His attitude toward Minister Josiah, however, was quite different. Never given the opportunity to admit or recognize admiration, he did not understand his feelings of protection for the old man. Indeed, he was foolish enough at first to believe he could save himself, save his family, and save Josiah by simply reporting nothing to Lord Darmouth. After all, he disobeyed no orders, refused no tasks, and there was nothing to tell.
"What do you mean, 'he's loyal'?" the bearded lord demanded when Leesil had returned once on a "visit home."
Leesil stood rigid and attentive in Darmouth's private chambers. Although tired and thirsty from his journey, he was offered neither a chair nor water.
"He bears you no ill will, speaks no treason," he answered in confusion.
Anger clouded Darmouth's eyes.
"And what of all these peasants flocking to his fields? No other minister gathers armies of the poor. Your father believes you are skilled. Is he wrong?"
Leesil never answered any question before thinking carefully, but now he felt adrift. How could Josiah's act of feeding the poor possibly be construed as treason?
"Is this task beyond you?" Darmouth went on after taking a long drink, draining a pewter goblet filled with wine and then slamming it back on the table.
"No, my lord," Leesil answered.
"I need evidence, and I need it quickly. His peasant hordes grow. If you can't bring me simple information, I will assume your father is a fool as well and have you both replaced."
Cold shock washed over Leesil as he realized Lord Darmouth didn't want the truth. He simply wanted something with which to justify Josiah's destruction. If Leesil refused, both he and his father would be replaced, and servants of their kind did not just leave service. At best, they disappeared one night never to be seen again—as the first task of their replacements.
He traveled back north to the warm embrace of his new teacher and ate a supper of roast lamb and fresh peaches while making up stories at the table when Josiah asked all about his visit home.
That night, he slipped downstairs into Josiah's study, picked a simple lock on the old man's desk, and began reading recent correspondence. He stopped going through the parchments when his gaze scanned a draft of a letter not yet sent.
My Dear Sister,
The situation grows worse with each month, and I fear a loss of both vision and reason in our highest places. I would resign my seat on the council were it not for my work here with those in most need. I pray each dusk for some sign of change with each dawn, for some legitimate change for the better in the command of this land, for a change is needed. These unending civil wars will destroy all of us…
The letter went on, touching upon Josiah's simple daily routine, queries of family and friends, and other personal topics. It even mentioned a young half-elf as a promising new student. Leesil ignored the rest of the letter. The first paragraph, though not clearly pointing to Lord Darmouth, would be enough for someone like him to justify charges of treason. Leesil shoved the parchment inside his shirt, found Chap, and headed out that night for Darmouth's castle.
Three days later, soldiers swarmed Josiah's estate and arrested him. They dispersed the refugees, killing a handful in the process. After a brief trial by Darmouth's council, composed of ministers now staunchly loyal to their lord as they sat in judgment over one of their own, Josiah was hanged in the castle courtyard for treason. A letter to his sister proved his guilt.
Leesil was well paid for his services and lay in bed that night shivering, unable to get warm. He tried to focus on loyalty to his parents and not on his own tenuous grasp of Master Josiah's lessons on ethics and morals. Ethics were for those who could afford such luxuries as time for philosophical thought, and morals should be left to clerics and their doctrines. But he had destroyed a man he admired— one who'd cherished a young half-blood stranger in his own house—on the orders of the one man Leesil despised the most.
No, that was no longer correct. He loathed himself even more than Darmouth.
He couldn't stop shaking.
That night, Leesil left behind most of the blood money he'd earned for his parents, knowing they would have need of it once his own disappearance was discovered. He took a few silver coins, his everyday stilettos, his box of tools,