“Yes, my lord. Given the weather and how early it is in the new turn, I’ve feared the worst.”
“War, you mean?” the regent said with a small laugh. “No, it’s nothing that dire. At least not yet. Actually, Lord Dantrielle, I’ve been abroad for some time now. I’ve just come from Orvinti, and Bistari before that.”
“My lord?”
“After all that happened following Carden’s death, in particular the poisoning and the decision of the dukes to pass over Henthas in my favor, I thought it best to speak privately with all of Aneira’s dukes. To reassure them. I may only be regent, but for the next several years, I’ll be leading this kingdom, commanding her armies and protecting her people. With your help, of course. I thought it best that we take the time to become better acquainted.”
Tebeo eyed the man with unconcealed surprise. “A most noble endeavor, my lord. I never. .” He hesitated, as if uncertain as to how he should continue. “All leaders should think as you do.”
Numar smiled. “You never thought a Renbrere would do such a thing. Is that what you were going to say?”
Tebeo’s round face shaded to crimson.
“It’s all right, Lord Dantrielle. Your friend Lord Orvinti was as astounded as you are. And the new duke of Bistari nearly choked when I told him why I had come.”
Tebeo laughed. House Bistari and House Solkara had been bitter rivals for centuries. Any gesture of friendship between them would have been cause for astonishment.
“You intend to go to all the dukedoms, my lord?”
“In time, yes. I’ll return to Solkara from here. When the planting begins I’ll ride north to Mertesse. The lesser houses can wait, but I wanted to visit our most powerful houses as soon as possible.”
Tebeo gave a modest smile. “Again, my lord, you honor us.”
“I merely point out what we both know to be true, Lord Dantrielle.” The regent paused. “May I call you Tebeo?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“One of the things my eldest brother never understood, Tebeo, is that in order to rule Aneira, a king must seek to unite its most powerful houses. As it happens, my father, as great a ruler as he was, never understood this either. Both of them remained so committed to Solkara’s foolish feud with Bistari that they never allowed our kingdom to realize its true promise.”
Tebeo shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “Its true promise, my lord?”
“Yes. Right now Aneira is considered a secondary realm in the Forelands. Oh, most would say that we’ve a more formidable army than Caerisse or Wethyrn, but when compared to Braedon or Eibithar, or even Sanbira, we’re seen as a lesser power.”
“Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but I’m not certain that I agree with you.”
Numar raised an eyebrow. “Really.”
“No one doubts that the Eibitharians hate us as much as we hate them. Yet they’ve done nothing to provoke a war. In fact, it seems to me that they’ve tried their best to avoid any conflict with us in recent years. Why would they do this if they thought us weak?”
The regent gave a brittle smile. “You don’t like to speak of war, do you, Tebeo?”
The duke’s gaze remained steady, though his face appeared to pale slightly. “No, my lord, I don’t. Regardless of how strong we are, Aneira is surrounded by hostile realms. I fear that any war with Eibithar would be harmful to our kingdom.”
“What if we had the support of the empire? What if we could prevail upon the king of Caerisse to join our cause? We wouldn’t be surrounded then.”
Evanthya glanced at Pronjed, who was gazing at the fire, his face impassive. After a moment, as if sensing her eyes upon him, he looked her way, but she could gauge nothing from his expression.
“It seems you’ve given this a good deal of thought, my lord,” the duke said, his voice low.
“As leader of the kingdom, I have little choice but to think in such terms.”
“Does the emperor of Braedon continue to make overtures regarding an attack on Eibithar?”
“Harel has made it clear to me,” Numar began, seeming to choose his words with care, “as he did to my brother before me, that the empire views a conflict with Eibithar as inevitable. The two realms are party to so many disputes that a negotiated peace is out of the question. I suppose we could simply stand by and await the outcome. But if Eibithar manages to prevail, then our most bitter enemy in all the land will also be the preeminent power in all the land. Or we could join with Braedon, ensuring her success, and sharing in the spoils of that victory.” The regent shrugged. “It seems an easy choice to me.”
Tebeo looked deeply troubled, but he nodded and murmured, “Yes, my lord.”
“Brall agreed with me, Tebeo. And even Bistari’s new duke admitted to seeing the logic in this approach, though he reserved his judgment for now.”
“What of the queen, my lord? Does she agree as well?”
Numar seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “The girl? You expect me to consult with her on such matters? She’s but a child.”
“Forgive me, my lord. I meant the queen mother. Chofya.”
Carden’s widow, the daughter of a lesser noble whose beauty had attracted the eye of the young lord, much to the chagrin of his father, who had intended to marry Carden to the daughter of a more powerful house.
“Chofya,” Numar repeated, his expression darkening. “To be honest with you, Tebeo, I saw no need to discuss the matter with her either. She cares for the girl and she manages many of the social affairs of the dukedom, for which my brother Henthas has neither patience nor aptitude. But she is no statesman.”
“Of course not, my lord.”
The regent smiled, and again it looked forced. “Perhaps I should retire to my quarters for a time. My ride has left me weary, and I sense that our discussion is not going as either one of us might have hoped.”
Numar stood, as did Tebeo, who bowed to the regent as he had at the city gate. “I hope my lord finds his quarters satisfactory.”
“I’m sure I will. The hospitality of House Dantrielle is legendary throughout the realm.”
“Thank you, my lord. We will feast in the great hall this evening, at your convenience, of course.”
Numar was already striding to the door. “I’ll look forward to it.” He stopped, with his hand resting lightly on the door handle and turned to face the duke again. “Would Chofya’s opinion truly have mattered to you, Tebeo?” he asked. “Would you trust her judgment more than you would mine?”
Evanthya held her breath, her eyes flitting from the regent to her duke and back again. She sensed that their conversation had taken a most perilous turn. Tebeo seemed to understand this as well, for he cleared his throat, his gaze straying to her face for just an instant.
“No, my lord, I wouldn’t,” he said, facing the regent again. “As you observed before, I’m discomfited by discussions of war. Given the choice between going to war and maintaining the peace, I would invariably choose the latter. No doubt this makes me a poor leader, one who is far better suited to running a dukedom than an entire kingdom. I merely asked about the queen mother because I wished to know if any others in the realm share my concerns. I meant no offense.”
Numar smiled again, and this time it appeared genuine. “Then I’ll take none and will look forward to dining with you and the duchess this evening.”
He pulled open the door and left the chamber, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. Pronjed started to follow, then hesitated, turning once more to face Evanthya.
“May I have a word with you, First Minister?” He glanced at the duke. “With your permission, of course, my lord.”
“What?” Tebeo said, obviously distracted. “Oh, yes. That would be fine.” He waved a hand vaguely toward the door. “You may accompany him back to his chamber, First Minister.”
I’d rather not. “Yes, my lord.” She followed the archminister into the hallway, pulling the duke’s door closed behind her.
They began to walk toward the west end of the castle, where the guest chambers were located, neither of them speaking.