Still Grinsa kept his silence, and they walked the rest of the way to the prison tower without a word passing between them.

When they arrived at her chamber, Cresenne was awake, walking a slow circle with her baby in her arms. Seeing her, it finally occurred to Fotir that the gleaner might not want him there, that Grinsa's silence had not been a response to what the minister said, but rather to his presumption that he could accompany the man back to the tower.

"My apologies, gleaner," he said, abruptly feeling a fool. "I should leave the two of youa"" He smiled sheepishly. "I mean, the three of you."

"Not at all, Minister. I'm glad you're here. Cresenne needs to sleep, and I'd enjoy your company."

One of the guards unlocked Cresenne's door, and the two men stepped past him into the chamber. It was warm within, the air too still.

"I'm sorry I had to leave," Grinsa said, taking the child from Cresenne.

She walked to the bed and sat. "It's all right." Her eyes strayed to the minister briefly before returning to Grinsa. She looked as if she were eager just to sleep, but felt that she needed to talk to them, at least briefly. "Did you decide anything important?"

"No," the gleaner said. "But one of the ministers suggested that it might be useful to have a Qirsi loyal to the courts join the conspiracy."

Cresenne's eyes widened, and once more her gaze flicked toward Fotir. "Did you?. . ." She stopped, shaking her head, as if unsure of how to finish the thought.

Grinsa shook his head. "No. Most of the ministers thought it too dangerous and the archminister ruled it out for now."

The woman nodded, but still seemed uncertain of what to say. For a third time, Fotir found himself thinking that there was more to what was being said than either speaker was letting on. Before he could give voice to his suspicions, however, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He turned toward the door, as did Cresenne and the gleaner.

A moment later, Keziah stepped into the corridor.

"Open the door," she said to the nearest of the guards without even looking in the chamber. "Then I want both of you to leave the corridor. I'll tell you when you can return."

"Yes, Archminister."

The door opened again and Keziah entered the chamber. Seeing Fotir, she faltered, glancing quickly at Grinsa. But she said nothing until the guards had gone.

"I had hoped we could speak in private," she said to the gleaner.

Fotir started toward the door, which remained open. "I'll leave you, Archminister."

"No, don't." Grinsa. "He knows about me, Keziah. I've told you that before."

"Yes, buta""

"He holds my life in his hands. He might as well hold yours as well."

A strange look came into the archminister's eyes. There was so much more passing between them than Fotir could possibly understand. But he was certain now that the archminister served the king loyally.

Keziah faced him, eyeing him appraisingly. "Even before we met in Kentigern, I had heard a good deal about you, Fotir jal Salene. I wonder if you're prepared to match your reputation."

"And what is my reputation, Archminister?" He knew that some thought him arrogant, disdainful of his own people, and more attached to his duke than to any Qirsi in the land. But he sensed that she referred to something else.

"I've heard it said that you're the most brilliant minister in the land, and one who is less likely than most to be lured into the conspiracy. It's said that this is why your duke places such faith in your counsel."

"I'm flattered."

"Did you mean what you said in front of the other ministers? Are you prepared to accept that there are times when, in order to serve the courts, we must keep truths from those nobles who trust us most?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Archminister. As Grinsa said, I know who and what he is, and I know what he did for Lord Tavis."

Keziah nodded, although her expression didn't change. For some time, she merely continued to stare at him. Then she took a breath. "Very well. It should have been obvious to you that I support the idea of having a loyal Qirsi attempt to join the conspiracy. As it happens, I've done more than just consider the notion. I've acted on it. I've spoken with the Weaver, and I've begun to win his trust."

"I suspected as much, Archminister."

Keziah's face whitened so that it was nearly a match for her hair. "You what?"

"Please don't be afraid. I don't think any of the others would have drawn the same conclusion. Indeed, I believe Xivled thinks you a traitor."

That brought a smile to her lips, though she still looked frightened. "I'm sure he does. He as much as told me so the last time we spoke."

