The Plain of the Stallions remained a wild stretch of land, mostly devoid of towns and villages. A few farms could be found on the expanse, particularly in the regions just south and west of Lake Orvinti and just north and west of the Tall Grass River, but except for falcons and ptarmigans, wild dogs and, of course, the herds of horses for which the plain was named, there was little to be found between Dantrielle and Brall’s castle. For this reason, and despite the fact that it added several leagues to their journey, Tebeo and his company followed the Rassor along its south bank. Even on the river, there weren’t many towns. But there were a few, and every night of their journey they were able to find shelter.
On this night, because they were so close to the ducal city, the village was larger and the inn more comfortable than any they had encountered since leaving Dantrielle. Their meal, a spicy mutton stew and the black bread and light wine for which western Aneira was renowned, reminded Tebeo of nights spent in Bistari when Chago used to regale the other dukes with tales of his father’s blood feud with Farrad the Sixth of Solkara. Long after his soldiers had gone off to bed, Tebeo remained in the tavern’s hall, sipping wine and filling himself with fine food. Evanthya, who had long since stopped eating, stayed dutifully by his side, playing idly with her goblet. They had spoken little on this journey, and Tebeo wondered if she were merely anticipating her reunion with Fetnalla or distracted by weightier matters.
“It seems in recent turns that we don’t often speak unless we’re arguing,” the duke said at last, draining his goblet and motioning to the serving girl for more.
“Yes, my lord. I’ve noticed that as well.”
“I suppose I’m to blame.”
“No more than I am, my lord.”
Tebeo gave a small, dry laugh and shook his head. “Your courtesy is admirable, First Minister, but we both know better. You believe that I don’t trust you, that my fear of the conspiracy has made me wary of all Qirsi, even those who serve me well.”
Evanthya started to respond, no doubt to deny that this was true, as a good minister should, but the duke stopped her with a raised hand.
“Please don’t, Evanthya. The truth is, I don’t trust you, at least not as I did. I don’t really think that you’ve betrayed me or my house, at least not in the customary sense. I’m not even certain that you’re capable of such a thing. But I find myself wondering now about matters that never concerned me before. Do you serve House Dantrielle out of loyalty or because doing so brings you gold? Is the courtesy you show me genuine or is it a mask you wear to conceal your contempt for me?” The serving girl returned with more wine, which the duke accepted with a quick smile. He watched her as she returned to the bar, then took a small sip from his goblet. Turning his gaze back to the minister, he felt a sudden ache in his chest.
She was crying, silent tears coursing down her pale cheeks.
He hadn’t thought to wound her with his words. On the contrary, he had hoped to begin to bridge the rift that had grown between them. Only now, seeing the pain written on her thin face and thinking of what he had said, did it occur to him that his admission might hurt her. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much wine.
“First Minister, please. I—”
She shook her head so that tears flew from her face, staining the wooden table like raindrops on castle stone. “I’ve known you felt this way for some time,” she said. “I merely chose not to think about it. Perhaps it would be best—” She stopped, stifling a sob. “Perhaps I should leave your service now, before we reach Orvinti.”
Tebeo closed his eyes, wincing. What a fool he was. “I don’t want that,” he told her. “I rely on your counsel, Evanthya. I need you now more than I ever have.”
“How can you accept my counsel when you imagine me hating you, when you look for lies in my every word and gesture?”
“That’s not what I said.”
She swiped at the tears on her face. “It’s close; close enough, anyway.”
“Then I misspoke.”
“Did you, my lord?” She sounded angry, as if her pain had suddenly
given way to rage. “It seems to me those were the most honest words you’ve spoken to me since the king’s death. You, Lord Orvinti, the regent—all of you see white hair and think ‘traitor.’ ”
“You liken me to Numar?”
“Yes, my lord. Just as you liken me to the archminister.”
“We have cause to be frightened, Evanthya. You yourself have spoken many times of the dangers of the conspiracy.”
“Yes, I have. But I should not be branded a traitor because other Qirsi have betrayed their lords. Would you expect me to accuse you of poisoning my wine tonight simply because Grigor poisoned the Council of Dukes in Solkara?”
