It was a simple enough task, one that was appropriately handled by ministers.
But in this case, Xivled hoped it would be merely a pretext for another conversation.
The minister half expected to find her chambers empty. She rarely left the duke’s side, and he thought it likely that she’d be with him this day as well. It seemed, however, that the gods were with him. Knocking on her door, he heard a rustling of scrolls and then footsteps approaching the door. An instant later, the door opened, and Enid ja Kovar stood before him, her ministerial robes hanging on a frame that appeared to be more bone than flesh.
She had once been a pretty woman. Xiv remembered thinking so during his first few visits to Thorald as Marston’s minister. Youth and beauty could be fleeting among his people, however, and Enid had grown old more quickly than most. She still wore her white hair tied back from her face, and her pale eyes still held the same look of keen intelligence and barely suppressed amusement he remembered from earlier visits to the castle. But her face had grown even thinner and more sallow than it once had been, making her resemble a cadaver more than a living woman.
“Cousin,” she said, obviously surprised to see him. “I didn’t know the thane had returned. Otherwise I would have been with the duke.”
“We reached the castle just a short time ago.”
She said nothing for several moments, as if expecting him to speak. When he didn’t, she gave a forced smile. “Well, have you come to fetch me, and bring me to the duke’s chambers?”
“Actually, no. I believe the thane wished to have some time alone with his father. He asked me to find you and learn what I could of his father’s correspondence with the king.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t he ask his father just as easily?”
“With the duke ill, my lord thought it best that he trouble Lord Thorald as little as possible with such matters. But if you prefer, I can seek out one of the underministers.”
This time her smile appeared genuine. “No, that’s not necessary. I can’t remember the last time I entertained such a charming young man in my bedchambers.”
Xiv gave a small laugh, hoping it would mask his discomfort.
“Please come in, cousin,” the first minister said, stepping to the side and waving him into her room.
He took a seat in a lone chair by the hearth. The minister walked to her writing table and sat, eyeing him with unconcealed curiosity.
“So you wish to know about Tobbar’s correspondence with the king.”
“My lord does, yes.”
She gave a slight frown. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. The king sends a brief message nearly every turn, stating his belief that the conflict between the lords of Curgh and Kentigern threatens to tear the kingdom apart, and asking the duke not to commit himself or his army to either man.”
“Does he tell the duke much of events in Curgh or Kentigern?”
“No. Indeed, I expect Lord Shanstead knows more of what is happening in Kentigern than does his father. For that matter, I imagine you know more than I do. Perhaps you can tell me something of your visit to the tor.”
“Of course, First Minister, though we were in Kentigern for less than a day.”
She let out a small breathless laugh. “Less than a day?”
“When the thane made it clear to Aindreas that he agreed with his father’s decision not to commit Thorald’s army to Kentigern’s cause, the duke demanded that we leave.”
“I see.”
“You’ve told me of the king’s messages. How does Lord Thorald respond to them?”
“As any dutiful Eandi noble would. With assurances of his continued fealty to the crown and promises that he will do as the king asks.”
Xiv smiled inwardly at the opening she had given him. “You don’t approve, First Minister?”
She smiled again, her small, sharp teeth looking as yellow as her eyes in the light of the fire. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. I merely offer my counsel.”
“But you speak of Lord Thorald’s sense of duty to his king as if it’s a fault.”
She regarded him silently for several moments, as if trying to gauge how much she could say.
“Speaking Qirsi to Qirsi,” she finally said, “I do find the blind devotion with which Eandi nobles follow their king somewhat… disturbing.”
“You’d rather your duke joined Aindreas of Kentigern in challenging the king’s authority?”
“Of course not. Don’t be a fool. I merely believe that the Eandi are so concerned with honoring the nobles above them that they do their leaders a disservice. The king would be much better served if his dukes could express themselves honestly, without fear of being branded traitors.”
