enough.”
He cast a look her way, but he didn’t grow angry. He merely nodded.
“Abeni wanted to make an attempt on your life immediately, but I convinced her to wait, saying it would be better to make you think that you commanded a loyal army. I hope that was the right thing to do.”
“Actually, I’m not certain it was. I’d rather face the Weaver with a small army than have to fight traitors and his force at the same time.”
Keziah had thought of this as well, though only after her conversation with the archminister ended. “I’m sorry. She spoke of killing you and I panicked.”
“It’s all right.”
“Do you want me to go back to her and convince her to strike at you sooner?”
He shook his head. “You risk raising her doubts.”
“Then maybe we should go to the nobles and tell them that we’ve learned of traitors in their courts.”
“That’s also too dangerous. Abeni will know that the information came from you.”
“Couldn’t you say that you sensed their treachery?”
But even before he answered, Keziah knew that this wouldn’t work either. If Abeni and her fellow renegades were executed as traitors, leaving Keziah as the only survivor among those who claimed to support the movement, the Weaver would know that she had betrayed them.
“There’s nothing to be done about it now, Kezi. She’ll make her plans, and you’ll have no choice but to follow along.”
“What will you do?”
He smiled, looking so weary that it made her chest ache. “Whatever I have to.”
“We should turn back,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of Kearney.
“You need to be careful, Keziah.”
She faced him again, putting on her bravest smile in turn. “I always am.”
“I’m serious. Norinde’s first minister isn’t much of a threat, but both women are shapers. Either of them can kill you with a single thought, and I won’t be able to do anything about it.”
“Why would they kill me? Abeni is ready to declare herself my closest friend, and I get the sense that she keeps a tight rein on the others.”
He looked away, the muscles in his jaw bunching as they often did when he wanted to say something but feared her reaction.
“Hasn’t this gone on long enough?” he finally asked. “You’ve learned the names of the other traitors in this army, you’ve learned that the Weaver intends to have Kearney killed on the battlefield. We know as much about Dusaan’s plans as we need to, in large part thanks to you. But this war-the real war-will begin in the next day or two.” He winced, as if suddenly in pain. “Actually, I suppose it’s already begun. Dusaan is done making plans. It seems to me that the time has come to end this deceit, before you get yourself killed.”
“How do I end it, Grinsa? Do you see a way out of this? Because I certainly don’t. Until the Weaver is killed, I won’t be safe, no matter how much you try to protect me. You saw what he did to Cresenne when she betrayed him. He’ll be no less brutal with me.”
“So what are you going to do? Kill Kearney? Fight me? Do all the things Dusaan and his servants expect of you?”
“Of course not!”
“Then what choice do you have, Kezi? You’re fast reaching a point where you can’t risk staying with them anymore.”
“That may be so, but I’m not there yet!”
Keziah started to walk away, not quite understanding why she was so angry with him. She knew that he was right. She had barely slept the past several nights, fearing that the Weaver would come to her demanding to know why Kearney still lived, and she was still shaken from her conversation with Sanbira’s archminister. How much longer could she continue to deceive Abeni and the others? How many more times could she allow the Weaver to enter her mind without revealing her true feelings for Kearney or her love for her brother?
But even knowing all this, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that it was time now to end the lies. She tried to tell herself that there was still more that she could learn, that her access to the conspiracy could still help Grinsa and the king. But in truth she wasn’t even certain that this was true anymore. A part of her wondered if this were a matter of pride. When she succeeded in joining the conspiracy she assumed a unique role in this war. Never before had she felt so important, and it occurred to her that she might have been allowing vanity to cloud her judgment. But after considering this possibility for but a moment she dismissed it. In the end it came down to fright. Keziah was just scared. She had survived for this long through cunning and lies; she could survive that way a bit longer. But if she revealed to the Weaver that she had deceived him …
Keziah shuddered. Yes, that was the reason.
“Keziah,” Grinsa called, after she had taken only a step or two.
She halted, but didn’t turn.
“I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. You know that.”
Probably she should have said something. She could have thanked him in some way, or at least told him that she wasn’t really angry with him. Instead, she just nodded and left him there.
She walked northward toward the battle front, her pace quickening as she went. Abruptly she needed to be near Kearney. Grinsa’s warnings had taken her thoughts in a new direction. War with the Qirsi army was almost upon them, and the Weaver had made it clear to her that he wanted the king dead before that final conflict began. Clearly she couldn’t kill him, but it seemed to her equally clear that in a matter of such importance, the Weaver would not depend solely on her.
When at last she found the king, he was checking the blade of the broadsword he usually carried in the silver, red, and black baldric of his forebears. Another sword hung on his belt, and his horse stood nearby, saddled and bearing battle armor.
“What’s happened?” she asked, her apprehension mounting.
He looked up, his eyes meeting hers for just an instant. Then he sheathed his blade and nodded toward the north. “Braedon’s men are on the move. I expect them to attack any time now. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.” He stepped to his mount and began to tighten the saddle.
Keziah gazed at the enemy lines. There did appear to be a good deal of activity there, though she couldn’t make any sense of it.
“I’ll ride with you,” she said.
He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “What?”
“I can wield a blade. And I have language of beasts and mists and winds. I can help you.”
“You could be killed.”
She raked a hand through her hair. Why were the men in her life constantly reminding her of that?
“He wants you dead!” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve told you that. I know that you have to fight, but someone has to be near you, to protect you.”
“The Weaver isn’t even here yet.”
“No, but he’s near, and he wanted me to do this before he arrived. If there are others who have been told to kill you, they’ll make the attempt today.”
She had no proof of this, of course, but as she spoke the words she knew in her heart that it was true.
“We’re at war, Kez. Anyone who isn’t an ally will be trying to kill me. Do you really think that one more Qirsi assassin will make that much difference?”
“
“And who will keep you alive?”
Keziah started to answer, then closed her mouth, unsure of what she had intended to say.
Kearney smiled with such tenderness that it was all she could do to keep from crying. “You see? You’re asking me to exchange my life for yours, and that’s not a trade I’m willing to make.”
Men called out from both ends of the Eibitharian camp, and Kearney’s eyes snapped back to the front.
“They must be bringing their archers forward.” He looked at her again. “I have to go.”
She said nothing.
The king swung himself onto his horse, gazed at her once more.
