“I don’t believe any of this,” Diani said, shaking her head. “We found Kreazur in the city, not someone else. It was his body that was covering those gold pieces and lying next to an empty money pouch. What you learned from the master of arms changes nothing.” Even as she spoke the words, however, Diani felt doubt seeping into her mind. She couldn’t countenance what her father had done—certainly he never would have sent instructions to anyone in Castle Curlinte while her mother was duchess—but neither could she ignore what he had learned. There should have been gold in the man’s chamber, or failing that, some evidence of the riches that would have accrued from his service to the movement. What if she had been wrong about Kreazur? What if his denials had been true, his devotion to Curlinte genuine? Wasn’t this one instance where it was preferable to be mistaken?
“In a way she’s right,” Sertio was saying to the queen. “This message from Curlinte doesn’t change a thing. In fact, it makes it more likely that one of the other ministers is a traitor.”
“You’re certain it would be one of the ministers?”
“If we’re right about Kreazur, it would almost have to be. They’re the only Qirsi with whom he had any contact after his arrival. If he went to the city because he overheard something—”
“Or if he followed someone there,” Diani broke in, the words seeming to come to her unbidden.
Sertio and the queen looked at her.
“Now you agree with us?” her father asked.
“I’m willing to admit that it’s possible.” Seeing the smile on her father’s face, the relief, she felt much of her anger at him sluice away. “You may not believe this, Father, but I never wanted to believe that he was a traitor. I know how much Mother cared for him.”
Sertio gazed at her another moment before facing the queen once more. “As I was saying, if he overheard a conversation among traitors or followed someone to the city, it would have meant that he first encountered them here in the castle. In which case, the traitor is still here, and we need to figure out who it is.”
“There could be more than one,” Diani said. “That’s why I still believe we need to keep all of the ministers at a distance.”
“For a time perhaps,” Sertio said. “Until we can winnow out those who have betrayed us. But eventually we need to begin trusting the Qirsi again. Even in those realms that have suffered the most for the betrayals of their Qirsi, only a few of the ministers have proven to be traitors. It would be folly for us to assume that all of our Qirsi have abandoned Sanbira for this conspiracy of theirs.”
“But how are we to know who we can trust and who we can’t?” Diani asked, looking from her father to the queen. “All it takes is one traitor to endanger the queen’s life or—” She stopped abruptly, the realization coming to her with such force that for a moment she couldn’t draw breath.
“Diani?” her father said, taking a step toward her, his eyes wide with concern.
“Your Highness,” she began, finding her voice, “do I remember correctly that you questioned the gate guards who were on duty the night Kreazur died?”
“Yes, and all of them said the same thing. They saw no one leave the castle, not even your first minister.”
The duchess nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. “Then I regret to say that our search for the traitors must begin with those Qirsi who serve House Yserne.”
Olesya’s brow furrowed. “Why would—?” She lifted a slender hand to our mouth, the color draining from her face. “Ean save us all! You’re right, of course.”
Sertio shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Kreazur didn’t know this castle well enough to find a way out that would allow him to avoid all of the queen’s guards. Regardless of whether he was accompanying someone else or merely following, the other person had to be one of Yserne’s Qirsi.”
“How many Qirsi live in the castle, Your Highness?” the duke asked.
“I have six ministers in all, and many healers—I’m not certain of the number.”
“We should question them.”
Diani brushed the hair from her face with an impatient hand. “I disagree. We need more information first. If we make it known that we’ve narrowed our suspicions to the queen’s Qirsi, we’ll give them time to escape, or at least to prepare their lies. Best we reveal nothing for now.”
“You’re right,” the queen said. “I believe it would be a mistake even to inform the other nobles.” She gave a small smile. “It seems the two of you have a bit of work to do.”
Diani frowned. “Your Highness?”
“As you just said, Lady Curlinte, we need more information. And it seems I have little choice but to leave it to the two of you to find it for me.” She stood, as if to signal an end to their audience. “You’re to start immediately, and work as quickly as possible. I agree that loyal Qirsi will be invaluable to us in the coming war. The sooner we can begin to win back their trust and offer them ours, the better.”
