They had been in the marketplace, strolling among the peddlers’ carts and stalls, enjoying the first clear day since the middle of the previous waning. A soft breeze ruffled the heavy cloth with which so many of the sellers covered their carts, and the air smelled clean and sweet, as from the blossoms that had begun to appear on the hills above the castle and city. Even with the guards walking ahead of them and behind, it would have been easy on a day such as this to forget about the Qirsi and their conspiracy, but Sertio wouldn’t allow it, staring glumly at the wares displayed by each vender, and saying little.
“You should buy something, Father,” Diani said, hoping to pull him from his dolor. “A new blade perhaps, or at least a new sheath for the old one.”
“I have no need of a new blade, or a new sheath.”
She looked at the sheath hanging on his belt, raising an eyebrow. “Have you looked recently at the one you have?”
“The one I have was given to me by your mother.”
“During which dynasty?”
He grinned at that, though only briefly. “It just needs a bit of oil, that’s all. I’ll take care of it when we return to the castle.”
“Well, a new blade, then.”
“I told you, I have no need of one. This dagger was a gift from your mother as well.”
“Oh, Father,” she said, throwing up her hands and shaking her head. “So what if it was from Mother? Do you think that she’d expect you to keep all the gifts she gave you for the rest of time, even after they had outlived their usefulness?”
“I expect that I would do so,” he said severely. “And I’d expect you to as well.”
Diani closed her eyes for a moment, realizing that she had spoken rashly. “I would never throw away anything that was hers,” she said quietly. “You know that. But neither would I keep using a blade of hers if it no longer served its purpose. I might put it away, so that my children could see it, and their children in turn, but I wouldn’t hesitate to replace it with a better one when need demanded.”
Sertio stared past her, looking back toward the walls of the castle. “It seems you and I differ in this.”
“You can’t keep on like this, Father. She’s gone. We loved her, and we miss her, but she’s gone.”
His entire face seemed to turn to stone, his dark eyes still fixed on the queen’s fortress. “Don’t you think I know this?”
“You know it, but you make no attempt to ease your own grief. How long will you mourn her, Father? How much longer will you allow yourself to suffer?”
“I’ll mourn her as long as I live.”
“She wouldn’t want that. She’d want you to find happiness, even if that meant finding a new love.”
His eyes snapped to her face. “I could never love another! I’m appalled that you’d even suggest such a thing! You would have me forget her, forget the years we spent together?”
“I don’t expect you to forget anything. But you can’t live the rest of your years in the company of wraiths, nor can you cling to every token that reminds you of Mother. Some things need to be discarded, no matter the sentiments you attach to them.”
She could see the muscles in his jaw bunching as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. “I won’t listen to this,” he said.
“You must!” She strode after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn toward her. “I loved her, too. You know I did. But I also know that she wasn’t perfect. She was wise and strong and beautiful, but she made mistakes, just as all of us do.”
“Perhaps,” he said, his color high, so that his lean face appeared even more austere than usual. “But when she erred, it was on the side of kindness and trust and justice.”
Diani felt her cheeks burning as well. Somehow their argument had moved from daggers and sheaths to Kreazur and the other Qirsi.
“Hers was a simpler world than mine,” Diani said. “I face dangers today that Mother couldn’t have fathomed.”
Sertio shook his head, looking so sad. “Do you know how foolish you sound, Diani? You’re not the first duchess to be betrayed, nor even the first to have attempts made on her life. But a leader doesn’t surrender all to suspicion and fear simply for having been deceived once. Your mother understood that. I hope someday that you will as well.”
“You dare call me a fool? You’re the fool, arguing for Kreazur’s innocence when we all know that he was a traitor. You act like an old
man who has lost all sense to his dotage. You shame our house with your simplicity.”
He stared at her another moment, looking sad and old. And in that instant, she wished that she could take the words back. No matter how blind his devotion to the first minister, she should never have spoken to him thus. But she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, or take back what she had said. A moment later, it was too late. Sertio was walking back toward the castle, and the soldiers who had accompanied them were looking at each other in confusion, wondering who among them should follow the duke, and who should remain with Diani.
