Seeds of Betrayal (57 page)

And Ean forbid that an Eandi would be cowardly enough to put oleander in the queen’s wine
. “Yes, Your Eminence, it was.”

“Not that all Qirsi would do such a thing,” the emperor added. “Not that you would. But it does give one pause.”

“Of course. If you’d like, I’ll ask the other chancellors and ministers what they’ve heard of this conspiracy and whether they think it may be responsible for recent events in Aneira.”

“Yes, Dusaan, that would be fine.”

The Weaver made a half turn toward the door, as if to go, hoping that would be the end of their conversation. But the emperor didn’t dismiss him.

“Have you noticed, High Chancellor, that most of the killings attributed to the conspiracy have taken place elsewhere? The empire has largely been spared. It’s almost as if the weakness of the six invites such tragedies, while our strength keeps us safe.”

Again, he had to keep from laughing. Braedon had been spared because Dusaan chose to spare it. The last thing he wanted was for the emperor to grow suspicious of his Qirsi before Dusaan had the chance to turn the empire’s army and fleet to his purposes. Eventually, he would command enough Qirsi warriors that he would no longer need the emperor’s soldiers, but that time had not yet come.

“I hadn’t noticed, Your Eminence. But now that you bring it to my attention it seems clear that you’re correct. These Qirsi may believe they can weaken the other kingdoms, but they would not dare make an enemy of the empire.”

Harel smiled, looking far too satisfied with himself. “Quite right, High Chancellor. But still, I feel the time has come to take some precautions.”

“What kind of precautions?” Dusaan asked, his stomach tightening.

“Well,” the emperor began, suddenly sounding a bit less sure, “I think we should stop bringing new ministers and chancellors into the palace. I’ve enough Qirsi advising me now.”

The Weaver felt himself relax. “That seems wise, Your Eminence.”

“I also think we should watch those Qirsi who already serve me a bit more closely. There may be some among them who wish to betray the empire.”

“Again, a most prudent decision.”

“And finally, I feel that I must make more decisions without consulting any Qirsi at all.” He glanced quickly at the chancellor, then looked down again, toying absently with the Imperial Scepter. “Even you, Dusaan. I realize that I’ve come to rely on you a great deal. Perhaps too much.”

He would have liked to slap the man, to leave a crimson imprint of his hand on the emperor’s fat face. It was bad enough that Dusaan should still be forced to serve such a man publicly, bowing to this overgrown child and lavishing him with undeserved praise. But to be reminded just now that his own fortunes and those of his movement were still subject to Harel’s whims and petty fears was almost too much for him to bear.

“As you wish, Your Eminence,” he managed to say, his voice sounding thick. “If you like I’ll leave the planning of the invasion in your hands.” He could hardly imagine the emperor agreeing to this-the very idea of leading this war seemed to terrify Harel. But Dusaan wouldn’t have minded if by some chance he did agree. The chancellor wanted Braedon at war with Eibithar. If the emperor led that war incompetently, all the better. The weaker the Eandi armies, the easier it would be for his Qirsi army to conquer them. Better Harel should take control of the invasion than the treasury. Dusaan needed access to Braedon’s gold in order to continue paying those who served him.

“The invasion?” the emperor asked, shifting uncomfortably in his throne. “You’ve worked so hard on it already. I’d hate to… to deny you the pleasure of seeing it to its completion.”

“Not at all, Your Eminence. This invasion promises to be the crowning achievement of your reign as emperor. The pleasure of completing it should be yours as should the glory that will follow from it.”

“The invasion,” Harel said again, as if considering it. He licked his lips. “I had in mind some of the more mundane matters that I leave to your discretion each day.”

“Well, of course, Your Eminence, if you wish to concern yourself with such trifles you may. The empire is yours and I but serve. But it seems to me that the man who will soon lay claim to the entire northern half of the Forelands has better ways to pass his day than bothering with the collection of tithes, the enforcement of warrior quotas, and the mediation of inconsequential disputes among your lords.”

The emperor perked up at that. “There! Mediating disputes among my lords. That’s just the sort of thing I mean. That, it seems to me, is the responsibility of an emperor, rather than his high chancellor. You understand, don’t you, Dusaan?”

