“Because this is no solution. It removes you from the king’s court and so still puts your life at risk. And I swore to you when all this began that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. I believe the best way to do that is to tell the king the truth. It would be better coming from you, but I’ll tell him myself if I have to.”
“Swordmaster, you can’t do that! Please!”
“Tell me why I can’t. We’re just talking about the king; no one else need know. But surely Kearney can be trusted with this. I see no danger in telling him. In fact, it might even help. No doubt the Weaver expects you to make Kearney do certain things, to bend his will somehow. Wouldn’t it be helpful to have the king privy to this, so that he could make the deception more convincing?”
He was right of course. True, Kearney might be tempted to treat her differently once he understood all that she had done in recent turns, once he knew that her loyalty had never wavered. But he was the most intelligent man she’d ever known; he’d find a way to keep her secret. If he didn’t banish her from the castle for what she’d done.
“Kearney will never forgive me for this,” she finally whispered, relieved in a way to say at last what she had wanted to all along. “He’ll hate me for it.”
Keziah glanced at the swordmaster, saw a sad smile on his face. She knew what he was thinking. He hates you already.
But he surprised her.
“Is that what’s stopping you?”
She nodded, afraid to speak.
“He’ll never hate you, Archminister. Even now, thinking you a traitor, he still loves you more than he can bear.” He reached out and took her hand, the first time he had ever done anything of the sort. His hand was callused and rough, but oddly comforting. “Come with me to his chamber and we’ll explain all of this to him. You shouldn’t leave; neither of you wants that.”
“I’m afraid.”
“I know. But this is the only way. You know this as well as I do, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
Keziah managed a weak smile.
Gershon led her to the door, releasing her hand to pull it open and usher her into the corridor. She had thought herself frightened already, but by the time they reached the door to Kearney’s presence chamber she could barely stand for the shaking of her legs. Gershon knocked and gave her a quick smile.
“It’ll be all right.”
“Enter!” came the call from within.
The swordmaster pushed the door open and led Keziah into the chamber. Marston was still with the king, and he stared at the two of them, his expression dark.
“What is this, swordmaster?” Kearney demanded. “I instructed you to see to this matter for me.”
“We need to speak with you, Your Majesty. In private.” This last he added with a glance at the thane. It occurred to Keziah that Gershon didn’t like Marston, that perhaps he resented the young noble’s sudden influence with the king.
Marston started to object, but the king nodded to him. “It’s all right, Lord Shanstead. We’ll speak later.”
Frowning, the thane left them, closing the door a bit too loudly as he did.
Kearney eyed the swordmaster briefly, but refused even to look at Keziah. “Now, what is this about?”
“The archminister has something to tell you, Your Majesty. I’d ask you to listen to what she has to say.”
“Gershon-”
“Please, Your Majesty. If, when she’s done, you still wish her to leave Audun’s Castle, I give you my word that she’ll be gone within the day. But give her a chance to speak.”
Keziah saw the muscles in the king’s jaw clench, but after a moment’s hesitation he turned his gaze on her. And she very nearly lost her nerve. Better just to leave than to suffer through this.
“Well?” He sounded so impatient, so eager to have her gone.
The words wouldn’t come. She looked at the swordmaster, feeling panic grip her heart. “I don’t know how to tell him.”
“Start with Paegar. That’s how all this began.”
Kearney stared at her with narrowed eyes. “What about Paegar?”
Paegar jal Berget had been high minister to the king, and Keziah’s one friend in Audun’s Castle in the first turns she spent in the royal city. He had also been a traitor, a member of the Qirsi conspiracy. Gershon was right. It all started with him.
She began slowly, reminding the king of how he had asked her to see to the high minister’s personal belongings after Paegar’s death several turns before, and revealing that she had found over two hundred qinde in gold coins hidden in his wardrobe. She told of her belief that the minister had been a traitor, and of her decision to learn what she could of the Qirsi conspiracy. When she explained how she had done all she could to anger the king, to convince both Kearney and any traitor still living in the castle that she was ready to be turned to the renegades’ cause, she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes. Still she went on, telling of her first encounter with the Weaver, describing how he had hurt her, making it clear that if she refused him, he’d kill her. And finally, she told him how she had managed to convince the Weaver that she was indeed committed to his cause.
As she spoke of this, Kearney stood and walked to the window, so that she could no longer see his face. Even after she finished,’ he didn’t turn, and for a long time no one in the chamber said a word.
“I knew of all this from the beginning, Your Majesty,” Gershon said, after some time. “I supported the archminister’s decision to seek out the conspiracy, and I agreed that she shouldn’t tell you.”
“Did you do all this to avenge Paegar?” Kearney asked, ignoring the swordmaster, his voice so low that at first Keziah wasn’t certain she had heard him properly.
“I did it to strike at the conspiracy.” I did it for you. “I was grieving for Paegar, but I didn’t know at the time that the Weaver had killed him.” She paused, knowing what lurked behind his question, but unsure as to whether she should say more. In the end, she decided that she had little left to lose. “I never loved Paegar, Your Majesty. In my entire life, I’ve only loved one man.”
He turned to her. “What is it this Weaver expects of you?” The way he asked the question one might have thought he hadn’t heard what she’d said. Keziah felt something within her wither and die.
“He wants me to convince you to take a harder stance with the duke of Kentigern and those who stand with him. And he’s ordered me to kill Cresenne, which is why I can’t leave Audun’s Castle with her.”
“She shouldn’t leave Audun’s Castle at all, Your Majesty. That should be obvious now.”
The king glared at Gershon. Keziah would have fallen silent immediately had he looked at her so, but the swordmaster was not so easily cowed.
“The archminister has given us an opportunity to learn a great deal about the conspiracy and this Weaver who leads it. We need to give her every chance to finish what she’s begun. And we have to do everything in our power to keep her safe. That means keeping her here with you, where we can protect her, and where it will seem to the Weaver that she continues to serve his cause.”
“What role did your brother play in this?” Kearney asked her.
“None, Your Majesty. He was as surprised to learn of it as you must be. And he was angry with me for even making the attempt.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
She lowered her gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I can’t decide if I should be railing at you for being so damned foolish or thanking you for risking so much for the realm.”
Gershon grinned. “I’ve done both by turns, Your Majesty.”
Kearney eyed the swordmaster briefly, but didn’t answer.
“Obviously I won’t be sending you from the castle,” the king went on a moment later. “I have no desire to endanger your life, and as the swordmaster points out, you may be able to tell us a good deal about the conspiracy.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”
“What would you have me do about the woman?”