Keziah shivered. And in that instant, she heard a single word spoken. “Come.” It brushed past her like the feathered seed of a harvest flower riding the wind. Before she understood what she was doing, she had turned and started walking toward the sound.
Confused and frightened, her arms crossed over her chest against the chill wind, she opened her mouth to call out Grinsa’s name. At the last minute, though, she stopped herself, not quite understanding why.
Soon she was climbing a gentle slope. She had heard nothing more, but she knew this was the way, and even as the climb grew more difficult, she didn’t stray. After some time, the ground became level again and she stopped, breathing hard.
The light that stabbed suddenly into her eyes made her cry out and cower, as if Bian the Deceiver had revealed himself to her. She didn’t realize that she had dropped to her knees until the voice spoke again.
“Rise.” His voice was deep, powerful, as she imagined a god’s might sound.
Keziah stood slowly and, still shielding her eyes with a hand, tried to see who had come. A figure stood before her, tall and imposing, as black as the sky against that brilliant white glare. Wild hair twisted about his shoulders in the wind, and a long cape stirred like pine boughs.
“You believe you’re dreaming,” he said.
“Aren’t I?”
“People often think so the first time they encounter a Weaver this way. You are asleep, but this is not dreaming as you know it.”
Precisely because this wasn’t her first encounter with a Weaver, Keziah knew immediately that he was telling the truth. She felt a fool for not anticipating this. Of course the conspiracy would be led by a Weaver, perhaps several.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“I sense no surprise on your part. You expected this?”
“No, I-”
“Then what?”
“This isn’t the first time a Weaver has entered my dreams. My father was a Weaver. He spoke to me this way many times.” The lie came to her easily. She’d been lying about so many things for so long-Grinsa, her affair with Kearney, and, most recently, her feigned resentment of the king and all the Eandi. At this point, she felt as comfortable with deceit as she did with the truth.
“Your father was an underminister for the House of Eardley.”
She swallowed. How much more did he know about her?
“Yes. He never told anyone but my mother and me about the true extent of his powers.”
Keziah held her breath, terrified that he would ask about her brother.
“I see. This pleases me. You bear a Weaver’s blood and so your children might be Weavers.”
She had thought of this many times. Even though neither of her parents had been Weavers, Grinsa’s powers made it clear that there was Weaver’s blood in her veins.
“Yes, they might.”
“And you must also know that if they have the gift, and if their true powers are discovered, they will be killed and you with them.”
Keziah nodded.
“Do you know why I’ve come to you?”
Before she could answer, she felt a strange sensation, as if she were being distracted by another sound, though there was nothing here but the wind and the Weaver. An instant later her head began to spin, and she nearly fell to the ground again.
“Well?” the Weaver said. “Do you?”
At first she thought the Weaver was doing this to her, and she tried to guard herself, as if from an assault. Then she heard another voice calling her name, as distant and soft as a whisper, but insistent and drawing nearer. Grinsa.
“The movement,” she managed to say. “You lead the movement.”
“That’s right.”
She sensed a light behind her, and though she didn’t dare turn to look, she guessed that Grinsa had added his landscape to her dream. The Weaver didn’t appear to notice-she couldn’t imagine why, but she thanked the gods for her good fortune.
“Do you know how I found you?” the Weaver asked.
“Paegar. He told you about me.”
“Yes, he did. He said that you were once in love with your king. Is that true?”
She considered lying again. At that moment she would have said nearly anything to end this dream before the Weaver learned of Grinsa and of all she had done to convince the movement that she could be turned against Kearney. But she had sacrificed too much to lure the man here. She could hardly drive him away now.
“Yes, it’s true. I loved him, and he cast me from his bed as soon as they gave him the crown.”
“You hate him.”
Keziah hesitated. Even here, speaking with this man, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“It’s all right,” the Weaver said gently. “Perhaps it’s too much to ask you to hate him already. But you long to strike back at him.”
She heard Grinsa approaching and in her mind she shouted for him to leave her, to return another night. But he couldn’t hear her any more than could the man standing before her.
“I do.”
“I can help you,” the Weaver said. “I can make you part of a great movement that will rid the Forelands of your foolish king and others like him. Already, throughout the seven realms, Qirsi like you are rising up against the Eandi courts. You can join us. You can punish the Glyndwr king for what he did to you, and assure your children of a glorious future.” He took a step toward her. “All you must do is pledge yourself to my service and open your mind to me, fully, without reservation.”
She faltered. How could she do such a thing without revealing too much?
“You resist,” he said, his voice harder. “Why?”
Keziah sensed that Grinsa was close and she had to fight an urge to whirl on him and yell for him to leave her.
“I can’t do this. Not yet.”
“I have revealed myself to you, because you have made it clear with your actions and your words that you no longer wish to debase yourself in service of the Eandi. You have been chosen and you must join me now.”
She felt his magic buffeting her mind and she struggled to hold him off, fearing that her defenses would fail her at any moment.
“Others before you have fought me as well,” he said. “They suffered for their defiance. Is that what you want?”
“No,” Keziah answered, her voice quavering. “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.” This last, she intended for Grinsa. Surely he could hear the Weaver now. Couldn’t he see that he had to leave her?
“Merely open yourself to me,” the Weaver said.
“I’m afraid. You have to give me a bit of time.”
“Kezi?” Grinsa whispered, as if standing just beside her.
Go! Please! I can’t hold him off muck longer!
“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.”
“You have your payment,” he said again. “Now it is time for you to give yourself to me and this movement.”
“But-”
“Enough!”
Pain exploded in her mind, blinding, searing. He was crushing her eyes, though she hadn’t seen him take a step toward her. She threw up her hands, trying to shield herself. She tried to draw upon her magic, but no power she possessed could protect her from a Weaver.
“Give yourself to me!”
Helpless, lost, she collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.
She heard Grinsa cry out her name and abruptly, the pain ceased.
“What was that?”
Keziah managed to open her eyes, though for several moments she could see nothing at all.
“What, Weaver?” she said, her voice barely carrying over the sound of the wind.
“I heard a voice cry out. I think it spoke your name.”
He was looking about, as if expecting to see someone step out of the darkness.
“I cried out, Weaver. But I heard nothing else.”
“No, it sounded…” He stopped, shaking his head.
Keziah still felt Grinsa standing nearby, and now she heard him whisper again.