The servants hurried from the hall.
“Now,” Carden said, facing Brail once more, torchlight reflected in his dark eyes. “Answer me. Why have you come?”
The duke took a breath. He would have given all the gold in Orvinti’s treasury to be back in his castle just then, enjoying a quiet meal with Pazice.
“I wish to speak with you about Chago,” he said, relieved to hear that his voice remained steady.
“Chago,” the king repeated. A smile stretched across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What about him?”
“I… I wish to know if you had him killed.”
For a moment Brail thought that the king would rage at him for even raising the matter. But Carden merely gazed at him for several moments, before picking up the crystal dagger and toying with it, the same half smile on his lips.
“You’ve always struck me as a cautious man, Brail, not at all the type to take chances. Coming here unannounced and uninvited, asking me such a question-this all seems much more like something one of your friends would do. Bertin, perhaps. Or maybe Tebeo. Did one of them put you up to this?”
“No, my liege.”
“You’re certain. They didn’t suggest that you come to me, knowing that if one of them asked me the same question, I’d have him executed as a traitor? Think hard about this, Brail. Because I really am curious. Isn’t it possible that they asked you to speak with me, perhaps while all of you were together in Orvinti a few days ago?”
Brail licked his lips, which were suddenly dry as sand. A part of him wondered how the king knew that the others had been with him in his castle, but he didn’t dare ask. It mattered little at this point. The king had implied that his question was tantamount to treason. He’d be fortunate to ride out of Solkara alive. Still, having come this far, he wasn’t about to betray Tebeo, even to save his own life.
“No, my liege. I did speak with the others about Chago’s death. We had just come from his funeral, and were-” He stopped himself, uncertain as to how to finish the thought. He had taken great pains to keep himself apart from Solkara’s feud with Bistari. He risked offending the king if he admitted that he and the others were grieving for a lost friend, particularly if Carden had ordered the assassination.
“It’s all right, Brail. You and your friends were mourning his loss. I expected as much.”
The duke exhaled. “Thank you, my liege. Whatever Chago’s faults, we had all known him a long time.”
“And you think I had him killed,” the king went on, testing the edge of the dagger with his thumb. “Why?”
Brail faltered. “The garroting, my liege. And the Solkaran crest found in his hand.”
The king looked at Brail as if the duke were a fool. “I mean why would I have him killed?”
“Your houses have been rivals for centuries, my liege. And you and Chago had more than your share of disagreements, most recently about the wharfages and lightering fees.”
“Do you think I’d kill a man over lightering fees? Is that the kind of king you think I am?”
Brail closed his eyes briefly. If only he had listened to Fetnalla, and given this journey more thought.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that any king must guard against those who would incite opposition to his authority. Chago was angry about the fees, and he may have gone too far in his efforts to fight them.”
The king’s eyes widened. “So you think he deserved to die. Did you come all this way to congratulate me on his murder?”
“Of course not, my liege.”
“Well, Brail, I’m afraid you have me confused. First you imply that I’m a murderer, and then you seem to suggest that I was foolish to let the man live as long as I did. Which is it?”
The duke hesitated again, feeling like a prentice doing battle with a master swordsman. “Neither,” he finally said. He took a breath. “Perhaps I should leave, my liege. I’ve offended you, which was not at all my intent. Unless Your Majesty wishes to imprison me, I should best be starting back to Orvinti tonight. After what I’ve said, I don’t deserve your hospitality.”
“What was your intent, Brail?”
There was little use in trying to be circumspect any longer. Best just to say it and be done, no matter the consequences.
“To find the truth, my liege. We-” He winced. “I feared that perhaps a darker force was at work here. There’s been talk of a Qirsi conspiracy. I worry that Chago’s murder might divide the kingdom against itself, and I’ve wondered if others were responsible and tried to make his death appear to be the work of House Solkara.”
