“If you’d sent him away, I’d have had your head on a pike.”

The man swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

Aindreas walked swiftly to the north gate and through the outer ward, reaching the city gate several steps ahead of the guard, who was panting with the effort of keeping up with him.

Qerle stood alone by the wicket gate, flanked by soldiers and looking like a boy beside them.

The duke stopped a short distance from the Qirsi and regarded him cautiously.

“He’s alone?” he asked the guards.

“Yes, my lord.”

Aindreas frowned. He’d expected that Qerle would have at least one other Qirsi with him, though he now realized that he’d been foolish to think so. Why would they reveal more than they had to? Qerle was to be a messenger between the conspiracy and Kentigern. It made perfect sense, but the duke couldn’t help but feel that he was in the weaker position. He had revealed himself to them, only to be denied a similar gesture on their part.

“Very well,” he finally said. “Come with me, Qerle.”

He turned and started back toward his chambers, sensing that the Qirsi was following.

“Shall we accompany you, my lord?” a soldier asked.

Aindreas didn’t even turn. “If I’d wanted you to, I would have commanded it.”

The duke and the Qirsi passed through the inner gate in silence and entered the nearest tower to escape the cold.

“I was in the middle of my supper. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

The duke glanced at him. Qerle was staring straight ahead, his expression grim, his lips pressed thin. Aindreas saw no physical sign that the Qirsi had harmed him, but he sensed that the past several days had left their mark on the man.

They entered his chambers, and Aindreas ordered his servants to leave. Returning to his seat at the large table, the duke drained his goblet of wine.

“You’re certain?” he asked, refilling the cup and breaking off a piece of bread.

“I have no desire to stay here any longer than I must.”

“Fine. Then tell me what happened. What did they say?”

A bitter smile flitted across the Qirsi’s face and was gone. “They didn’t believe me at first. They threatened to kill me as a traitor, and when I insisted that I was telling them the truth, they sent me away. That night, after the gate closing, two of them came to my home.”

The duke was reaching for his wine again, and now he stopped, his hand poised over the table. “Your home? My men told me nothing of this.”

Qerle laughed, though harshly. “Your men probably didn’t know. The movement has escaped the notice of Eandi nobles for years. It shouldn’t surprise you that they can avoid detection by a few of your soldiers.”

Aindreas rubbed a hand across his mouth, his brow furrowing. After a moment, though, he nodded, gesturing for the man to continue.

“One of the Qirsi was a shaper, and he threatened to shatter the bones in my daughter’s hands unless I told them what really happened. Only then, when I still didn’t change my story, did they finally believe me.”

The duke searched for something to say, but in the end could only manage a quiet “I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s nothing you haven’t done. Somehow my children have been dragged into the middle of this foolishness. I can hardly blame the movement for that when your soldiers stand in the street outside my home.”

He would have liked to strike this impertinent sorcerer, but instead he grabbed his wine and took a long drink. “What did your leaders have to say once they understood that you were telling them the truth? Are they willing to work with me?”

“Not yet. They want to know more about this alliance you’re proposing. How do you intend to help us? Are you offering gold? Arms? If it comes to war, will you commit your army to the Qirsi side, or do you wish to maintain your deception until you’re certain that we’ll be victorious?”

“I can give you gold if you need it.”

“We don’t. But we need more than just your word. It’s one thing to say that you hate the king and that you want to see him destroyed. But it’s quite another to ask us to place faith in you as an ally. To be honest, those I serve don’t trust you. To them, you’re just another Eandi noble. Perhaps you re a bit more farsighted than the rest. You’re clever enough to realize that if you don’t make peace with us now, you’ll die at our hands when we take the Forelands. But otherwise, there’s little difference between you and Kearney or the lords of Thorald and Galdasten.” Qerle grinned. “Or even Curgh.”

Aindreas sensed that this was leading somewhere, and once again he fought to keep his anger in check. “What is it they want from me?”

“Nothing yet. Or at least next to nothing. I’ve been told to get a written pledge from you, of your support for our movement. It’s to be penned in your own hand and sealed with the sigil of your house. Give it to me tonight, and I’ll return tomorrow with an answer for you.”

“This is a waste of time!”

“Those I serve disagree. You wish to do everything in secret, which means you make no promises to us. My leaders believe that I’m telling the truth, but they fear that you’re lying to me, and thus to them as well. With this pledge, you tie yourself to us. If you fail us, it will find its way to the court of your king, where it will be evidence of your treason and grounds for your execution.”

“You ask too much of me. What’s to stop you from taking this to the king right away and having me hanged?”

“The movement doesn’t want that, and you know it. Kearney is weaker with you alive and leading the dukes who would oppose him. If you were to be exposed as a traitor, it would unite the other houses and strengthen the crown.” Qerle shook his head. “No, this would be a last resort and nothing more, a way of ensuring your good faith.”

Aindreas could hardly fault the man’s logic. Without meaning to, he realized abruptly, he had already been aiding the conspiracy. Perhaps this shouldn’t have bothered him in light of what he was contemplating. For a number of reasons, however, many of them obvious, and one far less apparent, he found the very idea of it unsettling.

“I’d be a fool to agree to this,” he said, staring at the Qirsi.

Qerle gave a small shrug and stood. “Very well. If you decide otherwise, you know where to find me.”

He would have liked to let the Qirsi bastard go. A voice in his head- Ioanna’s, or perhaps Brienne’s-begged him to. This was a mistake, it seemed to say. Let it end here. But then he saw it all again, like some twisted dream haunting his sleep night after night. Brienne’s blood, Tavis’s blade, Kearney drawing his sword on the battle plain near Heneagh in defense of the boy. How could he surrender himself to this king?

Qerle was almost to the door when Aindreas called his name. He turned, a smirk on his pallid features. “My lord?” he said, and there could be no mistaking the irony in his tone.

Muttering a curse, the duke pulled a parchment scroll from a drawer and picked up his writing quill.

“What should it say?”

“That you pledge yourself to our cause and embrace the movement as an ally. Nothing elaborate. We want your meaning to be absolutely clear.”

He sat a moment, staring at the blank parchment, wondering if there was a way to word this that would protect him. It didn’t take him long to abandon the notion. No matter how carefully he chose his words, any document acceptable to the Qirsi would brand him as a traitor. His signature and the sigil made that certain. It almost didn’t matter what he wrote.

“I, Aindreas of Kentigem,” he finally wrote, “pledge myself to support the Qirsi movement and offer my allegiance to its leaders.”

He signed the scroll, and sealed it in silver-blue wax with the signet of his ancestors. Maybe, he thought, with a message that short, he could claim that he had signed it under duress. He nearly laughed aloud at his foolishness. Once he handed the scroll to Qerle he belonged to them.