Shapers of Darkness (27 page)

“Some of them may join with Kearney.”

“Perhaps. But isn’t it just as possible that they’ll look to Galdasten before deciding what to do?”

The duke glanced at her. Sunlight shone in her brown eyes, making them appear warm, almost loving. He looked away quickly. It seemed likely that the other houses were doing just what she said: waiting for Galdasten to choose its course so that they might follow. She questioned whether he had courage enough to fight a war. Didn’t it require just as much nerve to lead a rebellion?

“What if Ewan won’t follow me? What if his men won’t?”

“They’re not his men, they’re yours. And they’ll all follow you if you act like a king.” She touched his cheek with a warm hand, forcing him to meet her gaze. “The men of this house have no love for Curgh, and though they’ve had no reason to hate Glyndwr before now, Lady Brienne’s death has changed that. If you lead them as you would a rebellion, they may see you as a traitor and defy you. But if you make it clear to them that you fight to restore justice to the realm, that you fight to return Galdasten to its rightful place among the leading houses of Eibithar, they’ll follow you anywhere.”

He was frightened, and he wanted to tell her so. But such intimacy had been lost to them years ago. Or so he thought.

“When I married you, when you were still thane of Lynde, I saw daring in you, and ambition, and strength.” She took both of his hands. “That’s why I fell in love with you. Since we’ve come to Galdasten, since you’ve become the duke of a house that no longer has any future, I’ve seen those qualities fade until I feared that they were gone entirely. But this is your chance to find them again, to realize the promise that I glimpsed in you all those years ago. You can have power and
wealth.” She leaned toward him, kissing him softly on the lips. “You can have me again.”

He must have been mad. It had been so long since they had loved one another that Renald wasn’t entirely certain it was even possible for them to begin again. Still, even without her love, he knew that he wanted the throne nearly as much as she wanted it for him. He was tired of feeling weak and lost, of sensing her contempt and disdain in every glance she cast his way. But more to the point, he’d had enough of leading an emasculated house. Why should Galdasten suffer so for the act of a madman? Yes, the pestilence had wiped out Kell and his family. But why should their ill fortune doom his house to obscurity and powerlessness for so many generations? Damned be the Rules of Ascension! Damned be Kearney and Javan and all the others who would keep the sons of Galdasten from the Oaken Throne! Let them fall to the emperor’s army. When the time came, he would raise his sword and drive the invaders from Eibithar’s shores. And when the war was won, he would claim the crown as his own.

“All right,” he said, smiling at her.

A look of genuine surprise flitted across her face. “Really?”

“As you say, what was the purpose of siding with Aindreas if not to wrest the crown from Glyndwr?”

“What of Ewan?”

“I’ll give him his orders and he’ll do as I command. He may not approve, but he’s a good soldier. He’ll follow my orders.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“And the Qirsi?”

“Pillad? I haven’t spoken to him about any of this in nearly two turns. Even if he has an opinion on the matter one way or another, he knows better than to voice it.”

“You have someone watching him?”

“There’s no need. He may still be first minister in name, but he has no influence anymore. He might as well be counseling another duke.”

“Then why not send him away?”

“I will, when all of this is over. Once I have the crown, every Qirsi in Eibithar will want to serve in my court. But for
now, sending him away without replacing him will only make me appear weak. And it may embolden those who believe that the conspiracy was behind Brienne’s murder.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed, Renald. Very impressed. Even I hadn’t thought of that.”

He smiled, knowing that he shouldn’t let her see how much her praise pleased him, but unable to help himself.

“Still,” she said. “I think you should have someone keeping an eye on the man. He is Qirsi, after all.”

“I have other matters to occupy my time, all of them far more pressing than Pillad, but I’ll try to remember to say something to Ewan.”

She nodded once. “Good. Now go. See to the defense of your castle. If Galdasten falls, all else is lost.”

He hesitated a moment, hoping she would kiss him again, ashamed of himself for caring. When she merely turned to look out at the king’s fleet, he left her, feeling his cheeks redden.

Fearing that his nerve would fail him before the ringing of the prior’s bells, Renald sought out the swordmaster immediately. He found him in the armory, squatting beside a pile of old swords, speaking in low tones with one of his captains.

