As he drew nearer, Grinsa began to hear voices, as if Kezi was speaking to someone else. He slowed, trying to make out what they were saying. Had he come to her in the middle of one of her own dreams? Such a thing had never happened before, but he couldn’t say for certain that it was impossible. Or was he the one dreaming? His mind had been fogged with sleep-perhaps he hadn’t really awakened at all and he was imagining all of this.
The gleaner shook his head. He could feel the magic flowing through his body and mind-this was no dream. And sensing Keziah’s thoughts as he approached her, he understood that though she slept, the vision before her was as real as any he had offered her in the past. She was terrified, not only of what she saw in the darkness, but also of Grinsa. He could almost hear her screaming for him to leave. But all he could do was step closer. He moved slowly now, as if stalking game, and he strained his ears to hear her conversation.
“… Others before you have fought me as well,” he heard a voice say. A man’s voice, deep and laden with power. “They suffered for their defiance. Is that what you want?”
“No,” Keziah answered, sounding desperate. “I don’t mean to defy you. But I’ve never had someone ask this of me before. I don’t know what to do.”
“Merely open yourself to me.”
“I’m afraid. You have to give me a bit of time.”
Something in her voice told Grinsa that she was speaking not to this other man, but to him.
“Kezi?” he whispered.
“There is no time. You received your gold, didn’t you?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Call me Weaver. I’m not some dull-witted Eandi noble, and I won’t be addressed as such.”
“Yes, Weaver. Forgive me.”
A Weaver! Abruptly it all made sense to him. Not just the strange appearance of the sky and plain, but also the man’s mention of gold. He had often wondered who he would find at the head of the conspiracy. A powerful minister perhaps, or a wealthy Qirsi merchant. That this person should also be a Weaver shouldn’t have surprised him. Who else could wield the power necessary to overthrow the courts of the Forelands? Who else could guide a movement that sprawled across so many kingdoms? What puzzled him, though, was the man’s presence in Kezi’s mind. Why would the leader of the conspiracy be speaking to her of gold?
“You have your payment,” the man was saying. “Now it is time for you to give yourself to me and this movement.”
“But-”
“Enough!” the Weaver roared.
An instant later, Keziah cried out, her hands flying to her face. Somehow Grinsa felt it, too. A great pressure on his eyes, as if the man was pressing his fingers into her skull.
“Give yourself to me!”
She whimpered, dropping to her knees.
“Kezil”
“What was that?” the Weaver demanded, the pressure on Grinsa’s eyes ending as suddenly as it had begun.
He wanted to remain there, to learn more about this man, and to repay him for the pain he had caused Keziah. He wanted to yell to her, to rouse her from her sleep. The conspiracy had to be stopped, but she risked too much by seeking out its leader alone.
All Grinsa could do, however, was leave her. As long as he remained he imperiled Keziah and himself. He heard them speaking again, but he didn’t wait to hear any more. He merely whispered, “I love you,” the words as soft as a planting breeze. Then, dread in his heart, he forced himself to leave her.
Opening his eyes, he felt the earth heave and spin. Even sitting, he nearly lost his balance.
“Are you all right?”
He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then looked up at Tavis. “I will be,” he said, his voice ragged.
“I heard you call your sister’s name. You sounded scared.”
Grinsa nodded, feeling a tear on his cheek. “I am.”
The boy just stared at him, waiting.
“She was with another Weaver.”
“What?”
“I think he must lead the conspiracy.”
“Why would she be with such a man?”
Grinsa shrugged, though he knew the answer. She had always been too brave. He was the Weaver, the one who wielded unfathomable power. But Keziah had always been the warrior, fighting battles from which others shied. “She must think that she can learn something of him,” he said at last. “By joining his movement, she seeks the means to destroy it.”
For a long time, Tavis didn’t reply. Finally, staring up at the red moon, he said, “That’s either the most courageous thing I’ve ever heard, or the most foolhardy.”
Grinsa could only shake his head. The boy often made such statements. Utterly unfeeling, and so honest as to leave no room for argument.
Chapter Thirty
City of Kings, Eibithar
No one doubted that the threat of a new war with Aneira loomed like a storm cloud over all Eibithar, and like the king’s other ministers, Wenda had heard rumors of Braedon’s naval activity at the north end of the Scabbard. Kearney would have been remiss had he not taken these threats seriously. Yet it struck her as a measure of how alarmed he was that the king would arrange a meeting between the dukes of Rouvin in Caerisse and Grinnyd in Wethyrn on such short notice and in the middle of the snows. Aylyn the Second, the old king, whom she served for fourteen years, would have issued invitations to the two men only after a good deal of discussion and planning.
This was not to say that she disapproved of Kearney’s decision. On the contrary-she admired his boldness. But once more she could not help but notice the vast difference between the two kings she had served. Some of it sprang from Kearney’s youth, the rest from contrasts in their natures. Regardless of the cause, however, Wenda still found herself questioning whether she was suited to serving this new king.
Under the best of circumstances, a meeting between the two dukes would have presented great challenges to their host. Caerisse and Wethyrn had long been enemies. Over the course of their history, the two lands had fought several major wars and dozens of smaller skirmishes. Their most recent conflict, the so-called Queen’s War, had ended just over a century before and had led to an uneasy peace along Orlagh’s River, the border between the two realms. Though both had strong ties to Eibithar, this had never been enough to overcome their mutual hostility, which was rooted in an ancient dispute over a narrow strip of land now held by Caerisse.
Kearney would need both as allies if there was to be war with Braedon and Aneira. Neither Wethyrn nor Caerisse was considered a major power in the Forelands. Caerisse had been great once, but it had been supplanted long ago by Eibithar, Sanbira, Aneira, and, of course, the Braedon Empire. But the Caerissan army would be of great importance in the event of a land war along the Tarbin, and Wethyrn’s navy, while small, still enjoyed a well-deserved reputation as the finest among the six, second only to Braedon’s in all the Forelands.
The dukes of both Rouvin and Grinnyd, though not of their realms’ royal families, wielded great influence with the men who led the kingdoms. If Kearney could convince them that it was in the interests of Caerisse and Wethyrn to put aside their differences and form an alliance with Eibithar, they in turn, might convince their leaders.
Unfortunately, Kearney’s already formidable task had been greatly complicated by recent events here in Audun’s Castle. One needed only to look as far as the seating for this night’s welcoming feast in the castle’s great hall to perceive the depth of the king’s troubles. Wenda, who would normally have been seated at a lesser table with the rest of the king’s underministers, had been placed instead at the table of honor, just next to the archminister.