Shapers of Darkness (29 page)

The master or arms was a capable soldier and, according to some, the finest swordsman in the realm. Certainly he looked the part. He towered over both Evanthya and Tebeo, his long, sinewy limbs making his every movement seem effortless and balanced. Like so many of the men who served under him in Dantrielle’s army, he had shaved his head, and with his thick black beard and mustache, his face had a severe look, more like that of a brigand than a swordsman in a noble’s court.

He glanced at Evanthya now, frowning slightly at the duke’s admission.

“I was saying, my lord, that you should resist the temptation to place all our bowmen on the northern and eastern towers.”

“But isn’t that where the attack is most likely to come?”

“Yes, my lord,” Bausef said, sounding increasingly impatient. “But as I was just saying, it wouldn’t surprise me if the regent tried to surprise us by sending part of his force to the
south or west. Even if he keeps the Solkaran army together, he may try to have Rassor’s men flank us.”

Tebeo nodded, seeing the logic in this. The duke considered himself an accomplished statesman, and, though not prone to immodesty, believed that his intellect was as keen as that of any duke in the realm. But he had never been a strategic thinker and had not had cause to train himself in military tactics. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing that he had.

“Won’t he send Rassor’s army north, to the Tarbin?” he asked, hoping that he didn’t sound too foolish.

“Most of it, yes. But with Solkara menacing Dantrielle, the duke of Rassor has nothing to fear from us or our allies. He can afford to leave only a small contingent of men guarding his castle. Even a few hundred of his soldiers attacking the city walls might prove devastating to our defenses.”

“You’re right of course. Have two hundred archers positioned on the city walls overlooking the rivers. That should leave us enough to guard the castle, shouldn’t it?”

“More than enough. Very good, my lord.”

Tebeo turned and crossed the turret so that he could look down on the castle wards. The quartermaster was shouting commands to an army of laborers and soldiers who carried stores to the various towers. Other men gathered weapons—spare swords and shields, axes and pikes, quivers filled with newly made arrows and crossbow bolts. Dantrielle usually seemed a rather quiet castle, almost peaceful. For the last several days, though, it had teemed as if in frenzy, like a nest of ants uncovered by an inquisitive child.

“The provisioning goes well?” Tebeo asked.

This time it was Evanthya who answered. “Yes, my lord. We still have ample stores from the last harvest. The snows were hard, but the growing season was generous. We have food enough to feed the army and the city for two turns.”

Two turns. He could hardly fathom fighting a war for two turns, much less withstanding a siege for so long. “That’s fine, First Minister,” he said. ‘Thank you.”

“Shall we leave you, my lord?” Evanthya asked.

He shrugged, unsure of whether he wished to be alone. “Is there anything else we need to discuss, Bausef?”

“No, my lord. I have men preparing vats of pitch and lime. And we’ll have plenty of fire pots for the gates.” The armsmaster grinned. “We’ll be ready for them, my lord. I promise you that.”

Tebeo nodded, struck by the avid gleam in the man’s dark eyes. Clearly, Bausef was looking forward to this battle. The duke felt only dread.

“Thank you, Bausef. I have great faith in you and your men.”

“They’re your men, my lord, and serve you, as do I. We’ll fight to the death to preserve this house.”

Tebeo didn’t know what to say.

“I have but one request, my lord.”

“Anything,” he said, eager to give this man whatever he could.

“The yellow and red of Aneira should be flying above Dantrielle’s banners on all eight towers. You know that the regent will be riding under the colors of the realm, claiming that he fights for Aneira. We have every right to make the same claim, and it will hearten the men to see both banners over our walls.”

Tebeo felt privileged to be served by such a man. “See to it immediately, armsmaster.”

Bausef bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Tebeo watched the man go, shaking his head slightly. “Would that I could feel so sure of what we were about to do.”

“You should,” Evanthya said.

“We’re going to lose a lot of good men. We may lose the war.”

