Shapers of Darkness (68 page)

According to the message that arrived that day, the last of the waxing, Numar’s scouts had seen men approaching Castle Dantrielle from the north, south, and east—no doubt the armies of Orvinti, Tounstrel, and Kelt. Tebeo’s defenses were beginning to fail, Numar wrote, but there was no way of knowing if the castle would fall before Dantrielle’s allies arrived.

Kalyi had said nothing as they walked through the corridors back to their chamber. She looked pale, her lips pressed tight. With her dark hair and eyes, she favored Chofya, but like her father, she carried her worries where all could see them.

“What if the siege fails?” she asked abruptly, once they were back in their quarters. “What if Uncle Numar can’t take Castle Dantrielle after all?”

Chofya sat on their bed and beckoned Kalyi to her side. “If the siege fails, your uncle will have to fight his war against Eibithar without the soldiers of Dantrielle, Orvinti, and the
rest. He’ll still have his alliance with the emperor of Braedon, but he won’t bring quite so strong an army to it.”

Actually, this was essentially what Chofya had expected from the start would happen. She thought the siege was destined to fail; Castle Dantrielle was as strong as it was beautiful, and Numar had already sent part of his army north. Though Rassor had joined him, the regent’s force remained too small to defeat Tebeo and his allies. Their only hope had been a quick and decisive victory. Clearly that hadn’t happened. None of this surprised her, which might have been why she never considered the possibility raised by Kalyi’s next question.

“What if Uncle Numar is killed?”

She didn’t care for the man at all. When it came to choosing a regent for Kalyi, she had preferred him to either Grigor or Henthas, but she knew better than to think him kind or to believe that he had taken on the responsibilities of being regent out of concern for his niece. He was clever and ambitious and nearly as dangerous as the other two. So why did she tremble so at the mere thought of his death?

“He won’t be,” she said, knowing how foolish she sounded.

“What if he’s struck by an arrow or killed by one of Dantrielle’s swordsmen? What if Pronjed kills him?”

“What? Why would Pronjed kill Numar?”

“He killed Father. At least that’s what Uncle Numar thinks.”

“Damn him!” Chofya muttered, drawing a shocked stare from Kalyi. Why would Numar tell the girl such a thing? She had thought that they were past this nonsense. For several turns Kalyi had been trying to learn what she could about her father’s death, as if there had been any doubt but that he had taken his own life, as if such an endeavor were appropriate for a ten-year-old girl. Numar should have kept his crazed theories to himself.

“Your father took his own life, Kalyi,” she said wearily, bracing herself for the all-too-familiar argument. “I’ve told you that before.”

Kalyi shook her head, the golden circlet she wore as a crown flying from her hair, but at least she wasn’t crying.
“That’s just how Pronjed made it seem. He used magic to make father kill himself. Uncle Numar said it’s called mind . . . turning, or something like that.”

It seemed to Chofya that someone was kneeling on her chest, making it difficult for her to draw breath. She had heard tales of Qirsi who could control the thoughts of others, though she had placed little stock in such stories. Certainly she had never thought that she would know such a man. “Mind-bending?” she whispered.

“Yes! That’s it! That’s how he killed Father!”

“Mind-bending magic is very rare. We don’t know that Pronjed—”

“Yes, we do. I . . .” She lowered her eyes. “I overheard a conversation, a long time ago. Pronjed used that magic on the master of arms.”

“Kalyi!” she said, trying to sound stern. “You listened?”

The girl nodded, her eyes still fixed on the floor. “Yes.”

Chofya should have been cross with her; it was unseemly for any young girl to listen in on a conversation between adults, but it was particularly so when that girl was queen. Still, Chofya’s eagerness to know what her daughter had heard was a match for any anger she might have felt. Perhaps more than a match.

“Tell me what you heard,” she said, as if admitting defeat.

Kalyi looked up, smiling. The conversation she described made little sense in terms of military matters; clearly the girl had not understood much of what she heard. But when Kalyi told her how Pronjed had instructed the master of arms to give certain advice to the regent, when she said that the archminister told Tradden what he was to remember of their conversation, she had little choice but to believe that Pronjed possessed mind-bending power.

“Why would he have killed Carden?” she asked, speaking more to herself than to Kalyi.

