Shapers of Darkness (17 page)

“Why would you want to know that?”

Because that person may well be a traitor, too
. “Never mind.”

He left the chancellor’s chamber and walked back to his own. Pushing the door open, he saw a small piece of parchment resting on his bed. His heart abruptly pounding, he took a tentative step forward, then another. Half expecting to see some threatening missive penned in the high chancellor’s hand, Kayiv was relieved to see that the note came not from Dusaan, but from Nitara. Almost instantly, however, he felt himself growing suspicious. No doubt she had told the high chancellor of their discussion earlier in the day and all that Kayiv had said against him. It seemed equally clear that she would play a role in meting out whatever punishment Dusaan had decided upon for Kayiv’s betrayal. He briefly considered fleeing the palace immediately; that would have been the wisest course.

But the thought of never seeing her again was too much for him to bear. “Come to my chamber at once,” the message read. Very well. This would be the last thing he did for her.

He started toward the door, paused long enough to strap a dagger to his belt, then left his chamber and walked down the corridor to Nitara’s door.

“Come in,” she replied when he knocked.

He let himself into her chamber, his breath catching at the faint scent of her perfume. She was sitting on her bed, and seeing him, she stood. She looked pale and frightened, much as Stavel had a few moments before, though it had the effect of making her appear even more lovely than usual.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“You told him everything, didn’t you?”

“I had no choice.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Of course.”

“I swear it’s true, Kayiv. I wasn’t going to tell him, but he asked me to remain behind, and when we were alone he demanded that I tell him what had been said at our meeting.” She took a step toward him, then seemed to hesitate. After a moment, she looked away. “I’m afraid for you. I think you should leave Curtell.”

His throat tightened, and he feared that he might retch. “Why?” he managed. “What did he say?”

“It was nothing he said. I think he believes I still have feelings for you. He asked his questions, then sent me away. But he was behaving strangely. I think he intends to kill you.”

Kayiv nodded. No surprise there. “What about Stavel?”

“I don’t think he’ll hurt him. He thinks Stavel an old fool. But you turned on him. You joined his movement, and then betrayed him. He’ll want blood for that.”

Again, he was surprised by how calm he felt. True, he had already realized that he would have to leave the palace, but the thought of doing so seemed to have no effect on him.

“You say that he still thinks you have feelings for me. Do you?” He regretted the question as soon as it crossed his lips, and he dreaded her answer.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Certainly I don’t want to.”

“But if he believes it, you might be in danger as well.” He faltered, but only for an instant. “Perhaps you should come with me.”

“No. I’ve cast my lot with the movement. I don’t think he wants to hurt me. He may not love me, as I’d hoped he would, but he needs allies in the emperor’s court, and he knows that I’ll serve him faithfully.”

It pained Kayiv to hear her speak so of the high chancellor, but she had been more honest with him than he had any right to expect.

“I understand.”

They stood in silence for several moments, their eyes locked. At last, Kayiv looked away.

“I guess I should go then.”

“All right.”

Still neither of them moved.

“At least come here and hold me for a moment,” she finally said. “After all we’ve shared, that’s the least you can do.”

He smiled and stepped forward, opening his arms to gather her in an embrace. She was smiling as well, her pale eyes holding his. So he didn’t even notice the blade in her hand until it had pierced his flesh. And by then there was nothing he could do to save himself.

He started to cry out, but she covered his mouth with her own, locking her free arm around his neck and pulling him toward her. At the same time, she took a step back, her legs striking the bed so that she fell backward, Kayiv on top of her. The impact drove her dagger deeper into his chest. He grabbed for her throat with both hands, but already he could feel the strength leaving his body, draining away with his blood. How foolish he had been to think that Uriad could protect him, how blind to think that she wouldn’t kill for Dusaan.

“Poor Kayiv,” she whispered in his ear. “So eager to believe that I still cared.”

He tried with all the strength he had left to squeeze the life from her, to take her with him to Bian’s realm. But he could barely feel his hands anymore. He was aware only of the pain in his chest, and the sound of her voice, receding like a moon tide.

“He wanted me to tell you that this is what becomes of traitors, and that while you’re suffering the torments of the Underrealm, we who you betrayed will be creating a glorious future for the Qirsi here on Elined’s earth. Think on that as you face the Deceiver.”

There was so much he wanted to say, so many curses he wished to bring down upon her head. But all he could think to whisper as the last breath crept from his chest was “I loved you so.”

When Nitara was certain that he was dead, she slid out from beneath him and stood, her head spinning slightly with the effort. Her clothes were soaked with his blood, and her hands trembled, but the guards would expect that.

She tore her shirt at the shoulder, partially revealing her breasts. Next, with her clean hand, she pulled the dagger from Kayiv’s belt, cut herself just above the breast, as well as on the shoulder and on the back of her hand. Then she dropped the blade beside the bed. As an afterthought, she also bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood.

Only then did she cross to the door, pull it open, and scream for the palace guards.

Soon her chamber was filled with soldiers. The other ministers and chancellors stood in the corridor, staring in at her with wide eyes and expressions of horror. Even the master of arms came, solemn and silent.

“He tried to force himself on me,” she said again and again, her tears flowing as if genuine.

