Seeds of Betrayal by David B. Coe Page B

that they’ve accomplished so far could be done by fewer than a hundred men and women, provided they were placed properly.”
    “But eventually they would need more. Or do you think that a hundred Qirsi sorcerers can defeat the combined might of our armies?”
    The duke stared at him sadly. “Don’t you understand? If this keeps up, they won’t have to worry about the combined might of the Aneiran army, much less all the armies of the Forelands.” He turned his gaze to the fire once more and sipped his wine. “Besides, it’s probably far more than a hundred. And if it is, they must have a leader, someone who’ll be able to bring them together when the time comes.”
    For all the thought he had given to the possibility of a Qirsi conspiracy, Brail had never imagined a single man or woman leading it. He had been foolish, of course; he saw that immediately. If such a movement was real, it would naturally have a master, someone whose vision and will inspired the rest and bound them to one another in a single cause. Still, like everything else Tebeo had told him this night, the image of this Qirsi leader, this white-haired sovereign-in-waiting, though faceless and nameless, served only to deepen his dread.
    “You think they’ve chosen someone already? A would-be king or queen?”
    Tebeo gave a wan smile. “I think it’s much worse than that,” he said. “They won’t have chosen this person; he or she will have chosen them. The Qirsi don’t follow nobles or monarchs. They follow Weavers.”
    If Tebeo had intended to scare him into acting, it worked. He could think of no response except to say, “I’ll ride to Solkara before the snows begin. I’m certain Carden will see me.”
    “Thank you,” his friend said. “If I thought the king would hear me on this matter, I’d gladly go myself. But under the circumstances, I believe you’re the best choice.”
    Brail nodded, but said nothing.
    They lapsed into another lengthy silence, both of them gazing at the flames and occasionally lifting their goblets to drink. After a time, Tebeo sat forward and rubbed his hands together.
    “I should return to my chambers,” he said softly. “My ride may be short, but I’m still an old man, and I want to be back in Dantrielle before the wind blows any colder.”
    “Of course.”
    Still, neither of them moved.
    “Have you spoken with your ministers about any of this?” Brail asked.
    Tebeo looked up from the fire. “Not yet, no. I’ve wanted to, but I wouldn’t know how to start such a conversation. Particularly with Evanthya. Approaching my underministers will be difficult enough, but she’s been with me a long time.”
    “I’ve been sitting here thinking the same thing. How do I ask Fetnalla about a Qirsi conspiracy without making her think that I’m accusing her of betraying me?”
    “I suppose we just have to ask them. This matter is too important to let our fear of offending them keep us silent.”
    “Offending them?” Brail said. “I’m worried about ending up like Chago.”
    Evanthya woke with first light, and reached to the other side of the bed before remembering that she was alone.
    “Appearances,” Fetnalla had said the previous night, pulling away with one last kiss and dressing in the candlelight. As if a single word could explain everything. That they were two women in love would have raised eyebrows among some, particularly in the noble courts, but that was not why they concealed their relationship.
    “I think you look fine,” Evanthya said, trying to keep her tone light.
    “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Our dukes may be allies now, but that can change. They shouldn’t know about us. Certainly Brail shouldn’t. He’d be… displeased.”
    Evanthya wasn’t sure how her duke would feel about it, but that hardly mattered. Fetnalla had made up her mind long ago. They could steal away for a few hours at a time, but whether in Orvinti or Dantrielle, they always spent their nights