Kearney sat again, looking confused and more than a bit frightened. “He defeated Harel? You’re certain?”
“Yes. He also took Ayvencalde, and though he didn’t say so, his presence on the Moorlands tells me that he defeated Galdasten as well.”
The king stared at the candle flame. “Demons and fire.”
“Please, Your Majesty. Make peace with the empire’s men. It may be our only hope.”
“I’ll think on it.” He looked up, meeting the gleaner’s gaze. “Truly, I will.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Grinsa bowed, then left the tent, wondering if even an alliance between Eibithar and her enemies would be enough to withstand the Weaver’s onslaught. The king, he realized, was depending upon him to win this war. So were Keziah and Fotir and Tavis. The others might revile him when first he revealed himself as a Weaver, but with time they would see him much the same way. He was their hope, and yet he had no hope himself. This, as much as anything, explained why Dusaan had been right, why Grinsa hadn’t mentioned to Kearney the ease with which the Weaver took hold of his magic.
Chapter Fifteen
Diani awoke before dawn, roused from her slumber by the voices of soldiers around her, the ring of steel as swords were drawn, checked for notches, and resheathed, the impatient snorting and stomping of the horses, and the jangling of saddles being fastened. She sat up, winced at the pain. Every muscle in her body was screaming. Her back and legs were so stiff that she wondered how she would ever manage to stand, much less fight. The previous day’s battle had been her first, and though she had come through it unscathed save for a few small cuts and bruises, she knew already that she was no warrior. Her ability to avoid injury was due far more to her skill as a rider than to any prowess with the blade. She had inflicted no more wounds than she had sustained. Mostly she had sought to stay alive and to keep out of the way of Sanbira’s real soldiers.
Much to Diani’s surprise, Naditia was one of them. The duchess of Macharzo, so painfully shy during audiences with the queen and in private conversations alike, was a skilled and powerful fighter. She wielded her blade aggressively and with uncommon agility, and she was as fearless in battle as she was shy at court. It seemed to Diani that the woman had been born for combat. More than once during the course of the previous day, Naditia had saved Diani’s life. Yet after the fighting ended, she instantly became again an awkward, tongue-tied young duchess.
Sweating and out of breath, too relieved by the end of combat to care how her army had fared, Diani thanked the woman for protecting her.
“You fight magnificently,” she said. “I wish I wielded a blade as you do.”
Naditia had given an embarrassed smile and ducked her head, swiping at the hair that clung to her damp brow. “My father taught me.”
“You almost seem to enjoy it.”
The tall woman shrugged. “I do. As long as I’m fighting, I don’t have to say anything.”
Struggling to get to her feet on this cool, dark morning, gasping at the pain of every movement, Diani wondered if Macharzo’s duchess was actually looking forward to another day of battle. Ean knew that Diani was not. She stood for a moment, stretching her back, then walked stiffly to where the queen and her master of arms were eating a small breakfast. Both were already dressed for battle. Abeni, the queen’s archminister, lurked nearby, ghostly pale in the dim light.
“Good morning, Lady Curlinte,” Olesya called as she approached. “Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you, Your Highness.”
“You should have something, Diani. If the fighting begins again, there’s no telling when you’ll have a chance to eat.”
Reluctantly, Diani took some bread and a piece of hard cheese, thanking the queen and, as an afterthought, Ohan as well. “Do you expect the fighting to begin soon?” she asked between bites.
“I don’t know. We’re awaiting word from Eibithar’s king.”
“If the Braedony army chooses not to attack,” the swordmaster added, “I expect that Kearney won’t force the matter.” From his tone, it seemed that Ohan thought this a mistake on the king’s part.
Diani felt differently. “Then let’s hope the enemy thinks better of it,” she said.
Olesya nodded. “Indeed.”
They continued to eat, saying little, as the sky slowly brightened. Gazing northward, Diani saw no sign that the empire’s men were readying themselves for battle. There was some movement in the Braedony camp, but nothing threatening. One by one, the other nobles joined them, Naditia first, the dukes of Norinde and Brugaosa soon after. Their Qirsi came with them, joining the archminister a short distance off and speaking in hushed tones among themselves.
“I still think we should take the battle to them,” Ohan said at last, his eyes fixed on the enemy lines.
Alao glanced at the master of arms. “I tend to agree. With the men who joined Kearney’s force yesterday, we have enough to overwhelm Braedon’s force. Let’s attack and be done with it.”
“It’s not our decision to make, Lord Norinde,” the queen said.
“I mean no disrespect, Your Highness, but I must say I find that troubling as well. It’s bad enough that we’ve allowed ourselves to be entangled in Eibithar’s conflict with the empire. But for us to submit to the king’s authority seems to me foolhardy and dangerous.”
“Yes, Lord Norinde,” Olesya said, sounding weary. “I’m quite aware that were you sovereign, matters would be very different. But you’re not, and I have made my decision. Kearney appealed to us for aid and we chose to grant it. You disagreed at the time, and you’ve made it clear that you still think our course an unwise one. Repeating your opinion will accomplish nothing, save to annoy me further.”
Alao’s face turned crimson, and there was rage in his eyes. But he nodded once, and said simply, “Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’ll raise the matter of the battle with Kearney when I can. In truth, I don’t relish the idea of waiting for another assault either.”
A few moments later an Eibitharian soldier approached, resplendent in purple and gold. He bowed to the queen and told her that his king requested a word with her at her convenience.
“Did he want me alone?” Olesya asked.
“No, Your Highness. He asks that you bring your nobles and ministers.”
“My ministers?”
“Yes, Your Highness. He made a point of that.”
“Very well,” the queen said, frowning slightly. “Tell him we’ll be along shortly.”
The man bowed a second time and left them.
“Now he’s summoning us, as if we served in his court.”
“Oh, Alao, do be quiet! He did nothing of the sort.” She looked at Diani. “It is strange, though, that he’s asked us to bring the Qirsi.”
It was more than strange; it was disturbing. In this instance, Diani agreed with the duke of Norinde. By asking the queen to bring her Qirsi, Kearney had overstepped propriety and whatever authority he held on this battle plain. More to the point, from what Diani had observed in her short time with the king of Eibithar, the man placed far too much faith in the white-hairs. It almost seemed that he had never heard of the conspiracy, that nothing had happened in the past year to shake his faith in the loyalty of his ministers. She wanted to speak against honoring Kearney’s request, but after hearing Olesya reprimand the duke, she didn’t dare.
“Yes, Your Highness, it is strange,” was all she said.
“Still, I’m sure he has his reasons.”
The queen beckoned to Abeni, who led the other Qirsi to where Olesya and her nobles stood.
“The king wishes to speak with us, Archminister. We’re to join him at his camp presently.”
“Very good, Your Highness,” the archminister said, with a smile that was clearly forced. “We’ll wait for you here.”
“Actually, Archminister, Kearney has asked that you and the ministers come with us.”