“I don’t think so. The loss of life on both sides will be terrible. I’ve no illusions about that. But I believe the realm will suffer more if the regent prevails and this alliance with the empire continues.” Somehow she managed a smile, albeit a sad one. “You’re doing what needs to be done, my lord. Don’t doubt that.”

“And if Brall and the others don’t arrive in time?”

“You must have faith that they will.”

He walked back to the outer wall, knowing that she was right, feeling unworthy of those who served him.

“It would be better if they reached our walls before the Solkarans.”

‘They might not,” she said evenly. “In which case, our preparations will be tested.”

He looked at her briefly. “You speak of these matters with such certainty, First Minister. Have you gleaned anything about this war?”

“No, my lord. Nothing. If I had, I would have told you. Good or bad.”

“Of course.”

“We have men watching the roads and the rivers, my lord. You should take this opportunity to rest. Once the siege begins there will be precious little time for that.”

“What was your impression of Brall and Fetnalla during their recent visit?” he asked, ignoring her counsel for the moment, though he knew it was wise.

She looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “My lord?”

“I know I’m putting you in a difficult spot, Evanthya. No doubt your love for the first minister colors your perceptions of the duke. He’s been distrustful of her for some time now, too much so in my view. But this tension between them is about to become far more dangerous than it’s ever been. Before it pained us both, but now, with this war, it threatens our very lives.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I actually had the impression that their rapport had improved in the interval between this most recent visit and our previous stay in Orvinti. Did you, as well?”

Evanthya shrugged. “Fetnalla still spoke of the duke’s suspicions, and she seemed as angry with him as ever. They were in agreement when it came to standing firm against the regent, but I’m not certain that they had reconciled beyond that.”

She started to say more, then appeared to reconsider.

“Out with it, First Minister. Please. This is no time for secrets between us.”

A gust of wind made her white hair dance about her face, and she brushed it back from her brow. “Fetnalla’s resentment runs deep, my lord. She knows that Lord Orvinti was having her watched. She looks for reasons to defy him. Even if the
duke were to try to bridge the rift between them, I’m not sure that Fetnalla would welcome his overtures.”

“Do you think she’d betray him?”

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible half a year ago. But now . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know, my lord.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to hear, Evanthya.”

The minister actually grinned. “When have I ever told you anything simply because I thought you wanted to hear it?”

He tipped his head, acknowledging the point. “Very well. Thank you for your honesty. As I said before, I know that it couldn’t have been an easy question to answer.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He started to walk away, then paused. “What about us?” he asked. “We’ve had some difficult conversations in recent turns. Should I be concerned about our rapport.”

“I can’t speak for you, my lord, but for my part, there’s no other duke in the realm I’d rather serve.”

Tebeo raised an eyebrow. “Given the other dukes in the realm, I’m not certain how to take that.”

Evanthya laughed.

“Thank you, First Minister.”

“My lord, wait,” she said, as he turned to leave.

Tebeo faced her again. Her cheeks had reddened, and it almost seemed to the duke that she wished she had let him go.

“There’s something I have to tell you, my lord.”

“Oh?”

“I hadn’t intended to, but with the regent’s army marching on Dantrielle . . .”

I might not have another opportunity
. The words hung between them like a storm cloud. “You’re scaring me, First Minister.”

“Forgive me, my lord. That’s not my intent.” She lowered her gaze, swallowed. “Several turns ago, before King Carden’s death, Fetnalla and I decided the time had come for us to oppose the conspiracy, to do something more than listen for rumors and watch other Qirsi for signs of treachery. I . . . I went to the city, to the Red Boar, and I hired a blade to kill a man in the north whom we suspected was a traitor.”

“Demons and fire, Evanthya!”

“I know how it sounds, my lord. But we honestly believed that we were doing the right thing.”

“An assassin? You’re a minister in a noble house! My house!”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Under Aneiran law, you could be executed for this!”

“I know that, my lord. And if you choose to imprison me, I’ll understand. But as you said just a moment ago, there shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”

Tebeo passed a hand over his brow, shaking his head. “An assassin,” he said again.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“Did the man you hired know who you were?”

