Instead, he told the man the truth.

“I’ve come to see one of the ministers who was poisoned. Her name is Yaella ja Banvel; she’s first minister to the duke of Mertesse.”

The guard eyed him closely, looking doubtful. “And who are you?”

“I’m her brother.” The truth had its limits, and “I’m her lover” wasn’t likely to get him through the gate.

The man stood there another moment, considering this. “I’ll have to speak with my captain,” he finally said.

Shurik nodded. “That’s fine. Just hurry, please. I’m… concerned for her.”

The guard stepped away from the wicket gate, disappearing from view. The other guards remained there, watching Shurik but saying nothing. After what seemed an eternity, the first man returned.

“All right,” he said. “You can go to her. But if you have any weapons you have to leave them here with me.”

“What good will that do?” one of the other men asked. “He’s a sorcerer.”

“That’s what the captain told me to do,” the man said with a shrug. “Talk to him if you don’t like it.”

Shurik handed the guard his dagger. “Where is she?”

“All the ministers who survived the poisoning are in the chambers on the north side of the inner keep. If she’s alive she’d be there.”

The Qirsi swallowed, feeling his hands start to tremble. He hurried through the gate, to the north end of the castle, and climbed the tower stairs two steps at a time. He was badly winded when he reached the upper corridor, but he didn’t stop to rest. Finding the nearest guard, he asked where Yaella could be found. Not surprisingly, the man couldn’t answer.

“I know they’re ministers and all,” he said, “but I don’t know one Qirsi from another.”

“Well, have you seen the duke of Mertesse up here?”

“He came up here earlier today.” He pointed to one of the doors. “He was in there for a while.”

Shurik turned, not even bothering to thank the man, and strode to the door. He hesitated a moment, wondering if he should knock. But in the end, he merely opened the door quietly and stepped into the chamber.

She was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, her skin so white she might well have been dead, her lips pale and dry. Her face looked far thinner than it usually did, and her hands, which were resting at her sides, appeared tiny and frail, like those of a small child. Shurik walked carefully to the chair by the side of her bed and gazed down at her, relieved to see her chest rising and falling.

The chair creaked when he sat, and she stirred, turning toward the sound.

When she saw him, she smiled, her eyes widening.

“What are you doing here?” she said, her voice barely more than a breath of wind.

“I came to see you, of course. How are you feeling?”

“Weak still, but better than I was.” She sat up.

Shurik shook his head. “You should be lying down, Yaella.”

“It’s been six days since the poisoning. You really think this is the first time I’ve sat up?”

Her voice sounded stronger now. It occurred to Shurik that he had probably woken her from a sound sleep.

Yaella frowned. “You shouldn’t be here. If the duke finds you-”

“If the duke finds me I’ll tell him I rode south upon hearing of what had happened. He may be angry, but I don’t very much care. I wanted to make certain you were all right.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, which felt cool and smooth against his lips.

She smiled again. “I’m grateful. Truly. But now you need to get back to Mertesse.”

Shurik looked away. “I’m not going back to Mertesse, at least not for some time.”

“What?” He heard the shock in her voice and could imagine the way she was looking at him, a pained expression in those deep yellow eyes.

“I had already left Mertesse when I encountered the messenger sent from Solkara. The Weaver came to me just after you and the duke left the castle, and instructed me to find the Revel gleaner, the one who I thought might be a Weaver himself.”

“Why does he want you?” she asked dully.

“Because I know this man. I know what he looks like, and I’m the one person, aside from you, who knows that he might be a Weaver. I guess our Weaver has finally realized how important I am.” He chanced a look at her and made himself grin.

Yaella’s expression didn’t change. “If he really is a Weaver, he’s just as dangerous as our Weaver. You could be killed.”

“I’m only supposed to find him.” If you have the opportunity to kill him, you may. That seemed unlikely. If all went as Shurik hoped, Grinsa would never see him, and all he would have to do was wait for his next dream of the Weaver and tell the man where the gleaner could be found.

“Where do you think he is?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he were here, in Solkara. But I don’t plan to begin my search for another few days. For now, I only care about sitting with you and seeing to it that you recover fully from this.”

She nodded, taking his hand.

“Do you think Gngor did this to you?” he asked her after a brief silence.

Yaella shrugged. “I don’t know. The archminister seems to think so, as does my duke.”

“How is your duke?”

“He’s fine. It helps to be young and strong.”

And Eandi. Neither of them had to say it; Shurik knew they were both thinking it.

“What of the queen?”

“She’ll live, but the poison was very nearly too much for her.”

He nodded, still thinking about Gngor. “Do you think it’s possible that the Weaver was responsible for this?”

She stared at him for several moments. “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

“And?”

“I don’t know, Shurik. The poison killed more Qirsi than it did Eandi, but they were all ministers. I don’t know if the Weaver would care that he was killing them.”

“He wouldn’t have wanted to kill you.”

“I suppose not. But if for some reason he was intent on keeping Gngor from the throne, I’m not sure that sparing me would have been reason enough not to do this.”

They both fell silent again. Eventually, Yaella began to shake her head. “The Weaver wouldn’t have done this, not if he wanted to weaken the kingdom.”

“Why not?”

“Because Grigor would have been a terrible king. The dukes would have hated him; given time, they might even have rebelled. Now it seems that they’ve turned to Numar, the youngest of Carden’s brothers, to be regent for Chofya’s daughter. Strange as it may seem, Aneira is stronger for this having happened.”

“Well, good,” Shurik said. “I’d rather that this was the act of a madman. I would have been forced to hate the Weaver had I thought he had poisoned you.”

Yaella gazed toward the hearth. “You mean the way I hate him now for ordering you away from Mertesse?”

“I won’t be gone long. I’ll make certain of it.”

She nodded, but still wouldn’t look at him.

“You don’t know when he’s going to come to you, Yaella. It’s too dangerous to hate him.”

“He’ll never know.”

Shurik gave her hand a squeeze, making her meet his gaze. “I’m serious. This isn’t important enough to risk making him angry. I’ll find the gleaner, tell the Weaver where he is, and that will be the end of it. With you still recovering, and Grinsa probably in Solkara, I may be back in Mertesse before you are.”

“That’s not what you said before. You said it would be some time before you came back to me.”

He let out a breath, rubbing a hand across his brow. “I should let you rest. And I should find an inn before nightfall. I’ve ridden a long way, and I’ve yet to have a decent meal or sleep in a comfortable bed.”

She said nothing.

“You’ll be all right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll return in the morning. Now that the guards have seen me once, I shouldn’t have any trouble getting in again.”

In spite of everything, she smiled at that. “I’ll look forward to it. Just try to avoid the duke.”

“Of course.”

He kissed her brow again, then rose and left her, closing her door as softly as he could. In just a few moments he was out of the castle. He stopped at the smithy to retrieve his mount and pay the man, then began leading his horse back toward the city marketplace. He knew that there were at least three or four Qirsi inns in the city, one of which was supposed to be quite good. He had forgotten the name, but he knew that it was in the southeast corner of the city, near the Sanctuary of Morna, and he followed the broad lanes in that direction.