"You have nothing to fear from me, Archminister. I'll tell no one what I've heard here, and I'll do everything in my power to help you. You have my word."

"And you my thanks, First Minister."

"You wished to speak with us, Kezi," Grinsa said. "What's happened?"

"He's instructed me to kill Cresenne."

The other woman blanched, much as the archminister had done moments before.

"What about Bryntelle?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"He told me to spare the child."

"Gods be praised."

"And me?" Grinsa asked.

"As you guessed yesterday, I'm to win your trust, so that I can get close enough to Cresenne to kill her, and so I can help the Weaver find you when he decides it's your turn to die."

For the first time that day, Fotir truly felt afraid. "He knows about you?" he asked the gleaner.

"Yes. In order to save Cresenne's life, I had to enter her dream. He saw my face. And I saw his."

Fotir gaped at him, fear giving way to hope. "Did you know him?"

"No." But even as Grinsa said this, he appeared to be thinking of something else. "I had hoped to speak with the king last night, but I never had the opportunity." He looked first at Keziah, and then at Fotir. "I suppose I could ask the two of you, though. What do you know of Braedon's high chancellor?"

"Almost nothing," Keziah answered. "We've never met, and with the king preoccupied with Kentigern and his allies, he's had little opportunity to look beyond Eibithar's borders."

Fotir shook his head. "I know very little, as well, beyond his reputation."

"Even that would be more than I know," Grinsa said.

The minister shrugged. "His name is Dusaan jal Kania. From what I hear, he's intelligent, powerful, and ambitious, just as one might expect of the most influential Qirsi in the empire."

"Do you know what he looks like?"

"No. I've heard that he's tall, that he's built more like a warrior than a minister. But that could be said of you as well."

"Precisely."

"You think he's the Weaver?"

"When I was with the movement," Cresenne said, answering for the gleaner, "I was one of the Weaver's highest-ranking servants. He called us his chancellors."

"It doesn't prove anything," Grinsa said. "But it's worth considering."

Fotir thought so as well. "With Aylyn the Second and Filib the Elder of Thorald dead, I can think of no one in Eibithar who has met the emperor or the high chancellor."

"What about elsewhere?"

"Perhaps Sanbira's queen. Certainly the Archduke of Wethyrn."

"I'll have the king send a message to them both," Keziah said. "Perhaps one of them can offer a better description of the chancellor."

"That's fine," Cresenne said, her cheeks still drained of color. "But in the meantime, Keziah is supposed to kill me. And when she doesn't, the Weaver won't only come after me, he'll start to question her loyalty to the movement as well."

Grinsa took her hand. "We have some time, Cresenne. You heard what she said. She's supposed to win my trust first. He can't think that will happen immediately. And as long as the Weaver expects her to kill you, he won't try it himself."

"So I can sleep at night again?"

"I wouldn't go that far. But at least you can rest during the days assured that he's not determined to kill you himself."

She grimaced. "That's hardly comforting."

Fotir had to agree.

The audience with Eibithar's king lasted throughout the morning and well past the ringing of the midday bells. Kearney informed the dukes of what he and his advisors had learned from the traitor, and Marston spoke in greater detail of Enid's betrayal and what little he and his father had managed to learn from the woman before she took her own life. It was a sobering discussion, one that clearly left Lathrop of Tremain disturbed. The others in the presence chambera"the king, Javan, Marston himselfa"had known something of these tidings prior to this day's gathering. Lathrop had not.

"Filib the Younger," the duke said softly, still sitting though the others had stood, intending to leave the chamber. "Lady Brienne." He glanced at Javan. "It seems your son is a victim of their treachery as well, Lord Curgh, albeit a living one. They strike at our youth, our children, because they know that's where we're most vulnerable."

"All the more reason for us to be watchful," Marston said. "We can't trust the Qirsi as we once did. We have to be willing to see them all, even those we consider our friends, through critical eyes, searching for signs of treachery where we never would have thought to look before." He spoke to the duke, but he intended the words for Kearney.