“But, Your Highness,” Diani began. “How—”
“You can begin by searching the quarters of all the Qirsi who live in Castle Yserne,” the queen told her. “It worked in Curlinte, perhaps it will work here as well.”
“Very well, Your Highness.” Diani met her father’s gaze and held it briefly. After a moment, they both started toward the door.
“Lady Curlinte,” the queen said, stopping her. “I assume that you came to my chamber looking for me. Was there another matter you wished to discuss?”
She had forgotten. “Yes, Your Highness. I just had a conversation with Lord Brugaosa and Lord Norinde. They’re eager to return to their duchies, fearing that if they remain here you’ll take command of their armies. They intend to request that you give them leave to go, and they
tried to convince me to support them in this. I refused, but I thought you should know what they have in mind. They may go to the other duchesses.”
“No doubt they will,” the queen said, looking pensive. “Thank you, Diani. I’ll deal with the dukes. You just find the traitors in my castle.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she said, pulling the door open. “It will be my pleasure.”
Abeni had known it would come to this, that in making it appear that Kreazur was a traitor and thus confirming in the minds of all the worst suspicions of Diani of Curlinte, she would deny herself the one asset that made her most valuable to the Weaver: her access to the queen. Given some time, she felt reasonably certain that she could regain Olesya’s trust, but until that happened, she lived in constant fear of her next encounter with the movement’s leader.
She actually believed some good might come of the queen’s refusal to confide in her, though she knew that explaining this to the weaver might prove difficult. Among the Qirsi who had come to Castle Yserne with their ladies and lords, two were already pledged to the movement—the first ministers of Macharzo and Norinde. The rest remained loyal to the courts. For now. But with each day that passed, the queen and her nobles made it easier for Abeni to draw others to the Weaver’s cause. She sensed the growing resentment of the loyal Qirsi. Olesya and Diani may have believed that they were guarding themselves from further treachery by keeping the ministers from their discussions, but in fact they were making it more likely that others would turn against them.
At the same time they were also allowing Abeni to win the ministers’ trust. During the past turn, she had begun to convene discussions of her own. She claimed that these audiences, like those of the queen, were intended to find some way to combat the movement. “If we can help our lords and ladies,” she told the others at their first gathering, “perhaps we can prove to them that we deserve their faith.”
In fact, she hoped to determine which ministers were most angered by the way they had been treated, and to begin forging deeper friendships with these few. And she wished to remind all of them as frequently as possible that she was no better off than they were, that she had been shut out by the queen, just as they had been by their lords and
ladies. She was one of them, a victim of Eandi suspicion and prejudice. Perhaps, when the time came for the Weaver to reveal himself and for his followers to strike at the courts, she would be able to deliver to him not one or two ministers but many.
She also knew, however, that she could not allow her ties to Olesya to become too tenuous. To that end, every few days, she requested and was granted an audience with the queen. On this day, Olesya did not see her until after the ringing of the prior’s bell, as the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, its golden light reflected in the still waters of Lake Yserne.
“Good day, Your Highness,” the archminster said, stepping past the guards into the queen’s presence chamber and bowing before the throne.
“Archminister.”
“I trust you’re well?”
“Yes, quite.” As an afterthought, the queen added, “And you?”
Olesya seemed particularly distant this day. Abeni wondered if something more had happened, if perhaps word had come from one of the other realms of another betrayal.
“I wish I could say that I was well, Your Highness.”
The queen glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “Does something ail you?”
“Of course. The same thing that ails all the ministers in your castle. I’m concerned, not only for myself and for the other Qirsi but for you and the nobles as well. The Qirsi in this realm seek only to serve the courts, and you must know that you’re stronger for the counsel we offer. This rift between us must end.”
“I agree, Archminister. But until I know who among you can be trusted and who among you can’t, I fear that your service to the courts is more dangerous than it is valuable.” There was something strange in the queen’s manner. It almost seemed that she knew of Abeni’s ties to the movement.