The Qirsi shrugged, feeling himself relax once more. “I suppose I do, Your Eminence. If you feel it necessary to handle these matters, I’m more than happy to defer to you. To be honest, I’ll be glad to be done with them. With all respect to the lords who serve you, they seem almost eager to quarrel with one another. They take offense like overly tender children and threaten war over the smallest, most desolate scraps of land.”

“Yes, I suppose they do,” the emperor said, nodding sagely. “But you have to remember, Dusaan: they don’t know what it is to rule an empire. Their realms are small, and so even the merest threats to their power seem great. These matters must be handled with care lest they grow into civil conflict.” He nodded again, as if convincing himself. “I think it best that I mediate all future disputes among my lords.”

“Of course. Your Eminence is most wise.” He hesitated, watching the emperor closely. He was eager to leave Harel’s chambers, but he needed to be certain that his control over the treasury remained safe. “Is there anything else, Your Eminence?”

“No, Dusaan. You may go.”

The chancellor bowed and started toward the door.

“You will remember to speak with the others?” the emperor called to him, just as he reached for the door handle.

Dusaan halted, but didn’t turn. “The others, Your Eminence?” he asked, struggling to keep his impatience from seeping into his voice.

“The other Qirsi. You said you’d speak to them about the conspiracy.”

He faced Harel. “Of course. Forgive me, Your Eminence. I had forgotten. I’ll summon them to my quarters immediately.”

The emperor frowned. “Are you all right, Dusaan?”

“I’m fine, Your Eminence.”

“It’s not like you to forget such things.”

“I’ve a good deal on my mind. And I think I find the very idea of the conspiracy so disturbing that I didn’t want to remember this particular task.” He forced a smile. “But I’ll see to it right away.”

“Very good, Dusaan. Thank you.”

The Qirsi bowed again, let himself out of the chamber, and walked quickly back toward his quarters.

There were certain risks in speaking of the conspiracy with the other Qirsi. Skilled as he was at masking his true feelings, he would be hard-pressed to endure the righteous denunciations of his movement that he expected from Harel’s fawning underchancellors and ministers. But rather than dreading this discussion, he was actually looking forward to it. At some point, sooner rather than later, he would have to begin gathering allies from within the emperor’s circle of advisors. As the time for the uprising neared, his need to remain anonymous would give way to a greater need to build his army of sorcerers. While he had nothing but contempt for several of Harel’s advisors, he saw promise in some of them, and recognized that several others wielded powers that would be of use to him in the coming war.

Not that he intended to begin today to lure some of them into the movement. Rather, he hoped to learn from what he saw in their responses who among them were most likely to be receptive to his overtures when the time came. He had little doubt that all of them had heard talk of the conspiracy, and he felt certain that at least a few of them-perhaps more- harbored sympathies for his cause. He had only to watch and listen.

He passed one of the emperor’s pages in the palace corridor-a Qirsi child, probably the son of one of the other Qirsi advisors. He stopped the boy with an outstretched hand.

“Y-yes, High Chancellor?” the lad said, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Dusaan reached into a pocket and pulled out a silver piece. It was only one qinde-an imperial at that-but to the boy it would be a treasure. “Summon the other chancellors and ministers for me, boy. Tell them to meet me in my chambers at the ringing of the prior’s bells.”

The boy stared at the coin and nodded. “Yes, High Chancellor.”

Dusaan handed him the silver and walked on. Normally he would have entrusted only a guard with such a task, but he had no doubt that the boy would do as he was told. His fear of the high chancellor made that certain. And by paying him, Dusaan made a friend, one who might be of use to him later. “A well-placed coin,” it was said in the Braedon courts, “pays for itself tenfold.” In light of the success he had enjoyed in turning Qirsi all across the Forelands to his cause, the Weaver could hardly argue the point.

Returning to his quarters, Dusaan locked his door and pulled out the treasury accounting. He carried the volume to his writing table and lit a nearby oil lamp with a thought.