She returned to the castle sometime later, searching halfheartedly for her father, and fearing that she might find him. Eventually she gave up, knowing that she’d see Sertio again when he wished to be found. She started back toward her own chamber, but before she had gone far, she saw the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde. She had no desire to speak with them—though they now claimed to agree with Diani and the other duchesses on how best to face the conspiracy, Diani hardly considered either man a friend.
Before she could duck into another corridor, however, Edamo spotted her and raised a hand in greeting.
“A word please, Lady Curlinte.”
What choice did she have but to halt and wait for them? This, too, her father would have seen as a betrayal of her mother and their house. Diani was more convinced than ever that the Qirsi were responsible for Cyro’s murder. In a sense, House Curlinte and House Brugaosa were bound to each other by the tragedy, both of them victims of Qirsi treachery. Still, Sertio continued to blame the Brugaosans for the loss of his son, just as the white-hairs had intended. It almost seemed that the duke chose to be ensnared by the white-hairs’ deceptions, as if he found some perverse comfort in believing what the traitors wanted him to believe.
Edamo and Alao stopped before her, the older man smiling, the younger man merely watching her, without his usual sneer, but without much warmth either.
“Is there something you wish of me, Lord Brugaosa?”
“Lord Norinde and I were on our way to speak with the queen, and we thought it might help if you joined us.”
“What did you intend to discuss with her?”
“In light of the dangers facing all of Sanbira’s houses, and the preparations necessary—”
“We wish to return to our castles,” Alao broke in, glancing impatiently at the older man. “If we’re to wage a war against the Qirsi, we should be in command of our own armies. We can’t do that from here.”
“I gather,” Diani said, “that the queen wishes us to remain here until we’ve heard from the sovereigns of the other realms.”
“Clearly,” the younger duke said, sounding as brusque with her as he had with Edamo. “I fail to see the point, however. She can send messages to all of us when word comes from the other realms. But if we leave now, we can be ready to march to battle immediately, and we can be certain that we’ll be leading our own men to war.”
“And what if some of the kings refuse to march with us?” she asked. “What if Eibithar and Caerisse choose to ally themselves with us, but Wethyrn and Aneira don’t?”
Edamo’s eyebrows went up. “Surely you don’t expect that to happen.”
“I believe it’s possible. Some are less willing than others to believe that the Qirsi would challenge the might of the courts.”
If the two men knew that she spoke of her father, they had the good sense to remain silent.
“The queen might need us here,” she went on, “so that we can decide upon a response when word arrives from those who would be our allies.”
“So you won’t support us,” Alao said, his voice flat.
“No, Lord Norinde, I won’t. Please understand, I—”
He started to walk away. “Good day, Lady Curlinte.”
Edamo stared at her another moment before following the younger man.
“Why are you in such a rush to begin this war?” she called after them.
Alao stopped, faced her. “You of all people have to ask?”
“Yes, I do. We don’t know yet where this war will be fought, or how. There is no Qirsi army, at least none of which we know. You speak of marching to war as quickly as possible, but I see no battle plain. What is it you really want?”
“I won’t listen to this.”
“You’re still worried about the queen strengthening her hold on the throne, aren’t you?”
Norinde said nothing, but after a moment, Edamo gave a harsh grin.
“Shouldn’t we be?”
“No. Sanbira faces an enemy more dangerous than any we’ve faced in nine centuries. You should be concerned only with guarding the realm and defeating those who would destroy us.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Duchess. You lead a house that has been allied with the throne for centuries. You have nothing to fear from this power Olesya is accumulating. We do.”
“But the Qirsi—”
The duke opened his arms wide. “Where are the Qirsi, Duchess? As you yourself just said, there is no Qirsi army, there is no battle plain.”
“But there will be.”
