Bonds of Vengeance (63 page)

Which brought him to the crux of the matter. He wasn’t ready to reveal himself and challenge the courts directly; the Eandi weren’t sufficiently weakened yet. But perhaps the time had come to push the emperor into a war with Eibithar. Such a conflict, if it succeeded in drawing Aneira, Caerisse, and Wethyrn into battle as well, might succeed where more subtle machinations no longer could. Even if the emperor gave the order to begin preparations for the invasion now, it would take another turn or two before the fighting began in earnest. Enough time, Dusaan believed, for the final pieces of his plan to be put in place.

Yes, the time had come at last. Perhaps this was a bit earlier than he had intended originally, but a skilled leader knew when to hold true to his initial designs, and when to change them to meet the exigencies of circumstance.

“Wouldn’t you agree with that, High Chancellor?”

He stared blankly at Stavel. He had completely lost the thread of their discussion. “I’m sorry, Chancellor. My mind must have wandered.”

The older man frowned. “I was saying that we may be able to satisfy both Muelry and Grensyn by making whatever solution we propose temporary.”

The high chancellor shook his head, finding it nearly impossible to believe that they were still discussing this foolish dispute among the southern houses. The matter should have been settled days ago. “No wonder my attention drifted,” he muttered.

A few of the ministers laughed, Nitara a bit too loudly. Kayiv didn’t even smile, nor, for that matter, did Stavel.

Dusaan laughed with the others, though inwardly he berated himself for his carelessness. He didn’t usually allow himself to be so thoroughly distracted. There could be no doubt: the time had come to move forward with his plans.

“Yes, Chancellor,” he said. “That does strike me as an equitable solution to the problem. I’ll mention it to the emperor, and I’ll be sure to tell him that it was your idea.”

Stavel nodded, obviously trying not to appear too pleased.

Dusaan stood. “Perhaps we should adjourn for the day.”

The others stood as well, Nitara lingering as if she wished to speak with him privately. The Weaver, however, was watching Kayiv, who strode past the older chancellors toward the door.

“Minister,” Dusaan called.

The man stopped, casting a dark look his way.

“A word, please.”

Kayiv looked at the door once more, seeming to consider leaving anyway. His mouth was set in a thin line, his hands flexed restlessly, but he remained by the door, allowing the other Qirsi to file past him.

Nitara stared at the high chancellor for several moments, until it occurred to Dusaan that she was awaiting an invitation to remain as well.

“Was there something you wished to discuss, Minister?” he asked.

She furrowed her brow. “No, I . . . I merely thought . . .”

“I won’t keep the minister long,” he said, indicating Kayiv with an open hand. “Perhaps you can wait for him in the corridor.”

Her face colored, her eyes straying to Kayiv briefly. An instant later she left the chamber, as if suddenly eager to get away. Dusaan closed the door.

“I hope you didn’t think to fool me with that little deceit.”

The Weaver gave a small frown. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please don’t play games with me, High Chancellor. You know as well as I that Nitara wasn’t interested in speaking with me. It’s you she wants.” He looked away, his gaze flitting about the chamber as if searching for an escape. “For all I know, she already has you.”

“She doesn’t.”

Their eyes met. Kayiv appeared to be trying to gauge whether Dusaan was telling the truth.

“Please,” the chancellor said, gesturing toward a pair of chairs in the center of the chamber.

After a moment, Kayiv stepped to one of them and sat. Dusaan did the same.

“You’re right. I do know that she wasn’t waiting for you. I said what I did to make her leave.” He paused. If he was to keep Kayiv from
turning on him, he’d have to allay the man’s jealousy. And that meant being completely honest with him where the woman was concerned. “I’ll also grant that you’re right about Nitara. She has admitted that she harbors some . . . affection for me. But nothing has come of it, and nothing will. I have more important matters with which to occupy my time.”

“I’m not certain I believe you.”

“That’s your heart talking, not your mind. Think about it for a moment. Given what I’ve told you—both of you—about my role in the movement, would I risk an affair with her, knowing that it would anger you, that if it ended badly, it would anger her as well? She’s an attractive woman, and under different circumstances I wouldn’t worry about bruising your feelings. But I’m not about to risk my life and the movement merely to bed her.”