For the first time that night, Carden looked afraid. It lasted but a moment, like the flickering of a candle in a sudden wind. In that one instant, however, he was no longer the ruthless Solkaran king, but rather a young noble seemingly out of his depth. Brail had his answer.
Carden drained his goblet. A servant hurried toward the table from the doorway, as if intending to refill it, but Carden waved the boy away and poured his own wine, not bothering to offer any to Brail. And though it might have been a trick of the dancing torch fire and the shadows cast by the blaze in the hearth, it seemed that his hand trembled.
“I don’t know if you’re the bravest man I’ve ever met, or the most foolish,” the king said a moment later, taking up the dagger once more. “You must realize that I can’t offer you any answers. I would never admit to anyone that I had one of my dukes killed, even if it was clear to every man and woman in the land that I was responsible. Nor would I ever concede that I had allowed myself to be blamed for the crime of another.”
“Of course, my liege. I understand.”
“You understand, and yet you came here hoping that I would acknowledge doing one or the other.”
“I came hoping that I could glean something from our conversation. I never expected you to admit anything.”
“And what have you gleaned, Lord Orvinti?”
He might have been a fool, as the king said. But his foolishness did not run that deep. “Nothing, my liege. I will return to my castle as confused as I was when I left.”
The king smiled thinly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” The fire popped loudly, and the king glanced toward the hearth. “I will tell you,” he continued, “that I share your concerns for the kingdom. For better or worse, Chago’s death has angered my enemies, though it’s forced them to quiet their voices for a time.”
“Have you heard talk of the conspiracy, my liege?”
The king’s mouth twisted. “I have, and it… concerns me as well.”
“So you believe what you’ve heard?”
Carden gave a wan smile. “Do you honestly think that a year ago I would have sent my archminister from the room, even at your request?”
It was a more frank response than the duke had any right to expect, and he found himself wondering if perhaps he had judged the king unfairly.
Carden fell silent, staring at the crystal blade.
“I should leave you, my liege,” Brail said again. “I’m deeply sorry if I gave offense.”
The king made a vague gesture and shook his head, but he didn’t give the duke leave to go.
“Do your friends think I killed him?” he asked.
“The other dukes harbor the same questions I do, my liege. There’s much uncertainty in the land.”
Carden looked up, meeting his gaze, a small smile on his angular face.
“Come now, Brail. You mean to say that Bertin hasn’t been denouncing me as a murderous tyrant?”
Brail couldn’t help but grin. “It is true that there may be somewhat less uncertainty in Noltierre.”
The king actually laughed, though it lasted only a moment or two, and seemed to leave him in an even darker mood than he had been in before. “I don’t doubt it. The man’s an old goat. My father always thought so, too.”
“In his own way, he’s as loyal to Aneira as any of us, my liege.”
“Don’t worry, Brail. I won’t be sending assassins to Cestaar’s Hills any time soon.” He paused, eyeing the duke. “Nor will I be throwing you in my dungeons, as you suggested before. Fool or not, you showed some courage coming here today. And I admire the loyalty you’ve shown your friends. In times like these, a loyal man is more valuable than gold.”
“Thank you, my liege.”
“You’re free to go when you like, but the nights get cold this time of year. Why don’t you take a chamber on the west side of the castle. That’s where the queen will put your Qirsi.”
Brail stood, sensing that the king had just ended their conversation. “Very good, my liege. Again, my thanks.”
He stepped away from the table, and started toward the doorway leading out of the great hall.
“What about your Qirsi, Brail?”
The duke stopped and faced the king once more. “My liege?”
“Do you trust her?”
“I brought her with me, my liege, so I must trust her some. But I never told her why we were riding to Solkara.”
Carden nodded once, but said nothing. A moment later, he raised his goblet again, as if bidding the duke goodnight.
“Forgive me for asking, my liege,” the duke said. “But are you well?”
“Am I well?” the king repeated. He emptied his goblet again. “Do you fear for me, Orvinti?”
“I am your loyal subject, my liege. Like any good Aneiran, I wish for the good health and heart of my king.”