He let his arms drop to his side once more. “Yes. I’m sure you’re right. And while we wait for the enemy to show himself, we cede all authority to the queen. Well, there are limits to just how much Alao and I are willing to give her. We’ll pay her tribute, and we’ll send men to the royal army. But we will not allow Olesya to command all of our soldiers as if they were hers to do with as she pleases. Without an army of its own, Brugaosa would have been destroyed by the Matriarchy long ago. You see the Qirsi as the only threat, but I know better, and even with the white-hairs massing on our borders, I will not give my forces over to Yserne.”
With that they left her, their footsteps echoing through the corridor. Diani still wished to find her father, but after this encounter with the dukes, she thought it best to speak first with the queen.
When she reached Olesya’s presence chamber, however, she heard voices from within. She knocked on the door and after a moment, the queen called for her to enter. Olesya sat on her throne, looking toward the door. And there at the window, his lean frame shadowed against the light, stood Diani’s father.
The duchess barely managed to bow to the queen before whirling toward him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her conversation with Edamo and Alao forgotten for the moment.
“We were speaking of the Qirsi,” Olesya answered. “Sertio is concerned that we’ve been too quick to dismiss all of our ministers, that perhaps some of them can be of help in this fight. He also fears that we’ve been wrong to assume that Kreazur was a traitor”
“Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but my father does not speak for House Curlinte. I do.”
“He doesn’t claim to speak for your house, Lady Curlinte. He came to me as a friend and that is the spirit in which I’ve considered his words.”
Diani glanced at her father, not bothering to mask her anger. But then she nodded to the queen. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Olesya was eyeing the duke as well. “Perhaps you’d like to tell her what you’ve told me.”
The duke shifted uncomfortably, saying nothing.
“She has a right to know, Sertio.”
“Know what?” Diani narrowed her eyes, glaring at her father. “What is this about?”
He cleared his throat, casting a quick glance at the queen. “You know that I’ve had my doubts about Kreazur’s guilt all along. Shortly after his death, I sent word to Curlinte that his quarters were to be searched.”
“You what?”
“I reasoned that if he was with the conspiracy, there would be gold hidden somewhere in his chamber. That’s the one thing we know about the Qirsi who lead this movement: they have a good deal of gold and they pay those who serve them quite well.”
“How dare you do such a thing!” Diani said, her voice quavering with rage. “I lead our house, not you! You should have discussed it with me first! You should have asked my permission!”
“Would you have let me do it?”
She started to reply, then closed her mouth again, looking away.
“That’s why I didn’t discuss it with you.”
Diani felt her face redden. She didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the queen. “You had no right,” she muttered.
“I received word from Curlinte today. Don’t you want to know what they found?”
She looked at him. Of course she wanted to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. Kreazur had twenty qinde to his name, about what you’d expect for a man living on a minister’s wage.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. He might have spent it all.”
“On what? He had no jewelry, no riches of any sort. He wore simple clothes beneath his ministerial robes. He carried a blade with a wooden hilt.”
“Maybe he gave his gold to someone else. Perhaps he had a woman in Curlinte. Or maybe he brought all his gold with him to Yserne and it was taken by the brigands who killed him. This tells us nothing.”
“I’m afraid I must disagree, Diani,” the queen said. “It may not establish his innocence, but in my mind it certainly casts some doubt on his guilt.”
“Who was it searched his chamber?” the duchess demanded, glowering at Sertio again. “Another white-hair?”
“Actually it was your master of arms.”
She felt her mouth twitch.
“Isn’t it possible that we were wrong about him, Diani? Isn’t it possible that there’s some other explanation for the way he died?”
“Like what? If he wasn’t a traitor, what was he doing in the city? Why did he come to Yserne at all? There’s no other explanation that makes any sense.”
Sertio looked at the queen, abruptly seeming unsure of himself. “Perhaps we were intended to think that he was a traitor.”
“To what end?” the queen asked. “His death certainly didn’t help the Qirsi in this castle. It’s only served to deepen our suspicions.”
“Maybe whoever was responsible didn’t have any choice. Maybe Kreazur had learned that this person was the traitor, but he died before he could tell anyone else.”