“Is this why you asked me to stay? To tell me that she’s not your lover?”

“Not entirely, no. I did sense your jealousy, however. It concerns me that you conceal your emotions so poorly. Others in the movement, myself included, are depending upon you to be more subtle.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” He gripped the arms of his chair, as if waiting for the high chancellor to give him leave to stand.

“I’d like to believe that.” Dusaan regarded the man for a moment. “Nitara told you that she believes I’m the Weaver.”

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

The Weaver gave an easy laugh. “What do you think?”

“I think she’s so taken with you that she sees far more than is there.”

He made certain that the smile remained on his lips, but he allowed just a hint of anger to shade his voice when he said, “Careful, Minister. I may not be a Weaver, but I’m still high chancellor, and I do have some influence with the leaders of the movement.”

“Forgive me, High Chancellor. I forget myself.”

“Don’t give the matter a second thought.” Dusaan stared out the window, watching a raven circle over the palace walls. “Tell me, Kayiv, are you comfortable with your decision to join the movement?”

Even without looking at the man, the Weaver sensed his unease.

“Of course I am, High Chancellor. Don’t I appear to be?”

“I can’t say for certain. You were reluctant the first day I spoke to you of allying yourself with our cause. I seem to remember you saying that you didn’t trust me. At the time I assumed that Nitara would be
able to convince you where I could not, and that the gold you were to be paid would do the rest, and I’ve continued to hope this would be the case in the days since. Now . . .” He opened his hands and shrugged. “I worry that perhaps your anger at Nitara will effect your relationship with us.”

“I hated the Eandi before I met Nitara, and I hate them still, though I’m no longer with her. One has nothing to do with the other.”

“Good. I’m pleased to hear that. But you haven’t really answered my question. Hating the Eandi is one thing, working with the movement to end Eandi rule in the Forelands is quite another.”

Kayiv nodded. “I know that. I’m with you, High Chancellor. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Minister. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

They sat a moment in silence.

“You’re free to go.”

The minister stood, though it seemed he wished to say more.

“There may come a time when I’ll need to speak with both you and Nitara together. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“It won’t be, High Chancellor.” He started toward the door, then halted, facing Dusaan again.

“What is it, Minister?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, shaking his head. At last he smiled, though clearly it was forced. “It’s nothing. Thank you, High Chancellor.”

A moment later the minister was gone and Dusaan stood, intending to make his way to the emperor’s hall. Harel would be expecting him. Before he could leave, however, there came a knock at the door. He knew who it was even before he opened it. He hadn’t time for this.

Pulling the door open, he found Nitara standing before him, an odd mix of fright and pique in her sand-colored eyes. Two guards stood nearby.

“Have I displeased you?” she asked.

He took her arm and pulled her into the chamber, closing the door and whirling on her. “Are you mad?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice low. “Asking me a question like that in front of the emperor’s men? I should kill you where you stand!”

“I . . . I’m sorry. But after you sent me away like that—”

“I wished to speak with Kayiv in private. He thought that we’re
lovers and I wanted to disabuse him of the notion before his jealousy overmastered his judgment.”

“Did he believe you when you told him that we weren’t? . . .” She faltered, swallowed. “That there was nothing between us?”

“I think he did. I can’t be certain.” He glowered at her. “You coming here so soon after he left doesn’t help matters.”

She lowered her gaze. “Forgive me, W—”

He stopped her with a raised finger. “Not here,” he whispered. “Not when there are guards outside the door.”

Nitara nodded, eyes wide.

“You must remember, Minister, that we’re not lovers, and that as far as anyone else knows, we have nothing more in common than our service to the emperor. Every time you come here like this, you draw attention to both of us. When I need to speak with you of matters pertaining to the movement, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, we’re to have no contact beyond our daily ministerial discussions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, High Chancellor.”

“Then go. No doubt the emperor is wondering where I am.”

