Diani hesitated. “I’ll grant that I have cause to hate the conspiracy-more than most. And I’ll grant as well, that I trust few of them anymore.”
“Do you trust this Weaver in whom my king places so much faith?”
“He risked a great deal by revealing himself, my lord. You must admit that.”
“Perhaps. If his powers are as great as he claims, he might have risked less than you think. Even if we wished to put him to death, who among us could carry out the sentence?”
“A fair question. But Weavers have been executed in the past, as have their families, as I understand it.”
He frowned, looking toward his army. “So you do trust him.”
“Even if I didn’t, my lord, what could we do about it? I won’t defy my queen, and I’d advise you not to defy Kearney. Under Sanbira’s laws, doing so during war is tantamount to treason. I’d guess that the laws of your land are similar.”
The thane nodded. “They are. Don’t worry, my lady, I have no intention of holding back my soldiers or any such thing. But if I can prove this Qirsi a traitor, I will.”
“And if you can, my lord, you’ll have my support.”
He smiled at that. “Thank you, my lady. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I must see to my army.”
“Of course.”
Marston bowed to her and strode back to his men. Watching him go, Diani was surprised to find herself hoping that he’d fail. As much as she distrusted the white-hairs, she wanted this gleaner to prove himself an ally. She sensed that without him, they had little hope of defeating the renegades. Thinking this, she went in search of Abeni and the other Qirsi.
* * *
“He’s a Weaver!”
“Could he be our Weaver?”
“No. Our Weaver warned me about this man. He named him to me and told me that he was more than he claimed to be.”
“You never mentioned this to me!”
“No, Craeffe, I didn’t. There’s much I don’t tell you. You seem to forget with some frequency that I’m the Weaver’s chancellor, and you’re but one of his servants.”
“How dare-!”
Filtem laid a hand on Craeffe’s arm, silencing her. “What did the Weaver say we should do about this man, Archminister?”
She continued to glare at Craeffe a moment before responding. “He said we should do nothing. He’ll deal with the gleaner himself.”
“We may not have that luxury anymore,” Filtem said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve no doubt our Weaver knew of this man’s powers when he gave you that warning. But I’m equally sure our Weaver assumed the gleaner would keep his secret, and that this man’s fear of being discovered would keep him from harming our cause before the Weaver’s arrival. Clearly that’s no longer the case.”
“An interesting point. What do you suggest we do?”
“I wish I knew, Archminister.”
“You’re the chancellor,” Craeffe said, all bitterness and wounded pride. “Why don’t you think of something?”
“Craeffe-”
“It’s all right, Minister. She’s right. I will think of something.” Abeni glanced toward Brugaosa’s army. Vanjad, Edamo’s loyal minister, was returning. “We’ll talk more later.”
“Forgive me, Archminister,” Vanjad said, rejoining them. “My duke wished to know what I think of this Weaver in our midst.”
“Of course, Minister. What did you tell him?”
“Well, I don’t really know the man, but if he truly is a Weaver, and, if the threat we face is as grave as he says, we’re quite fortunate to have him on our side.” He glanced at the others, looking nervous and old. “Wouldn’t you agree? No doubt you’ve been speaking of him, as well.”
“Of course we agree, cousin,” Craeffe said. Her eyes flicked toward Abeni. “A Weaver. Who would have thought it possible?”
The archminister frowned. “Indeed.” She needed to end this conversation now, before Craeffe said something foolish. “You should return to your dukes. I intend to seek out the master of arms. With the queen occupied, he may need my help.”
“Yes, of course,” Vanjad said, always so eager to serve. “Thank you, Archminister.”
Craeffe eyed her briefly, as if she wanted to say more. In the end, though, she and Filtem walked off together without a word.
Intending to return to the queen’s army, the archminister turned, then froze. The duchess of Curlinte stood nearby, staring at her. How long had she been watching? And how had Abeni been so careless as to not notice her sooner? After a moment she nodded to the woman and continued as if nothing unusual had happened. But she still felt the duchess’s eyes upon her, and she cursed her own stupidity.
Diani of Curlinte, though, was the least of her concerns. Filtem was right. Her Weaver might have known of Grinsa jal Arriet’s powers, but he couldn’t have anticipated that he would reveal himself so soon, or that the sovereigns of both Eibithar and Sanbira would be so willing to embrace him as an ally.
Don’t approach her unless you absolutely must, the Weaver had told her. The risks are far too great.
What choice did Abeni have now? The time had come to forge an alliance of her own, with Kearney’s archminister.
* * *
“It’s about time,” Kearney mumbled, when at last they saw the four Braedony captains riding out to join them.
By the gleaner’s reckoning they had been waiting on horseback for the better part of an hour, watching for some sign that the empire’s army would respond to their flag of truce. They heard a few jeers as they sat, and they noticed the Braedony archers positioning themselves to the west, where the slow winds blowing that morning would be of most aid should it come to an attack.
“You can protect us, can’t you, gleaner?” Kearney asked at the time, eyeing the bowmen.
“I certainly hope so, Your Majesty,” Grinsa said drily.
Kearney had given him a sharp look. Olesya laughed aloud.
Now, watching the captains approach, the king shook his head. “This isn’t going to work,” he muttered.
“We don’t know that yet, Your Majesty.”
“Actually, gleaner, we do. These men are soldiers-battle commanders. There’s no one here from the court. Either they’re dead, or Harel never sent anyone. These captains haven’t the authority to do what we ask.”
Grinsa glanced at the king. “So, what do we do?”
“We talk. We try anyway. We’ve offered the flag. There’s no sense in turning back now. But stay alert. This could end badly.”
The captains reined to a halt a short distance away. It took Grinsa but a moment to understand that the gap they had left would be enough to ensure their safety should the archers loose their arrows.
One of the captains, a bald man, clearly several years older than the other three, raised a hand in greeting. “Your Majesty, Your Highness. What is it you want?”
“To discuss terms of peace, Captain. Isn’t that clear?”
“So you’re ready to surrender?”
Kearney laughed, though his eyes were hard as emeralds. “With the men who arrived yesterday, we have the larger force by far. Why would we surrender to you?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty. But you fly the truce flag, you call us out here to discuss peace. Surely you don’t expect us to surrender.”
“I don’t seek surrender on either side, Captain. I wish for a truce. Indeed, I wish to forge an alliance.”
The man’s eyebrows went up. “An alliance?” He cast a quick look at the other men, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “An alliance against whom, Your Majesty?”
“Has word of the Qirsi conspiracy reached Braedon?”
“Of course it has. You’re not speaking of Uulrann, Your Majesty. We are the Braedon empire.”
“Then you understand the danger posed by these renegades.”
“Yes. But I don’t see what any of this has to do with the war we’re fighting.”
“Even as we speak, Captain, a Qirsi army rides toward us, led by a Weaver and composed of enough sorcerers to destroy either of our armies. But if we unite, if we fight the traitors together, we may yet prevail.”