Carden poured more wine, smiling thinly. “Of course you do.” He took a long drink, nearly draining his goblet once more. “It’s not your concern, Brail. For all matters that pertain to you and your people, I’m well enough.”
“Yes, my liege,” Brail said, knowing better than to pursue this any further. He turned once more to leave.
“Brail.”
He looked back at the king.
“Don’t ever come here unannounced again. I’m not one of your earls to be caught unawares. If you ever again arrive at my gates without first sending a messenger, I’ll crush you as I would an attacking army. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, my liege.”
The king stared at him a moment longer, then shifted his chair so that he faced the fire and raised his goblet to his lips.
Maybe he should have been angry. No matter the answer Brail expected him to give, the question itself bordered on impudence. Add to that the duke’s admission that he hoped to glean something from their talk-as if a king might just give away information without intending it-and Carden would have been justified in having the man garroted right there in the great hall.
For an instant he had been tempted to do just that. It might have taught Tebeo, Benin, and the others a lesson. A frightened duke was a timid duke, and in these times Carden felt far more comfortable knowing that his dukes feared him. He understood, however, that a king could take this too far. While Chago’s murder might have tamed his more rebellious dukes, killing Brail as well would only serve to make him appear scared. The last thing he needed was for all Aneira to know how frightened he had grown these last few turns.
Besides, Brail was far more valuable to him alive than he ever could have been as a cautionary corpse. Despite his friendship with Chago and Tebeo, the duke had proven himself loyal to the crown. Indeed, he had managed to maintain ties to both House Bistan and House Solkara, no small feat given how much Carden and Chago hated one another. The king needed allies just now, particularly those who had mastered the finer points of statecraft. For Carden had not, and the duke might well be his only bridge to those nobles who hated him.
Now more than ever, he needed such a bridge. Because the truth was, he had nothing to do with Chago’s murder. Had he wished for the duke’s death? Of course, a hundred times over. Had he come within a hairs-breadth of giving such an order? Again, more times than he could count. But the words never passed his lips, and angry as he was with Chago’s fulminations about the lightering fees and wharfages, he viewed them as an annoyance, not as a threat to his power. No one in all Aneira could have been more astonished than he to learn of the assassination, particularly when it became clear that the duke had been garroted. Still, only when he heard of the scrap of leather found in the dead duke’s hand did the king fully grasp the implications of Chago’s murder.
Just a few moments before, when Brail asked if he had heard rumors of a Qirsi conspiracy, Carden nearly laughed aloud. Who hadn’t heard such talk? A person couldn’t go anywhere in the Forelands without hearing of the Qirsi threat. No one seemed to know what the Qirsi wanted, or which of the white-hairs were involved, but that didn’t stop people from talking. For all he had heard, however, the king never thought that the Qirsi would strike at him. Yet that was just what they had done. Chago was dead, but Carden had no doubt that he had been their target. Nor could he deny that their aim had been true. As he told Brail, he couldn’t very well admit to all the Forelands that he had allowed himself to be made a fool. He knew that they were responsible, that the land was under attack by the sorcerers, but to raise the alarm among his people was to humiliate himself. They wanted him weakened, so he accepted the blame for Chago’s death and made himself appear strong. They wanted his dukes and his people to hate him so that when they came back to finish him off, like a hunter circling back to kill a wounded stag, no one in Aneira would come to his aid.
He grinned darkly, his eyes still fixed on the low fire smoldering in the hearth.
Let them try
, he thought.
Let them bring their armies and their magic. If they believe one dune’s death is enough to destroy me, they know nothing of House Solkara
. He had been hated for a long time now. It no longer bothered him.
Carden lifted his goblet, only to find that it was empty again.
“More wine!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the ceiling and walls of his great hall.
After a few moments a young servant appeared carrying two flasks, one holding Sanbiri red, and the other the golden honey wine that was served after the main meal. Carden couldn’t remember which he had been drinking most recently.