Weavers of War (28 page)

“I’ve been with the movement for some time now,” she whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this for even longer. But until now, I don’t think I ever really believed it would happen.” She looked at Abeni with a diffidence the archminister had never seen in her before. “Forgive me, Chancellor. I hope you understand.”

Abeni wasn’t certain what to say. It occurred to her that if the promise of seeing the Weaver could humble Craeffe ja Tref in this way, his powers must truly be great. But this she kept to herself. “I think I do understand, First Minister,” she said at last. “We’ve all been waiting so long. But we can’t allow our anticipation of what awaits us on the Moorlands to make us careless, not when we’re so close.”

Craeffe nodded. Were those tears glistening in her pale eyes?

“You’ll speak with Filtem?”

“Of course, Archminister.”

“What powers does he possess?”

“Gleaning, fire, and mists and winds,” she said. “And I have gleaning, fire, and shaping.”

Abeni nodded. “I have gleaning, shaping, and mists and winds. No wonder he’s so pleased that we’re together. Our powers blend quite well.”

Filtem and Vanjad were walking back in their direction, chatting amiably, though Filtem had an eye on Craeffe.

“Sorry to abandon you, cousins,” the minister said, grinning at them. “But occasionally the common interests of our dukes make it necessary for us to speak beyond the hearing of those who serve Sanbira’s matriarchs.”

It was a fine cover for what he had done. Norinde and Brugaosa were closely allied, in large part because the two dukes did not trust Olesya or her duchesses.

“You’re forgiven, cousin. At least this time.”

Vanjad gave an earnest look. “I assure you, Archminister, we spoke only of matters pertaining to our houses. We did not speak ill of the queen or those who serve her.”

“The thought never entered my mind, First Minister.”

A few moments later, the queen, her master of arms, and the nobles returned as well. Behind them, soldiers were climbing onto their mounts once more. Diani was regarding the ministers warily, as if she regretted going off with the queen and leaving the Qirsi to themselves.

Olesya swung herself onto her horse and glanced back at the ministers. “Are you ready to ride on, Archminister?”

“I am, Your Highness.”

The queen nodded and kicked at her mount.

Abeni gave a quick smile to Craeffe and the others. “See you at the bottom,” she said. She remounted and soon had pulled abreast of the queen and the duchess of Curlinte.

Diani refused to look at her, but Olesya glanced over, her dark eyes dancing.

“Judging from the way your fellow ministers looked, I gather that Qirsi don’t ride much.”

“Some do, Your Highness, but not many. Still you needn’t worry; I have no doubt that we’ll all manage the descent.”

“I should hope so. We’ll have need of you once we reach the Moorlands.”

Abeni had to smile. “We’ll be ready, Your Highness. You have my word on that.”

*   *   *

She knew the Qirsi was lying, that in fact everything the archminister said and did was a pretense intended to disguise her treachery. Diani was galled by every kind word that came from the woman’s mouth, every courtesy she extended to the queen or Sanbira’s other nobles. The duchess could almost see the blood staining her hands, the wraiths hovering at her shoulder, reminders of every murder committed in the name of the conspiracy. She looked at the woman, and she felt anew her grief over the garroting of her brother. She heard Abeni’s voice, obsequious and smooth, and she winced at the remembered pain of the arrows that had pierced her own flesh on the Curlinte headlands.

Abeni ja Krenta, archminister to the queen of Sanbira, was a traitor. Diani wanted to shout this at the top of her voice, she wanted to brand the woman as such with hot irons. But she hadn’t the proof.

Ean knew that it wasn’t for lack of trying—she and her father had searched Castle Yserne time and again for any sign that the archminister had joined cause with the renegades, and Diani had hardly allowed the woman out of her sight since they left the royal city. Thus far, she had found nothing. She would have liked to listen to Abeni’s conversation with Macharzo’s first minister that morning, as they stood at the edge of the steppe. For that matter, she would also have been interested to know what the first ministers of Norinde and Brugaosa discussed as they walked off on their own. As far as the duchess was concerned, they were all traitors until they proved their fealty. Her father would have scoffed at her suspicions, seeing in them the rash prejudice of a child. Olesya would have felt the same way. So, Diani didn’t speak to anyone of her suspicions. She needed evidence, and though Abeni had been uncommonly clever thus far, Diani remained convinced that she could not conceal her treachery much longer.

