DAVID COE - Seeds of Betrayal

Had it not been for Chago’s death and the funeral in Bistari two days earlier, Brail too would have been busy with the celebration. As it was, he had been eager to return to Orvinti. Storms struck the Hills of Shanae every year around this time, and the last thing Brail needed was to be blocked from his castle so close to Bohdan’s Night. So, after Chago’s funeral, when Pazice insisted that he invite the dukes back to Orvinti, he was more than happy to comply. Most refused, as he knew they would. It would have taken many of them farther from their homes and at least a few of them-the duke of Rassor came to mind-didn’t like him very much.

Those who did come, Ansis, Bertin, and Tebeo, were friends and allies of both Bistari and Orvinti. To the extent that any duke in Aneira trusted another, they trusted each other. It almost seemed to Brail that the god had granted him an extra gift this turn: for this one night, he was surrounded by friends.

“It was a good service,” Ansis said, his pale eyes fixed on the fire.

Bertin shook his head. “It was a load of dung, just as I knew it would be from the start. Maybe if Carden had allowed Chago’s prelate to preside, there would have been a measure of truth in it. But with the king’s prelate controlling everything…” He shook his head a second time, a look of disgust on his square face. A moment later he drained his wine, then held out his goblet so that one of Brail’s servants could pour him more.

Ansis frowned, looking even younger than usual. “I just meant that it seemed to do Ria and Silbron some good to hear so many people speak of Chago so fondly.” He glanced at Brail and then at Tebeo, as if pleading with them to agree.

“I was surprised that the king allowed me to speak,” Tebeo said. “I didn’t expect that, not after I sided with Chago in their dispute over the road fees.”

“He wouldn’t allow me to speak,” Bertin said, raising his cup again. He had consumed a good deal of wine this day. “And he refused Tounstrel’s request, too. He couldn’t very well keep all of us silent.”

Brail cast a look at the duke of Noltierre. “I’m sure he was tempted to try.”

Bertin grinned and nodded. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“Even Carden wouldn’t have gone that far,” Tebeo said. “He might have considered it, but he knows better.”

“He didn’t hesitate to have poor Chago killed,” Bertin said. “Why would he care about the rest?”

Ansis sat forward. “Precisely because he had Chago killed. He couldn’t silence all of us without making himself look guilty.”

“Don’t be an idiot! ” Bertin said, rolling his eyes. “He had the man garroted. He wanted us to know who was responsible. It was intended as a warning to others who’d be as bold in opposing him as Chago was.”

Ansis chewed his lip briefly. “Is that what you think, Tebeo?”

The duke of Dantrielle looked at Brail before answering. With Chago gone, the two of them represented the greatest threat to Carden’s rule. Bertin hated the king more than either of them, as did Vidor of Tounstrel, but neither Noltierre nor Tounstrel was counted among the kingdom’s more powerful houses. Kett, like Noltierre, was at best a middle-tier house, and even had it been more, Ansis’s youth would have kept him from exerting much influence within the court. Until recently Mertesse had wielded a good deal of power. Its army was considered one of the finest in the land, and its treasury rivaled that of Bistari and Orvinti. But the dukes of Mertesse had allied themselves with House Solkara long ago, and with Rouel’s death during the siege at Kentigern several turns back, the dukedom had passed to Rowan, an unproven and unimpressive youth.

Among the great houses, only Solkara, Orvinti, and Dantrielle were still led by men of experience. Surely it had not escaped the king’s notice that both Brail and Tebeo had, at one time or another, sided with Chago in taking issue with his decrees.

All of which made Tebeo’s answer to Ansis’s question that much more significant. Though he was among friends in the privacy of Brail’s quarters, the duke would have to choose his words with care. Still, even knowing this, Brail was surprised by Tebeo’s reply.

“I might have seen it as a warning,” he said, “had I believed that Carden was responsible.”

Bertin nearly choked on a mouthful of wine. “ What ? ‘Had you believed-’? You mean you don’t?”

“I’m not as certain of it as you are.”

“You saw his body before they lit the pyre! Good as he was, the embalmer couldn’t hide the marks on Chago’s neck. And as if that wasn’t enough, the captain of Bistari’s guard told me that they found a broken strap in Chago’s hand bearing the Solkaran crest.”

“I heard that as well,” Tebeo said.

“So isn’t it clear to you what happened?”

“I think,” Brail said, “that Tebeo finds it a bit too clear.” He faced the duke. “Is that right?”

Tebeo nodded. “Precisely.” He rubbed a hand across his brow, staring at his wine as if searching the goblet for the correct words.

Of all of them, Tebeo looked least like a powerful noble. He was short and portly, with a kind, round face and large dark eyes. Pazice had once remarked that he resembled an alemaster more than he did a duke. But Brail, who had never been shy about complimenting himself on his own mtelhgence and foresight, thought Tebeo the wisest leader in Aneira.

“In all likelihood you’re right, Bertin,” the duke said at last. “Vidor showed me the message Chago sent to him and I understand that you and Ansis received similar ones. I’m certain that Carden heard about them as well. Chago made no secret of how angry he was about the fees; I have no doubt that he would have challenged the king openly at the first opportunity. And knowing what I do of Carden, I’m also certain that he would have found Chago’s defiance galling. No king is above murder, ours least of all.” He paused, shaking his head slowly.

“Then what?” Bertin asked.

Tebeo took a breath. “We’ve all heard talk of the conspiracy. I’ve even heard some say that Qirsi were behind the unrest in Eibithar.”

Bertin snorted. “The Eibitharians are animals. They don’t need any help butchering themselves.”

“Perhaps not. But coming so quickly on the heels of their troubles, this just strikes me as… odd. They say it was Chago’s first minister who found him. That makes me wonder as well.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Noltierre said. “Carden’s reek is all over Chago’s body, and you’re trying to blame the white-hairs.” Bertin turned to Brail. “And what about you, Orvinti? Does Tebeo speak for you as well?”

Brail sipped his wine, not quite certain how to answer. He shared Tebeo’s suspicions, but he wasn’t ready yet to give them voice. He would have been happy to pass the night in silence, allowing the duke of Dantrielle to carry the burden of this discussion. But more than that, he was troubled by the extent to which he found himself fearing the Qirsi. His own first minister had been with him for six years-not a long time, but enough to have nurtured a good deal of trust on his part. Fetnalla had offered him wise counsel since coming to Orvinti. As a younger man he had thought it impossible that he would ever consider any Qirsi a friend, but in recent years he had come to see the minister that way, as had the duchess. He didn’t think it in her nature to betray him. Until the last few days, however, he would have said the same thing of Peshkal, Chago’s first minister.

“Well?” Bertin prodded.

“I’m not certain what I think,” Brail finally answered. “It appears that this was the king’s doing, and we all know that Chago gave House Solkara reason enough to want him dead.”