He rubbed a hand over his brow. “Of course not.”
“My people have had to endure accusations of this sort for centuries, simply because the Qirsi wars ended with Carthach’s betrayal. The Eandi see us as a race of traitors, and no matter what we do, no matter how ably we serve in your courts, you’ll always see us that way.”
“Is it any wonder, First Minister? When Brall and I speak of ourselves, it’s always as Aneirans, or as men of our houses. But the Qirsi speak always of themselves as a race first. You’re Qirsi before you’re anything else. You may serve Dantrielle, you may live in Aneira, but you think of yourself as Qirsi.”
“That’s only because you won’t allow me to be anything else! I am Aneiran, and I would give my life for House Dantrielle, whether you believe it or not. But when you look at me, you don’t see an Aneiran. You see white hair and yellow eyes. You see me raising mists or whispering magic words to my mount. We’re a race of sorcerers. All of the Qirsi share that, just as we share the physical traits that make us so strange in your eyes. So yes, in some small way we may feel a bond to other Qirsi, regardless of what house or realm they serve. But what choice do we have when you won’t truly accept us as one of your own?” She shook her head, raking a rigid hand through her fine hair. “Still, it’s one thing to feel such a kinship, it’s another entirely to band with a handful of traitors simply because they happen to wield magic like mine. I hate the conspiracy, not only for what it’s done to the Eandi but also for what it’s done to me.”
“And what is that?”
She opened her arms, as if it should have been obvious. “This argument, your distrust, the ache in my heart every time I have to take care
choosing a word for fear of raising your suspicions again. I hate all of it! And I hate them for doing this to me! If you only knew—”
She broke off, looking away as tears poured from her golden eyes once more.
He hadn’t been fair with her, not for several turns. He could see that now, though he didn’t know how to win back her friendship. “If I only knew what?” he asked, his voice as gentle as a caress.
“Nothing.”
“Please, Evanthya.”
Their eyes met for but a moment before she looked away again. “If you only knew how much I want to defeat them,” she whispered.
“We have that in common, don’t we?”
She shrugged, still not looking at him “I suppose we do,” she said, sounding unconvinced.
“I know it’s not much, but perhaps it’s a place to start. I don’t want you to leave Dantrielle, Evanthya, not only because I depend upon you for counsel but also because I’ve grown quite fond of you over the years. Pelgia and I both have.” He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. Her fingers were slender and small, almost like those of a child.
These hands can raise a gale that would topple oaks
. She didn’t take hold of his hand in return, but neither did she pull hers away. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he went on. “You’re right about us, the Eandi, I mean. We do see you as different, as not sharing our devotion to the kingdom. We should know better by now, but we don’t. That’s what makes this conspiracy so insidious and also so cunning. It strikes at our weakness, our inability to see beyond the differences between us, our inability to think of you and your people as anything more than failed invaders who were undone by treachery. We’ve made it too easy for them.”
Evanthya grimaced slightly. “You’re not alone in that. For every Eandi lord who assumes that his minister has betrayed him, there are three ministers who think the same of their colleagues.” She looked up. “The conspiracy has brought out the worst in all of us, my lord. As you say, that’s what it makes it so dangerous.”
“All the more reason to defeat it, then, First Minister. I’d be honored to fight this battle beside you.”
The woman actually smiled, wiping away her tears again.
“Forgive me for what I said, Evanthya. I’m frightened by the
conspiracy—I prefer an enemy I can see. But I didn’t wish to hurt you, nor do I want to drive you away.”
She took a long breath, her eyes meeting his for just an instant before flitting away again. After some time she nodded.
They returned to their rooms a short time later and rose the next morning to complete their ride to Orvinti. The air had grown warmer overnight, but it rained on the company throughout the day. When finally they followed the road around the south end of Lake Orvinti and into the castle, all of them were soaked and shivering.
