For several moments Kayiv said nothing. He was staring past the chancellor, chewing his lip.
“Did you speak of this with the high chancellor?” Stavel asked after a time, the silence making him uncomfortable. “I thought perhaps that you and he had talked about the invasion after the rest of us left, and that the emperor had simply mistaken me for you.”
“Did the emperor say anything else?”
Stavel shook his head. “No. Just that he was pleased that the rest of us liked the idea-and by ‘the rest,’ I gathered that he meant the other ministers and chancellors aside from Dusaan. Then he said he was pleased that all the gold he paid us was doing him some good, or some such thing. And that was all.” He watched Kayiv for a moment. “Do you know what he meant?”
Again, it took the man some time to reply. But finally he gave a disarming smile, and said, “Yes, Chancellor, I believe I do. This is all a misunderstanding, just as you thought.”
“Well, I suppose I’m relieved. Though I must say that if the high chancellor wishes to offer counsel to the emperor on matters of such importance, he should speak with all of us, not just a select few.”
“Yes. Perhaps you should mention this to him during tomorrow’s discussion.”
Stavel felt the blood drain from his face. He had no more desire to anger the high chancellor that he did the emperor, especially in front of the other Qirsi. “I’m certain he had good reason for offering this counsel the way he did. It’s not my place to question him.”
“Of course, Chancellor. I understand.”
Stavel couldn’t tell whether the man was mocking him or being sincere, but he didn’t care to find out. “Thank you, Minister,” he said, turning away.
“You’re welcome. Good day, Chancellor.”
Stavel turned and walked away, and, a few seconds later, heard the door close gently behind him. He made his way back to his chamber, wondering if he had been wise to raise the matter with Kayiv or if he would have been better off keeping it to himself. Palace politics could be a perilous game, the rules of which he had once known, the subtleties of which he had once taken the time to master. But that had been long ago and much of what he had known was lost to the years. At this point in his life, he was far too old to begin learning these things anew.
He waited until he heard Stavel’s door open and close before leaving his chamber silently and stepping carefully to another door. He knocked once, just loud enough for her to hear. Belatedly he remembered that his hair probably looked a mess and that his clothes were rumpled. It doesn’t matter. She loves another now.
He didn’t have to wait long. She pulled open the door, revealing a chamber bright with lampfire. Her hair was down and her eyes seemed to glow like the stars. Kayiv felt his stomach tighten and he cursed himself for being so weak.
“What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“To talk. It will only take a moment.”
She hesitated, then turned away, stepping farther into her chamber but leaving the door open. An invitation.
He closed the door, watching her pace.
“You don’t look well,” she said. “Are you sleeping?”
“I’m well enough.”
She shrugged, said nothing.
“You were right about him, weren’t you?”
Nitara halted, stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked, though clearly she already knew.
“Dusaan. He is the Weaver, isn’t he?”
“I thought you said I was a fool for even thinking it.”
“I did. I was wrong.”
“No, you weren’t. I was a fool. He’s just another Qirsi. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you, Nitara. He leads the movement, and it seems he’s just convinced the emperor to begin the invasion of Eibithar early.”
“What? How do you know this?”
“Stavel told me. Apparently Dusaan presented it to the emperor as counsel recommended by all of us.”
“Then it’s begun,” she whispered.
“So it would seem. We’re about to go to war, and Dusaan is poised to make himself ruler of all the Forelands.”
“I already told you. He’s not-”
“Yes, I know.” Kayiv smiled, though his chest ached. There could be no question as to her loyalty to the high chancellor. “He’s just another Qirsi.” He walked to the door, pulled it open. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
He thought briefly about returning to his chamber, but he suddenly felt the need to leave the castle. Perhaps a walk in the city marketplace would do him good.
But Kayiv knew better. Dusaan was the Weaver, the man who would lead the Forelands if the Qirsi movement succeeded. And though the minister no longer had any doubts as to the truth in all the high chancellor had told him about the movement, he still couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. Quite the opposite. He was more afraid of him now than ever.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Yserne, Sanbira
For the better part of a turn in Castle Yserne, home of Sanbira’s queen Olesya centered on the death of Kreazur jal Sylbe, Diani’s first minister. After some initial confusion, there could no longer be any doubt as to the meaning of his murder. He had been found in a part of Yserne city known for attracting thieves and assassins. There had been an empty pouch beside him and two stray gold pieces under his shattered body. And though many of the nobles gathered in Castle Yserne were still reluctant to speak of the matter, most now believed that he had gone to the northwest corner of the city in search of a new blade to hire with his Qirsi gold. Perhaps he intended to have Diani killed, hoping to succeed where he had failed before. Or maybe he had some other victim in mind, another duchess, or, Ean forbid, the queen. Whatever his purpose, the gods had chosen to mete out their own justice. Some speculated that he had offered too little gold to the men he wished to hire, or had sought to impose conditions that weren’t to their liking. In either case, they took exception and, it seemed, threw him from the roof of one of the many ramshackle buildings lining the lane where he was found.
Many of the duchesses had expressed their sympathy to Diani, as if she had lost a dear friend. Even the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde offered condolences for her loss, and seemed sincere in doing so. Diani, however, felt no grief. Her mother would have been aggrieved, she knew, just as was her father. Kreazur, Sertio kept reminding his daughter, had served House Curlinte for nine years and whatever he had become, he had once been a loyal counselor to the old duchess. But as far as Diani was concerned, the first minister’s betrayal negated all that he had done for her mother. No, she felt no sadness at his death. None at all. What she felt was vindication.
Her father had scolded her for imprisoning the first minister and her other Qirsi, telling her that she had allowed her fears to cloud her judgment, as if she were still a child. The queen had done much the same, seeming to imply that she had been guided by her need for vengeance and her inexperience with the courts. Kreazur himself had tried to tell her that he had earned better treatment by serving the old duchess for so many years, as if he sought to use her guilt, and her grief at losing her mother, to win his freedom. Eventually Diani had given in to all of them. Now she knew-they all knew-that she had been right from the beginning.
The white-hairs could not be trusted. If Kreazur was a traitor, how many other ministers might be as well? Olesya began to meet with her duchesses and dukes in closed audiences, with none of the Qirsi ministers present. Even Abeni ja Krenta, the queen’s own archminister, was excluded from these discussions, for in the wake of Kreazur’s death, even the most powerful Qirsi were suspect in the eyes of Sanbira’s Eandi nobles.