Of course they believed her. Who could look upon her and question her word?

Eventually the Weaver came, as he had promised he would. He said little, his chiseled face grim. But she knew that he was pleased. He had told her that this was a test, a way for her to prove her devotion to the Qirsi cause. She hoped, though, that it would be even more than that. After this, how could he possibly doubt that she loved him, that she would do anything for him?

After what seemed an eternity, the guards left her chamber, wrapping Kayiv’s body in her bedding and promising to send servants to clean the mess. B’Serre offered to remain with her, but she sent the minister away, saying something about needing rest. Closing the door, she closed her eyes for a moment, weathering another bout of dizziness. She had thought that she wanted to be alone, but she found herself staring at the dried blood on her floor and struggling to rid herself of the one memory she least wanted from this day.

Better he should have called her a whore and railed at her for her treachery. Those would have been the words of a coward, of a traitor, easily endured and soon forgotten.

I loved you so
.

She hated what he had become, what his weakness had made her do. But she wondered how she would ever bring herself to forget what he had said with his dying breath.

Chapter
Seven

Solkara, Aneira

ven in the dream, standing before the shadowed form of the Weaver, Pronjed jal Drenthe could feel his hand throbbing, as if the mended bone could remember the pain of the Weaver’s wrath. The wind whipping across the grassy plain seemed particularly cold this night, the black sky more menacing than in previous dreams. He knew he should have been listening to the Weaver’s instructions, but the pulsing agony in his hand tugged at his mind, demanding his attention. He wondered if the Weaver was responsible for the pain, if he had made Pronjed’s hand hurt as a reminder of the minister’s past failure, a warning of what might happen if he stumbled again.

Or perhaps it was a product of his own fears. The Weaver expected him to start a civil war in Aneira. He believed that Numar of Renbrere, regent for Kalyi the child-queen, trusted Pronjed and would listen to the archminister when he counseled taking a hard stance against those houses that would oppose the realm’s alliance with Braedon. The truth was, Numar had never trusted him, nor did Henthas, the duke of Solkara. Over the past turn his encounters with the regent had grown ever more awkward, until Pronjed looked for nearly any excuse to avoid them, despite the Weaver’s expectations.

Just two days before, on the first morning of the waning, the archminister had tried to use mind-bending magic on Numar, hoping to learn what the regent intended to do about the dukes of Dantrielle, Orvinti, and Tounstrel, who continued to voice
opposition to the coming war. In the past, the regent had submitted to his power with almost no resistance. On this day, however, Pronjed had been unable to learn anything at all. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed Numar knew he possessed mind-bending magic and was consciously resisting him. He wanted to believe this wasn’t true—delusion magic, the power to control the thoughts and memories of others, was far more effective when used on the unsuspecting, which was why he had made every effort to conceal the fact that he wielded it. He couldn’t imagine how the regent might have learned the truth. It was possible that the regent’s mistrust of Pronjed ran so deep as to shield him from the archminister’s power. But it seemed more likely that Pronjed had given himself away, that in using mind-bending power on Numar he had failed to suppress the regent’s memories of the encounters.

Whatever the explanation, Pronjed now found himself without access to Numar’s thoughts and unable to overcome the man’s suspicions. The regent might well lead Aneira into a civil war on his own, but Pronjed could do nothing to steer him in that direction.

Nor could he admit as much to the Weaver standing before him, the man who had conjured this frigid wind and black sky, who had once shattered his hand with but a thought. No doubt the Weaver would leap at an opportunity to hurt him again. Pronjed was not about to give him any excuse to do so.

“The regent has received word from Braedon?” the Weaver asked.

This much, at least, Pronjed did know. “Yes, Weaver. The emperor’s message arrived three days ago. Already Numar has stepped up his preparations for war.”

“Good. He knows of the opposition to this war in Dantrielle and Orvinti?”

“Yes, Weaver. He’s known of it for some time.”

“You’ve counseled him to deal harshly with the rebels?”

“Of course.”

“And will he?”

Pronjed swallowed. It was folly to lie to the Weaver, and yet in this case the truth struck him as being every bit as dangerous.

“You hesitate,” the Weaver said, his voice as hard as the boulders surrounding them on the plain. “Why?”

“It’s been a few days since I spoke with the regent, Weaver.” He gave a small, desperate laugh. “Like all Eandi, his thoughts on such matters change from one day to the next. It’s difficult to say with any confidence what he intends to do.”

“All the more reason to act the attentive minister, Pronjed. This is no time to allow our efforts to be hindered by ignorance and indifference.”

“He remains committed to the alliance with Braedon, Weaver,” Pronjed said, eager to show that he had accomplished some of what the man expected.

“The alliance is not enough. The war is not enough. Eibithar’s quick defeat at the hands of the empire and Aneira would be worse for our cause than no war at all. You understand that, don’t you?”

Pronjed started to answer, but the Weaver gave him no chance.

“I want a protracted war, Archminister. I want the Aneiran army divided and weakened. That’s why the opposition to this war in Dantrielle and Orvinti is so important. And that’s why the regent must be convinced to crush the rebellious dukes. Or at least to try. I had thought you understood all of this. Please tell me that I wasn’t mistaken.”