“No. I don’t want to give her time to tell anyone about you. It’s more important that we prove to my father that she’s a traitor. If we can convince him, he might be able to convince Aindreas that the Qirsi were behind Brienne’s death.” He smiled. “Besides, do you really think Tamah would ever forgive me if I let something happen to you?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Xiv said. “Enid told me that the Qirsi leaders have turned their attention to the southern kingdoms. There’s little happening in Eibithar right now. The danger to me would be minimal.”

“You don’t know that.”

He faltered, but only briefly. “Not for certain, no. But it makes sense.”

“Maybe it does, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Aindreas has already shown that he won’t listen to me, but he can’t ignore my father as easily. We have to tell the duke what we know, and we need to do so now, while he’s still strong enough to speak with Kentigern.” He managed a smile, though it seemed to Xiv that there were tears in his eyes. “We can’t stop the conspiracy on our own, Xiv. But we might be able to prevent a civil war. We just have to do it quickly, before my father dies.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Tobbar stared off to one side, his face burning with rage and humiliation and grief. If what his son and the boy’s Qirsi were telling him was true, he had been a fool for more years than he cared to count. Worse, it was possible that through carelessness, and his blind willingness to trust, he had allowed Filib the Younger’s death.

“I don’t believe any of this,” he said, his voice low. Or at least I don’t want to.

“You think Xiv would lie about such a thing?”

“He’s Qirsi, too. Who’s to say that he’s not the traitor here?”

“Father!”

The duke looked up at the young Qirsi, who stood near the hearth, silent and withdrawn, his gaze lowered. Tobbar knew that he should apologize to the man, but he couldn’t. “What gave you the right to speak with my minister in the first place?” he demanded instead. “In my castle, no less.”

“I asked him to, Father,” Marston said, forcing Tobbar to look his way. “If you want to rail at someone, rail at me. Xiv did this on my behalf.”

“Then you answer me. What gave you the right?”

Marston straightened, taking a breath. “I had no right. I feel that what we’ve learned justifies how we learned it, but you’re right. It wasn’t my place to send Xiv to your first minister without your approval. Forgive me.”

Damn the boy. Perhaps he knew more of statecraft than Tobbar realized. With his apology he forced Tobbar to look beyond the transgression to what their actions had revealed. Enid was a traitor, a part of this conspiracy that seemed to be everywhere. Ean Jtnew how long she had been lying to him, and what other things she had done to weaken Thorald.

“This isn’t a night for such things,” he said, sounding, he knew, like a peevish child. “Pitch Night in Bohdan’s Turn is a night for reflection and prayer, not for… for this.”

“Is there ever a good time for this? Will you be any more willing to speak with her tomorrow than you are tonight?”

Tobbar looked away once more. “Tell me again what she said.”

Xivled cleared his throat. “She told me that I would be contacted, that they’d probably give me gold first and that I might be instructed to carry out some task.”

“She didn’t say who would contact you?”

“No, and she warned me against asking too many questions.”

“Did she give you any sense at all of who her superiors were?”

“None at all. At one point she started to say something more, but she stopped herself and wouldn’t reveal anything when I pressed her on the matter.”

Tobbar nodded, still not looking at either of them. She betrayed me. Try as he might, he could think of no reason why Xivled would he about this. If he wished to be Thorald’s first minister he had only to wait. Certainly, if he belonged to the conspiracy himself, he gained nothing by drawing attention to the alleged treason of another Qirsi. Nor did he appear to be lying. Tobbar couldn’t sense such things, of course; none of the Eandi could, which was why so many of their nobles were dying. He had only his instincts, and though his faith in them had been badly shaken, he wasn’t ready to abandon them entirely.

“What would you have me do?” he asked at last, making himself meet Marston’s gaze.

“Simply speak with her, Father. I’m not asking you to accept what we’re telling you on faith.”

“Of course you are. You want me to summon my first minister to this chamber so that I can accuse her of betraying our house.”

Marston’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. How could he?

“That is what you want me to do, isn’t it? Confront her with what your minister has told us, and ask her to defend herself?”

“Yes,” Marston said. “That’s what I want you to do.”

“And what if Xivled is wrong? Enid has served me-has served this house-for nearly seven years. How do I repair the damage I’m about to do to my friendship with this woman? How do I justify accusing her of this?‘

“If she truly is your friend, Father, she’ll understand. Surely she’s heard of the conspiracy just as you have. She can hardly blame you for asking where her loyalties lie?”

“Would you be so understanding?” the duke asked, looking past his son to the Qirsi.

“This isn’t worth discussing,” Marston said before his minister could reply. “Xiv isn’t wrong, and bruising Enid’s pride should be the least of your concerns.” He stepped to Tobbar’s chair and knelt before the duke, forcing Tobbar to look him in the eye. “She betrayed us, Father. All of us. I have no doubt that she had Filib killed. We need to know what else she’s done. We need to know if there are others in the castle who have helped her. And then we need to imprison her and plan for her execution.”

He stared at his son, wishing at that moment that he could abdicate. Regardless of whether or not Marston was right, he didn’t want to face this. He was dying. Why couldn’t the gods simply let him go? Why couldn’t all of this have happened a year from now, when he was dead, or too ill to care anymore?

He knew the answer, of course. It echoed in his mind like thunder in the highlands. Enid was your choice. You brought her to this house. Her betrayal is your failure. He could no more escape blame than she could.

At last he nodded, closing his eyes against a throbbing pain in his head. “Summon her.” He rubbed his temple, listening as Marston crossed the room to the door and instructed one of the guards to bring Enid to the chamber.

A moment later his son closed the door again then returned to Tobbar’s side.

“Are you all right?”

The duke opened his eyes. “No, I’m not all right. I’m old and I’m dying, and I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Marston recoiled as if Tobbar had struck him.

“I didn’t mean you,” the duke said quickly. “You know that.”

His son regarded him briefly, his lips pressed thin. Then he nodded, though Tobbar could see in his eyes that he was still hurt.

Marston stood once more and began pacing the room. Xivled remained by the hearth, and the duke sat motionless in his chair, gazing at his own hands, wondering how they had grown so thin. None of them spoke.

Finally the duke looked up at Marston’s minister. “I owe you an apology, Xivled. I shouldn’t have said what I did before. Your father served me for more than ten years and never did I have cause to question his loyalty or his courage. Our families have been tied to each other for too long. You deserve better than my suspicion.”

“Thank you, my lord. My father always spoke of you as a friend, and your son has always treated me as no less.”

They fell silent again, waiting for Enid. It seemed to take her hours to answer his summons. When at last the knock came at the door, Marston halted and looked toward the duke, as if suddenly unsure of himself.