the minister.

Watching him light the fire, she had to smile at what had just passed between them. She usually told no one what powers she possessed. Grinsa knew, of course, and Kearney, but that was all. Since Paegar had confided in her, however, she felt that she should do the same. More than that, though, she wanted to tell him. She viewed it as a measure of how quickly their friendship was deepening that they could share this so soon.

Which raised another point. “You need to stop calling me Archminister, Paegar. Please.”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to call you Keziah in front of the king or the other ministers,” he said, standing once more.

She considered this. “All right, but certainly there’s no harm in it when we’re alone.”

Paegar shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I suppose not.”

In a few moments, the fire in her hearth was burning bright and hot, warming the chamber.

“Thank you, Paegar,” she said. “But I can’t imagine you came here only to build a fire for me.”

His ears turned red, though he managed a smile. “No, I didn’t. I was hoping you’d join me for a quick breakfast in the kitchens before we meet with the king.”

“Of course,” she said. “I need to dress first. Will you wait for me?”

His color deepened, and for the first time it occurred to Keziah that the minister might be taken with her. She felt her chest tighten. Nothing could ruin their friendship faster. Much as she already cared for him, she knew that she could never love him. She still loved Kearney; she probably always would. When she looked at Paegar she saw her father, someone to whom she could turn when her lingering love for the king became more than she could bear. She could no more fall in love with him than she could with Grinsa.

“I’ll be in the hallway,” he said. “Take your time.”

Keziah nodded and watched him leave, feeling as though she might cry. At last she had found a friend in the City of Kings, and already she was on the verge of driving him off.

She dressed quickly, splashing cold water on her face and brushing out her hair before putting on her ministerial robes.

“Maybe I’m wrong about what he’s feeling,” she whispered to herself.

Maybe you’re not.

She joined him in the corridor and they walked to the kitchens, neither of them speaking.

As always the kitchens bustled with activity, even early in the morning of a day when no feasts were planned and no guests were expected to arrive. The scents of spices, baking breads, and roasting meats filled the air. People, animals, and birds ran or flew in every direction, the kitchenmaster shouted instructions to cooks and servants, and guards tried to sneak tastes of fresh loaves of bread and simmering stews.

“What do you want?” the master demanded, seeing Paegar and Keziah. “Are you here for the king or for yourselves?”

Few people spoke to Qirsi ministers in such a tone. But here, amid the food and the cooking flames, the kitchenmaster was king. He spoke to everyone with disdain and impatience. He might even have done so with Kearney, had the king the courage to venture down here.

“Ourselves,” Paegar said. “We’re just looking for a bit of breakfast.”

The man frowned and shook his head. “Fine,” he muttered. “Take what you want and get out of my kitchens.”

Paegar nodded, a small grin on his face. “Of course, kitchenmaster.”

The ministers gathered some breads and cheeses, and a few pieces of dried fruit, before retreating into the king’s hall to eat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man smile,” Paegar said as they took seats in a corner of the hall. “He reminds me of the swordmaster in that way.”

“Oh, Gershon smiles sometimes,” Keziah said. “Just not at anyone with Qirsi blood.”

Paegar nodded. “I see. I sensed that the two of you don’t like each other, but I never understood why.”

Keziah shrugged, taking a bite of bread. “There’s a bit more to it than that,” she said casually. Then she stopped herself, realizing where this was headed.

The high minister stopped chewing and looked at her closely. “Is something troubling you? It’s the swordmaster, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not…” She shook her head a second time. “It’s nothing. There are just certain things I don’t think we should talk about.”

Paegar dropped his gaze. “Of course. I understand.”

She could hear the hurt in his voice and she cursed her own stupidity. She wasn’t handling this well.

“Paegar, there’s a great deal about my life in Glyndwr that you don’t understand, and that I’m not certain I could ever explain.”

The minister kept his eyes fixed on the food sitting before him. “I didn’t intend to make you feel that you had to.”

Keziah sighed, closing her eyes. Grinsa would have done this far better. “You didn’t,” she told him. “But I sense that you… that you harbor some affection for me.”

He looked up at that, the bright red of his cheeks confirming her suspicions.

“I’m flattered,” she went on. “Truly I am. But I’ve been friendless for so long, and I’ve so enjoyed the time we’ve had together these recent days. I don’t want to risk losing you so soon.”

“How do you know you’d lose me? Perhaps you’ll fall in love with me as I have with you.”

She smiled sadly. “Perhaps I would. But after all I’ve been through this past year, I’m not ready to try. My heart still belongs to another, and though he and I can’t be together, I don’t really want to stop loving him.”

“Even though it pains you?”

Abruptly there were tears on her face and an ache in her chest and throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “Even so.”

To her amazement and her profound relief, the man actually smiled at her. “Well, I certainly hope he’s worth all this. I’d hate to think that such an extraordinary woman was wasting her love on a fool.”