She unlocked her door and pushed it open, waving the woman inside, then following.
“Is everything all right, cousin?” Craeffe asked, once the door was closed.
“I’m not certain. I just had a strange conversation with the queen. She seemed more guarded than usual.”
The woman shrugged. “Isn’t that to be expected? I know that you’ve served her a long time, but with every other noble in the castle afraid of their Qirsi, it’s only natural that her suspicions should grow as well.”
It was a fair point. “You may be right.”
“Then again, it was your rapport with the queen that first drew the Weaver’s attention, wasn’t it? I don’t suppose he’d be pleased to hear that she’s growing more wary of you.”
Abeni regarded her for some time, a small smile on her lips. Craeffe had always been a bit too ambitious for Abeni’s taste. Though they had long been tied to each other by their service to the Weaver, Abeni had never fully trusted the woman. She didn’t look formidable. Like so many of their people, she was slight, almost frail. She had a long, narrow face and overlarge yellow eyes that made her look like some strange white owl from the northlands. But the archminister knew that she was quite clever, and she gathered from what she knew of other men and women recruited by the Weaver that she must also be a rather powerful sorcerer.
“I don’t expect that the Weaver will hear anything of the sort, cousin,” Abeni said. “I have no intention of telling him, and I’m sure you don’t either.”
Craeffe raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence. “Of course not.”
The archminister was already tiring of the woman’s company. “You came to me,” she said. “Why?”
“I’ve just had an interesting conversation of my own, and I thought you’d want to hear about it.”
“With whom?” Abeni asked, hoping that she sounded bored.
“The first minister of Prentarlo. I believe she could be convinced to join us.”
“What did you say to her?” the archminister asked, bored no longer. “You know that I’m the only one the Weaver wants speaking to newcomers.”
Craeffe grinned, showing sharp white teeth, like some crazed demon of Bian’s realm. “Don’t worry, cousin. I didn’t tell her anything; I just listened. And given what I heard, I believe she’s hurt and angry enough to turn against her duchess.”
Abeni nodded, though she wasn’t pleased. She should have been. This was what she wanted. This was how she would convince the Weaver that the queen’s distrust hadn’t lessened her value to the movement. But she didn’t like feeling beholden to Craeffe, not even in this small way.
“That’s good news,” she managed. “I’ll be certain to speak with her as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”
“Or you could let me do it for you.”
“I just told you-”
“Yes, I know. The Weaver wants you to handle these matters. But he needn’t know. I’ve already won her trust. Wouldn’t it be easier to let me do the rest?”
Easier perhaps, but Abeni had little doubt that Craeffe would tell the Weaver as soon as she possibly could, presenting what had happened in such a way as to make herself appear a genius, and a liability to the Weaver’s cause.
“Thank you, cousin. I know that you wish only to serve the movement as best you can. But the Weaver has been quite clear on this point.”
The forced smile again. “Of course, cousin. I understand.”
They stood in silence for several moments before Craeffe finally returned to the door. “I suppose I should be going.”
“So soon, cousin?”
The woman didn’t even bother looking at her. “I hope that this rift between you and your queen doesn’t widen, Archminister. Now more than ever, the Weaver needs Qirsi who serve the major courts.”
A moment later she was gone, and Abeni was left to wonder who was the greater threat to her standing in the movement: the queen or Macharzo’s first minister.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kentigern, Eibithar
A indreas stared at the words scrawled on the outside of the scroll, unwilling to remove the ribbon that held it and read what was written inside. The ribbon was white. Of course, He would have known from whom the message had come even without the “White Erne” penned in a neat, bold hand for all to see. No doubt the time had finally come for the duke to fulfill his promise to the conspiracy-there could be no other reason for her to contact him. They wanted him to act on their behalf. And he was too frightened to unroll the scroll and see what it was they expected of him.
“Father.”
He looked up, seeing Brienne in the doorway, her golden hair gleaming in the torchlight.
“Not now, my love,” he said, his voice low.
“But Mother is asking for you. There are men riding toward the gate.”
As she spoke, Aindreas realized that the city bells were ringing, that in fact they had been for some time.
He frowned. “Tell her I’ll be along shortly.”
“She said I should bring you to her immediately.”
The duke exhaled through his teeth. “Very well. I’ll be there in just a moment.”
“But-”
“I told you, I’ll be along soon. Now leave me, Brienne!”
The girl winced, looking as if she might cry. “But I’m Affery.”
Aindreas stared at her, his vision swimming. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing them with a meaty hand. Opening them again, he saw that it was indeed his younger daughter standing before him, golden haired and pretty as her sister had been at this age, but not yet grown to womanhood.
“Affery,” he said, the name coming out as a whisper. He rose and stepped around his writing table to where she stood. She looked afraid, and he knelt before her, taking her in his arms. “I’m sorry, my love. Of course I knew it was you.”
She nodded, but said nothing. When he released her, he saw that there were tears on her cheeks. “Do you miss her, Father?”
“Very much,” he said, his voice suddenly rough.
“So do I. I think Mother does, too.”
“We all do. But your mother is better now than she was, and. . and so am I.”
Again the girl nodded.
“You said there are men approaching the castle?”
“Yes.”
“And where is your mother?”
“She’s atop the tower, watching the city gates.”
“Very well. Tell her I’ll be there very soon. Have her instruct the men not to allow anyone into the castle before I arrive.”
“All right.” Still she didn’t move. “Are they coming to attack us again?”
For a moment, he wasn’t certain what to say, By ignoring Kearney’s summons to the City of Kings, Aindreas had made himself a renegade in the king’s eyes. Glyndwr would have been justified in sending the royal army to Kentigern. But Aindreas had known Kearney a long time. The man didn’t want a war, and would go to great lengths to avoid one. He wouldn’t have sent his army, at least not yet.
“No one’s going to attack us,” he told her, making himself smile. “They probably just want to talk to me.”
Affery smiled in return, looking relieved.
“Go now. I’ll be along in a moment.”
She kissed his cheek, then turned and ran from the chamber.
Aindreas returned to his writing table, lowered himself into his chair and picked up the scroll again, his hand beginning to tremble. For a moment he was tempted to throw it on the flames dancing in his hearth, as if by burning the parchment he might rid himself of the Qirsi. Instead, he pulled off the ribbon and unrolled the scroll.
Lord Kentigern:
Events have begun to unfold more swiftly than we had anticipated. We can no longer wait for you to convince other houses to oppose the king. You must break with Kearney now, and hope that others will follow. We will be watching to see that you do as we expect. Do not disappoint us.
Jastanne ja Triln
Captain, the White Erne
Perhaps he should have been surprised. Certainly he had a right to be angry. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything at all. Somehow the Qirsi felt that they could order him about as he himself might a servant, or a foot soldier in his army. And though he was appalled by the mere notion of it, he also knew that he had only himself to blame.