She let herself out of the chamber, glancing back at him just once, looking young and lovely and dangerous. He followed her into the corridor, relieved to see that she had the sense to walk in the direction opposite his path to the emperor’s hall. The guards eyed him briefly, but kept their silence.

He had been eager to begin turning some of Harel’s Qirsi to his cause, he recalled, as he strode through the palace hallways. But he could no longer remember why. Between Kayiv’s suspicion and jealousy, and Nitara’s infatuation, he feared it was only a matter of time before one or both of them betrayed him, or, more likely, tried to take a blade to his throat themselves. All the more reason to push the emperor toward war.

Harel was eating when Dusaan reached the imperial chamber, his mouth full and a cup of honey wine in one hand. He waved the high chancellor into the hall, and once he had swallowed, offered Dusaan some food.

“Thank you, Your Eminence. I’ll eat later.”

“Nonsense, High Chancellor. Sit.” He turned in his chair, and beckoned to the servants standing nearby. “Bring the high chancellor some wine.” Facing Dusaan again and taking a bite of fowl, he pushed a
bowl toward the chancellor. “Try the pheasant,” he said, still chewing. “It’s superb.”

“Your Eminence is most kind.”

He began to eat, and had to admit, in response to Harel’s expectant gaze, that the food was indeed excellent.

“You’ve just come from your audience with the other Qirsi?” the emperor asked, after they had eaten for some time.

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

“And you gave further consideration to the dispute in the south?”

“Yes. It was agreed that you might wish to ease the concerns of Lord Grensyn by making whatever arrangement you decide upon temporary.”

Harel nodded slowly, as if weighing this. “A fine idea, High Chancellor. I may do just that.”

“It was Stavel’s idea, Your Eminence. He’ll be most pleased to know that you took his counsel to heart.”

“Stavel,” he repeated, frowning. “He’s one of the older ones, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

The emperor smiled, looking for just an instant like a boy who is praised by his tutors for a correct answer. “What else did you discuss?”

Despite the question, Harel already looked bored. If Dusaan didn’t raise the matter now, the emperor would turn their conversation back to food and it would be another day before the high chancellor could speak to him of the invasion.

“It was suggested by some, Your Eminence, that we might wish to begin the invasion sooner than we had planned.” There was some risk in lying about such a thing, but not much. Harel almost never spoke with his other ministers, and in this case he would see no need to. He had been eager for this invasion to begin since Dusaan first suggested the idea to him. He had begrudged every delay, and would probably have been willing to send his fleet into battle without any planning at all had the high chancellor and master of arms allowed it.

Harel had been about to take another bite, but he paused now, the pheasant leg hovering just in front of his face, his small green eyes fixed on Dusaan. “Sooner, you say?”

“Yes, Your Eminence. We’ve assumed for some time now that the longer we had to prepare, the better our chances of success. But some have begun to question whether by waiting we give our enemies time to strengthen their forces in the north.”

The emperor set the food on his plate, straightening in his chair, a strange expression on his face, as if he were trying not to smile.

“Are you one of those arguing so, High Chancellor?”

“Yes, Your Eminence, I am.”

“What of the Aneirans? Since Carden’s death you’ve counseled patience. You’ve said that the new regent will need time to consolidate his authority with the dukes and his army before committing to an alliance with the empire.”

“In recent days I’ve found myself rethinking this as well. Had power in Aneira fallen to another house, such a delay might be necessary. But House Solkara still holds the throne, and while the other dukes may not be familiar with the regent, they’re unlikely to oppose him on a matter of such gravity, particularly if it means war with the hated Eibitharians. Besides, even if we send word to the fleet commanders today, instructing them to begin their assault on Eibithar, it will take better than half a turn for the invasion to begin. The messengers need time to reach them and the commanders will need time to make their final preparations. You can send word to the regent, informing him of your intention to attack. That still leaves him a bit longer to speak with his dukes.”

“Your reasoning seems quite sound, High Chancellor. To be honest, I’ve thought all along that you were being a bit too cautious with respect to this war. I’m glad to see that you’ve come around to my point of view.”