Weavers of War (41 page)

Before she could call to him, however, she heard a soft footfall just behind her.

“Excuse me, Archminister.”

Keziah turned to find herself face-to-face with Sanbira’s archminister. “Archminister. What can I do for you?”

“I thought we might speak privately for a moment. It occurs to me that we have a good deal in common, more even than is immediately apparent. I believe we have much to discuss.”

Puzzled, Keziah made herself smile. “Of course. Shall we walk?”

“That would be fine.”

They started southward, separating themselves from the other Qirsi and increasing their distance from the Eandi camps. For a time neither of them spoke, and Keziah found herself stealing quick glances at the woman. She was uncommonly pretty, with a lean, oval face, medium yellow eyes, and long silken white hair which she wore pulled back from her face. Like Keziah, she was petite, even for a Qirsi woman, though there was a strength to her that seemed to belie her size.

“Would it be all right if I called you Keziah?” the woman asked at last, a disarming smile on her lips.

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. My name is Abeni.”

Keziah nodded, uncertain of what the woman expected her to say.

“You seem to know this gleaner rather well.”

She felt her stomach tightening. “What makes you say that?”

“You and he raised that wind yesterday to fight off the Aneirans. It seems you knew already that he was a Weaver.”

Again, she wasn’t certain how to respond. Her first impulse was to deny that she knew anything about Grinsa, but something stopped her. Instinct, perhaps, or her suspicions about the archminister. Somehow she knew that it would be dangerous to lie to the woman. “The gleaner and I met in the City of Kings and rode to war together. I don’t know him well, but he knew that I had mists and winds, and that the first minister of Curgh did also. I assume that’s why he chose us when he decided to oppose the Solkarans.”

“I see,” the woman said, a note of skepticism in her voice. “I fear I’ve gone about this the wrong way. I’ve put you on the defensive. Forgive me.” She halted, holding out a hand so that Keziah would stop as well. “I know that you’re with the conspiracy.”

“Don’t be—”

Abeni raised a finger, silencing her. “I know it because the Weaver told me. Our Weaver.” A smile spread across her face. “Don’t you see? We’re allies in this war. And there are others who are also with us. Three of the four ministers who rode from Sanbira with the queen are loyal to the movement.”

Keziah’s mind was racing, trying to keep up with all of this. True, she had been suspicious of the woman. But she had never expected Abeni to approach her this way. Nor had she thought it possible that so many in Grinsa’s army could be traitors. Three of the four.… Had her brother sensed this? “Did the Weaver instruct you to approach me?” she asked at last, stalling, though for what purpose she couldn’t say.

“No. He told me you served his cause, but he said that I wasn’t to approach you unless it was absolutely necessary. When the gleaner revealed himself as a Weaver, I decided that I had no other choice.”

“Yes, of course.”

“You don’t believe me.”

Keziah licked her lips, which had gone dry. “I’m not sure what to believe.”

“I understand. I assure you, this is no trick. I’m one of his chancellors. The others who serve him are the first ministers of Norinde and Macharzo.”

Keziah nodded. “All right.”

“Now I need to ask you again: how well do you know this gleaner? Does he trust you?”

What had she told the Weaver the last time he entered her dreams? “He’s starting to trust me. There’s a woman in Audun’s Castle. She was the gleaner’s lover, and she was once a chancellor like you. But she betrayed the movement. I befriended her, and so won a modicum of the gleaner’s trust. But he’s wary of everyone.”

Abeni’s eyes had grown wide. “I knew nothing of this,” she whispered. “But I’ve no doubt that you’re right. A man like the gleaner, who had hidden his true powers for so long, would have to be distrustful.” She paused, gazing off into the distance, as if lost in thought. Finally looking at Keziah again, she asked, “What is it the Weaver has asked you to do?”

She hesitated, afraid to answer. It was bad enough knowing that the Weaver might come to her any night, demanding to know why Kearney still lived. “I’m not certain the Weaver would want me to tell you.”

She feared that she had made the woman angry. If Abeni truly was a chancellor in the movement, she was not one with whom to trifle. But after a moment, the archminister began to nod.

“You’re probably right. Can you at least tell me if it has anything to do with the gleaner?”

