What had she told the Weaver the last time he entered her dreams? “He’s starting to trust me. There’s a woman in Audun’s Castle. She was the gleaner’s lover, and she was once a chancellor like you. But she betrayed the movement. I befriended her, and so won a modicum of the gleaner’s trust. But he’s wary of everyone.”
Abeni’s eyes had grown wide. “I knew nothing of this,” she whispered. “But I’ve no doubt that you’re right. A man like the gleaner, who had hidden his true powers for so long, would have to be distrustful.” She paused, gazing off into the distance, as if lost in thought. Finally looking at Keziah again, she asked, “What is it the Weaver has asked you to do?”
She hesitated, afraid to answer. It was bad enough knowing that the Weaver might come to her any night, demanding to know why Kearney still lived. “I’m not certain the Weaver would want me to tell you.”
She feared that she had made the woman angry. If Abeni truly was a chancellor in the movement, she was not one with whom to trifle. But after a moment, the archminister began to nod.
“You’re probably right. Can you at least tell me if it has anything to do with the gleaner?”
“It doesn’t.”
“I thought not. He told me that he would deal with the gleaner himself, though he never told me exactly why. I don’t think he expected this man to reveal himself so soon, nor would he have guessed that your king and my queen would be so willing to embrace a Weaver as an ally.” She took a breath. “I think we may have to take matters into our own hands.”
“But … but he’s a Weaver. What can we do?”
“There are four of us. Together we may be able to overpower him.”
“Wouldn’t we be better off making him believe that he commands a loyal army of sixteen? Let him ride into battle thinking that he’s surrounded by allies. By the time he realizes his error, the Weaver will be attacking him, and it will be too late.”
Abeni’s eyebrows went up. “I’m impressed. That’s a fine idea, Keziah.”
“Thank you, Chancellor.”
“It’s a shame we come from different realms. I have a feeling you and I could be wonderful friends.”
Her stomach felt hollow and sour. “I’m sure that’s true. Shall I keep away from the gleaner then?”
“Whatever for?”
“He scares me. I’m afraid he might manage to read my thoughts.”
“I understand, but if he hasn’t yet, he won’t now. Just act normally. Continue to win his trust. I’d do so myself, but were I to try, he might grow suspicious.”
“All right.”
“We should return to the camps, lest we draw any more attention to ourselves.” She gave a rueful grin. “Diani of Curlinte has been trying to prove me a traitor for several turns now. And I’ve seen her speaking with that thane of yours.”
“You mean Shanstead?”
“Yes. He seems to have little more affection for our people than does Lady Curlinte.”
Keziah nodded as they began to walk back toward the armies. “You’re right. He thinks me a traitor, and he’s accused Grinsa, too.”
“Grinsa?”
“The gleaner.” She felt her cheeks burning.
“Careful, Keziah. If I didn’t know better I might think you were taken with the man. Not that I’d blame you, but I don’t think our Weaver would be so understanding.”
“Of course, Chancellor. I’m sorry.”
“Think nothing of it.” They were near the Sanbiri camp now, and she slowed. “We’ll speak again later.”
Keziah nodded and continued on toward Kearney and the others. Her hands were trembling so badly that she had to cross her arms over her chest. At least the archminister had encouraged her to cultivate a friendship with Grinsa. She had a good deal to tell him.
* * *
“Look at them,” Marston of Shanstead said, glaring at the Qirsi who had gathered in a small cluster south of the camps. “Any of them could be traitors. And our sovereigns allow them to meet without any Eandi present. They even encourage them to form their own army! It’s madness!”
“Surely they’re not all traitors,” Diani said, surprising herself. “And it seems to me that those who are will have to conceal their betrayal from those who remain loyal.”
“But what if this gleaner is one of them? We could be giving him the means to destroy us all.”
The duchess shook her head. “Honestly, Lord Shanstead, I don’t believe he’d betray us.”
He said nothing, just stared at the white-hairs, dismay furrowing his brow.
Marston appeared to be about her age, perhaps a year or two older, though he seemed younger at times like these. Diani thought him handsome, in a somewhat plain way. He looked like so many of the nobles of the northern realms-straight brown hair, grey eyes, square chin. But she admired his passion, the ferocity with which he fought for all that he believed, even as she occasionally found herself disagreeing with him.
He glanced at her, and a smile broke across his ruddy face. “What are you staring at?”
She looked away, feeling her cheeks color. “Nothing.”
“A fine thing to say of a man.”
Diani laughed. “My apologies, my lord.” She looked at him again. “How is it that you’re still only a thane, and yet you command the army of Thorald?”
“My father is duke of Thorald. But he’s too ill to leave Thorald Castle, much less lead an army to war.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, facing southward again.
“I recently lost my mother,” Diani said. “She had been sick for a very long time.”
“You have my sincere condolences.”
This time Diani turned her face away, her eyes suddenly stinging.
“I’m curious about something, Lady Curlinte. You said yesterday that you had more reason than most to hate the Qirsi. Can you explain?”
“I believe the conspiracy killed my brother. And I’m certain that it was responsible for an attack on me that nearly proved fatal.”
“Demons and fire! I had no idea!”
“As you can see, I’ve recovered.” Yet even as she spoke the words she felt a dull throbbing in the scars she bore from that terrible day on the promontory, as if the assassins’ arrows had hit true once again.
“Still, I hate the Qirsi for one woman’s betrayal of my father’s trust. You’ve endured far more at the hands of these demons, yet you find it in your heart to give them your trust.”
“I didn’t always,” she said, remembering the rage and fear that drove her to imprison briefly every white-hair in Castle Curlinte. She almost told him all that she had done in those dark days following the attempts on her life. But shame stopped her.
They stood in silence for some time watching as the gleaner and his small army continued to speak among themselves. Eventually, they summoned a mighty wind and then a tremendous ball of flame.
“What have we done?” the thane muttered, shaking his head at the sight of the blackened ground.
“The gleaner will be a powerful ally.”
“If he’s true.”
Soon after this display of their might, the Qirsi began to disperse, returning to their lords. Diani turned to the thane, strangely reluctant to end their time together.
“I suppose I should rejoin the queen,” she said.
He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the white-hairs. “And I should return to my men.”
“I’ve enjoyed this time with you.”
Marston looked at her. “As have I, my lady.” His eyes flicked back toward the Qirsi. “I hope that we can…” The man’s expression hardened. “Now what are those two doing?”
“My lord.”
He pointed. “The two archministers. They’re going off on their own.” He faced her again, his grey eyes boring into hers. “Didn’t you tell me that you’ve been suspicious of your queen’s archminister for some time now?”
“Yes, though I haven’t been able to prove anything.”