“Uncle Numar thinks he’s a traitor. He may be part of the conspiracy.”

Chofya nodded. If all of this were true, that would be the only explanation that made any sense. Was it possible then that this alliance with Braedon was part of the Qirsi plot? Was
the siege as well? Pronjed had come to her recently, hoping that she would help him push the regent toward the alliance. He said at the time that he sought to strengthen the realm so that when Kalyi came to power Aneira would have nothing to fear from its enemies. Had that been a lie? If he possessed this power, and had truly sought to enlist her as an ally, why didn’t he try to control her thoughts as he had Tradden’s?

“None of this makes any sense, Kalyi,” she said, trying to convince herself. “Even if he was with the conspiracy, I’m not certain that he had any reason to kill your father. And not long ago he came to me hoping I would help him with something. When I refused, he simply accepted it and never raised the matter with me again. If he had this power surely he would have used it against me.”

“He tried to use it on Uncle Numar. Uncle is sure of it.”

Could the regent have been lying about all of this, trying to turn Kalyi against the archminister? Or had Pronjed decided that Chofya wasn’t important enough to risk using his powers against her?

Ultimately, none of this was as important as Kalyi’s initial question. The young queen seemed to realize this as well.

“Just because he doesn’t have that power, doesn’t meant that he won’t try to kill Uncle Numar,” Kalyi said. “They don’t like each other.”

That much Chofya knew already. “No, they don’t,” she admitted. Not that the regent needed Pronjed thirsting for his blood. There would be thousands of soldiers wearing the uniforms of Dantrielle, Tounstrel, Orvinti, and Kelt, just as avid for his death as any Qirsi, loyal or not.

“If Uncle Numar dies, will Uncle Henthas become my regent?”

She could see the fear in Kalyi’s eyes, and knew that it was mirrored in her own. “Not if I can help it. The other dukes don’t trust him. They wouldn’t—”

It came to her so suddenly that she actually shuddered. What an idiot she had been, dismissing Numar’s siege as if it were foolishness and nothing more. Pronjed had asked her to help him, and obviously she hadn’t been willing to do that. Rather, she should have insisted that Numar call off his attack
on Dantrielle, or at the very least, send Henthas in his stead. The realm needed its regent. Kalyi needed him, but more to the point, Solkara needed him.

If Numar was killed or captured, his army overwhelmed by Dantrielle and its allies, it would mark the end of the Solkaran Supremacy. Chofya didn’t care much for power, at least not anymore. Even if she had, it hardly would have mattered. With Carden dead, she was nothing. They called her the queen mother, but it was a title without authority. Had it not been for Kalyi, she wouldn’t have cared at all for House Solkara and its damned supremacy. She still thought of Noltierre as her home, and would gladly have taken Kalyi there to live out their days in peace. But for better or worse, Kalyi was Solkaran, the sole heir to Carden the Third. If Numar died, she would have to look to the Council of Dukes to protect her daughter from Henthas. And if the supremacy fell that recourse would be denied her as well. Leadership of House Solkara would cease to be a concern of the other houses. She and she alone would be all that stood between the Jackal and her daughter. For Henthas would always see Kalyi as a threat to his ambitions, no matter how limited they might be. As Carden’s child, she had a legitimate claim to the family seat, one that might convince soldiers in the Solkaran army to side with her in any dispute that arose between them. Kalyi could renounce all claims to leadership of the house, and the two of them could return to Cestaar’s Hills. But that might not appease the man. There was nothing to stop her from going back on her word, he would say. Until she was dead, he would always see her as a rival.

“They wouldn’t what, Mother?”

Chofya shook her head. “What?”

“You were speaking of the other dukes. You were telling me that they wouldn’t do something, but then you just stopped.”

“I’m sorry, child. I was just going to say that the dukes wouldn’t allow Henthas to become regent. They’d find someone else to help you rule the realm.”

“Then why do you look so scared?”

Clever child. She was so young, and yet it seemed that the
world around her was demanding that she grow up before her time. Who was Chofya to fight such a powerful tide? “Because if by some chance Numar is defeated and Solkara loses the crown, the Council of Dukes will be powerless to help us.”

“Do you think that could happen?”

“I don’t—” She pressed her lips thin. That was the trouble with sharing hard truths with a child so young. How did one go back to lies after doing so? “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

“Then we should speak with the captains.”

