shaping magic, mists and winds, fire, language of beasts. In order to hold this flame in my palm, I have to use healing magic. I spent my years in Eibithar’s Revel as a gleaner. Who but a Weaver could wield all those magics? I swear that all the rest of what I’ve told you is also true. A Weaver is coming, and I intend to destroy him. But I need as many warriors with me as possible.”
“I won’t ally myself with any of you! If the emperor commands me to fight by your side, I will. Until then, you are the enemy.”
“Your emperor is dead, or imprisoned in his own palace. His was the first army the high chancellor destroyed. Don’t you understand? Your empire is at war, but not with us, not anymore.”
“Lies! The Qirsi can’t be trusted! That much you have right! Your Majesty, Your Highness, I know that we’re enemies, but if you have any sense at all, you’ll rid yourself of this white-hair and fight as Eandi are meant to fight.”
“We don’t wish to fight you at all, Captain,” the queen said. “I believe that Grinsa is telling the truth. We have to end this war and join forces.”
“The king can have his peace. If he surrenders the land we’ve won thus far, the fighting will end.”
Kearney bristled. “This isn’t a negotiation, Captain! I’m offering a truce that will save both of our armies, and quite possibly all of the Forelands!”
“And I’m telling you that there will be no truce!” The captain stared darkly at Grinsa. “You’ve allied yourself with a demon. I won’t make the same mistake.”
“Captain-”
“Enough! If this is all you have to offer, then this parley is done. Ride back to your army, Eibithar.” He glanced at his archers. “I can’t guarantee your safety much longer.”
Kearney started to say something, then clamped his jaw shut, wheeled his mount, and began to ride toward his army. After a moment, Olesya started back as well, leaving Grinsa alone with the four soldiers.
“When the Qirsi attack-and they will attack, I promise you that-have your archers aim their volleys at the high chancellor. If you can kill him, you have a chance against the others.”
The captain just stared at him. After a few moments, Grinsa turned his mount and followed the king and queen. Pulling abreast of them, he chanced a look at Kearney.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I thought they’d listen. I was wrong.”
“It’s not your fault, gleaner. Nor is it the captain’s. He’s just a soldier feeling his way through a war beyond his depth.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“We need another plan, Your Majesty,” said the queen. “Despite our best efforts, it seems we’ll be facing the Weaver and his army without any aid from the empire. We’d best make our preparations accordingly.”
Kearney nodded, looking at Grinsa. “Gleaner?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll begin right away. And I’ll need permission from both of you to form an army of my own, using your Qirsi.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was strange for Keziah, watching Grinsa assume so much responsibility for the coming war. He had always been the strong one, the older brother who protected her and guided her through difficult times-the deaths of their mother and father, the end of her first love affair so many years ago. And of course, he was the Weaver, bearing burdens she could never fully understand.
Through all these long years, however, he had kept his strength and his hardships hidden, out of necessity to be sure, but also, she had always believed, by choice. His was a private life. The role of Revel gleaner suited him. He could travel the land, seeing all, prowling the edges of spectacle, his duties with the gleaning stone demanding an endless stream of intimate conversations. Keziah, on the other hand, had long enjoyed the company of many and her life’s path reflected that. She was the minister, the one who felt at ease attending court functions, speaking pleasantly of the weather or the harvest with Eibithar’s most powerful dukes and nobles from other realms.
Only now, having revealed to all that he was a Weaver, did Grinsa find himself at the center of weighty discussions among sovereigns, parleys of war, and today, a gathering of Qirsi. Keziah shouldn’t have been surprised to find that he appeared comfortable in his new role, or that he could match wits with any noble and any minister in the Forelands. Still, it was hard for her to accept the changes she saw in her brother. They seemed to her undeniable proof of how swiftly and profoundly the world itself was being transformed.
Soon after returning with Kearney and Sanbira’s queen from the parley with Braedon’s captains, Grinsa sent word to Keziah that she was to join him south of the soldiers’ camps. She thought that he wished to discuss something with her alone. Only when she found him speaking with several other ministers and a number of Kearney’s battlefield healers did she realize that her brother had summoned all the Qirsi in the Eibitharian and Sanbiri armies.
“Archminister,” he said crisply as she approached. “Thank you for coming.” Some secrets it seemed were not to be revealed, even under these extraordinary circumstances.
“Of course…” She frowned. “Forgive me, but I’m not certain what we should call you now.”
He smiled at that. “Gleaner is fine. It’s what I’m used to. Or you can call me by my name.”
“Thank you, gleaner.”
Fotir joined them, accompanied by Xivled jal Viste, Marston of Shanstead’s young minister, who had accused Keziah of being a traitor the first time they met. Several moments later the Sanbiri ministers arrived as well.
“I believe that’s everyone,” Grinsa said, as the rest of them fell silent. There were seventeen Qirsi in their small circle, and it seemed to Keziah that one or two of Kearney’s healers hadn’t joined them yet, or had chosen not to come at all. “I thank you for coming. I know how unusual this must seem to you. All your lives you’ve been told that Weavers were little more than legend, or else that we’re demons, the worst kind of Qirsi, men and women to be feared and shunned. Yet now you find that there are two Weavers in your world, that one of them intends to lead you to war against the other. In your position, I’d be a bit bewildered.”
It struck Keziah as an odd way to begin their discussion until she saw how his eyes moved from face to face. He wasn’t saying this for them. He was saying it for himself, gauging their responses, trying to determine which of the Qirsi before him were loyal, and which had pledged themselves to the Weaver’s movement. Abruptly, Keziah found herself glancing about as well, as if she could divine the thoughts of her companions.
“As most of you have heard by now, a Qirsi army rides this way, led by a Weaver. This Weaver commands two hundred men and women. It’s not a large force-it hasn’t been enough to impress our Eandi friends-but you and I know how powerful two hundred of our people can be, particularly when their powers are woven as one. I’ve convinced the king and queen that we’d be wise to create a Qirsi army of our own. Obviously we won’t be a match for the Weaver’s army, but perhaps with the Eandi warriors fighting beside us, we’ll be enough.”
“I take it,” Fotir said, “that the parley with Braedon’s men went poorly.”
“Yes. They weren’t ready to ally themselves with Eibithar or Sanbira, much less with a Weaver.”
“So am I to understand,” said Sanbira’s archminister, “that the Eandi have given you permission to form a separate army of Qirsi that will fight alongside the Eandi warriors?”
“Essentially, yes.” Grinsa continued to watch her, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t approve?”
“I neither approve nor disapprove. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think they trusted us enough to allow such a thing.”
Labruinn’s first minister gave her a quick glance. “They’re scared. Trust has nothing to do with it.”
Several others nodded their agreement.
“How can seventeen Qirsi hope to stand against an army of two hundred?” asked one of the healers, an older woman. “I mean no disrespect, gleaner, but even the most powerful Weaver can’t overcome those numbers.”
“It won’t be easy. As I said already, I’m hoping that the armies of Sanbira and Eibithar will give us an advantage, or at least lessen the Weaver’s advantages. The renegades fight alone, without archers or swordsmen. These thousands of warriors fighting beside us must count for something. And we may be a small force, but we have with us some of the most powerful Qirsi in the seven realms. Five of you are shapers, eight of you have mists and winds, and nine of you have fire magic. All are valuable powers in-”
