Fotir bristled. “With all respect, Lord Labruinn, I find what you’ve said offensive.”
“As do I.”
Everyone in the chamber turned to look at Tavis.
“If it wasn’t for the Qirsi I never would have escaped from Kentigern. In all likelihood I’d be dead by now.”
Marston gave a small laugh. “My Lord Curgh,” he said, as if speaking to a child. “If it wasn’t for the Qirsi, you might never have been in Kentigern’s dungeon in the first place. Lady Brienne would still be alive and you would be in line behind your father for the throne.”
“That’s true, Lord Shanstead. Not all the Qirsi can be trusted. But neither can they all be dismissed as traitors. Even I can see that, though I have more cause than any of you to hate them.”
“The boy makes a good point,” Gershon said from the far corner of the chamber. Then his face reddened. “I mean Lord Curgh. Forgive me, my lord.”
Tavis actually smiled. “Apology accepted, swordmaster.”
The king stood, compelling the rest of them to their feet. “I’ll consider a response to the queen of Sanbira,” he said. “As to the rest. .” He faltered, his eyes straying to Keziah for just an instant. “We’ll speak of it again tomorrow.”
The nobles and ministers bowed to him and began to file out of the chamber. Keziah lingered a moment, and Grinsa with her. She hoped that Kearney would call her back. Perhaps if she could talk to him, she might allay whatever fears Marston had planted in the king’s mind. But Kearney kept silent and soon she and Grinsa were in the corridor.
Tavis was waiting for them. It struck her as strange that this young lord, whom she still thought of as spoiled and undisciplined, should be the most vocal defender of the Qirsi among all the gathered nobles. Even stranger, Gershon Trasker had been the only person to agree with him.
“You think it was him,” Grinsa said to the boy without preamble.
“I think he was behind it, yes. According to the message, the assassins are all dead. But I find it difficult to believe that the singer would have allowed himself to be killed.”
“You almost managed it in Mertesse.”
Tavis’s eyes narrowed, as if he thought Grinsa were mocking him. “I was fortunate, and you know it.”
Grinsa looked away, twisting his mouth sourly. There was more to this than Keziah could possibly have understood. “So, you think we should go to Sanbira,” he said.
“If we’re going to look for him, we should start there.”
If we’re going to look for him. . The words hung between them like a lofted arrow between two armies. A challenge.
“You can’t go,” Keziah said. She watched Grinsa, searching for some response. When he offered none, she turned her glare on the boy. “You know that he can’t. Without him, Cresenne will die.” She realized there were guards nearby and she started down the corridor away from them, drawing Tavis and Grinsa after her as if by the sheer force of her will. She didn’t stop until they had reached her chamber and she had sent away the servants and closed the door. “Cresenne needs Grinsa here,” she began once more, keeping her voice as low as her emotions allowed. “It’s just a matter of time before the Weaver tries again to kill her. We all know it, just as we all know that Grinsa is the only one who can protect her, the only one who can pull her from the dreams.”
“Keziah-”
“I know that you want vengeance,” she said to the boy, ignoring her brother. “I can even understand why you might need it. But it’s more important that he remain here.”
“Then, I’ll go alone.”
“No,” Grinsa said, “you won’t.”
“I don’t answer to you, gleaner.”
“I know you don’t. That’s not what I meant.”
The boy said nothing, looking more astonished than relieved.
Keziah could think of nothing to say. Grinsa couldn’t leave the castle; it was as obvious to her as the scars on Cresenne’s face, as clear as the sound of Bryntelle’s cries. Whatever he owed this young lord, whatever they had shared during their travels through Aneira, none of it could mean as much to Grinsa as his family. Surely he knew that.
“You can’t mean that you intend to leave with him,” she finally managed in a quavering voice.
“I do.”
“But-”
He held up a hand, silencing her. “There’s more at work here than my wishes, more to this than any of us can understand.”
“Your dream.”
She looked at Tavis, then turned back to Grinsa. “What dream?”
He was eyeing the boy. “I had a vision last night. I saw Tavis fighting the assassin on the shores of the Wethy Crown. I don’t know the outcome; I’m not entirely certain what it meant. But it seems the gods are telling me to go.”
“You can’t know that.”
At last he met her gaze. “Cresenne dreamed that I’d be leaving.”
Keziah opened her mouth to argue, closed it again. She couldn’t begin to guess what it might mean. She wished she could deny that it meant anything at all, but she knew better, possessing gleaning magic herself.
“But who’ll protect her?” she asked, tears stinging her eyes. “Who’ll protect me?”
Grinsa stepped past the boy and gathered her in his arms. “You’re the answer to both questions, Kezi,” he whispered.
“I can’t protect her from a Weaver.”
“He expects you to kill her. He won’t do anything himself so long as he believes he can count on you. You told me yourself that he intends this as a test of your commitment to the movement. He’ll give you every opportunity to succeed, because he has ample reason to want you to.”
She clung to him, laying her cheek against his broad chest. “But I can’t put him off forever. Eventually he’ll lose patience with me, and then we’ll both die.”
“Tavis and I won’t be gone that long.”
“You’re going to the Crown, Grinsa, and then you’ll be searching for a single man. This could take you half the year.”
“It won’t. Can you prevail upon Kearney to give us two mounts?”
The familiar twisting in her chest nearly made her wince. “I don’t think I can convince him to do anything anymore.”
“I can,” Tavis said. “Or more precisely, my father can.”
“But will he?” Grinsa asked. “He won’t want you to leave. Certainly not for this.”
“He won’t want me to, but he’ll let me.”
“All right,” Grinsa said. He looked down at Keziah. “Tavis and I will ride to Rennach, which shouldn’t take us more than five or six days, if we push the horses a bit. From there we’ll find passage on a merchant ship to the Crown.”
“A ship?” Tavis asked.
“Yes, of course. Riding all the way around the gulf and up the peninsula would take far too long.” He eyed the young lord. “Is that a problem?”
Tavis looked away. “I don’t fare well on ships. I never have.”
“If the weather’s reasonably fair, the crossing should take less than a day. It’s not like crossing the Scabbard during the snows. This time of year the Gulf of Kreanna is actually rather pleasant.”
Tavis nodded, clearly unconvinced.
Grinsa looked at Keziah once more. “My point is, we can be in Helke in seven or eight days.”
“But then you have to find the assassin.”
“I dreamed of him, Keziah. I know where to look.”
She wanted to say more, to argue the point until he changed his mind. But that wasn’t Grinsa’s way. He knew just as she did what he was risking. No doubt he realized as well that the journey he was about to undertake wouldn’t be as easy as he made it sound.
For several moments she and her brother stared at one another, until finally, his eyes still locked on hers, Grinsa said, “Tavis, you should tell your parents that we’re planning to leave. See if you can get those horses.”
“When will we be going?”
“Tomorrow morning, at first light.”
“All right.” He regarded them both for a moment, then let himself out of the chamber, leaving Keziah and Grinsa alone.