Orvinti, Aneira, Elhir’s Moon waning
The arguments with Evanthya began almost as soon as Numar left his castle, forcing Tebeo to wonder what had passed between his first minister and the regent’s Qirsi during their conversation in the gardens of Castle Dantrielle. He asked the minister about it, but of course she told him nothing, saying only that she and the archminister had spoken of the coming war. Tebeo didn’t believe her. He had long been opposed to engaging the Eibitharians in battle; without going so far as to advocate war, Evanthya had often made clear her belief that a war, properly fought, could benefit the kingdom.
But abruptly they had reversed roles. After his disastrous encounter with the regent, Tebeo felt that he had little choice but to support Numar in whatever course the regent followed. He had come dangerously close to making an enemy of the man during the Solkaran’s visit. He risked being hanged as a traitor if he even spoke against the war again, much less withheld Dantrielle’s army from the effort as Evanthya now counseled.
Back and forth they went for the entire day after Numar’s departure and into the night. Their debate took them nowhere, and when Evanthya finally left him as the midnight bells tolled in the city, Tebeo was exhausted, but too frustrated to sleep. He avoided her the next day, even going so far as to deny her entry to his chamber when she came to speak with him.
During the course of that morning it occurred to him that Pronjed may have prevailed upon her to argue as she now did. At the time of Carden’s death, Brall and his first minister had speculated that the archminister was a traitor who had the power to control people’s minds. Tebeo knew far less of Qirsi magic than he should have, since he relied on Qirsi ministers for counsel nearly every day, but he knew enough to suspect that the first minister had fallen victim to one of her own. That was the only explanation that made any sense to him.
He said as much to her the following day when they resumed their dialogue. Naturally she denied it, and the more she made her case, the more the duke wavered. It didn’t help that he continued to question the wisdom of this war, or that he disliked Braedon’s emperor, or even that he was, at heart, a man of peace. But there was one other factor that he could not ignore, one that lent great strength to Evanthya’s argument.
Numar frightened him, perhaps not as much as Carden had or Grigor would have had he lived, but enough. He had the full force of the royal army behind him and if he chose to turn its might on Dantrielle the dukedom would be crushed in a matter of days. But it wasn’t just the power of Solkara’s army that frightened the duke. Numar, it seemed, was both more and less than he had appeared to be when Aneira’s dukes chose him as regent for Kalyi, the young queen. Tebeo, Brall, and many of the others had thought him a benign alternative to his older brother, intelligent enough to lead the kingdom until Kalyi was of Fating age, but lacking his brother’s ambition. Having faced his wrath, however, having heard him speak of war and the
growing alliance with Braedon, Tebeo realized that he and his fellow dukes had seen only what they wanted to see. The regent was keenly intelligent, far more so even than Carden had been, and the duke feared that Numar harbored dark ambitions for Aneira and for himself.
The more Tebeo and his first minister spoke of the regent and his war, the more uncertain the duke grew, until he found himself advocating points of view with which he did not agree.
Evanthya, who knew him too well, seemed to sense her advantage, for after a time, she began to smile. When Tebeo stated that Aneira’s alliance with Braedon outweighed all other concerns, even his desire for peace, she actually laughed.
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, shaking her head. “But I know that you don’t truly believe that, not unless you received word during the night that Harel has died and been replaced by a new emperor.”
He winced. “You shouldn’t jest about such things, First Minister.”
“My apologies, my lord. But the fact remains that you think Harel a poor leader and a dangerous ally for the kingdom. You’ve said as much to me several times in the past.”
“You’re right, I have. And I suppose I still feel that way.”
“Then why do you argue as you do?”
“Because I have no desire to stand alone against Numar. As it is, after what I said to him while he was here, I’m fortunate that he’s a generous man. He could easily have taken offense and he might still decide to punish Dantrielle for my impudence. I can’t risk angering him further.”
The minister regarded him in silence briefly, her brow furrowed, as if she were struggling with something. Then, appearing to come to a decision, she asked, “What if you didn’t have to stand against him alone?”
“What?”
She licked her lips. “When I spoke with the archminister, he asked me if I thought you could prevail upon the southern houses to support the war if they proved reluctant.”