“I believe he reasoned it out, yes.”

“Damn.”

“But I think he also knew that I was acting on my own rather than as an agent of House Dantrielle.”

He nodded. “I suppose that’s something.” He regarded her for several moments, noting as he had so many times before how young she looked. In point of fact, she
was
young. For all their power, her people lived shorter lives than did the Eandi, which meant that they sometimes shouldered burdens at a more tender age than was appropriate. “I’m disappointed in you, Evanthya. I’ve no doubt that you and Fetnalla were doing what you thought was best, but I have to question your methods.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’ve no intention of imprisoning you—I think you know that—but I trust that in the future you’ll fight your battles with the conspiracy in more . . . acceptable ways.”

“I will, my lord. You have my word.”

They lapsed into silence, the duke grappling with his curiosity. In the end, he was no match for it.

“What happened?”

“My lord?”

“Is the traitor dead?”

“Yes, my lord. I received word from the assassin shortly after our return from the king’s funeral.”

“Well, I suppose we should be thankful for that.”

“Yes, my lord.” Another silence. Then, “You should rest, my lord, while you can.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Thank you, Evanthya.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Tebeo stepped past her and descended the tower stairs to the corridor on which his chambers were located. He knew better than to try to sleep; even at night, recently, he found that he could do little more than doze off occasionally. Mostly he lay awake, attempting to anticipate Numar’s plans and scouring his mind for anything he might have forgotten as he readied his city and castle for civil war.

Rather than returning to his bedchamber, he went in search of Pelgia. He found her in the kitchens, overseeing the kitchenmaster’s work.

She smiled at the sight of him, though the strain of these past several days was evident on her face. There were dark circles under her eyes; her cheeks looked leaner than usual, and paler as well. Still, even wan and weary, she was lovely, and he wondered briefly if it would be unseemly for a duke and his wife to take to their bed on the eve of a war.

He walked to where she stood and took her hand, kissing her brow. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded. “Yes. There’ll be food enough, anyway.”

“Good.” He raised her hand to his lips, drawing her gaze. “Walk with me?”

They left the kitchen and walked slowly along the lower corridor, as soldiers hurried past them in either direction.

“Where are the children?” he asked after some time.

“In the cloister. Tas wants to fight, but I’ve told him that he has to wait another year. And of course Laytsa says that if her brother can raise a sword, she can as well.”

Tebeo gave a small laugh, but it gave way instantly to a deep frown. “Everyone is so eager to fight this war. Is there something wrong with me that I’m not?”

“Tas is a year shy of his Fating, Tebeo. And Laytsa’s just past her Determining. They don’t know any better.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I realize that. But to hear
Evanthya and Bausef speak of what’s coming, you’d think that our victory was assured. I should be able to speak of it the same way.”

“You’re not a warrior,” she said, slipping her arm through his. “You never have been. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“Dantrielle needs a warrior right now.” He knew this was true, and it made him feel old and weak. Bausef seemed ready to raise his sword against the entire Solkaran army. And Evanthya was so eager for blood that she had already tried to take on the conspiracy by herself.
I hired a blade . . .

“No,” Pelgia said. “Dantrielle needs a duke, a man with wisdom and compassion and strength. And you possess all those in abundance.”

Fearing that he might weep, the duke halted and kissed her deeply, heedless of the men who continued to step past them.

When at last he pulled away, she smiled, though there was a troubled look in her eyes. “You’re frightened,” she whispered.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“I think you should take to heart the confidence of your first minister and master of arms. If they thought that we were about to be destroyed, they’d tell you to find some path to peace. Your army and your people are strong, my lord. And though you doubt it now, you are as well.”

He gazed at her in wonder. “I believe you may be strong enough for us both.”

“One doesn’t endure four labors and the loss of a babe without finding some strength.”

He nodded, stroking her cheek with a finger. “When it begins, I want you in the cloister as well. The tower is farthest from where much of the fighting will be, and it will be well defended. I’ll see to that.”