“I agree,” the king said. “How do we guard Qirsi with such powers, gleaner? You can’t watch them all the time, and our weapons are of little use against them.”
The thane shook his head. “They shouldn’t be imprisoned. They should be executed. They’re traitors and murderers, and they deserve no less.”
“I agree,” Gershon said.
Keziah looked at him, but said nothing.
Caius was gripping his sword tightly, as if he would have liked to strike the killing blow himself. But he kept his distance from the two Qirsi. “How do you execute a shaper? Our weapons are useless against them.”
Marston nodded toward Grinsa. “The gleaner can kill them. He can use their own power against them.”
“I can,” Grinsa said. “But I won’t.”
“What?”
“I fought for the courts, and was glad to do so. But I won’t execute prisoners for you.”
“Not even if His Majesty orders you to?”
Grinsa held the thane’s gaze. “Not even then.”
“You know what they’ve done, what they’ll do again, if only we give them the chance. And still you refuse? All you white-hairs are the same!”
Xivled jal Viste stepped forward, glowering at Marston. “White-hairs?” he repeated. “You haven’t learned a damn thing from all this, have you?”
The thane’s eyes widened. “Xiv, I-”
“No, my lord. You need to hear this. We’ve just come through the most horrific war our land has known in centuries. I never thought I’d see so many killed in my lifetime, much less in a single day. And all of them died because our people-yours and mine-have paid more attention to the color of each other’s eyes and hair, than to all that binds us to one another. It has to stop, my lord. Your suspicion, your prejudice-we can’t afford them anymore. We need to find some way to trust one another, to put these ancient hatreds to rest finally and for good. If we can’t, we’re doomed to repeat this war.”
“Of course, I know that. But this gleaner-”
“This gleaner saved us all, my lord. He’s done enough. If you can’t see that, then I’m not certain that I wish to continue serving in your court.”
Before Marston could respond, his minister turned and walked away, leaving the thane looking perplexed.
For some time, none of them spoke.
“He’s right, of course,” Keziah said at last.
“Let it be, Kez,” the king said in a low voice.
“No, Your Majesty, I won’t! That’s what we’ve done for too long. We’ve refused to talk about it, hoping the problem would simply disappear, and as a result it nearly destroyed us. We can’t wait any longer.”
“All that may be true, but this is a discussion we can have later.”
“When? When the dead have been buried? When the rest of the renegades have been found? When the wounds of this war have healed? Or must we wait even longer than that? Shouldn’t we do this now, before your dukes return to their castles?”
“You’re wasting your breath, cousin,” Jastanne said, an insolent smile on her lips. “The Eandi will never change. They hate us, and do you know why? It’s because they fear us, they fear our magic.” She shook her head. “No, you can’t change them. Your only hope lay with the Weaver and his movement, and now you’ve destroyed that.”
Kearney stared at the woman, as if seeing her for the first time. At last he faced Keziah again. “We won’t wait long. Discussing this matter before we bid farewell to the dukes strikes me as a fine idea. I give you my word. For now though, we should deal with these two, and any other renegades we can find.”
“Your Majesty-”
“Have done, Marston. Please. I have no intention of ordering the gleaner to do anything that he does not choose to do voluntarily.”
Grinsa tipped his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Nevertheless, Grinsa, I do agree that this man and woman should be put to death, and I need to know if you intend to intervene on their behalf.”
Grinsa felt the others watching him, waiting. Gershon still held his weapon, as did the duchess, Caius, and several of the soldiers. He was quite certain that they were prepared to fight him if they thought it necessary.
“No, Your Majesty, I have no such intentions. If you think it best to execute them, you should do so.”
Kearney nodded.
Keziah glanced Grinsa’s way, then said, “You should blindfold them, Your Majesty. Keep their hands bound, and bind their ankles as well. You should also have several archers watching them at all times.”
“Thank you, Archminister.” The king turned to his soldiers. “You heard what she said. See to it right away, and have preparations made for their executions. I want them dead before nightfall.” He looked at Grinsa again, nodded once. “Gleaner.”
The king strode away, followed closely by Shanstead, Labruinn, and the others.
“I’m sorry,” Keziah said when they were gone.
“For what?”
“For telling Kearney how he should guard them. The truth is, I want them dead. I never thought I’d say it, but in spite of everything else, I agree with Marston: they deserve to die.”
“Actually, I agree with him, too.”
Her eyebrows went up.
“It’s true,” he said, feeling terribly weary. “I just didn’t want a hand in their deaths. Is that so difficult to fathom?”
His sister looked pained. “No, not at all. I should have understood.”
He shrugged. “It’s been a long day. For all of us.”
She summoned one of the soldiers with a gesture. “I’m going to get some food. Why don’t you join me? You must be famished.”
Grinsa made himself smile. “I’ll eat soon. First I want to speak with Cresenne.”
“Of course.”
The soldier helped Keziah to her feet and led her away, leaving Grinsa alone on the cool grass. He could have slept for hours, and he wasn’t certain how long he could keep himself in Cresenne’s dreams. But it was growing late; she would be waking soon to another lonely night, and he didn’t want to wait even one more day to tell her that Dusaan was dead.
Closing his eyes, he sent his mind southward to Audun’s Castle. He found her quickly and entered her mind. Immediately he felt the dull pain in her chest. Had she been attacked yet again?
“Cresenne!” he said as soon as he saw her.
She gazed toward him, then took a tentative step forward. It occurred to him that in her dream he would be sitting, just as he was in the waking world.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s me.”
“Grinsa?”
“Yes. I was hurt, but I’m fine now.”
She ran to him, dropped to her knees beside him. Despite the scars that he still saw on her face, he thought that she had never looked more beautiful. She kissed him lightly on the lips, then sat back meeting his gaze, fear and hope mingled in her eyes.
He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek. “He’s dead. It’s over.”
For a moment she merely stared back at him. Then tears flooded her eyes and she began to sob. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He found that he was crying as well, though he was also smiling.
“A woman attacked me today. I nearly died again, and she nearly took Bryntelle. I went to sleep thinking that this would never end, that I’d be fighting off his servants and living in fear of his dreams until he finally managed to kill me.”
“I don’t know how many more of his servants are out there,” Grinsa told her. “But Dusaan will never walk in your dreams again.”
She put her arms around him, still weeping, and for a long time they held each other.
“How bad was it?” she finally asked. She pulled back quickly. “Is Keziah all right?”
“She’s fine.”
“And Tavis?”
“He’s … it’s complicated. He survived the fighting, but his father was killed and his closest friend.”
“I’m sorry for him. Truly.”
“You said that Bryntelle was nearly taken from you. Is she-”
“She’s right here beside me. Trin saved her. He saved us both.”
Grinsa gaped at her. “Trin?”
She nodded.