companies. Naturally, Grinsa rode with him, too, although not without some reluctance, for he was eager to return to the City of Kings and see Cresenne and his daughter. Tavis noticed as well that the duchess of Curlinte rode with Marston rather than setting out for Sanbira with her queen.
Well before they reached Curgh, Tavis began to feel that he was home at last. He hadn’t seen the castle of his forebears in more than a year, since he set out with Xaver and his father for Kentigern. In the time since, he had sailed the waters of Kreanna to Wethyrn and had battled the assassin Cadel on the rocky shores of the Wethy Crown. Yet only now, still leagues south of the castle, but sensing the first hint of brine in the wind, did he find himself thinking of the high cliffs of Curgh and the frothing waters of Amon’s Ocean below.
They came to the great walls of Curgh City late on the fourth day of their journey from the battle plain. The King’s Guard and the armies of Thorald and Tremain stopped at the gates and made camp in the shadow of the city. Kearney and the other nobles followed Tavis through the gates and into the streets of Curgh, where they were greeted by cheers from the city folk. For Tavis, it was a bittersweet homecoming. He had assumed since Kentigern that he would never hear his name shouted with such reverence by Curgh’s people. But he sensed as well the shock of those lining the streets at not seeing their duke in the king’s company. Upon entering the castle, he leaped from his horse and rushed to his mother’s outstretched arms. For several moments they held each other, heedless of the king and the protocol of royal visits, and they wept, grief for Javan mingling with joy at Tavis’s redemption.
“If I could have saved him, I would have.”
“I know that.”
At last, Shonah released him, wiping the tears from her face and curtsying to the king.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she said.
“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady. I hope that you’ll accept my condolences on the loss of your husband. He was a wise leader, a courageous warrior, and a good friend. The land grieves for him.”
“You honor us, Your Majesty.”
“You do us the honor, my lady, by making us guests in your home at such a time.”
The duchess curtsied again, then turned to Hagan, who had yet to dismount. She favored him with a smile, then faltered searching the ranks of Curgh’s army. After a moment, she spun toward Tavis.
“Xaver?” she whispered.
Tavis swallowed and shook his head.
“Oh, Hagan.” She walked to the swordmaster and took his hand, her face streaked with tears once more. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
The swordmaster nodded but said nothing. He remained on his horse, looking straight ahead, his jaw quivering, as if it was all he could do to keep from bawling like a child. Shonah brushed the swordmaster’s hand with her lips, then faced Kearney and the other nobles once more.
“Please make yourselves welcome. Quarters have been arranged for you and your ministers and there will be a feast tonight to celebrate your victory over the enemies of our realm.”
The king and his company dismounted and followed Shonah into the castle. Tavis hesitated, eyeing Hagan, wondering if he should remain with him.
“Leave him,” the gleaner said softly. “He’ll join us when he’s ready.”
Tavis knew he was right. He cast one more look at the swordmaster before leaving the ward with Grinsa.
The next few days seemed a blur of feasts and ceremony. Tavis’s investiture was a modest affair, as ducal ordinations tended to be. It had been several centuries since dukes of Curgh wore any sort of crown, and never had they held scepters or other tokens of their title. But Tavis did take his father’s sword as his own, and after a brief ceremony in the castle’s lower ward at which he swore fealty to the Crown, he hosted yet another banquet, this one open to the people of Curgh City.
The following morning, a rider arrived from Heneagh bearing a message of sympathy to Shonah and congratulations to the new duke. Later in the day, similar missives arrived from Domnall and Sussyn, two houses that had supported Aindreas of Kentigern in his feud with the king.
“Perhaps this will bring the other houses back to the fold, Your Majesty,” Tavis said, showing the messages to Kearney in his father’s old presence chamber.
“We can hope so,” the king said, sounding skeptical. “I expect it will take some time for Galdasten and Kentigern to sort through all that’s happened in the past year. Aindreas’s boy is still several years shy of his Fating, and Renald’s sons were killed by the Qirsi. Both houses have a good deal to sort through. I don’t imagine they’ll be ready to reconcile with your house or the throne any time soon.” He smiled thinly. “And Elam has always been a stubborn fool, so if I were you, I wouldn’t be sitting atop my ramparts waiting for messengers from Eardley.”
Tavis grinned. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How is Hagan?” the king asked, his smile fading.
The young duke shrugged, then shook his head. “Not well. The Hagan of old would be scouring the countryside for probationers to replace the men we lost on the moor, and he’d be working those soldiers who remain day and night. Instead he walks the castle corridors or locks himself away in his chamber. He won’t even speak with my mother.”
“It’s bound to take some time.”
“I suppose. At least when he lost Daria, he still had Xaver to care for. But now … He speaks of returning to MarCullet and the home of his youth. He’s still an earl, you know.”
Kearney raised an eyebrow. “I had no idea.”
“I never thought of him as the kind of man who could live a noble’s life, but maybe that’s what he needs, at least for a while. Mother thinks so.”
“Your mother may well be right. Perhaps Hagan can find peace in the home of his forebears.”
“I hope so, Your Majesty.”
One final matter remained before Kearney and the other dukes left Curgh for their homes, one about which Tavis knew little until Grinsa explained it to him the following morning. It seemed that Kearney had agreed to a conclave of sorts between the nobles and their Qirsi, an opportunity for men and women of both races to speak of recent events and all that lay behind them.
“He agreed to it just after the battle with Dusaan,” Grinsa told him, as they walked through the castle ward. “It was Keziah’s idea, but I think that one of the renegades goaded the king into agreeing to it. I can’t believe he’s eager to hear what Keziah and the others have to say.”
“I don’t imagine. I’m not sure that I am, either.”
The nobles and their Qirsi met in the castle’s great hall, where Tavis’s father had welcomed so many dukes and thanes, honoring them with feasts. Fotir was there, of course, having made all the arrangements for the discussion with the approval of Tavis’s mother. Sitting with him were Keziah, Xivled jal Viste, and the ministers of the dukes of Labruinn and Tremain. They sat on one side of the great table, across from Marston, Caius, Lathrop, Diani of Curlinte, and Gershon Trasker. Tavis and Grinsa entered the hall in silence, taking their places on either side of the table. On this day, Tavis gave up pride of place to the king, allowing him to preside, as was proper. Servants had put out cheeses, breads, fruits, and flasks of wine, but no one ate or so much as filled a goblet. None of them even spoke.
“I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to where to begin,” Kearney finally said, looking around the table.
“Perhaps the archminister would like to tell us why we’re here,” Marston said.
Xivled bristled, and it occurred to Tavis that he hadn’t seen the thane and his minister together since they arrived in Curgh.
“All I meant was that we’re here at her request,” Marston went on, casting a quick look at his minister. “I’d like to know what she hopes to accomplish with this discussion for which she was so eager.”
“That’s a fair question, my lord,” Keziah said.
Xivled shook his head, glaring at the thane. “I think you’re too generous, Archminister. It should be obvious to all why this meeting was necessary.”
“What’s obvious to the Qirsi at this table might still be a mystery to the rest of us,” Kearney said. “Please, Minister, tell us why you think we’re here.”
“To put an end to the mistrust,” Xivled said, as if the rest of them were simple. “To begin to repair the damage that’s been done by this war and the conspiracy.”
“You can’t think to do that in one day, lad,” Lathrop said, his tone gentle. “These conflicts are as old as the