“But perhaps we can help you in that regard, Your Highness,” she said, searching the queen’s face.
Olesya smiled, though the expression in her dark eyes didn’t change. “Can you see into the hearts of others, Abeni? Is that one of the powers you wield?”
“No, Your Highness. I think you know it’s not.”
“Then how can you possibly help me? How can you even ask me to let you try, when you can’t prove beyond doubt your own fealty to House Yserne.”
“Haven’t I served you well for all these years, Your Highness? Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Yes, you have, and no, it’s not.” Olesya hesitated, as if considering something. But then the thought seemed to pass and she said, “After Kreazur, I don’t know if I can ever trust a Qirsi again.”
Even Abeni could see the irony. She had killed the man and made him seem a traitor to conceal her own treachery, and yet by doing so, she had made herself suspect in the queen’s eyes. Somewhere in the Underrealm, the first minister was laughing at her.
They held each other’s gaze for several moments, Olesya’s face grim but composed. At last, Abeni looked away, wondering what she would tell the Weaver if he came to her that night.
“It seems there’s nothing more to say.”
“No, I don’t suppose there is.” The queen continued to watch her, as if she expected the minister to attack her at any moment. Something definitely was wrong.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Abeni bowed, then stepped to the door.
“If you were to help me,” the queen said, forcing her to turn once more, “what would you do?”
“Your Highness?”
“Just now you offered to help us determine which Qirsi are loyal and which are not. Is there a way to do that?”
She briefly considered lying, telling the queen that there was. But she knew that eventually Olesya would learn the truth, and when she did, Abeni’s life would be forfeit.
“None that I know of, Your Highness. At least none short of torture. That’s what makes this movement so . . . insidious.”
Olesya nodded. “I thought as much. Thank you, Archminister.”
Abeni bowed a second time and left the queen’s, chamber, making her way back to her own. Was it possible that Olesya knew something? she wondered, winding through the corridors. Kreazur had been dead for more than a turn. Surely if his death had raised the queen’s suspicions, Abeni would have known it long before now. And nothing had happened since that would give Olesya cause to question Abeni’s loyalty in particular. Yet, there could be no mistaking the change in the queen’s manner.
The archminister was so preoccupied with her thoughts of the queen that she was nearly to her chamber before she noticed that someone was there in the corridor, leaning against the stone wall beside her door. Craeffe, Macharzo’s first minister.
Abeni glanced behind her, fearing that there might be guards nearby. There were none. Still, she was hardly in the mood to speak with anyone right now, even another member of the movement.
“Archminister,” the woman said, straightening as Abeni approached and sketching a quick bow. “I assumed you were meeting with the queen.” She pitched her voice to carry, in case there were others nearby. “I was hoping that you had managed to convince her that she and the nobles had been wrong to doubt us.”
“Not yet,” Abeni said.
“May I have a word with you, Archminister? In private.”
Abeni took a breath, scanning the corridor a second time. “Briefly,” she said at last.
She unlocked her door and pushed it open, waving the woman inside, then following.
“Is everything all right, cousin?” Craeffe asked, once the door was closed.
“I’m not certain. I just had a strange conversation with the queen. She seemed more guarded than usual.”
The woman shrugged. “Isn’t that to be expected? I know that you’ve served her a long time, but with every other noble in the castle afraid of their Qirsi, it’s only natural that her suspicions should grow as well.”
It was a fair point. “You may be right.”
“Then again, it was your rapport with the queen that first drew the Weaver’s attention, wasn’t it? I don’t suppose he’d be pleased to hear that she’s growing more wary of you.”
Abeni regarded her for some time, a small smile on her lips. Craeffe had always been a bit too ambitious for Abeni’s taste. Though they had long been tied to each other by their service to the Weaver, Abeni had never fully trusted the woman. She didn’t look formidable. Like so many of their people, she was slight, almost frail. She had a long, narrow face and overlarge yellow eyes that made her look like some strange white owl from the northlands. But the archminister knew that she was quite clever, and she gathered from what she knew of other men and women recruited by the Weaver that she must also be a rather powerful sorcerer.