Shapers of Darkness (19 page)

“He’s told me little of his preparations for war, and even less of what he intends to do about Dantrielle and the dukes who oppose him. I thought perhaps you could tell me what you know.”

Henthas watched him for several moments, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Pronjed bit his tongue, tasting blood. “May I ask why?” he said at last, fighting to keep his voice even.

“If Numar has chosen to keep you ignorant of such matters, I can only assume that he has good reason. Far be it from me to work at cross purposes with my own brother.”

The minister would have laughed aloud had he not been so enraged. Henthas had, at one time or another, been working at cross purposes with everyone in the castle, including his brother. Especially his brother.

“It wasn’t long ago, my lord, that you and I were working together to protect the queen from the regent. The threat to her remains, and I needn’t remind you that the stronger Numar becomes, the less likely it is that you will ever be in a position to claim the throne for yourself.”

“Have you spoken to Chofya of the threat to her daughter?”

“Not yet, no.”

“I’m surprised. If you truly feared for the queen’s life you would have by now.”

Pronjed crossed the chamber and sat in a chair near the duke. He needed to be close to the man in order to use magic on him. “You’ve allied yourself with him, haven’t you?”

Henthas shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The minister smiled, but even as he did, he reached out with his power and touched the duke’s mind. “What did he offer you?”

“He offered nothing,” the man said, his face abruptly growing slack, a dull look in his dark eyes. “He told me that he fears you, that he thinks you might have killed Carden.”

Pronjed gaped at him. It was the last thing he expected the duke to say. The truth was he had killed Carden, by using his mind-bending magic to make the king plunge a dagger into his own chest. “Why does he think that?”

“He wouldn’t say. But he thinks you’re far more dangerous than we ever believed, and he convinced me of this as well.”

Numar must have known that he possessed mind-bending power. There was no other explanation for what Henthas had said, particularly since the minister’s power no longer worked on the regent.

“Tell me of Numar’s plans,” he finally commanded. Delusion was the most taxing of all his powers, and already he was tiring.

“There’s little to tell. He’s mustering a thousand more men into the army and sending most of them north to the Tarbin. When the naval war begins, they’ll attack.”

“And the dukes to the south?”

“Numar doesn’t believe they pose much of a threat. They oppose the war, but they haven’t the nerve to defy him openly.”

“So he has no intention of sending any part of his army to Orvinti or Dantrielle?”

“No.”

“Damn,” he said under his breath. He rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn’t going any better than had his conversation with Chofya. “And the girl? When does he plan to kill her?”

“He doesn’t, at least not for a long while. I think he’s grown fond of her.”

Just as Pronjed had suspected. At least that much of what he had told the Weaver was true. Weighing all that he had learned during the course of this morning, however, the archminister realized that matters were a good deal worse than he had feared. Numar, through cunning, or just good fortune, had managed to isolate him. He had befriended the young queen, he had won Henthas’s loyalty, at least for a time. And though Pronjed didn’t believe that Chofya would ally herself with the regent so long as he continued to pursue this war, he knew—and Numar must have as well—that she wanted no part of court politics anymore. She was content to raise her daughter and cultivate her gardens. Certainly, she was not about to take sides in any dispute between the regent and the archminister.

“What about me?” he asked, knowing that he couldn’t hold the duke’s mind for much longer. “Is he content simply to weaken my influence, or does he have something else in mind?”

“For now he plans nothing. But eventually he intends to prove that you’re a traitor, and have you executed.”

He should have expected as much. Still, hearing the words
spoken made him shudder. He could only hope that the Weaver would move against the courts before Numar had a chance to destroy him.

Pronjed felt a dull ache at the base of his skull, and he knew that he had used his delusion magic for too long.

“You’ll remember nothing of this discussion when we’re done,” he said, his eyes locked on those of the duke. “We’ve spoken of the queen, and our desire to keep her safe. That’s all. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The archminister nodded and released him. “Does that mean you think we should double the guard on her bedchamber?” he asked, as if in the middle of a conversation.

