Seeds of Betrayal (75 page)

At last she began to speak, telling him first of Paegar and their friendship, and then of his death and the gold she found in his chambers. By the time she started to explain her idea for attracting the notice of the conspiracy, Grinsa understood everything he needed to know. At least he thought he did.

“I find it hard to believe that Kearney allowed you to do this,” he said, not bothering to mask his anger.

“Kearney doesn’t know.”

Then, finally, he truly grasped all that she had endured. “Oh, Kezi,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry. There’s no one you can tell? Not even one of the other ministers.”

“I’ve told Gershon everything, but no one else.”

“Gershon?” he repeated. His expression must have been comical, because she smiled through her tears.

“Yes. He’s actually been quite kind to me.”

“He shouldn’t have let you do this. He should have known how dangerous it would be.”

It was the type of statement that would have drawn an argument from her a few turns before. This night, she only gave a small shrug. “Neither of us knew there would be a Weaver.”

Grinsa hadn’t thought of it either. It wasn’t his place to fault his sister or the swordmaster.

“I felt what he did to you,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I am for now. That was the only time he hurt me.”

“Did you finally do what he wanted?”

Her tears started to fall again. “Of course not. How could I? As soon as I open my mind to him he’ll kill me. He’ll know about you, he’ll realize that I’ve been deceiving him.” She shook her head. “Had I known that I’d be contacted by a Weaver, I never would have tried this.”

“So end it now.” But as soon as Grinsa spoke the words, he knew that it would do no good.

“Ending it does nothing, Grinsa. You of all people should know that. He knows who I am and how to find me. He told me he’d return in a few days and that when he did I’d have to open myself to him or he’d kill me.” She faltered, looking away briefly. “Can he really do that? Can a Weaver kill someone through their dreams?”

He would have liked to lie to her, to put her mind at ease, but it would only have made matters worse, and she would have sensed that he was hiding the truth.

“Yes,” he told her. “He can kill you, just as he hurt you last night.”

“So what can I do? How do I deceive a Weaver?”

“I don’t know,” he said gently. “I’ve never had to try. I suppose you have to find a way to keep some of your thoughts from him while making him believe that your mind is completely open to him.”

“But how? Is my mind open to you right now?”

“No. But I’ve never wanted it to be. I’m content to speak with you, and learn from you what you want me to know.”

She raked a rigid hand through her hair. “I’m dead,” she whispered.

“No, you’re not. You’re stronger than you think. You need only find your strength.”

Keziah gave a small nod, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Did you learn anything about the Weaver?” he asked. “His name, perhaps, or where he lives?”

“I learned nothing. He kept himself in darkness and summoned a bright light from behind. I couldn’t see anything.”

“I saw that he had darkened the sky, and I thought I saw something glowing at its center.”

“How is that possible?” she asked, frowning. “The Weaver saw nothing of the sky you created. I did, but he didn’t.”

“You’re certain?”

She nodded, then appeared to shiver. “He would have said something.”

“Interesting,” he said, allowing himself a small grin.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Last night, as I was walking toward you in the dream, I almost thought I could hear you calling to me, telling me to leave you.”

“I was, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“I know. I should have. I’m sorry.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did the Weaver hear those thoughts? Did he know I was there?”

“Of course not.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

Keziah blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“You already know how to hide your thoughts from a Weaver. You allowed me to see what you were seeing, to hear and feel all that was going on in your dream, without revealing me to the Weaver.”

“But my mind was closed to him.”

“Not entirely, not enough to keep him from your dreams. The words ‘opening your mind’ offer an image, nothing more. There’s no door in your head that keeps one set of thoughts separate from another. Opening your mind simply means allowing him to read all your thoughts rather than some of them. The secret lies in showing him what you need to while making him believe that there’s nothing more.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You did it last night.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know how.”

He reached out a hand to brush the hair back from her brow. “Somewhere inside, you do. You have to find that knowledge, Kezi, and you have to trust your power. If I could do this for you I would. You know that. But this is your burden. You chose to carry it, and now you have to live with that decision.”
Or die with it
. Grinsa didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

She took a breath and nodded once more, a dull look in her eyes.

“I should let you sleep.”

“Where are you?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard.

Grinsa winced. He’d almost forgotten again.

“We’re near Mertesse. That’s why I tried to contact you in the first place. To warn you. While we were in Solkara, we encountered Shunk jal Marcine, the minister who betrayed Kentigern during the siege. We escaped him, but I’m certain he knows I’m a Weaver. I had to reveal too many of my powers in getting away. I don’t think he knows you’re my sister, but if he decides to look for our family, it won’t take him long to find you.”

“You think he’s back in Mertesse?”

“As certain as I can be.”

“And what do you plan to do with him when you find him?”

Grinsa hesitated. “I was going to question him about the conspiracy. Beyond that… I hadn’t decided.”

“But you’ve considered killing him.”

The idea of it still troubled him, but he could hardly deny it. “Yes.”

“That’s what you have to do, Grinsa. If the Weaver contacts him we’re lost. Shurik will tell him, and the Weaver will learn in no time that we’re related. Don’t bother questioning him. I’ll find out everything we need to know about the movement. Just kill him and get out of Mertesse.”

He knew she was right, yet he couldn’t believe that she could speak so casually of murder, even when it concerned a man like Shurik.

“You’re surprised to hear me say such things.”

“I guess I am.”

She gave a small shrug. “This is the world we live in now. If Shurik had the opportunity to kill you, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Which means you have to kill him first.”

“I’m not arguing with you. I just worry that you’re changing so quickly. The Keziah I knew a year ago would have had trouble speaking those words.”