“I thought we were to speak later, my lord,” Ewan said, as both men stood.

The duke nodded to the captain before facing his swordmaster. “Yes, well, I wished to discuss some things with you now.”

“Of course, my lord.” Ewan looked at the captain. “Have these blades cleaned and oiled. Then do the same with the shields. I want all of these weapons battle-ready by nightfall.”

“Yes, swordmaster.”

Ewan and the duke left the armory, both of them squinting in the bright sunlight.

“I’m sorry if I angered the duchess today, my lord. I meant no offense.”

Renald winced. “Think nothing of it, swordmaster. My wife feels the strain of the coming war, just as we all do.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I want you to make preparations to guard the castle and city in the event of a siege. We won’t be meeting the emperor’s
forces on the strand, nor will we attempt to halt their advance inland.”

Ewan gaped at the duke as if Renald had just told him to raze the towers and execute his own men. “But . . . my lord, this is . . . this is lunacy.”

Normally he wouldn’t have tolerated such a statement, but he could see the man struggling with what he had just said and he thought it best to allow the swordmaster some time to overcome his shock.

“I know that it seems that way, Ewan—”

“The realm is at risk, my lord. The enemy is coming to Galdasten, but he strikes at all of Eibithar.”

“Yes, he does. Which is why Kearney and his allies are already converging on Galdasten. But if we simply join the king’s forces and surrender ourselves to his authority, we, in effect, accept him as our legitimate sovereign. I’m not prepared to do that.”

Renald had expected that the swordmaster would continue to argue the point. To the man’s credit, though, he appeared to weigh the duke’s words. When at last he spoke, he sounded calmer, as if he had taken to heart what Renald told him.

“What is it you intend to do?” he asked. “Surely you won’t allow the empire’s forces to conquer Eibithar.”

“Of course not. I wish to be king, Ewan. And I expect my son to follow me to the throne. I have every reason to want to preserve the realm. But our first duty must be to Galdasten. I want to keep her strong, and if the king’s army is weakened as a result of that, all the better.”

“So we allow the king and his allies to bear the brunt of Braedon’s assault,” the swordmaster said. “And when it seems that he’s about to be defeated, we come to his aid, leading Eardley, Domnall, and the other houses.”

Renald had to smile. Ewan might have been limited in many ways, but he could be clever at times, and he served the House of Galdasten well. “Precisely, swordmaster. We’ll be the ones who save the realm, who atone for Kearney’s failure.”

“We’re playing a dangerous game, my lord. We’re risking a
great deal for . . .” He looked away, seemingly unwilling to complete the thought.

“For my ambition?”

“Forgive me, my lord. I shouldn’t have spoken thus.”

“It’s all right, Ewan. What you say is true. I’m risking the safety of the realm in order to put myself on the throne. But what choice do we have? What good does it do to repel the emperor’s invasion if we still find ourselves led by a king who invites rebellion and civil war? The realm is threatened from all sides, and I seek a solution that not only defeats our foes, but also strengthens us from within.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Are you with me, swordmaster?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“I know that you’ll follow my orders, but I’m asking you more than that. I want to know if you can put aside your misgivings and fight this war with fervor in the manner I want it fought.”

Ewan took a breath, then nodded. “I can, my lord. And I will.”

“Thank you, swordmaster. There isn’t another man in the Forelands I’d rather have fighting beside me.”

Clearly moved, the man bowed deeply. “You honor me, my lord.”

“Have riders sent to our allies. Tell them to begin preparations for war immediately, and to march their armies to Domnall. They should try to reach Seamus’s castle no later than the tenth day of the waning. That’s twenty-one days from now, ample time for them to arm and provision their men, and march to Domnall. They can await word from me there. We need to watch how this war unfolds, and we should allow the king and his allies to commence their assault on Braedon’s army.”

“The king will have ordered some of our allies to the Tarbin, my lord. The threat from Aneira is nearly as great as that from Braedon.”

Renald weighed this briefly. “You may be right. We need to know which houses Kearney sent north, and which he sent south.”

“I’d imagine that he ordered Eardley and Domnall north, and Sussyn to the Tarbin. That leaves Rennach.”

