Sending his mind eastward one last time, over the Scabbard and the bare-limbed trees of Kentigern Wood, the Weaver reached down into Audun’s Castle, finding the archminister in her bedchamber. He could feel himself growing weary and though confident that his magic would not fail him before this last conversation ended, he vowed silently to rest the next night.
He made her walk a distance-not far, and not up the slope, but just long enough to convey the scope of this vision he had conjured for her. When she finally stopped, just a few steps from where he waited, her cheeks were slightly flushed. She had an oval face and long hair, which she wore tied in twin braids. The last time they spoke, he had failed to notice how pretty she was.
“I knew you would come to me tonight,” she said, before he could speak. “I gleaned it in a vision last night, as I slept.”
No one who served the movement had ever said such a thing to him before. He wasn’t certain what it meant, but for some reason it pleased him.
“Did it frighten you to dream of me?”
“No. It convinced me that my destiny lies with your cause.”
“So you won’t defy me anymore?”
“No, Weaver. My mind is open to you.”
So it was. Reaching further into her consciousness, embracing her thoughts and feelings as he would a lover, he felt her abandon her resistance. He sensed the doubts that lingered, and even the residue of fear she felt looking upon him. But they were obstacles no longer. He grasped the power of her love for Kearney and the depth of her pain at losing him. He tasted the grief she felt at losing Paegar and even saw that she suspected him of having a hand in the minister’s death. Some shadows remained, darkened places she couldn’t bring herself to show him yet, but this was true of every Qirsi whose mind he had touched. With time, the light of the white sun he brought to her dreams would illuminate even these murky corners. In all ways that mattered, though, she was his, fully and by her own consent.
“I’m pleased,” he said after some time. “I know that you’ll prove most valuable to our movement.”
“Thank you, Weaver.”
“Tell me, does your king still rely on you for counsel?”
Keziah began to toy with one of her braids, a great sadness in her eyes. “Not very much. He did for the first few turns we were here, but the last turn has been difficult. After Paegar died, I stopped trying to hide how angry I was. I’ve said and done things that Kearney might never forgive.”
“You’ll have to apologize. Blame your behavior on your grief. Tell him you love him still, and you said what you did to hurt him. Do whatever you think is necessary to win his confidence again.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You must. You’re of no use to me or our cause if you can’t influence your king.”
She chewed her lip briefly, looking like a child. “Yes, Weaver.”
“It won’t be easy, but you have to try. Think of it as a test, the first of many that you’ll face in your service to this movement.”
What he asked of her carried risks, not only for her, but also for the movement. As she regained Kearney’s trust, she might also begin to rekindle their passion. There was a chance that she would question her loyalties again, that Dusaan might lose her to Eibithar’s king. But as he told her, without the king’s trust, she could offer nothing to the movement.
“Your king is aware of the threat from Kentigern?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And what does he intend to do about it?”
“He’s trying to make Aindreas an outcast within the kingdom. He hopes to win the support of the other dukes. If Kentigern sees that he is alone, that civil war will bring only ruin, he might relent.”
“Is it working?”
“Not as he had hoped Several of the other houses, Galdasten among them, remain certain that Tavis of Curgh killed Aindreas’s daughter. They think Kearney is in league with Javan, and they question the legitimacy of his reign.”
“Is Kearney speaking with the lords of Galdasten?”
“Not since his investiture. He intends to invite the duke to Audun’s Castle, but he’ll wait until the snows end.”
“It would be better for the movement if he didn’t meet with Galdasten at all, but I suppose that can’t be helped ” He paused for a moment. “As you win back the king’s trust, I want you to encourage him to take a firmer stance with Aindreas and his allies. Tell him that a king can’t tolerate such dissent in his realm. Make him see that Kentigern is guilty of treason Don’t push too hard. You shouldn’t actually call Aindreas a traitor. Just lead him in that direction. Kearney’s pride will do the rest.”
“Yes, Weaver. I’ll begin right away.”
“Good. Is there anything you wish to ask, before I leave you?”
“Yes. When might I expect more gold?”
The Weaver felt his smile fade. He had spoken of gold to many others within the movement, but had hoped that it would not be necessary with this woman. “Is that why you agreed to serve me? To grow rich?”
He read Keziah’s retreat in the widening of her eyes and the coloring of her cheeks. “No, Weaver. I never-”
“This is a war, Archminister We fight to free ourselves of the Eandi, to break their hold on the Forelands. We fight for our children and the generations that follow, so that they might grow up in a land where they can aspire to be kings and nobles rather than servants and Revel clowns. Service to our people should be compensation enough. Victory will be our reward.”
“Of course, Weaver,” she said, staring at the ground, looking abashed “Please forgive me ”
“You’ve already received a good deal of gold,” he went on, softening his tone. “And in time you will receive more. Eandi nobles shouldn’t be the only ones who know the joys of wealth But you must be patient. When you’ve proven yourself to me, when I know a bit more about you, I’ll be happy to send you more gold.”
The woman looked up “When you know more about me?”
“We’ve made a good start tonight, and as your service to the movement continues, so will our understanding of each other. I make it a point to learn as much as possible about those who serve me. The more I know about you, the better I can use you to achieve our goals.”
He felt her apprehension flare like distant lightning. “This troubles you ”
“I-I don’t want others to learn that my father was a Weaver. I’m sorry, Weaver, but I fear for my life. I know that you live with this fear each day, but I thought when he died…”
“That the secret would die with him?”
She nodded.
“I understand. Rest easy, Archminister. Those upon whom I rely for such information know to be discreet, just as they know that if they fail me in any way, they’ll die. You have my word, they will guard your secret. And of course, I will as well.”
“Yes, Weaver. Thank you.”
She was still afraid, but that would pass with time. He could offer her no more assurances. He sensed that dawn was approaching, and he knew that his magic would fail him if he remained with her much longer.
“The night is almost done,” he said “We’ll speak again soon. For now, I want you to begin winning back the trust of your king. I’ll have other tasks for you shortly, but none is more important than this Do you understand?”
“Yes, Weaver.”
“Until next time then.”
He released her, and was aware once more of the chair and the fire and the sounds of the palace awakening. He opened his eyes and stood too quickly, so that the chamber pitched and rolled like a ship caught in a harvest storm He had demanded too much of himself this night. He needed to rest, but already he could see the first light of day seeping through the shutters that covered his window. Harel would be awake soon, summoning him to the imperial chambers, forcing the high chancellor to listen to his foolish prattle. As far as Dusaan was concerned, the invasion and all that would follow couldn’t come soon enough Feeling a bit more steady on his feet, he poured himself another cup of water and reflected on the conversations that had occupied his night. Only then did he grasp the significance of what he had done Four dreams, four women Among followers of the Old Faith, it was said that the gods always worked in fours The world began with the four ancient ones, Morna, Bian, Amon, and Ehned, and followed a cycle of four seasons, the snows, the planting, the growing, and the harvest. Determinings took place when a child turned twelve and Fatings four years later, at sixteen.