He gaped at her, not quite believing that Pronjed would think to ask her such a question. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
She lowered her gaze. “I was afraid to, my lord. Just as you fear Numar, I fear the archminister. Fetnalla and Lord Orvinti suspect that he may be a traitor, that he may even have used mind-bending magic to
kill the king. If he learned that I had revealed to you anything of our conversation, he . . . he might seek to do me harm.”
“How?” Tebeo asked, eyes narrowing. “Do you think he’d try to kill you?”
“Not directly, my lord. But he might accuse me of treason. These are difficult days for Qirsi and Eandi alike. It requires only a well-placed word to destroy the reputation of a minister.”
The duke nodded. That much at least he could understand. “Do you think he expects the southern houses to resist the war?”
“He told me he was merely preparing himself for all possibilities. But I don’t think he would have asked the question unless he thought it likely.” She hesitated, her bright gaze dropping once more. “He asked as well if I thought you would resist”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all, not after my conversation with Numar.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I thought you would send however many men Numar requested, that you were Aneiran before all else.”
It was the only proper response she could have given, but still he was relieved. “Thank you. And what about his other question? How did you answer that?”
“I wasn’t certain what to say, my lord. I told him that you were not as close to the new dukes in Tounstrel and Noltierre as you had been to their fathers, and that you didn’t have as much influence with them as the question implied.”
Tebeo frowned. “Frankly, First Minister, that’s more of an answer than such a question deserved.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Still, it’s close enough to the truth, and it doesn’t give Numar much hope that I can act on his behalf if Vistaan and Bertin the Younger refuse to comply. Under the circumstances, things could be far worse.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She opened her mouth to say more, then stopped herself, taking a breath and playing absently with the satin edge of her robe.
“Out with it, Evanthya. If there’s more to your conversation with Pronjed I’d best know it now.”
Still she paused, seeming to search for the correct words. “I’m not
entirely certain that he was asking these questions on the regent’s behalf, my lord.”
He had thought that nothing more could surprise him, that between Numar’s unexpected visit and the archminister’s blunt questioning of his first minister he had been inured to shock. But this was too much. “Explain.”
“He told me that he didn’t think the regent trusted him and that Numar only brought him to Dantrielle and the other dukedoms because he didn’t trust the minister enough to leave him alone in Solkara.”
“Do you think the regent fears for the queen?”
She shook her head, playing now with a strand of white hair. “No, I think he fears Chofya and Pronjed’s ties to her.”
At that the duke felt a surge of hope. “Did Pronjed indicate that he still remained loyal to her?”
“Not really, my lord. He told me that he was asking me these other questions on no one’s behalf, but rather as one Qirsi to another.”
Just as quickly, the duke’s hope vanished to be replaced by a feeling of coldest, deepest dread. “What does that mean? Do you think he’s with the conspiracy?”
“I think it’s possible. It’s also possible that he thinks I am, and that he hoped to determine this for certain.”
“Why would he think you were a traitor?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he could see from the way she regarded him that he had failed.
“You of all people should know the answer to that, my lord.” She gave a sad smile. “With all that’s happened in Aneira and throughout the Forelands, all Qirsi are suspect. Traitors seem to lurk in every corner, be it in Solkara, or Orvinti, or here, in Dantrielle.”
Tebeo nodded again, but said nothing.
“I’ve told you this before, my lord, and I’ll say it again. I have not betrayed you, nor do I intend to. But I believe this war must be stopped before it begins. It will bring ruin to the realm, perhaps to all the Forelands.”
“Do you know this? Have you gleaned something?”
Evanthya shook her head. “No, my lord. This is my opinion, it’s not prophecy.”
He almost wished it had been a vision. A part of him felt just as his first minister did. But Dantrielle would fare no better if her duke was
labeled a traitor and her castle besieged by the royal army. At least in this war, his people might have a chance to prove their mettle or die loyal subjects of the kingdom. The alternative was unthinkable.
