Weavers of War

“I almost died, Xaver. He had me, and he let me go. When I killed him, he wasn’t even trying to protect himself anymore.”

His friend was watching him, seemingly at a loss for words.

“I thought that I’d find peace once I’d killed Cadel, that avenging Brienne would make up for everything that’s happened since she died. But I was wrong.”

“It’s too soon to know that. You may find peace yet, but it can’t be easy when everyone around you is preparing for war.”

A smile touched his lips and was gone. “I suppose.”

“Maybe once this war with the empire is over, and you’ve-”

“You know what, Stinger,” he broke in, “I understand that you’re trying to help, but I just don’t want to talk about any of this.”

Xaver’s jaw tightened and he lowered his gaze. “Fine.”

“Why don’t we talk about you for a while?”

The boy looked up again, a slight frown on his lean face. “About me?”

“Yes. You haven’t told me anything about home.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“There has to be something. Tell me about your studies, or your training. I don’t even know if you have a girl.”

That, of all things, made Xaver’s face shade to scarlet.

“You do! I knew it!”

The boy shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “She’s not really…”

“What? She’s not really a girl?”

Xaver laughed. “Oh, she is that.”

“Well, now I really want to hear.”

His friend was a bit sparing with details-her name was Jolyn, and she was the daughter of one of the ladies who served Tavis’s mother. Other than that, Xaver offered precious little information. But Tavis hardly cared. Long after he and Xaver had returned to the Curgh camp, they continued to talk, laughing and teasing one another as they had long ago, before their Fatings and all that followed. And for a brief time, as the day grew warm and the sun turned its slow arc over the Moorlands, Tavis gave little thought to Cadel or the conspiracy or the war that loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Later in the day, however, after they had talked themselves into a lengthy silence, Xaver eyed the young lord, suddenly appearing uneasy.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” he said, meeting Tavis’s gaze for but a moment before looking away.

“Of course. Anything.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve heard what it is.”

Tavis felt his stomach tighten.

“I’m not certain that my father’s going to let me fight,” said the liege man. “And if he asks your father to keep me out of the battle, your father will do just that.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Please, let me finish. You’re my lord-I swore an oath to serve you. And since we’re both past our Fatings, you have the authority to overrule my father.”

“Xaver, the last thing I want to do is get between you and Hagan. Besides, if my father decides to keep you out of combat, there’s nothing I can do.”

His friend scowled at him.

“Why are you so eager to fight, anyway?”

“You have to ask? You’re just as avid for it as I am.”

Tavis shook his head. “That’s different. I have reasons that have nothing to do with this war and everything to do with Cadel and Brienne and all the rest.”

“Well, I have reasons, too, Tavis! You’re not the only one who wants to strike back at the Aneirans and the Qirsi and the empire, and everyone else who’s been attacking us for the past year. You’re not the only one whose father…” He shook his head. “I know it’s hard between you and your father, but it’s not easy being the son of Hagan MarCullet either. He’s been the best swordsman in the land for just about all my life. And everyone expects me to be just like him.” Including me.

Xaver didn’t have to say this last aloud. As his friend spoke Tavis found himself remembering what Xaver had told him of the siege at Kentigern, which was the first and only time the young man had fought in a battle of any sort. He said at the time that he had acquitted himself poorly, that he had embarrassed himself in front of Javan. For his part, the duke never had anything but praise for Xaver’s courage as a warrior, but that wouldn’t have kept Xaver from feeling that he had something to prove to himself, to his duke, and to his father in this newest war.

“I’m sorry, Stinger. You’re right, I’m not the only one. As I said before, I have no desire to put myself between you and Hagan, but I’ll do what I can.”

Xaver nodded, still looking displeased.

“Personally, I’d be honored to march into battle beside you.”

He smiled at that. “We’ve been talking about it since we were five.”

“Longer than that, if my mother is to be believed.”

“Thanks, Tavis.”

“I’m not promising anything. You understand that.”

“I know. But I’m grateful anyway.”

“Just promise me that you’ll watch my back, and I’ll do the same for you.”

Xaver grinned. “Done.”

* * *

After Javan and Tavis rode away, Keziah turned her attention back to Kearney, who was still giving comfort to the duke of Heneagh. There was a pained expression in her pale eyes. She held a hand to her mouth, as if afraid that she might weep at any moment.

“Perhaps we should find someplace where we can speak,” Fotir suggested.

She nodded, but her gaze never left the king.

“Keziah.”

She looked at Grinsa, seeming to rouse herself from a dream. “Yes, of course.”

It looked to the gleaner that she hadn’t slept in days. There were circles under her eyes, and her skin was so wan that she almost looked gray. He wondered how many times in the past few nights she had dreamed of the Weaver.

The three Qirsi walked away from the king toward the rear of the Curgh camp where there were fewer soldiers. After a few moments, Grinsa realized that one of Kearney’s men was following a short distance behind them.

“My shadow,” Keziah said, seeing him glance back.

“Kearney’s having you watched?”

“It’s necessary. We still need for everyone to believe that he doesn’t trust me.”

Fotir looked from one of them to the other. “Am I to understand that the king knows of your attempt to join the conspiracy?”

Keziah gave a rueful smile. “That was necessary as well. He was preparing to send me away from his court.”

“This seems to be growing more perilous by the moment.”

Grinsa said nothing, though it occurred to him that it had all been far too dangerous from the very beginning. Keziah had contrived to join the Qirsi conspiracy, making it seem to the Weaver that she served his cause, and convincing all those around her that she had betrayed her king and her land. Kearney knew the truth now, but that seemed small consolation to Grinsa. If the Weaver learned that Keziah had been deceiving him, he would make her suffer terribly before killing her.

“Can we speak frankly with that soldier hovering at our shoulders?” Fotir asked.

“We haven’t much choice, First Minister,” Keziah said, impatience creeping into her voice. “Believe me when I tell you that these inconveniences mean little to me at this point. I have far greater matters weighing on my