The duke of Orvinti was not a man to waste time on formalities, and he soon had all of them taken to their quarters, where they could change clothes and warm themselves before being fed. Orvinti’s duchess joined the two dukes and their ministers for the meal, but left them after the final course was served, claiming to be weary. Tebeo knew better. Unlike his own wife, Pazice had little interest in matters of state, but she knew enough of such things to understand that Tebeo’s visit was unusual, and that the two men wished to discuss whatever had brought him to her home.
Once the duchess was gone, Brall stood, glancing first at Tebeo and then at the first ministers. He looked just as he always did, tall and hale, youthful for his age despite the shock of thick silver hair that hung over his brow. If he still suffered any lingering effects from the poisoning in Solkara, he showed no sign of it. His broad face may have had a few more lines than Tebeo remembered, but his eyes were still clear and as blue as the sky in the harvest turns.
“Shall we return to my chambers and talk there?” he asked, gesturing with a meaty hand toward the door of the hall in which they were sitting.
“Why don’t we speak alone tonight, and allow our ministers to renew their friendship? The four of us can meet tomorrow.”
Evanthya favored him with a smile of such profound gratitude that the duke felt his cheeks coloring. Brall, on the other hand, did not look at all pleased. When Fetnalla looked at him, however, a question in her yellow eyes, he nodded his assent.
When the ministers had gone, and the two dukes began to wind their way back through the dim corridors to Brall’s quarters, the tall duke cast a dark look at Tebeo. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Give Fetnalla and Evanthya leave to go.”
Tebeo gave a small shrug. “I wished to speak with you in private,
and I saw no harm in allowing them to have their privacy as well.” He didn’t think that Brall knew of the ministers’ love affair, but apparently he had given offense where none was intended and he didn’t wish to compound his error with lies.
“There is harm in it,” Brall said harshly. “You might as well give them leave to plot against us.”
“You’d rather they were party to our conversation?”
“At least then we could watch them, make certain we know what they’re doing.”
Tebeo gave a small laugh. “And would you also have us stay up through the night, so that our slumber doesn’t give them opportunity to weave their conspiracies?”
Brall just stared at him, his expression unchanged. “Make your jokes, my friend. But I assure you, in this castle, my sleep does not afford the Qirsi any opportunities.”
It took him a moment. “You have her watched?”
“Of course I do. You should do the same with Evanthya. These times require no less of us.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“But I am. Haven’t you been paying heed to all that’s happened in this kingdom since the harvest? Haven’t you been listening to the tidings brought to your city by merchants and the festivals? The conspiracy is real, Tebeo. It’s not just rumors anymore. Nobles are dying, not just here but all through the Forelands.”
“But to have her watched, as if she were already a known traitor . . .” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do such a thing.”
“So instead you wait until their treachery is revealed. That’s the fool’s way, Tebeo. That’s what Chago did, and Carden, and who knows how many others who are already in Bian’s realm.”
They came to Brall’s chamber and stopped before the door. Guards stood on either side of the door, both dressed in Orvinti colors, blue and green. Brall pulled a key from within his ducal robe, unlocked the door, and indicated with an open hand that Tebeo should enter. In all his years as duke of Dantrielle, Tebeo had never locked his chambers.
Tebeo and Brall sat in the large chairs in the center of the chamber while a servant threw a pair of logs into the hearth and squatted to stir the glowing embers.
“I suppose you have guards watching her?” Tebeo asked.
“Guards, servants. Occasionally I use some of Pazice’s ladies.” He
glanced at the servant. When he began again, he had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Pazice knows nothing of this, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell her.”
“Of course.” He sat still a moment, watching as the servant tried to rekindle the fire. “So, has Fetnalla done anything . . . unusual? Have you any reason to believe that she’s betrayed you?”
“Not yet. But she may have some idea that I’ve been keeping watch on her. It may be that I’m keeping her from joining the conspiracy.”
I think it more likely that you’re driving her to it
. He didn’t say this, though he wanted to. Theirs was a strong friendship, but still Brall would have taken offense. Tebeo had never seen him so suspicious of anyone, not even the Eibitharians. Moreover, it occurred to him that if Fetnalla was under constant observation, Brall was about to receive tidings of a different sort. Best he hear it first from Tebeo.