“It doesn’t.”

“I thought not. He told me that he would deal with the gleaner himself, though he never told me exactly why. I don’t think he expected this man to reveal himself so soon, nor would he have guessed that your king and my queen would be so willing to embrace a Weaver as an ally.” She took a breath. “I think we may have to take matters into our own hands.”

“But … but he’s a Weaver. What can we do?”

“There are four of us. Together we may be able to overpower him.”

“Wouldn’t we be better off making him believe that he commands a loyal army of sixteen? Let him ride into battle thinking that he’s surrounded by allies. By the time he realizes his error, the Weaver will be attacking him, and it will be too late.”

Abeni’s eyebrows went up. “I’m impressed. That’s a fine idea, Keziah.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.”

“It’s a shame we come from different realms. I have a feeling you and I could be wonderful friends.”

Her stomach felt hollow and sour. “I’m sure that’s true. Shall I keep away from the gleaner then?”

“Whatever for?”

“He scares me. I’m afraid he might manage to read my thoughts.”

“I understand, but if he hasn’t yet, he won’t now. Just act normally. Continue to win his trust. I’d do so myself, but were I to try, he might grow suspicious.”

“All right.”

“We should return to the camps, lest we draw any more attention to ourselves.” She gave a rueful grin. “Diani of Curlinte has been trying to prove me a traitor for several turns now. And I’ve seen her speaking with that thane of yours.”

“You mean Shanstead?”

“Yes. He seems to have little more affection for our people than does Lady Curlinte.”

Keziah nodded as they began to walk back toward the armies. “You’re right. He thinks me a traitor, and he’s accused Grinsa, too.”

“Grinsa?”

“The gleaner.” She felt her cheeks burning.

“Careful, Keziah. If I didn’t know better I might think you were taken with the man. Not that I’d blame you, but I don’t think our Weaver would be so understanding.”

“Of course, Chancellor. I’m sorry.”

“Think nothing of it.” They were near the Sanbiri camp now, and she slowed. “We’ll speak again later.”

Keziah nodded and continued on toward Kearney and the others. Her hands were trembling so badly that she had to cross her arms over her chest. At least the archminister had encouraged her to cultivate a friendship with Grinsa. She had a good deal to tell him.

*   *   *

“Look at them,” Marston of Shanstead said, glaring at the Qirsi who had gathered in a small cluster south of the camps. “Any of them could be traitors. And our sovereigns allow them to meet without any Eandi present. They even encourage them to form their own army! It’s madness!”

“Surely they’re not all traitors,” Diani said, surprising herself. “And it seems to me that those who are will have to conceal their betrayal from those who remain loyal.”

“But what if this gleaner is one of them? We could be giving him the means to destroy us all.”

The duchess shook her head. “Honestly, Lord Shanstead, I don’t believe he’d betray us.”

He said nothing, just stared at the white-hairs, dismay furrowing his brow.

Marston appeared to be about her age, perhaps a year or two older, though he seemed younger at times like these. Diani thought him handsome, in a somewhat plain way. He looked like so many of the nobles of the northern realms—straight brown hair, grey eyes, square chin. But she admired his passion, the ferocity with which he fought for all that he believed, even as she occasionally found herself disagreeing with him.

He glanced at her, and a smile broke across his ruddy face. “What are you staring at?”

She looked away, feeling her cheeks color. “Nothing.”

“A fine thing to say of a man.”

Diani laughed. “My apologies, my lord.” She looked at him again. “How is it that you’re still only a thane, and yet you command the army of Thorald?”

“My father is duke of Thorald. But he’s too ill to leave Thorald Castle, much less lead an army to war.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, facing southward again.

“I recently lost my mother,” Diani said. “She had been sick for a very long time.”

“You have my sincere condolences.”

This time Diani turned her face away, her eyes suddenly stinging.

“I’m curious about something, Lady Curlinte. You said yesterday that you had more reason than most to hate the Qirsi. Can you explain?”

“I believe the conspiracy killed my brother. And I’m certain that it was responsible for an attack on me that nearly proved fatal.”

“Demons and fire! I had no idea!”