“I share your fears, Evanthya. You know I do. But you’re asking me to exchange one war for another. If I defy House Solkara it will put us on a path to civil war, a hopeless war at that, and one that will be no less ruinous for the kingdom than this alliance with the empire.” He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”
“You could at least speak with Lord Orvinti, my lord.”
“To what end? The regent told us that Brall supports this war.”
“Of course he did, my lord. What else would he say? But what if Lord Orvinti feels as we do, and only said what he did to avoid angering Numar? What if Bertin the Younger and Vistaan of Tounstrel do the same? The dukes chose Numar over Henthas because they didn’t want a kingdom governed by fear and the threat of violence. Yet isn’t that what we have?”
“Numar isn’t Henthas!” the duke said, flinging the words at her like a blade.
Evanthya looked away. “No, my lord.”
She didn’t deserve his anger. As with so many things, she was right about this. He feared the coming war, but had been compelled to pledge his support by a regent he feared even more. And Dantrielle was one of Aneira’s stronger houses. If Numar could force his compliance, couldn’t he do the same to the dukes of Kett and Noltierre, Rassor and Tounstrel?
“Have you received word from Fetnalla since the regent’s visit?” he asked. “Do you have any reason to believe that she and Brall have similar doubts?”
“I’ve heard nothing, my lord. For all I know, the regent was correct in saying that he had Lord Orvinti’s support. But if I may be so bold, even if Lord Orvinti is in favor of this war, as you seem to be, it strikes me that you would benefit from such assurances right now.”
“I probably would. But assurances can be conveyed by messenger. If we’re to discuss defying the regent, we’d best do so in Orvinti.”
Evanthya met his gaze again, her bright yellow eyes dancing like torch fire. It took the duke a moment to remember that she and Brall’s first minister were lovers. A journey to Orvinti meant more to her than just an opportunity to press her argument again.
“Then we’re going?” she asked.
“Yes. But hear this, First Minister: if Brall truly supports the war, this is over. There will be no correspondence with Noltierre or Tounstrel on the matter.”
“Of course, my lord. Without Orvinti we can’t stand against House Solkara.”
They held each other’s gaze for another moment before Tebeo sent her off to prepare for the journey. But long after she had left him, he continued to shake his head at the memory of this last comment. Notwithstanding her kind manner and reasoned thinking on matters of state, there were times when Evanthya spoke of war and rebellion with chilling indifference.
They rode at dawn the following day, steering their mounts into the teeth of yet another icy storm. Tebeo could not remember the snows lasting this long in past years. It almost seemed that the gods themselves were trying to keep the land’s armies from marching to war. The duke kept his company small, much as Numar had. Evanthya rode with him of course, as did eight of his finest soldiers, four swordsmen and four archers. Brigands tended to move south during the colder turns and though some of them might have come north again, fooled by the brief warm spell that had come at the end of Eilidh’s waning, most would not be haunting the roads again for another turn or two. Eight men would be more than enough.
He had sent a message ahead, informing Brall of his impending visit and telling the duke to expect him within the first five days of the waning. He hadn’t waited for a response, nor did he expect the messenger to find him again in the forest. Such was the nature of his friendship with Brall that no reply was necessary. Both the duke and Pazice, his wife, would have welcomed them even without such a courtesy, just as he and Pelgia would have opened their home to Brall. But in this case Tebeo reasoned that the nature of his visit would be enough of a surprise. There was no need to compound the matter by arriving unannounced.
They traveled swiftly despite the weather—or perhaps because of it. No one in the company had any desire to linger on the road. By midmorning on the sixth day, they had come within sight of the Hills of Shanae, rising above the Plain of the Stallions and gleaming with fresh snow. It would be another day before they reached Lake Orvinti and Brall’s magnificent castle, but seeing the hills, the duke felt his spirits rise. Even faced with the prospect of war, he looked forward to
speaking with his friend. Brall had his faults. He could be arrogant at times, and he was even more likely than Tebeo to take a position in the Council of Dukes based not on what he believed but rather on what he thought the majority of dukes wanted. But he could also be thoughtful and uncommonly clever. And Tebeo knew that when the two of them spoke privately, he could depend upon Brall to be entirely honest with him. With Bertin and Chago dead, he could not say the same about any other noble in the realm.