“What?” Henthas squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then put a hand to his temple.

“Are you well, my lord?”

“No. My head hurts, and I can’t remember what I was saying.”

“You were telling me of your concern for Kalyi’s safety. You seemed to believe that she’s in some danger.”

“I don’t recall any of that.” He eyed the archminister warily. “What have you done to me?”

“I’ve done nothing, my lord,” Pronjed said, his heart pounding. Was this what had happened with Numar as well? Was he growing weak? At thirty-one he wasn’t an old man, not even by Qirsi standards. But neither was he young anymore. “Would you like me to call for the castle surgeon?”

“No.” Henthas made a vague gesture toward the door. “Leave me. I don’t want you near me anymore.” He was still rubbing his temple, as if in pain, and Pronjed wondered if he had damaged the man’s mind. That was said to happen occasionally when mind-bending magic was used carelessly. Had he held the duke under his power for too long?

“I’m concerned for you, my lord. Surely there’s something—”

“Get out!” Henthas said, getting to his feet and stumbling slightly. “Leave this chamber at once or I’ll have you removed!”

He had little choice but to try one last time. Reaching out with his magic once more, all too aware of how weary he was, the archminister touched the man’s mind a second time. “You’re angry with me because I suggested that you intend to harm the queen. You’ve forgotten the pain in your head.”

Pronjed released the duke again, watching him closely. Henthas’s hand strayed to his head again, but remained there for just a moment before falling to his side.

“Perhaps I should go, my lord,” the archminister said, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The duke frowned, appearing puzzled. “Perhaps not,” he said. “But you shouldn’t have spoken to me so.”

“You’re right, my lord. My apologies.”

He bowed to the man and quickly left the chamber, fearing that if he remained any longer it would only serve to undermine the memories he had planted in the duke’s mind.

Once in the corridor, he hurried to the nearest tower and ascended the stairs to the ramparts. His head throbbed and he nearly lost his balance on the stairway. He needed time to think, but he found it difficult to clear his mind. Two guards stood at the top of the tower, but they merely nodded to him and stayed where they were as he stepped past them and walked out onto the castle wall.

Just when he most needed to turn the Eandi in Castle Solkara to his purposes, he found himself unable to influence them at all. It seemed that events were spiraling beyond his control. Numar didn’t trust him; Chofya opposed him; and after today Henthas would be wary of him as well, no matter what the duke remembered from their encounter. If he could rely on his mind-bending magic, none of this would matter, but without it he was lost. He remained a powerful sorcerer, but delusion magic only worked on the unsuspecting and it suddenly seemed that no one in Castle Solkara trusted him, at least no one of any importance. It was just a matter of time before the Weaver returned to his dreams, learned of his newest failures, and killed him in his sleep.

For as long as the archminister could remember he had seen the movement as his path to glory and power. Now it seemed that it would bring his doom, that he wouldn’t even
live to see its final success. Yet even as he struggled with his fear and his self-pity, the archminister sensed the kernel of an idea forming in the recesses of his mind. There remained one to whom he could turn, one who could help him redeem himself by remedying all that had gone wrong. He wouldn’t even have to use his magic against her. The pain still lingered at the base of his skull, but it had lessened a bit, enough so that he could get through this one last encounter.

He heard bells tolling in the city and actually managed a smile as he strode to the stairway in the next tower. Midday. He knew just where she would be.

Kalyi was on her feet as soon as the bells rang, gathering her scrolls in her arms and hurrying toward the door.

Zarev, her tutor, frowned as he watched her, his bushy grey eyebrows bristling like quills on a hedgehog, but the young queen pretended not to notice.

“Your Highness, you really must try to concentrate. I don’t think you’ve learned nearly as much as you should during the last few turns, and I fear your mother will not be pleased.”

She turned to face him, though she reached for the door handle with a free hand. “I’ve learned a lot, teacher. Truly I have. And if I haven’t learned as much as I should, I’ll make certain that Mother knows it was my fault and not yours.”

