archminister.
“It hardly seems that I have a choice.” Fotir wasn’t certain how to respond, and clearly Keziah sensed this. “I meant it as a joke, First Minister. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded and smiled. Then he joined the gleaner and they made their way through the camp toward Javan and the Curgh army.
“You fear what you’re about to do,” Fotir said, eyeing Grinsa as they walked.
“Very much.”
“I had the sense a moment ago that you’re unsure of whether you can defeat the Weaver.”
Grinsa looked at him sharply, then faced forward again. “You saw that?”
“A minister learns to judge much from a person’s expression and tone of voice.”
“Well, you’re right. What Keziah wants to do is terribly dangerous. Yes, we may be able to strike at the Weaver, but he’ll have an opportunity to strike at us as well. We’ll be on equal footing. I’ll have to protect Keziah and myself.” He shook his head. “I think it’s a grave mistake.”
“I understand your reluctance, truly I do. But I also believe that the archminister’s idea has much to recommend it. It seems that the Weaver is always a step ahead of us, but I can’t imagine he’ll be expecting this.”
Grinsa nodded once, as if conceding the point. “Probably not, no. I suppose that’s worth something.” He eyed Fotir briefly, a small smile on his face. “You’re quite taken with her, aren’t you?”
Fotir faltered in midstride. “What makes you say that?”
“I may be slow to fathom matters of the heart as my sister says, but not when it comes to her.”
For several moments, the first minister offered no reply. “Please don’t say anything to her,” he said at last. “It would only make matters worse. Besides, her heart belongs to another.”
“It did once. I don’t know that it still does.”
Fotir shook his head. “Nevertheless, I’d rather she didn’t know.”
“Your secret is safe, First Minister.”
“I’m in your debt. I should return to my duke. No doubt he’s wondering where I am. But if you need my help, you know where to find me. I may wish to keep my feelings for Keziah hidden, but I’d do anything to keep her alive, and you as well.”
“You’ve already done much today, First Minister. But I’ll keep that in mind.”
Fotir gripped his arm briefly, then went to join his duke. He was embarrassed by the ease with which the gleaner had divined his thoughts, but he was certain that Grinsa would keep what he knew to himself. Who kept a secret better than a Weaver?
* * *
Grinsa found Tavis on the fringe of the Curgh camp, sitting alone, of course, eating a small meal of roast fowl and bread. The young lord looked up at the sound of Grinsa’s approach, regarding the gleaner with a slight smile, his brow creased.
“Why are you looking so pleased?” he asked.
Grinsa did nothing to conceal his surprise. “Am I?”
“More than I’ve seen you in some time.”
“Well, I’ve just come from Keziah, and…” He paused. He had been thinking about his sister and Fotir. For too long she had mourned the end of her love affair with the king. Perhaps, with time, Fotir could help her heart to heal. Still, the first minister served in the court of Tavis’s father, and Grinsa had given his word that he would say nothing of this to anyone. “And I’m pleased by how well she’s healed from her injuries,” he said, for that also was true.
“I’m glad to hear it. You must be tired.” Tavis gestured at his plate. “Do you want some of this?”
“Aren’t you going to eat it?”
“I’ve had plenty.”
Grinsa sat and took the offered food. “Thank you.” He bit into the fowl. “It’s good. Where did you get it?”
“Actually some of my father’s men gave it to me.” He grinned. “So I suppose there’s a chance it’s poisoned.”
“I doubt that. Hungry soldiers wouldn’t waste good fowl to poison a noble. Careful with the wine, though.”
Tavis grinned. “It seems I’ve won back a bit of their respect.”
“You fought bravely today. Kearney told me so himself.”
“Xaver was the brave one.”
“Is that why you’re here alone?”
The boy scowled. “No!” A moment later his expression softened. “Maybe. I’m happy for Xaver, really I am. What he did today showed great courage. I’ve no doubt that he saved Kearney’s life. And he’s my best friend.” He glanced at the gleaner. “Or at least one of them. I’m glad that he’s getting so much attention.”
“But?”
He smiled for just an instant. “But just once I’d like it if someone thought of me as a hero.”
“That might not be your fate, Tavis.”
“Are you saying that as a gleaner or a friend?”
“Both. That doesn’t mean it’s true-as I’ve told you before, our fates are constantly shifting, changing. But I’m afraid your future will always be dogged by shadows from your past.”
He nodded, gazing across the camp, the bright fires and torchlight sparkling in his eyes. “I think you may be right.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be happy, nor does it mean that you won’t reclaim your place among Eibithar’s nobility.”
“I understand.”
Grinsa started to say more, then stopped himself, sensing that the young lord really did grasp the import of what he was saying.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said instead. “Something Keziah and I are going to try later tonight. It doesn’t involve you, but I wanted you to know.” He explained briefly what his sister and he had in mind to attempt.
“That sounds like it could be dangerous for both of you.”
“For her more than for me.”
“Knowing the two of you as I do, I’m not certain that you can separate one from the other.”
Grinsa hadn’t thought of it in those terms. “Perhaps not.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’m afraid there isn’t. But if I fail, and … and I’m lost, I want you to ride south from here tonight-”
“What?”
“Please, just listen.” Grinsa paused, finding that there were suddenly tears in his eyes. “If I die, no one will survive the Weaver’s assault-he’ll kill all of you. One sword more or less won’t make any difference at all. I want you to ride to the City of Kings as quickly as you can. Take Cresenne and Bryntelle away from here. I don’t know where. I’ll leave that to you and Cresenne to decide.”
“Grinsa-”
“Let me finish. I know that you can’t protect them with magic. But you can watch over them, guard them with your blade, make certain that Cresenne isn’t attacked in her sleep.”
“You’d trust me with this?”
At that the gleaner smiled, though tears still rolled down his cheeks. “Whom else would I turn to, Tavis? Aside from Cresenne and Keziah, there’s no one in this world who knows me better than you do, or who I know to be a more faithful friend.”
Tavis stared at Grinsa, seemingly struck dumb by the gleaner’s words. But at last, he gave a small nod. “I swear to you that I’ll keep them safe,” he said. “So long as I draw breath.”