The past several turns had been difficult ones for him, the worst he had encountered since he first began bringing other Qirsi into his movement. First there was the failure in Kentigern during the growing turns when all his gold and hard work not only failed to bring war, but actually fostered an alliance between the houses of Curgh and Glyndwr in Eibithar. And now Pronjed’s rash decision to kill the king of Solkara had led to this poisoning and the death of Bistari’s first minister. By necessity, Dusaan had to rely on Qirsi who served in the Eandi courts. In order to win control of the Forelands, he had to defeat the Eandi nobles, and who better to help him with this than their most trusted advisors.

But while his ability to turn these men and women to his own purposes had been, thus far, his greatest strength, it had also revealed itself recently as his most dangerous vulnerability. He had come to Curtell to serve the emperor knowing already that he was a Weaver, and intending to use his influence and his powers to wrest control of the court from the Eandi. Most of those who had joined his movement, however, had once aspired to the positions they now held. They served him now, but once they had chosen to serve their Eandi nobles. They were, at root, just the sort of weak-minded traitors to the Qirsi people he most despised. He couldn’t succeed without them, yet as Shurik had shown in Kentigern, and Pronjed had made glaringly clear in Solkara, he might find eventually that he couldn’t succeed with them, either.

He couldn’t blame all of his troubles on others, he knew. His own carelessness had forced him to kill the high minister in the City of Kings. He still didn’t understand how he had managed to let the man see his face.

“Of course you do,” he murmured to himself, pausing over the accounting and rubbing his brow.

It was the woman. Cresenne. He had allowed himself to imagine her as his queen, though it should have been clear to him that she still loved this other man, the one who had fathered her child. Hearing Paegar speak of his love for Kearney’s archminister, Dusaan had been reminded of his own unrequited affections and his pain and rage at learning that she still longed for the gleaner. Before he understood fully what had happened, the light behind him had faded and Paegar had looked upon his face, he had seen the plains of his dreams for what they were, the moors near Ayvencalde. There had been nothing for Dusaan to do but kill the man.

Which meant that he needed someone new in the royal city of Eibithar.

Paegar had given him a name before he died. Keziah ja Dafydd. Another minister, another Qirsi who had pledged herself to the service of an Eandi noble. Still, the Weaver sensed that this one might be different, that she might be more. For one thing, she was a woman, and he had found over the years that among the ministers, the women served him far better than did the men. Enid in Thorald, Yaella in Mertesse, Abem in the court of Sanbira’s queen, in Yserne; all of them had proven their worth time and again. Even Cresenne, who had caused him so much anguish as of late, had been more valuable to him than the most powerful men he had turned. Keziah, he believed, would serve him just as well as the others.

But not only was she a woman, she was also, according to Paegar, the king’s lover. At least she had been before he took the throne. Theirs had been a forbidden love, which meant that it most likely had been a deep love as well. Even for a duke and his first minister, the risks of an affair between a Qirsi woman and Eandi man would have been too great for it to be anything less. Losing him had to have been a terrible blow, enough perhaps to leave her bitter and eager for vengeance. Such had been Paegar’s hope, and Dusaan found that he wanted to prove the man right, as a way of honoring him. He smiled at the thought. These were not sentiments he would usually have allowed himself, but in this instance they seemed justified.

Still, though she might hate her king now, enough perhaps to betray him without other incentive, the Weaver needed to be prepared to pay her. He had noticed that most of the women he turned did not have the same voracious appetite for gold that he observed in so many of the men. But neither did they refuse it when it was offered to them.

Finding gold in Braedon’s treasury had never been a problem for him. The challenge lay in turning the gold to his own purposes without raising the suspicions of the emperor or his other Qirsi. Fortunately, an empire as vast as Braedon had no shortage of expenses. By adding a few extra qinde to the allocation for the Braedon garrison on Enwyl Island, in the Gulf of Kreanna, for instance, or increasing slightly the allowance for the naval presence near Mistborne Island, at the top of the Scabbard, he could make the accounting look reasonable while creating a pool of gold which he could use without drawing attention to his activities. He never sent the garrisons or naval forces less than they needed, so no one ever complained. And since requests for gold came directly to him, no one else ever noticed the discrepancies.