“So you’re saying that the emperor owes fealty to us, just as we do to him?”
“In essence, yes.”
Gorlan raised an eyebrow. “An interesting notion, High Chancellor. Do you truly believe that the emperor would agree? Do you think he’d even approve?”
“I don’t think he would agree. As to whether he would approve, I can’t say that I care. I have little fear that he’ll ever know I feel this way.”
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence, as the other ministers and chancellors glanced furtively at one another.
“Yes,” Dusaan said. “There’s another measure of loyalty as well, isn’t there? How do we keep faith with each other? Would the emperor approve of all that’s said here? Of course not. But I believe that in times like these, we must be able to speak among ourselves with absolute candor, without worrying that one of us might run to the emperor like a tattling child to a parent. I would never reveal any of what you say to me in these discussions without your permission, and I expect the same courtesy.”
The words were velvet, but none of them could miss the steel lurking beneath. Yet the high chancellor wasn’t done.
“I don’t know how far the emperor’s distrust will take him. It may be that he hopes to begin our reconciliation today, or he may wish to inform me of his decision to banish all of us from his palace. I honestly don’t know. But you have my word that no matter his intentions, I won’t break faith with you. If we’re to leave Curtell, we’ll do so as one, and if we remain, we will all be stronger for having endured this ordeal together.”
“Do you really think it will come to that?” Stavel asked.
“I don’t know, Chancellor. I hope that it doesn’t, but I won’t try to mislead you with false assurances.”
The old Qirsi nodded, clearly unsettled by the entire conversation.
“And now if you’ll all excuse me, I’d like some time to prepare for my audience with the emperor. We’ll speak again, tomorrow.”
The other Qirsi rose from their seats and began to make their way toward the door, Stavel and many of the older chancellors looking as if they would have liked to ask more questions of Dusaan.
“Minister,” the high chancellor called to Gorlan. “I’d like you to remain here for a moment.” Then he turned to Nitara. “You as well, Minister.”
“Of course, High Chancellor.”
Once the rest had gone, Dusaan indicated the two chairs nearest his own with an open hand.
“Please sit.”
“I’m sorry if I angered you, High Chancellor,” Gorlan said, as if finally realizing just who it was he had thought to challenge a few moments before.
“Think nothing of it, Minister. I didn’t ask you to remain in order to wring an apology from you.”
“Then why?”
“Tell me what you think of the emperor.”
Gorlan’s brow creased with puzzlement. After a moment he shrugged. “I think him a fine leader. I’m honored to serve in his court, just as all of us are.”
Dusaan gave a small grin. “I see. And you, Nitara?” he asked, facing her.
She sensed what he wanted, and so answered accordingly. “I think him a fat fool who knows as little about statecraft as he does about the Qirsi. I serve him because he is, by dint of his birth, the most powerful and wealthy of Braedon’s Eandi. But I have little respect for him or his court.”
Gorlan just stared at her, as if unsure that he had heard her correctly.
“Our young friend here knows that she can speak her mind, that I betray no trust.”
“So you want to hear the same from me,” Gorlan said.
“I want to hear the truth from you.”
“All right. I find the emperor a difficult man to serve. His limitations are apparent enough to those who know him, and in the past turn he’s compounded these by treating his Qirsi with contempt.”
“Yet you were appalled when Kayiv told you that I had lied to the emperor about our counsel regarding the timing of the invasion.”
Gorlan looked at Nitara. “So much for trust.”
“There were several of you in that discussion, Minister. Any one of your companions could have told me that much.”
“Of course,” Gorlan said, though clearly he remained convinced that Nitara was the one who had.
“The point remains, however, that you were disturbed by the counsel I gave to Harel.”
“Your counsel had nothing to do with it, High Minister, nor did the fact that you lied to the man. What bothered me was your misrepresentation of the rest of us. If you believed that the emperor needed to start the invasion earlier than originally planned, you should have just advised him to do so, without mentioning the rest of us. That you didn’t do this tells me you were uncertain of the counsel you offered.”
Nitara glanced at the Weaver, expecting that he would be crimson with rage. Instead he was smiling, albeit with a hard look in his brilliant eyes.
“You don’t miss much, do you, Minister?”
“No, High Chancellor, I don’t.”
“What powers do you possess?”
Gorlan’s eyes narrowed. “Gleaning, mists and winds, and shaping. Why do you ask?”
Because he doesn’t wish you to know that he’s a Weaver. As a Weaver, Dusaan could discern the magics of all Qirsi near him. Apparently whatever he hoped to accomplish with this meeting did not include revealing his true powers to the minister.
“Why do you think?” Before Gorlan could answer, Dusaan turned to Nitara again. “Why do you think I asked, Minister?”
She hesitated. “I’m not certain, High Chancellor.”
“It’s all right. I think you do know, and you can speak freely. I intend to.”
She nodded, her hands abruptly trembling. “I think you asked because you want to know what powers Minister Gorlan might bring to the movement.”
Gorlan looked from one of them to the other. “The movement?”
“Very good, Nitara.”
“The movement,” the minister said again, still trying to work it out. “You mean the conspiracy, don’t you?”
“A crude term. Certainly it wouldn’t have been my choice. Then again, it does sound somewhat menacing, which can be useful.”
“You’re both with the conspiracy. Kayiv was right.”
“Kayiv is dead.”
“And is that why?”
“Kayiv was a fool. His death was incidental. He failed to see beyond his dislike of me, to the greater meaning of the movement. He couldn’t grasp all that it would mean to our people to overthrow the Eandi courts and rule the Forelands. I don’t expect you to make the same mistake. I believe you have far greater vision than he ever did. I hope I’m not mistaken.”
“Are you asking me to join? Are you telling me that if I don’t, I’ll end up dead as well?”
“Let’s just concern ourselves with your first question. Yes, I’d like you to join. We’re on the verge of victory. The invasion has begun, there’s civil war in Aneira, the queen of Sanbira is riding north to Eibithar, and Kearney of Glyndwr rules a land divided against itself. All the major powers of the Forelands will soon be tearing each other apart. And when they’re through, the Qirsi will rise up and destroy what’s left of them.”
Gorlan gave a small, breathless laugh. “You don’t lack for confidence.”
“No, I don’t. When we’ve won, those Qirsi who fought with us will help to rule the seven realms. Those who remained tethered to their Eandi masters will be executed as traitors to their people. The choice I’m giving you is a gift, one that I may not be extending to all who serve in the palace. You have a chance not only to save your life, but also to share in the glories that await those of us who lead this struggle.”