Diani knew that she should have been enraged. This might not have been her own Qirsi speaking to her so, but the woman was just a minister and Diani was a duchess. Instead she felt like crying. The criticism stung too much for her to respond at all. Hadn’t her father said the same thing to her before she left Yserne with Olesya’s army? Hadn’t the queen herself done so as well? Here she had thought to trick these women into revealing something of themselves, and all she had done was give them cause to hate her and question her motives.
“Yes, well, you shouldn’t presume to judge me, First Minister. If the attempt had been made on your life, you might feel differently.”
She knew that this made little sense, but she didn’t care. She only wished to be away from them, and without another word, she stalked off toward the river, her face flushed with shame. Diani no longer felt much like speaking with Naditia, but she had asked the minister where to look for the duchess, and she couldn’t very well walk in the opposite direction.
She found Naditia sitting on a large stone by the water’s edge, staring up at the rim of the steppe, a large hand raised to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. Seeing Diani approach, she stood, looking uncomfortable, as though she wished to be alone.
“Forgive the intrusion, Lady Macharzo.”
“Not at all. Has something happened?”
“No. The queen told me you might like some company after spending the day with the dukes.”
Naditia smiled at that. She was a large woman, built more like a man, and a powerful one at that. Her features were blunt, her yellow hair cropped short. It was said that she favored her father, and that this was unfortunate, for her mother, the old duchess of Macharzo, had been quite beautiful. But her smile softened her face, even made her pretty, in a coarse way.
“If I’m disturbing you, I’ll go.”
Naditia sat again, shaking her head. “It’s all right.”
Diani found a stone on which to sit, and gazed up at the steppe. Much of the cliff face was shrouded in shadow, but she could make out the rocky crags and gnarled old trees that lined the top. Swifts darted along the edge of the bluff, chasing one another in tight circles and veering so suddenly that it took her breath away just to watch them.
“The dukes weren’t that bad,” the duchess said after a long silence, her eyes still fixed on the ridge. “They mostly just talked to each other and ignored me.”
Others might have been offended by this, but Naditia, Diani knew, was so painfully shy that she probably was grateful.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. But I’m certain that if you wanted to ride with the queen tomorrow, she’d be pleased to have you join us. I know I would.”
The woman smiled again, glancing at Diani just for an instant, then shaking her head. “Thanks, but I should ride with my warriors.”
It was custom for the army of a lesser house to ride or march behind that of the queen. Because Macharzo was considered a weaker house than either Brugaosa or Norinde, Naditia’s warriors rode last in the column.
“I understand,” Diani said. “But I couldn’t do it. I’d rather ride alone than with Edamo and Alao.”
“If I was in your position I’d feel the same.”
“I’m not certain I know what you mean.”
Naditia looked panicked, as if she wished she hadn’t spoken. Why did everyone around her seem so afraid of making her angry?
“I shouldn’t have said that. I just was … I meant that with your brother … and then the attempt on your life. It’s no secret that Curlinte and Brugaosa have been enemies for a long time.”
“It’s all right. My father hates Edamo a lot more than I do. I actually believe that the conspiracy was behind both the attack on me and the murder of my brother.” She gave a small smile. “Still, I know what you mean. Edamo and I will never be friends.”
Naditia nodded, her relief palpable.
“Have you seen any evidence of the conspiracy in Macharzo?” Diani asked, thinking once more of her strange conversation with Naditia’s first minister.
“None at all. That doesn’t mean it’s not there, of course. Only that its members have been careful.”
“Do you trust your minister?”
“Craeffe?” She shrugged, a frown creasing her forehead. “I used to. I’m not certain anymore.”
“Why not?”
“She’s changed in recent turns, grown quieter, more sullen. But I’m sure I’ve changed, too. She may sense that I have doubts about her, and probably she resents it.”
“I often see her speaking with the archminister.”
Naditia stared at her, nodding. “I’ve noticed that, too. And she spends a good deal of time with Alao’s first minister. I believe they’re lovers.” She blushed and looked away. “Though that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe it does.” Diani paused. “Some time ago, not long after my first minister was killed, the queen asked me to keep watch on the archminister. I haven’t been able to prove anything yet, but I don’t trust her. If you’d be willing to keep an eye on her as well, along with your own minister and Alao’s, I’d be grateful.”
“Of course.”
Diani smiled. “Thank you.”
They spoke for a while longer. It turned out that Naditia remembered Diani’s mother quite vividly. Once, while visiting Yserne with her own mother, she had entered a chamber uninvited only to find Dalvia and the queen having a private conversation. The queen had said little, but Diani’s mother spoke to her quite sternly before sending the girl on her way. The incident had left enough of an impression that even after becoming Macharzo’s duchess, Naditia had still been intimidated by Dalvia.
“That sounds like mother,” Diani said, laughing at the story. “She was very kind, really, but she could seem terribly cross when she wanted to.”
“That’s a fine skill for a noble to have. I know, because I don’t.”
Diani grinned, realizing that she liked this woman far more than she had imagined she would.
A moment later, they heard voices calling out from west of the river. Scrambling up the riverbank with Naditia at her side, Diani saw that the archers had returned, carrying four stags, several does, and a good number of partridges.
“It seems we’re going to eat well tonight.”
Naditia nodded, and together they walked back to the camp.
* * *
“You’re a fool!” Abeni said under her breath, as she watched the duchess walk away. “You couldn’t just leave it, could you? You should have just answered her question and let it be. But no. You had to say more. ‘That’s not my way.’ Demons and fire, Craeffe! What were you thinking?”
“Calm yourself, cousin,” the minister said, though without her usual composure. “She’s just a dull-witted girl, barely old enough to rule her house.”
“And you’re an idiot. That dull-witted girl has managed to convince the queen that Kreazur’s death was more than it seemed.”
“That would seem to be your fault, wouldn’t it?”
“She has Olesya’s ear, and she’s just gone to speak with your duchess. If we give her cause to question our loyalty-as you just did-she’ll destroy us.”
Craeffe gave a small breathless laugh. “Now I know that you’re fretting for no reason. My duchess is no more a threat to this movement than my horse. Even if she learned something of our movement, she’d be too afraid to voice her suspicions. If her mother was still alive, perhaps I’d share your fears. But the daughter is nothing.”
“I hope you’re right. As it is, the Weaver won’t be pleased to hear about this.”
Craeffe blanched. “There really isn’t any need to mention it to him, is there, Chancellor?”
“That depends on you, Minister.”
Craeffe lowered her eyes. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to imply that you had made a mistake with Kreazur.”
“Yes, you did. But I’ll take that as an apology and assume that you won’t speak of it again.”
“I won’t, Chancellor,” the woman said through clenched teeth. “You have my word.”