“Do you think Lord Thorald wishes to respond differently to the king’s messages than he has?”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe so. My lord is a good man, but he doesn’t think boldly.”
Xiv nodded. “It seems the son doesn’t step far from his father’s shadow.”
“Really? I always thought the thane an intelligent young man.”
“He is, for an Eandi.” Xiv met her gaze. “That is what we’re talking about here, isn’t it? The difference between the Eandi and the Qirsi?”
“I’m not certain I understand what you mean,” she said, smiling in a way that told him she did.
Xiv gave a small shrug and stood. “Forgive me. I thought you would.”
He started toward the door, but before he was halfway across the room, she stopped him.
“Perhaps I do understand. Sit, cousin.” She hesitated, then added, “Please.”
After a moment’s pause, Xiv returned to his chair.
For a long time she just stared at him, as if she expected to read his thoughts from what she saw on his face. At last she stood and walked to the hearth, bending to place another log on the fire.
“You’ve known the thane for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Since we were boys in his father’s court.”
“I would think that after all these years, you’d be loyal to the man. Few of us have friendships that last half that long.”
“It’s because of how long I’ve known him that I feel no loyalty to him whatsoever.”
“What do you mean?”
Xiv looked away. “Our friendship is nearly as old as memory, yet he treats me like a servant. He’s known the captain of Shanstead’s army for three years, maybe four. But the two of them hunt together, their children play together, their wives speak to one another as sisters. All because they’re Eandi. Just once, I’d like him to address me as-” He stopped himself, exhaling loudly through his teeth. “The years we’ve known each other mean nothing to him,” he said, his voice low. “Why should they mean any more to me?”
She nodded. “You’re right; they shouldn’t. Has anyone contacted you yet?” she asked, picking up a poker and stirring the embers. “Have you received any gold?”
“No, nothing.”
She glanced at him. “Then what is it you want from me?”
“To join,” he said. “With all respect, First Minister, neither you nor your duke can live forever. With the thane assuming leadership of the House of Thorald, I feel certain that I’d be a valuable addition.”
Enid smiled thinly. “I’m delighted to hear my failing health has created such a wonderful opportunity for you.”
“I didn’t wish this on you, First Minister. But you’ve lived a full life, and I’d be a fool to let this chance slip by. I needn’t tell you that there’s a good deal of gold at stake.”
“This is about more than gold,” she said, her voice hardening. “This is about bringing Qirsi rule to the Forelands. It’s about allowing our children to dream of being more than court servants and Revel fools. You’d do well to remember that if you’re to join this cause.”
“Of course. Forgive me. I only meant that-”
“I know just what you meant. A few years ago, the gold meant a good deal to me, too. But as I’ve grown older, as my capacity for enjoying wealth has diminished, I’ve come to realize that the riches mean nothing next to the advancement of the Qirsi people. The W-” She stopped abruptly, her face coloring. “With time, you’ll understand this as well.”
“You were going to say something else.”
The minister shook her head. “It was nothing.” She paused, then, “You’re wrong about one thing though. I haven’t lived a full life. It may surprise you to learn that I’m only in my thirty-seventh year.”
Xiv couldn’t keep his eyes from widening. He would have guessed she was at least five years older than that.
She smirked. “Yes, I know. I appear far older. My mother died young, even for a Qirsi. It seems we share that fate.”
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t certain what else to say.
“Don’t be. I regret only that I won’t see this movement bear fruit.” She straightened and returned to her chair by the table. “Return to Shanstead with your thane. You’ll receive your first payment in the next turn or two, and soon after you’ll be contacted.”
“By whom?”
“It’s not my place to say,” she told him. “You may be given a task to complete, or you may be told to wait. Not long ago, there was a great deal happening here in Eibithar. Since Aylyn’s death, however, and the events in Kentigern, the movement has turned its attention to the southern kingdoms.”
Xiv shuddered, as if a frigid wind suddenly had swept through the chamber. “Was the… the movement responsible for Aylyn’s death?”