The ride down the face of the Caerissan Steppe consumed much of the day. The distance wasn’t great, but the steepness of the path at times forced the riders to dismount and lead their horses on foot. With Raven Falls thundering nearby, filling the air with a fine, cool mist and the soft, sweet scent of lush ferns and mosses, the day never grew too hot. But even for an experienced rider like Diani, the descent was exhausting.

When at last they reached the base of the slope, her back and legs were aching, and her riding clothes were soaked with sweat. At the bottom of the steppe they turned eastward, riding to the banks of Binthar’s Wash. There they made camp, though nightfall was still some time off. This close to the bottom of Raven Falls, the river churned and frothed like some great beast, its wild waters reflecting the brilliant golden light of the late-day sun. Diani could see the famed walls of Eibithar’s City of Kings in the distance, also bathed in the sun’s glow, and she wondered briefly if they would stop there before continuing on to the Moorlands. It made no sense to do so, she knew, but she had always dreamed of seeing Audun’s Castle.

After unsaddling her horse, she returned to where the queen was speaking with her master of arms. Diani had long since decided that even if she couldn’t convince Olesya that her archminister was a traitor, she could do everything in her power to make certain that the queen came to no harm. She rarely let Olesya out of her sight and had privately vowed that she would give her own life before she allowed the conspiracy to strike at Sanbira’s queen.

Diani nodded once to Ohan before facing the queen. “The soldiers are making camp, Your Highness. The captains tell me that we have ample stores to see us through the rest of the journey, but a few of the archers have gone back up the slope to hunt for supper. I didn’t see anything wrong with this, so I told them to carry on.”

Olesya gave an indulgent smile, reminding Diani of her own mother. “That’s fine, Lady Curlinte. Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Your Highness?”

“No, thank you. The master of arms and I are going to walk back to the base of the falls. I’ve never been so close to them, and have heard about them all my life.”

“Of course, Your Highness. That sounds very nice.” Diani continued to stand there, waiting for the queen to lead the way.

“Actually, we intended to go alone.”

The duchess blinked, then glanced at the master of arms. Ohan was blushing to the tips of his ears, his dark eyes fixed on the ground. He was tall and lean, with the shoulders and chest of a warrior, but at that moment he resembled nothing so much as a shy boy. Quite suddenly Diani understood that Ohan and the queen were in love, or close to it. The young duchess, her own cheeks growing hot, stared at the queen, who gazed back at her placidly.

“But, Your Highness, it could be dangerous.” She wasn’t quite sure what she was warning Olesya against, but still she forged on. “I believe it would be best if I accompanied you—”

“Diani, think for a moment. Don’t you think that Ohan is capable of protecting me? He is, after all, the finest swordsman in the land.”

“With the possible exception of your father,” the master of arms added hastily.

“Of course, but—”

“Rest, Diani. Go find Naditia. She’s been riding with Edamo and Alao all day. I’m sure she’d be grateful for your company.”

The duchess looked away, feeling foolish. “Yes, Your Highness. Enjoy your walk.”

“Thank you. We will.”

The two of them strolled off, leaving Diani alone with her embarrassment. After standing there for several moments, she decided that she would seek out the duchess of Macharzo as Olesya had suggested. She and Naditia had never been close, but if Diani had been forced to spend the entire day with the dukes of Norinde and Brugaosa, she would have been grateful for any companionship at all. She had just started walking in Naditia’s direction, however, when she saw Abeni speaking with one of the other Qirsi. As she drew nearer to them, she realized that it was Macharzo’s first minister. It was perfect—just the excuse she needed to intrude.

She walked to where they stood, noting that they fell silent at her approach.

“Forgive the interruption, Archminister, but I was wondering if the first minister could tell me where I might find her duchess.”

“You’re not interrupting at all, my lady,” Abeni said pleasantly.

But the other woman regarded her cautiously, overlarge yellow eyes staring out from a small, thin face, so that she looked more like a waif than a minister.