“That’s hardly the point—”

“I really have to go.” She smiled. By now she’d opened the door. “My thanks.”

She spun on her heel and was in the corridor before Zarev could say more. The last she saw of him, his frown had deepened and he was shaking his head.

No doubt he would speak with her mother at his first opportunity, which would lead in turn to another stern talk from her mother about the importance of her lessons. But how could she be expected to learn on such a perfect day? Even in the small chamber where she met with her tutors for her daily lessons, with its single narrow window, she could smell the clean air and feel the warm breezes blowing off the river. This was a day to be out-of-doors. Perhaps she could even prevail upon
her mother to go riding after the midday meal, provided she found Chofya before the tutor did.

Reaching the nearest of the towers, she started down the stairs. She had only taken a few steps, however, when she heard a voice call from above her.

“Is that you, Your Highness?”

The archminister. Kalyi had to resist an urge to flee. Ever since overhearing Pronjed’s strange conversation with the master of arms, a conversation in which the Qirsi had seemed to force the armsmaster to do and say certain things, she had been terrified of the man. Uncle Numar thought that he might be a traitor, a part of the Qirsi conspiracy she had heard so much about over the past year. They had no proof of this, at least not yet. And the regent had told her that when she saw the archminister she had to try to behave normally.

“We mustn’t let him know that we suspect anything,” he had said. “If we show that we’re afraid of him, he might guess at what we’re thinking, and then we’ll never find the proof we need.”

She understood, but she couldn’t help but feel afraid every time the Qirsi came near her. Recently, she had come to fear all the white-hairs in the castle, though she knew better than to believe that they were all traitors. She just couldn’t help herself.

Swallowing and willing herself to be brave, Kalyi stopped on the stairs and waited.

“Yes, Archminister,” she said, pleased to hear that her voice didn’t shake. “It’s me.”

He descended the steps until he stood before her, appearing even taller and more formidable than usual in the narrow stairway. The dim light of the tower made his narrow, bony face look frightening and strange, like that of some evil bird of prey from Bian’s realm. Once more, Kalyi had to resist an urge to back away from him.

“I’m glad I found you, Your Highness. I have important matters to discuss with you.”

“Actually, I was on my way to the kitchens to find something to eat—”

“Splendid. You don’t mind if I walk with you, do you?”

What could she say? “No, Archminister. Of course not.”

“Good.” He indicated the stairs with an open hand.

Kalyi started down once more, the Qirsi just behind her. Her whole body had gone rigid, and she half expected him to plunge a dagger into her back. When they emerged from the tower into the castle ward, she began to feel better. He wasn’t quite so scary in the bright sun.

“I spoke with your mother a short time ago,” the archminister told her. “She’s concerned about this war the regent is planning.” He paused, glancing at her. “You have heard talk of the war, haven’t you, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” she said, insulted that he had to ask. “We’re entering into an alliance with the emperor of Braedon in order to fight Eibithar.”

“Yes, precisely. I believe your mother opposes the war. She feels it’s not the correct way to begin your reign.”

Kalyi hadn’t heard her mother say anything of the sort. In fact, thinking about it, she realized that her mother had never spoken to her of the war at all. It occurred to her that the archminister might be lying.

“Do you agree with her?” the queen asked.

“Actually, I don’t. I’ve long been in favor of the alliance and the attack on Eibithar.” His brow creased. “Still . . .” He paused, as if lost in thought. Finally he shook his head and smiled, though Kalyi could see that he remained troubled. “It’s not important.”

“What isn’t?”

“Well, it’s just that your mother isn’t the only one who’s against the war. The dukes of Orvinti and Dantrielle oppose it as well, and so do several of their allies.”

They had reached the entrance to the kitchen tower, and they halted there, lingering in the ward.

“Why are they against it?”

“I believe they don’t trust Braedon’s emperor; they don’t want him as an ally.” He hesitated. “And I fear they don’t trust your uncle, either.”

“You mean Uncle Numar?”

He nodded.

“Why wouldn’t they trust him?” she demanded, growing angry.