“I agree. Find out what you can. But the message should still be the same. They’re to await my word before marching north from Seamus’s castle. Kearney may well have sent them orders to march, but I doubt any of them will. You should also send a rider to Aindreas. Tell him what we have in mind to do, and suggest that he follow a similar course with respect to the Aneiran army.”

“Will he follow you, my lord? The others are minor houses, but Kentigern . . .” He shrugged.

“Aindreas is desperate for allies, and he knows better than to think that he has any claim to the throne after all that’s happened over the past year. Under the circumstances, he’ll have no choice but to join us.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ewan bowed again before hurrying off to dispatch the messengers.

Renald stood briefly, watching the swordmaster walk away. Then he started back toward his chambers. He had only taken a few steps, however, when he stopped and glanced up at the eagle tower. Elspeth was there, staring down at him, the wind making her hair fly like battle pennons. Their eyes met for just an instant, and the duke thought he saw the merest hint of a smile flit across her features. A moment later she lifted her gaze again, toward Falcon Bay and the warships, leaving Renald to wonder whether she had smiled out of pride in him, or amusement at the ease with which she had bent him to her purposes.

It had all happened as Uestem said it would. Soon after Pillad jal Krenaar’s meeting with the merchant in Galdasten City, when the first minister finally agreed to join the Qirsi movement, he found a pouch of gold in his sleeping chamber. He had no idea how it had gotten there; he assumed that it came from the merchant, though he didn’t see how Uestem could have slipped into the castle without being seen by the duke’s guards.

The pouch contained eighty qinde. Pillad had counted it several times to make certain, unable to believe at first that anyone would see fit to pay him so much. As it turned out, this gold was the least of the surprises awaiting him now that he had agreed to cast his lot with the renegade Qirsi.

That very night, a Weaver came to walk in his dreams. He was tall and broad like some great magical warrior, with wild hair that stood out like a lion’s mane against the brilliant white light he conjured to keep Pillad from seeing his face. At first Pillad thought that this was no more than a fanciful vision, a product of his fear and excitement at having been paid for his treachery. But as the Weaver spoke to him of the gold and of Uestem and of the great future awaiting those Qirsi who joined his cause, the minister realized that this was no dream, that in fact this was the leader of the Qirsi movement revealing himself to his newest adherent.

Their conversation was brief. The Weaver seemed to know a good deal about Pillad: where he was born, in which court his father had served, why he had come to Galdasten to serve Renald. As they spoke, he even seemed to sense that Pillad had feelings for Uestem, and his distaste was evident in his voice and the swiftness with which he ended their conversation. As the merchant had promised, the Weaver did give him a small task to perform. Pillad was to learn from Ewan Traylee the precise number of soldiers in the Galdasten army and how they were to be positioned in the event of an attack on the city and castle.

Under most circumstances, he would have had no trouble learning all of this from the swordmaster. But the duke had lost faith in him, which made him suspect in the eyes of the swordmaster as well. It had taken him the better part of the previous waxing to gather the information, and even then the minister could not get more than a rough sense of how the men were to be divided between the defense of the city walls and the defense of the fortress.

Fortunately, the Weaver had commanded him to relate to Uestem what he learned. The Weaver hadn’t harmed him during their first encounter, but Pillad was certain that he could, and he didn’t wish to dream of the man again any time soon.

He also couldn’t deny that he looked forward to his conversations
with the merchant. By joining the movement, Pillad had done far more than tie himself to the Qirsi cause. He had, he believed, tied himself to Uestem. He couldn’t say what he thought would happen next. Making a traitor of himself had been daring enough. Declaring his affections for a man seemed to be beyond his capabilities. Perhaps he hoped that the merchant would take it upon himself to open his heart first. That would be far easier.

He and Uestem hadn’t met since late in Amon’s waxing. But this very morning, Pillad had received a cryptic message asking him to come to the White Wave, the Qirsi tavern at which they had spoken many times before. He had known it would be crowded; with the Revel in the city all the taverns were, no matter the time of day. No doubt Uestem thought that they would be safe meeting here precisely because there would be so many people about. No one was likely to notice them.