“I believe she’s down beside the river, my lady,” the first minister said at last. “That’s where I saw her last.”

“Thank you.” Diani faced Abeni again, scouring her mind for anything that she might say to prolong their conversation and learn what the two women had been discussing.

“Is there anything else, my lady?” the archminister asked, eyeing Diani as if she thought the duchess simple.

“Actually,” she said, “I’ve been wondering if you’ve given any more thought to the questions my father and I asked you while we were still in Yserne.”

She sensed the woman’s annoyance. “You mean about traitors in the queen’s court?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid, my lady, that I have little more to tell you than I did the last time we spoke of this. After Kreazur’s death, I tried to think of who in Yserne might have been working with him, but I hadn’t cause to suspect any of the Qirsi in our court. That hasn’t changed.”

“A pity.” She glanced at the other woman. “And you, First Minister?”

“My lady?”

“Well, surely you’ve heard of the attacks on me, and the death of my first minister.”

The minister nodded, her expression revealing little. “Yes, I did, my lady. I was horrified, as was all of Macharzo.”

“I’m sure. And since then, has anything happened to make you question the loyalty of the Qirsi in your duchess’s castle?”

“No, my lady. But then, that’s not my way.”

Diani narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

The woman faltered. “Nothing, my lady,” she said, shaking her head. “Forgive me. I should have simply answered your question and left it at that.”

“But you didn’t. And I want to know what you meant.”

The minister glanced at Abeni, but the archminister was staring at the ground, her lips pursed. “It just seems to me that you’ve allowed the treachery of one minister to color your perceptions of all Qirsi. I wouldn’t do that.”

Diani knew that she should have been enraged. This might not have been her own Qirsi speaking to her so, but the woman was just a minister and Diani was a duchess. Instead she felt like crying. The criticism stung too much for her to respond at all. Hadn’t her father said the same thing to her before she left Yserne with Olesya’s army? Hadn’t the queen herself done so as well? Here she had thought to trick these women into revealing something of themselves, and all she had done was give them cause to hate her and question her motives.

“Yes, well, you shouldn’t presume to judge me, First Minister. If the attempt had been made on your life, you might feel differently.”

She knew that this made little sense, but she didn’t care. She only wished to be away from them, and without another word, she stalked off toward the river, her face flushed with shame. Diani no longer felt much like speaking with Naditia, but she had asked the minister where to look for the duchess, and she couldn’t very well walk in the opposite direction.

She found Naditia sitting on a large stone by the water’s edge, staring up at the rim of the steppe, a large hand raised to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. Seeing Diani approach, she stood, looking uncomfortable, as though she wished to be alone.

“Forgive the intrusion, Lady Macharzo.”

“Not at all. Has something happened?”

“No. The queen told me you might like some company after spending the day with the dukes.”

Naditia smiled at that. She was a large woman, built more like a man, and a powerful one at that. Her features were blunt, her yellow hair cropped short. It was said that she favored her father, and that this was unfortunate, for her mother, the old duchess of Macharzo, had been quite beautiful. But her smile softened her face, even made her pretty, in a coarse way.

“If I’m disturbing you, I’ll go.”

Naditia sat again, shaking her head. “It’s all right.”

Diani found a stone on which to sit, and gazed up at the steppe. Much of the cliff face was shrouded in shadow, but she could make out the rocky crags and gnarled old trees that lined the top. Swifts darted along the edge of the bluff, chasing one another in tight circles and veering so suddenly that it took her breath away just to watch them.

“The dukes weren’t that bad,” the duchess said after a long silence, her eyes still fixed on the ridge. “They mostly just talked to each other and ignored me.”

Others might have been offended by this, but Naditia, Diani knew, was so painfully shy that she probably was grateful.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. But I’m certain that if you wanted to ride with the queen tomorrow, she’d be pleased to have you join us. I know I would.”

The woman smiled again, glancing at Diani just for an instant, then shaking her head. “Thanks, but I should ride with my warriors.”

It was custom for the army of a lesser house to ride or march behind that of the queen. Because Macharzo was considered a weaker house than either Brugaosa or Norinde, Naditia’s warriors rode last in the column.