A lengthy pause, and then, “You’d be the only one of us.”
Evanthya frowned. “My lord?”
“Men from Mertesse and Solkara marched north to fight the Eibitharians, but I doubt that they’ll join forces with the enemy to fight this Weaver and his renegades. And even if we had a king to lead us, I’m not certain that we could provision an army and send it north in time to take part in a war against the conspiracy. Be it through our own foolishness or the machinations of the traitors, Aneira has been effectively removed from this battle. You’d be the only one of us who could strike a blow.”
She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Does that mean you’ll let me go, my lord?”
He exhaled heavily, his whole frame seeming to sag with his surrender. “I must be mad,” he muttered.
“My lord?”
“I won’t try to stop you.”
Her heart was pounding once more, with excitement, with fear, with the anticipation of war. “And the archminister?”
“You say that if there’s only one guard up there, he won’t harm the man?”
“He’d have no reason to.”
“Save for his hatred of the Eandi.”
She shrugged, then nodded, conceding the point.
Before she could answer, there came a knock at the door. Tebeo stared at her a moment, before calling for whoever had come to enter. The door opened and Gabrys DinTavo, Tebeo’s master of arms, entered the chamber.
Seeing Evanthya, the man hesitated and gave a small nod. Then he faced the duke and bowed.
“You sent for me, my lord?”
“Yes, armsmaster.” The duke returned to his writing table and sat, his face pale. “How many men do we currently have standing guard in the prison tower?”
Gabrys cast a quick glance at Evanthya. “There are four, my lord, two each outside the chambers of the regent and archminister. Plus we have men in the ward outside the tower, and along the corridors that lead to it. That would be sixteen men in all, my lord.”
“That strikes me as being quite a few.”
“Yes, my lord. It would be for ordinary prisoners. But these men are far from ordinary. We’ve felt all along that one or both of them may try to escape.”
“But wouldn’t we be well served to have some of these men working on the ramparts and battlements? The repairs are going slowly.”
The master of arms looked at Evanthya once more, suspicion in his dark eyes.
“Perhaps he should know, my lord,” she said, thinking again of the soldiers outside Pronjed’s chamber.
Tebeo nodded. “Very well.”
“Know what, my lord?”
“We intend to allow the archminister to escape. I want only one guard positioned by his door, and I want the south corridor on the ground level cleared of men entirely.”
To Gabrys’s credit, he offered no reaction, other than to say, “May I ask why, my lord?”
“This was my idea, armsmaster,” Evanthya said. “I’m going to follow him when he leaves the castle. I believe Pronjed can lead me to … to the leaders of the Qirsi conspiracy.”
Before becoming master of arms, Gabrys had seemed wary of her, as so many Eandi warriors are distrustful of all Qirsi. But after Tebeo named him as successor to Bausef DarLesta, who was killed during the recent siege, the new master of arms put aside his suspicions, appearing to recognize that Evanthya had the duke’s trust. And Gabrys, of all people, understood how desperately she fought to save Castle Dantrielle. She sensed that he no longer doubted her loyalty.
Still, she was not yet ready to reveal to him that she sought her beloved. And he was not ready to trust her on this matter.
“With all respect, First Minister, this is madness. What’s to stop him from killing you once he’s free? For that matter, what’s to stop him from helping the regent escape and allowing the Solkarans to menace us once more?”
She shook her head. “He has no interest in helping the regent, armsmaster. All he wants to do is go north to join his fellow renegades. As for killing me…” She looked away. “That’s my concern, not yours.”
“My lord-”
“I know what you’re going to say, Gabrys. I’ve already argued as you would. But Evanthya has convinced me that we risk more by trying to keep the archminister here. He means to escape, and given the powers he wields, we’ll have a difficult time stopping him.”
“We can put him in the dungeon.”
To her horror, Tebeo appeared to consider this.
“Please don’t,” Evanthya said, crying again, cursing herself for her weakness. “You have to understand, armsmaster. I need this man. No one else can help me find her.” She regretted the words as soon as they crossed her lips.
“Her?” the master of arms repeated, his eyes narrowing.
“It’s all right, Gabrys,” the duke said quietly. “She refers to Lord Orvinti’s first minister. She believes the archminister can lead us to her as well.”
The man frowned. “Again, my lord, I must advise you not to do this.”
“I know. I share your concern, Gabrys, but against my better judgment I’m going to do as Evanthya requests.”
Gabrys was a soldier, and Evanthya had to give him credit for his discipline. Clearly he wished to argue the matter further, but he nodded once, not even glancing in the first minister’s direction, and said, “Is there anything else, my lord?”
“No, armsmaster, thank you. See to the removal of the guards.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He let himself out of the chamber, closing the door quietly, and leaving Evanthya alone with her duke. Perhaps for the last time.
“You’re certain about this?” Tebeo asked.
Abruptly she was trembling. “I am, my lord.”
Tebeo stood and walked to where she was sitting. Taking her hands in his, he made her stand as well, and then he gathered her in his arms.
“You have served me as faithfully as any minister has ever served a noble,” he whispered. “And you’ve defended this house as bravely as any soldier who’s ever worn its colors. Whenever you return, you’ll still be first minister of Dantrielle, and so long as I live, no other person will ever bear that title.”
Evanthya knew she should say something, but she couldn’t speak for her weeping and the aching in her throat. After several moments Tebeo released her, though he took hold of her hands again.
“Do you have everything you need?”
Evanthya nodded.
“Do you need gold?”
“I have some, my lord.”
“You should have more.” He let go of her hands and returned to his writing table. Opening a small drawer, he produced a leather pouch that rang with the jingle of coins. Crossing back to her, he opened the purse and began to count out gold rounds. After a few seconds he put them back and handed her the entire pouch.
“Just take them all. It’s not much, really. Fifty qinde perhaps. But it should help.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“You should get food from the kitchens as well.”
But Evanthya shook her head. “No one else should know that I’m leaving.”
“Oh … of course.”
They stood in silence, their eyes locked. Evanthya’s tears still flowed, and Tebeo seemed to be searching for something more to say. In the end, the first minister merely stepped forward, kissed his cheek, and fled the chamber.
Just a short while after the ringing of the midday bells, the archminister heard men speaking in the corridor outside his chamber. The soldiers there and whoever else had come kept their voices low, and though Pronjed strained to hear them, he could not. He hoped, though, that men had come with orders to replace the silk ties that still held him with iron shackles.
After some time, however, the conversation in the corridor ceased and still no one entered his chamber.
Had the first minister betrayed him? Had she tricked him into confessing his intentions only to turn to her duke and warn him of the danger? He didn’t think so-he wasn’t even certain that Evanthya was capable of such duplicity-but in truth, he couldn’t really be sure of anything anymore.
Actually that wasn’t quite true. He knew, with the assurance of a condemned man, that if he didn’t join the Weaver in this war he would be killed, either in the dungeons of Dantrielle, or in his dreams by the Weaver himself. And so he resolved, despite his doubts, to carry through on his promise to escape this night.