Clever indeed. “Why, love?”

“Because if Numar is gone, and the dukes can’t help us, we’ll need to have the army on our side.”

Chofya had to smile. She was Carden’s child through and through, and though Chofya had stopped loving her husband long before his death, she took pride in seeing his strength in the girl. “They might not side with us, Kalyi. Most soldiers won’t willingly follow a woman, much less a young girl.”

“I’m queen,” she said, as if the matter were so easily settled. “I’m Father’s heir. They’ll help me.”

If it were put to the men that way, they just might. “I’ll speak with them tonight,” Chofya said.

“I want to go with you.”

“No, Kalyi.”

“But—”

Chofya raised a finger to the girl’s lips. “I know that you’re wise beyond your years. But the soldiers still see you as a child. If you go with me, they won’t take us seriously; we could do ourselves more harm that good.” She leaned forward and kissed Kalyi’s forehead. “Trust me with this.”

Kalyi twisted her mouth, looking unhappy. But after a moment she gave a small nod. “I hope Numar wins,” she said. “Then we won’t have to worry about any of this.”

Long after Chofya and her brat left his chamber Henthas continued to read through Numar’s message—the passages he hadn’t shared with them, as well as those he had.

“It’s but a matter of time before we’re surrounded,” his brother had written. “We will make one last effort to take the
castle, sparing nothing in our assault, but I feel certain that we will fail.”

Henthas saw no benefit in reading this to the girl or her mother, for it led directly to the heart of Numar’s missive.

If the supremacy can be preserved—and I’m not sure that it can—it falls to you, brother, to lead it. The five hundred men who remain with you in Solkara will not be enough, and though I expect Dantrielle will let the soldiers under my command go free after he has disarmed them, they will not be enough either. Your best hope, I believe, lies with the men I’ve sent north, to Kentigern. If they can be called back before they march on to the Eibitharian Moorlands, they can preserve House Solkara’s hold on the crown. If not, you will have nothing left but the dukedom.

There is probably nothing I can say that will convince you to spare the girl. I believe that she may still prove useful to you, even if you are relegated to being duke of a fallen house. But if you truly wish to be duke yourself and to pass leadership of House Solkara on to any sons you may beget, you will have to kill her. Beware of Chofya, for she’s clever and respected by the realm’s other dukes. And beware Pronjed. I’m convinced that he is a traitor who possesses mind-bending magic.

I don’t expect that we will meet again, Henthas. I know that we have had our differences in the past, but we are both sons of Tomaz the Ninth. Keep our house strong.

Numar went on to write that he would attempt to send another message the following day, to inform Henthas of how his final offensive had gone, but the duke knew that the letter he held in his hand was the last he would receive from his younger brother. Numar might not have been the fool they all thought he was, but neither was he a master of military planning. If
Tebeo and his allies had him surrounded, he’d be dead within a matter of days.

More to the point, like the older brothers Renbrere, and even like their father, who truly had been a genius, Numar had always been obsessed with the supremacy. He had killed Grigor so that he might lead it. He had as much as given his life defending it. And even now, with one foot in Bian’ realm, he was trying to tell Henthas how he ought to preserve it. Well, Henthas had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

So long as he fought to hold the throne, the other dukes would do all they could to destroy his armies and kill him. If he relinquished the crown, however, if he allowed this damned supremacy to die at long last, they would leave him alone. They might even let him keep the dukedom. Yes, they hated him. Perhaps they feared him still, though Numar and Grigor and Carden had all succeeded in diminishing House Solkara so that it no longer struck terror in the hearts of those who would oppose it, as it had when Tomaz ruled. But if he was just another duke they would believe him harmless, or at least less dangerous than Carden and Grigor had been.

Henthas tossed Numar’s message aside. As far as he was concerned, the supremacy was over, and good riddance to it. The question that confronted him now was what to do about the girl-queen. Regardless of the fate of the supremacy, she would still be the nominal leader of House Solkara. Of course, a child could no more lead the house as duchess than she could rule the realm, and so the need for a regency would remain, and he would be the logical choice to take Numar’s place in that role. Chofya would oppose him, but where else could she turn? She herself had no claim to authority, and with all his brothers dead there was no one else.