As it happened, this wasn’t the case. Under the queens of Yserne Sanbira had become one of the dominant powers of the Forelands, and even with the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde continuing to challenge Yserne authority from time to time, the realm had never since been in any danger of falling to an invader.
One reason for this was the geographic position of the royal house. Located in the center of the realm, it was protected on all sides by the duchies, none of which was more than forty leagues from the royal city. In times of crisis, when the queen wished to meet with her duchesses and dukes, she could summon them, knowing that even the most remote house, Kinsarta, was no more than ten days’ ride from her walls.
Thus, when Olesya sent messages to the other houses, asking the leading nobles to Yserne to discuss the attempts on Diani’s life, she and the duchess had only to wait a bit more than half a turn for the others to arrive. Not surprisingly, Edamo of Brugaosa and Alao of Norinde, were the last to reach the royal city, and in fairness, though Kinsarta was farther from Yserne than the northern dukedoms, Ajy’s ride across Morna’s Plain was far easier than the route taken by either duke.
Still, it was nearly two days after Ajy’s arrival before the dukes finally rode into the city; when they rode in together, it was clear to all that they had met to discuss matters before continuing on to the queen’s castle. Meeting them at the castle gate with the duchesses and their ministers, Olesya made no effort to hide her displeasure.
“I didn’t know that the journey from Brugaosa would take you so close to Norinde, Lord Brugaosa,” she said to Edamo, smiling thinly.
The duke smiled as well. He looked far older than Diani remembered. He had been handsome once, with fine features and a thick shock of wheat-colored hair. But his hair was white now, and thinning, and his cheeks looked sunken, his skin sallow. His face seemed too sharp, like the jagged edge of a shattered old dish. She still thought it likely that her brother, Cyro, had been murdered by the conspiracy rather than by the Brugaosans, as her father believed. But even so, she could not help but hate this man. There had even been times, more recent than she cared to admit, when she had wished for his death.
“We met near the northeast edge of Lake Yserne, Your Highness,” he said. “Surely you didn’t expect me to ride across the lake.”
Norinde laughed, but none of the others did.
The queen regarded Alao for a moment, long enough to silence the young duke, before facing Edamo once more. “Surely steering a mount across such a small expanse of water is nothing for a man of your many talents.”
“I assure you, Your Highness,” Brugaosa said, wisely choosing to ignore the gibe, “ours was a chance meeting. And it made the last portion of both our journeys far less tedious.”
Her smile was a match for the duke’s. “I’m so glad. Be welcome, both of you,” she added, turning away, her tone brusque. “As soon as you’ve changed out of your riding clothes you’re to join the rest of us in my presence chamber. Don’t keep us waiting any longer than necessary.”
Diani had thought that the dukes would use the opportunity to goad her once more, but they seemed to gauge her mood with some care. They arrived in the chamber far sooner than the duchess expected, bowing as they entered and taking seats together at the far end of the table, opposite Olesya.
Once again, Diani noticed that she was the only noble not to have brought her Qirsi minister with her. To be sure, none of them knew why the queen had summoned them; it was quite possible that once they learned of the assassination attempts they would grow more wary of their Qirsi. Nevertheless, she found herself wishing that Kreazur had come, or rather, that she had asked him to join her. The message she sent back to Curlinte merely instructed the captain of her army to free the first minister and the other Qirsi who served her. She did not invite Kreazur to join her in Yserne, and now, sitting among the other duchesses and dukes, all of whom were older and far more experienced than she, Diani regretted it.
“I thank all of you for coming,” the queen began, standing at her place, sunlight from the window shining in her black-and-silver hair. “All of you journeyed far, and at a moment’s notice, and I know that few of us like to be abroad this early in the year. But these are extraordinary times that will demand more of us still before we see their end.”
“What’s happened, Your Highness?” asked Vasyonne, duchess of Listaal. Next to Diani, she was the youngest of the duchesses, though Diani’s mother had often spoken quite highly of her. She wore her black hair short, just as the queen did, and had a square, expressive face. “Why have you called us here?”
“There’s been an attack on one of our own, and I believe it presages more such incidents to come.”
“What kind of attack?” Edamo asked.
“An assassination attempt-two, actually-on the duchess of Curlinte.”
“By whom?”
The queen glanced at Diani and gave a small nod, lowering herself into her chair.
“Archers the first time,” she said. She had carried one of the arrow shafts with her from her home and she brought it forth now, tossing it onto the table. “They had shaved heads and wore the dun cloaks of northern riders.”
Vasyonne leaned forward, examining the arrow. “Blue and yellow,” she said, looking at Edamo. “Those are Brugaosan colors, aren’t they, Lord Brugaosa?”
What?” He stood, snatching the arrow off the table to get a better look. “Brugaosa had nothing to do with this! We’d have nothing to gain from it!”
Vasyonne grinned, though there was a hard glint in her brown eyes. “I believe what you mean to say is, ‘I bear my friends in Curlinte no ill will.’ ”
“Thank you, Lady Listaal, but I daresay I know better than you or anyone else what I meant to say.”
“Agents of Brugaosa have already struck at House Curlinte once, killing the duchess’s brother. Perhaps you thought-”
“Brugaosa had nothing to do with Cyro’s death!”
“So you’ve claimed before.”
Edamo leveled the arrow at Vasyonne as though it were a sword. “You dare to call me a liar?”
“Stop it!” the queen commanded. “We’re here to speak of the attacks on Diani.”
Rashel of Trescarri faced the queen. “You said there were two attempts, Your Highness.”
“Yes.”
“The second was carried out by a man dressed as a soldier of Kretsaal,” Diani said. “We believe that he killed the archers, and he fought until we had no choice but to kill him as well. We never had the opportunity to question him.”
Vasyonne continued to eye Edamo, as if expecting the duke to flee the castle at any moment. “Do you believe he was Brugaosan as well?”
“No,” Diani said. “He spoke with a Wethy accent.” She looked once more to the queen, who nodded a second time. “We don’t think the archers were Brugaosan either.”
Vasyonne frowned. “You don’t?”
Edamo was staring at her. “You think the arrow was intended to make your death seem the work of Brugaosans.”
“Yes.”
“The conspiracy?”
He might have been an enemy of both the queen and House Curlinte, a man to be watched with caution, but he was clever.
“We believe so, yes.”
“Do you have evidence of this?” Alao asked.
The queen shook her head. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”
“So this is merely a guess.”
“Surely, Lord Norinde, you don’t believe House Brugaosa was behind this.”
“Of course not, Your Highness,” he said, his tone almost insolent. He was just the opposite of Edamo in so many ways. Where the older duke was elegant and smooth, this man was blunt in both features and manner, possessing little grace. If Edamo was a Sanbiri blade, albeit a notched one, this man was a war hammer. Still, playing the part of apprentice to Lord Brugaosa, he had learned well the art of statecraft. In many ways, he was far more dangerous than Edamo, for he would be wielding power in the North long after the queen and most of her allies had died or handed power to their daughters. “But it may be,” he went on, “that agents of Wethyrn were responsible, or even other houses of Sanbira who wish to sully Lord Brugaosa’s good name.”