The king, he believed, was incapable of seeing his archminister in this way. Perhaps he still loved her. Perhaps she had served him for so long that he had come to take her loyalty for granted. Whatever the reason, Marston thought the woman Eibithar's greatest weakness. He couldn't be certain that she was a traitor, though he hoped that Xivled might discover the truth about her before long, but he certainly wouldn't have been surprised to learn that she had cast her lot with the renegades. All that Gershon Trasker had told him of her recent behavior had left the thane truly frightened.

"Have you come to question the loyalty of your minister, Lord Shanstead," the king asked, his tone making it clear that he knew just what Marston had meant to imply.

"No, my liege. I've known Xivled since we were children, and he's never given me cause to doubt that my faith in him is misplaced."

"As my archminister has."

Marston hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, my liege."

"And what is it you'd have me do? Shall I imprison her simply on the basis of your suspicions? Shall I torture her until she confesses to crimes she hasn't committed?"

"No, my liege," the thane answered, with as much asperity as he dared allow to creep into his voice. "I don't hate the Qirsi, no matter what you may think. Nor do I think it just to imprison or torture anyone without cause. But I fear the archminister is a threat to you and this realm, and I believe she should be sent away from the castle."

Kearney shook his head. "I won't do that."

"With all respect, my liege, I think that you offer more loyalty to this woman than she deserves."

"I disagree."

Marston wanted to say more, but Javan caught his eye and gave a slight shake of his head.

"Very well, my liege," the thane said instead. He bowed to the king and left the chamber, his jaw clenched so tightly that his temples ached.

Xiv was waiting for him in the corridor outside the chamber, leaning against the stone wall. Seeing Marston, he straightened and fell in step beside him as they walked to the nearest tower.

"What happened?" the minister asked. "You look as if the king branded you a traitor."

"It didn't go quite that badly. But if Thorald's standing in the realm turned on my friendship with Kearney, we'd be in a good deal of trouble right now." He waited to say more until they were out of the stairway and in the castle ward. "The king remains convinced that his archminister can be trusted," he finally said, squinting in the sunlight, "though from all I hear, she's behaved erratically for the past several turns." He glanced at the minister. "Have you learned anything from your conversations with her?"

"Very little. If she is a traitor, she's far more clever about hiding it than Enid was. She denies nothing, but neither does she say anything that suggests she's with the conspiracy. At least not when questioned directly about it."

"What do you mean by that?"

Xiv raked a hand through his short hair. "There was something strange about our discussion today. We were speaking of the need to find the source of the conspiracy's gold, and I suggested that we might be well served to have a loyal Qirsi join the movement. I had the impression that she agreed with me, but when the king's other Qirsi opposed the idea, she seemed to go out of her way to give in to their point of view. She almost seemed relieved when the vote went their way."

"As if she feared that your plan would reveal her betrayal?"

"Perhaps," the minister said, frowning. "Or else . . ."

"Or else what?"

For several moments Xiv just walked, silent and pensive. At last, he shook his head. "I don't know. It's probably nothing."

"It sounds to me as if she's hiding something, which merely confirms what I've known since we arrived here. This woman is dangerous; I'm certain of it. And the king is too blinded by the love they once shared to see it. It's up to us, Xiv. We need to do everything in our power to make Kearney see her for what she really is. We have to convince him to banish her from the castle."

Xiv nodded, though there was an uneasy look in his yellow eyes that Marston couldn't quite explain.

CHAPTER.

Twenty-Three.

He could see them fighting, both men crouched low, their blades held ready as they circled one another, looking for any opening to attack. It seemed that Tavis bled from a wound on his forearm and another on the side of his neck, but Grinsa couldn't be certain. The distance was too great, and though he was moving as swiftly as he could, the terrain was difficult. He picked his way across the great boulders with an eye toward the combatants, glancing down only occasionally to check his footing. Twice he nearly fell, for the stone was slick. He could feel sea spray on his face, he could smell brine and a coming storm riding the wind. Gulls cried overhead.