“Again, it’s not my place to say.”
“What about all that happened in Kentigern? Brienne’s death, the siege?”
“If you want to be welcome in this movement, cousin, you’ll stop asking questions. Each of us knows little of what the others do. Those who lead us prefer it that way. You’ll know what’s expected of you, and for now that should be enough.”
“I understand. It’s just that I know so little of the movement, and I want to be prepared when I’m given my first task. I don’t want to fail.”
“No,” she said. “You don’t.” She picked up a scroll, unrolled it, and began to read. “Leave me now. As I’ve told you, you’ll be contacted.”
He hesitated, then stood and walked to the door. Pausing on the threshold, he turned back to her. “What have they asked you to do?”
She didn’t even look up. “Close the door behind you, cousin. The corridors are terribly cold this time of year.”
Xiv had to smile. “Goodbye, First Minister. Thank you.”
She raised a hand.
Closing the door, Xiv hurried down the stairs of the nearest tower, crossed the upper ward once more, and returned to the castle guest chambers.
He stopped in front of Marston’s door and knocked once.
“Enter!”
Opening the door, he found the thane still in his riding clothes and boots, lying on his bed, his eyes closed.
“Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Not at all, Xiv,” Marston said, sitting up. “I must have dozed. What’s the hour?”
“I’m not certain, my lord. I haven’t heard the bells in some time.”
Marston nodded, rubbing a hand across his face and yawning. “You spoke with the first minister?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Xiv smiled. “You were right about her.”
“She admitted it?” he asked eagerly.
“Not right away. But once she was convinced that I hated you, and wanted to join, she said that she would have someone contact me.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Not as much as we would have liked. I couldn’t get her to admit to anything, nor would she tell me what the Qirsi movement had to do with what happened in Kentigern.”
Marston frowned. “I was hoping she’d tell us something of Filib’s murder. And Brienne’s as well.”
“She made it sound as if she knew little of the movement’s activities outside of Thorald. And she warned me about asking a lot of questions. I’m sorry I couldn’t learn more.”
The thane shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’ve done well, Xiv.”
“I could do more if you’d let me join. This might be an opportunity for us to learn a great deal about the conspiracy.”
“No. I don’t want to give her time to tell anyone about you. It’s more important that we prove to my father that she’s a traitor. If we can convince him, he might be able to convince Aindreas that the Qirsi were behind Brienne’s death.” He smiled. “Besides, do you really think Tamah would ever forgive me if I let something happen to you?”
“I think you’re making a mistake,” Xiv said. “Enid told me that the Qirsi leaders have turned their attention to the southern kingdoms. There’s little happening in Eibithar right now. The danger to me would be minimal.”
“You don’t know that.”
He faltered, but only briefly. “Not for certain, no. But it makes sense.”
“Maybe it does, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Aindreas has already shown that he won’t listen to me, but he can’t ignore my father as easily. We have to tell the duke what we know, and we need to do so now, while he’s still strong enough to speak with Kentigern.” He managed a smile, though it seemed to Xiv that there were tears in his eyes. “We can’t stop the conspiracy on our own, Xiv. But we might be able to prevent a civil war. We just have to do it quickly, before my father dies.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Tobbar stared off to one side, his face burning with rage and humiliation and grief. If what his son and the boy’s Qirsi were telling him was true, he had been a fool for more years than he cared to count. Worse, it was possible that through carelessness, and his blind willingness to trust, he had allowed Filib the Younger’s death.
“I don’t believe any of this,” he said, his voice low.
Or at least I don’t want to
.
“You think Xiv would lie about such a thing?”
“He’s Qirsi, too. Who’s to say that he’s not the traitor here?”
“Father!”
The duke looked up at the young Qirsi, who stood near the hearth, silent and withdrawn, his gaze lowered. Tobbar knew that he should apologize to the man, but he couldn’t. “What gave you the right to speak with my minister in the first place?” he demanded instead. “In my castle, no less.”