“As you can see, I’ve recovered.” Yet even as she spoke the words she felt a dull throbbing in the scars she bore from that terrible day on the promontory, as if the assassins’ arrows had hit true once again.

“Still, I hate the Qirsi for one woman’s betrayal of my father’s trust. You’ve endured far more at the hands of these demons, yet you find it in your heart to give them your trust.”

“I didn’t always,” she said, remembering the rage and fear that drove her to imprison briefly every white-hair in Castle Curlinte. She almost told him all that she had done in those dark days following the attempts on her life. But shame stopped her.

They stood in silence for some time watching as the gleaner and his small army continued to speak among themselves. Eventually, they summoned a mighty wind and then a tremendous ball of flame.

“What have we done?” the thane muttered, shaking his head at the sight of the blackened ground.

“The gleaner will be a powerful ally.”

“If he’s true.”

Soon after this display of their might, the Qirsi began to disperse, returning to their lords. Diani turned to the thane, strangely reluctant to end their time together.

“I suppose I should rejoin the queen,” she said.

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the white-hairs. “And I should return to my men.”

“I’ve enjoyed this time with you.”

Marston looked at her. “As have I, my lady.” His eyes flicked back toward the Qirsi. “I hope that we can…” The man’s expression hardened. “Now what are those two doing?”

“My lord.”

He pointed. “The two archministers. They’re going off on their own.” He faced her again, his grey eyes boring into hers. “Didn’t you tell me that you’ve been suspicious of your queen’s archminister for some time now?”

“Yes, though I haven’t been able to prove anything.”

He gave a harsh grin. “And I’ve had just the same problem with Kearney’s archminister. I’ve no doubt that she’s betrayed the king, but I haven’t yet found proof, and Kearney refuses to send her away.” He stared at the two women again. “It has to be more than a coincidence, the two of them being together like this.” Abruptly he took her hand. “Come with me. We must speak with the king.”

He very nearly yanked her off her feet compelling her to follow.

“I want you to tell Kearney of your suspicions. Make him see that his archminister is speaking with a woman you feel certain is a traitor.”

“We should find my queen as well. She’s been reluctant to believe that Abeni could betray her.”

“Look,” he said. “They’re together.”

They walked directly to the two sovereigns, heedless of interrupting their conversation.

“Your Majesty,” Marston said, as he and the duchess stopped in front of them. “We must have a word with you.”

“I was having a word with the queen, Lord Shanstead.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Forgive me, but this can’t wait.”

“Diani?” Olesya said. “Is everything all right?”

“We’re really not certain, Your Highness. After the gleaner met with all the Qirsi, Abeni and the king’s archminister went off together for a private conversation.”

“And?” the king demanded, glaring at the thane.

“Your Majesty,” Marston said, “the duchess has long suspected that Sanbira’s archminister is with the conspiracy.”

Olesya nodded. “I’m afraid that’s true. And while we know nothing for certain, I’ve grown wary of her, too.”

“And what does this have to do with my archminister?”

“Your Majesty, please. We both know that you’ve had your doubts about her. You came very close to banishing her from Audun’s Castle.”

“That was a long time ago, Lord Shanstead. I’ve since come to realize how foolish I would have been to act on my suspicions.”

“But don’t you see, Your Majesty? You weren’t being foolish at all. Even now, she consorts with a woman who might very well be a traitor to her realm.”

Kearney looked like he might argue the point further. Then he stopped himself, though it appeared to take some effort. “What is it you’d have me do?”

“She should be placed with the Solkaran prisoners, Your Majesty.”

“What?”

“Don’t you think that’s somewhat extreme, Lord Shanstead?” the queen asked.

Marston turned to her. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but the same should be done with your archminister.”

“For having a conversation?”

“For plotting against their realms!”

“Lady Curlinte,” Kearney said, his bright green eyes meeting hers. “Surely you don’t agree with what the thane proposes.”

Her eyes slid toward the queen, who was watching her keenly. No doubt the memory of what Diani had done in Curlinte was as fresh in Olesya’s mind as it was in her own.

“Let me ask you this,” the king went on, his voice dropping to a whisper, so that all of them had to lean closer to him. “Do you trust the gleaner?”