“I’m not the one changing, Grinsa. Eibithar is different, as are all the realms of the Forelands. A year ago you were traveling with the Revel, and Kearney and I were still in Glyndwr; Lady Brienne was still alive and Javan of Curgh was in line to be king.” She looked away. “I’m archminister to the king. I no longer have the luxury of being squeamish. We both know that Shurik has to die. I just happened to be the first of us to say so aloud.”

He gazed at her for several moments, though she continued to look away. Unable to think of any reply, he finally stepped forward and put his arms around her again.

She held him tight, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Of everything.”

“I’m afraid for you. But I know how strong you are. Trust yourself and you’ll be all right.” He kissed her forehead and gazed into her eyes for a moment. “I love you, Kezi. I’ll see you soon.”

He released her and a moment later broke the connection linking their minds.

Opening his eyes to the darkness of the Aneiran wood, he lay down near where Tavis slept and closed his eyes once more, falling almost immediately into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Grinsa and Tavis reached the north edge of the Great Forest late the following day and waited for nightfall before continuing onto the narrow open plain that lay between the wood and Mertesse. Grinsa was convinced that most of the Solkaran soldiers had returned to the royal city, but he didn’t dare chance being mistaken. For the next several days he and the boy traveled by night and rested during the day, taking refuge in the darkened corners of barns and abandoned shacks. Leaving Tavis briefly on the second day, Grinsa ventured into a nearby village and bought them enough food to last the rest of their journey.

On their fourth night out of the forest, they came within sight of Mertesse. Even from a full league away, they could see torches burning atop the great stone walls and towers of the castle. Tavis wanted to try to reach the nearest entrance to the city before the ringing of the gate-closing bells. Grinsa agreed that they had time enough to make it, but he argued against trying.

“We’ll be far more noticeable among the few who enter the city at night. We should wait for morning and enter with the shepherds, just as we did in Solkara.”

Tavis looked unhappy, but he let the matter drop, something he wouldn’t have done a few turns before.

They continued on until they were less than half a league from the castle before stopping for the night. There were no buildings nearby, but with thin high clouds covering the sky, the night didn’t grow too cold. They slept in the open, rising with first light to complete their journey to the city walls. When the gates opened to the pealing of the city bells, Tavis and Grinsa were among the first to enter the city. They crossed through the gate in the company of several merchants, their hoods over their heads and their eyes fixed on the ground. None of the guards seemed to notice them. Apparently, word of their escape from Solkara had not spread beyond the forest.

Once in the city, they made their way to the marketplace, which was already filling quickly with peddlers and their customers.

“What now?” Tavis asked, his voice low.

“I need to go to the castle and see if I can learn where Shurik is. The duke and his company should have returned from Solkara several days ago. I want to know if the traitor was with them.”

“And if he wasn’t?”

“I’d rather not think about it. I expect that he was, in which case it becomes a matter of waiting for him to emerge from the castle.”

“If he thinks you’ve followed him here, he’s not likely to come out any time soon.”

The gleaner nodded. “I know. Let’s find out first if he’s in Mertesse. Then I’ll worry about the rest.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Remain in the marketplace. We’ll find an inn later.”

“All right.”

“And stay out of trouble, Tavis,” he added. “We’re too close to Shurik to muck things up now.”

The young lord opened his arms wide. “Why do you always think I’m going to find trouble?”

Grinsa frowned and started to walk away without responding. The answer seemed as plain as the scars on Tavis’s face.

The journey back from Solkara had left her weary and weak. Even after five days resting in her chamber in Castle Mertesse, Yaella found that she wanted nothing more than to sleep, or to huddle in the great chair beside her hearth. She ate little-the mere thought of food or, even worse, wine, left her queasy-and she had only left her chamber twice, once to speak with the duke, and a second time to satisfy the castle surgeon, who urged her to walk the corridors in order to regain her strength.

She couldn’t help but notice that Rowan, who had been poisoned as well, appeared to have made a full recovery already. Shurik assured her that this was simply a matter of his being Eandi.

“There’s no question that they’re physically stronger than we are,” he told her, soon after their return to Mertesse. “The duke especially. He may be a dullard, but he’s built like his father. Of course he’s mended faster than you have.”

Yaella feared that there was more to it than that, however. Except for the Night of Two Moons nine evenings before, when the god’s gift of magic seemed to bolster her physical strength, she hadn’t felt whole since first leaving Mertesse nearly a turn before. She wasn’t a young woman anymore-at thirty-one the minister was only four years younger than her mother had been when she died. True, her father lived to be almost forty, but even if that proved to be her fate also, she was approaching the final years of her life. What if she never recovered fully from the poisoning? What if her near encounter with the Deceiver marked the beginning of a slow decline toward death? Notwithstanding what Shurik had told her, she didn’t feel ill anymore. She felt tired. She felt old.

Shurik spent much of his time with her, encouraging her to eat and offering to make tea for her and fetch her something more from the kitchens. Though grateful for his company at times, now and again she would have liked to tell him to leave her. She understood, though, that he needed to care for her in order to keep his mind from his own troubles. He slept poorly at night, twitching like a sleeping cat and crying out at the demons that haunted his dreams. His face, always thin and pale, had a pinched, unhealthful look that worried her.

Having felt the power of the Weaver, having faced him in his wrath and awakened to find her heart pounding, tears on her cheeks, Yaella could hardly fault Shurik for his fear of the man. On the other hand, she didn’t know what to make of his worries about this second man, whom he also believed to be a Weaver. She couldn’t deny that it was strange for a Revel gleaner to conceal the fact that he possessed other powers. Yet neither could she say that this alone meant he was a Weaver. Weaving magic had not been bred out of her people, as some of the Eandi seemed to believe, but Weavers were rare and she remained skeptical that Shurik had managed to make enemies of two of them.