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He returned the volume containing the accounts to the shelves and sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He had not slept well since killing Paegar, and because he spent many of his nights entering the dreams of others, he found that he was constantly weary. Tonight he would have to speak with Tihod, but, he hoped, no one else. He heard bells ringing in the city, and it took him a moment to remember that the tolling would soon bring Harel’s other advisors to his chambers. He was in no mood for this meeting.

The first knock came at his door just a few moments later, and over the next several minutes the emperor’s Qirsi entered his chamber in a steady stream, bowing to the high chancellor and taking seats around his hearth. As always, the young ministers reached his chamber first, eager to serve and afraid to offend by arriving late. Watching the Qirsi as they came in, young and old, men and women, ministers and chancellors, Dusaan could not help but feel that his search for allies would be largely a waste of time. Yes, a few of them showed promise, particularly some of the younger ones. But so many more of them struck him as foolish and weak, and far too old to be of much use to the movement.

The last of them finally reached his quarters and Dusaan had this man close his door.

“Is it true that there’s been a poisoning?” one of them asked, a young minister named Kayiv. Of all the Qirsi in Harel’s palace, he was the one Dusaan thought most likely to join the movement. He possessed three magics-gleaning, shaping, and language of beasts-making him one of the more powerful of the emperor’s advisors.

“Yes,” Dusaan said. “Though not here. It happened in Solkara during the last waning.”

“How bad was it?” one of the older fools asked.

Dusaan described briefly what had happened, telling them of the few who had died, and of Grigor’s subsequent execution.

Kayiv eyed him, looking vaguely amused. “Is this why you’ve summoned us? Has all this convinced the emperor to further delay his invasion?”

Dusaan shook his head. “We don’t think that will be necessary. After Carden’s death we thought we’d have to wait half a year. That, we believed, would give the new Aneiran king time enough to prepare, provided there was no civil war.” Just speaking of it rekindled Dusaan’s anger at Pronjed. The man was lucky events unfolded as they did, though the Weaver still would have liked to kill him for his stupidity. “With Numar of Renbrere taking the regency,” he went on, “civil war has been averted. A half year still seems about right.”

Another chancellor shook his head. “Do we really wish to ally ourselves with these people?”

“The emperor has asked the same question.”

“What they do to each other seems of little consequence,” Kayiv said. “We need them for their swords and their ships. We don’t have to dine with them.”

A few of the others laughed, as did Dusaan. He could work with this man.

“Well put.”

The older chancellor shook his head. “I don’t think this is a question we can just laugh away. The empire has avoided formal alliances for centuries. Abandoning that course now strikes me as dangerous, particularly if it means casting our lot with the Aneirans.”

“The emperor feels otherwise. Despite their recent troubles, the Eibithanans are stronger now than they’ve ever been.” Again Dusaan felt his rage returning. Too many of his underlings had failed him. “We may be able to defeat them on our own, but an alliance with Aneira ensures our success. That outweighs all other concerns.”

The older Qirsi nodded, unwilling to challenge Dusaan again. They might not know that he was a Weaver, but the other Qirsi in the palace still deferred to him. He had the emperor’s ear and as high chancellor was, after Harel, the most powerful and most feared man in all of Braedon.

Kayiv sat forward, as if preparing to stand. “Is there anything else, High Chancellor?”

“Actually, there is. The emperor wanted me to ask all of you what you had heard of the so-called Qirsi conspiracy.”

The minister sat back again, his eyebrows going up. The others just stared at Dusaan, as if too frightened to speak.

“How did you answer him?” a woman asked at last.

It was a clever response, and Dusaan had to smile. Her name was Nitara, and she was another of the young ministers who had impressed him. He often saw her with Kayiv-they were sitting together now-and he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that they were lovers.

“I told him that I had heard rumors of the conspiracy and that I thought it wise to take these stories seriously, lest they prove to be true.”

“That’s all?”

“He didn’t ask for more, and I felt it prudent not to alarm him unnecessarily. As it is, the emperor has decided not to bring any more Qirsi to the palace.”

“He thinks Qirsi were behind the poisoning.” Kayiv. He looked as angry as Dusaan had felt while speaking to Harel. This was definitely a man who could be turned to the Weaver’s cause. It almost seemed to Dusaan that he was looking for an excuse to betray the emperor.

“He thinks it’s possible,” Dusaan said. “Like so many, he sees poison as a Qirsi weapon.”

The younger man opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking away. The chancellor sensed his fury.

“Do you think the conspiracy was behind it?” Nitara asked.

“No, I don’t. Grigor hanged for the crime. I trust that Aneira’s queen knew what she was doing when she ordered his execution.”

“Did you say so to the emperor?”

He considered this for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Perhaps I should have. Qirsar knows I wanted to. But there are times when we must allow the Eandi their prejudices, foolish though they may be. The emperor fears the conspiracy. He might even fear us, at least more than he once did. To argue the point would have been to alarm him further. I didn’t wish to give him cause to question my loyalty or that of his other Qirsi. A good chancellor is one who recognizes both the strengths and flaws of the noble he serves and tempers his remarks accordingly. It’s hard to dissuade our emperor from his beliefs once he’s made up his mind, no matter how wrong he may be, and it can do more harm than good to try.”

He had never spoken so of Harel in front of the other Qirsi, nor had he ever before suggested that he was less than candid in his conversations with the emperor. Some of the older chancellors frowned in response to his admission, but most of the Qirsi offered little by way of reaction. Maybe he had given them too little credit over the years. Wouldn’t it have been ironic if all this time they had thought of him as the weak one, the Qirsi who demeaned himself by his unquestioning service to the Eandi?

Kayiv faced him again. “You said before that the emperor doesn’t intend to bring any more Qirsi to the palace. Does that mean he doesn’t trust us? Did he send you here to ask about the conspiracy as a way of testing our loyalty?”

“He’s Eandi, Minister. I think it likely that he’s never trusted us entirely. But I believe he sent me here to do just what I said, to find out what you’ve heard about the conspiracy. I doubt there was more to it than that.” He’s not clever enough to thinks that way. He wanted to say it. Faced now with the possibility that they thought him just another fawning chancellor, Dusaan was tempted to tell them what he really thought of Harel.

A lengthy silence ensued, broken at last by Nitara.

“Well, I’ve heard little of the conspiracy beyond that it seems to be real enough. Some of the peddlers I’ve talked to in the marketplace believe that it might have been behind the murders in Kentigern and Bistari, but they have no proof of this.”

One of the others spoke up as well, noting, as the emperor had, that the movement had been far more active in the six than it had been here in the empire. For some time, Dusaan simply listened as rumor chased rumor around the chamber. Many of the tales were laughable. One minister had heard that the conspiracy was, in fact, a continuation of the original Qirsi invasion that began nine centuries before. It had gone unnoticed in the intervening centuries, but had been behind the early civil wars in Eibithar, Amnalla’s Rebellion in Aneira, and Valde’s Rebellion in Caerisse, all of which dated back nearly six hundred years.