A Magic of Dawn (60 page)

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Authors: S. L. Farrell

BOOK: A Magic of Dawn
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Ci’Noel said that last with a trace of a smile, and Jan realized that he probably suspected how few war-téni had followed the Archigos. The Archigos sniffed audibly. “I will be going to the Archigos’ Temple immediately to take up residence there and see what needs to be done,” he said to the aide. “I assume someone will guide us to the easiest way there.”
“Certainly, Archigos,” ci’Noel answered, “as soon as you’ve seen the Kraljica. She has asked that you be present at the meeting also.”
“It’s been a long ride,” the Archigos answered, “and as you can see, I’m not as young as others here . . .”
“The Kraljica expects your presence
first,
” ci’Noel interrupted, and that brought up the Archigos’ head to glare at the man. “I’m certain the Hïrzg understands the importance of state precedents, and has explained them to you.”
He’s taken lessons from Matarh . . .
Jan almost smiled at the clever impertinence of the man. “The Archigos will undoubtedly want to hear the latest regarding Nico Morel,” Jan agreed, and Karrol’s glare now turned to him. “So he can make the best decision regarding Morel’s fate and that of his followers.”
“Indeed,” ci’Noel said, nodding vigorously before the Archigos could object. “There is news there that I’m sure she’s waiting to tell you.” He bowed again. “If you’ll follow me, Hïrzg Jan. The citizenry, as you can see, are waiting to give you their own welcome.”
With that, one of the chevarittai led a horse forward and ci’Noel pulled himself onto the saddle. He nodded his head to Jan and tugged at the reins, turning his horse to continue westward.
The populace cheered as they proceeded under the arch of the gate and into Nessantico.
 
Allesandra ca’Vörl
 
S
HE WAS MORE NERVOUS than she’d imagined she would be. The hall of the Sun Throne had been set for the reception, and as she waited in the small room behind the throne’s dais with three palais e-téni and two of the hall servants, she could hear the servants bustling about making certain that everything was set. She’d been told that Hïrzg Jan and the others were on the palais grounds, that Talbot and the Council of Ca’ were escorting them to the hall, and she went to the nearly transparent scrim to peer into the hall. There was a loud knock on the far door, and the palais door wards hurried to open it. Talbot entered, bowing and indicating that the Hïrzg should enter.
For the first time in fifteen years, she saw her son.
He’d changed; he hadn’t changed. She certainly knew him immediately. The image of him as a young man burned in her mind was still there in this adult in the prime of his life. His hair had darkened and receded a bit, and there was a trace of gray at his temples that surprised her. She touched her own hair, knowing that the white was rapidly overpowering the color in her long, bound tresses. But his features: those were the eyes she remembered, with a hawk’s gaze that could send an arrow flying unerringly to the heart of a stag. The set of his mouth, the strong line of his jaw, his confident stride; they were still as she remembered.
She wanted to part the curtain and run to him, yet she could not. This was to be a dance as intricate and tightly choreographed as any ce’Miella minuet. This was not the time for emotions to rule, but for diplomacy. Even with the challenge of the Tehuantin pressing against their doorstep, the niceties of society and position must be followed. So Allesandra waited as Jan and the Firenzcian contingent were escorted up to the open space before the throne’s dais, until the servants had hurried forward with trays of refreshments. Her councillors (with Varina joining them and holding Nico’s daughter) were standing in their own huddle; the Firenzcian chevarittai, like most warriors fresh from a long march, took the offered food and drink eagerly, Starkkapitän ca’Damont with them. Archigos Karrol stood in front of the steps of the dais and waved away the servants (to the evident consternation of the téni clustered around him); he seemed to be contemplating whether his position as Archigos would permit him to ascend the steps up to the dais, his face—when he lifted it from staring at the floor—was a mask of irritation. Jan took water but waved away the food, standing and speaking softly to Talbot in front of ci’Recroix’s massive painting of a peasant family. Jan was staring over Talbot’s shoulder at the stunningly lifelike figures on the canvas.
Erik was standing alone. Isolated. Ignored by both Firenzcians and Nessanticans. Somehow, Allesandra found that fitting.
Talbot glanced over toward the screen and nodded. He bowed briefly to Jan, then brushed past Archigos Karrol to ascend the dais and stand to one side of the Sun Throne. Conversation in the room failed as everyone looked at him. Faintly, Allesandra heard one of the e-téni with her start to chant and gesture. “Kraljica Allesandra ca’Vörl of the Holdings,” Talbot intoned, and the e-téni’s spell made his words boom and thunder in the hall, as if a Moitidi had spoken them. The other two e-téni were chanting now, and as the hall servants parted the curtain, they cast their own spells, surrounding Allesandra in a bath of faint golden light as she stepped out, as if she’d been caught in a moving shaft of noon sunlight. Those in the room bowed to her as one, the Archigos and téni instead favoring her with the sign of Cénzi. Talbot took to one knee as she approached.
Her heart was beating hard, her breath was too fast. Jan alone had not bowed his head. Instead, he stared at her, as she did toward him. Their gazes locked, and she hoped that he saw the affection there.
She took three steps forward, until she stood alongside the Sun Throne, but she didn’t sit, as she would have for a normal reception. Instead, she paused there, and she extended her hands toward Jan. “Hïrzg,” she said. “Jan . . . Please . . .”
At the invitation, he bounded up the steps of the dais— more like a young man than a ruler, more like the child she remembered. He took her proffered hands. “Matarh,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
She’d played out this moment a hundred times in her mind, anticipating a thousand different reactions. She’d imagined him angry or sullen or terribly proper and aloof. She’d even dared to imagine a tearful reunion. This . . .This tugged her lips into a wide, helpless smile, and she pressed her fingers against his.
“It’s good to see you, Jan,” she said, softly enough that only he could hear her. “I mean that, my son. I should never have waited this long, and you have my sincere apology for that.”
He smiled, but there was a caution there, and a wariness in his eyes. She saw him glance at the Sun Throne. “Would it light up if I sat there?” he asked her.
“It will,” she answered. “Soon enough.”
And if you have the light-téni prepare beforehand.
He would learn that soon enough, too; though the Sun Throne still shone when the Kraljica or Kraljiki sat on it, that light had been but a dim spark since Kraljica Marguerite’s time, visible only in twilight darkness. It now required the aid of light-téni to be noticeable in the day. She’d also learned that the trigger for the light wasn’t herself, but the signet ring of the Kralji—the light that the famous Archigos Siwel ca’Elad had enchanted within the crystalline depths would arise whenever
anyone
wearing the ring sat on the throne.
He had dropped her hands, though he was still smiling—as were all of those watching the historic encounter. He was too like her; he knew the importance of this moment, knew that it would set the tone for the future. “Matarh,” he said, loudly enough that all could hear him, “the army of Firenzcia has come again to help the Holdings and the Sun Throne.”
Applause and cheers broke at that statement, the sound washing over them as they stood on the dais. They both turned as they accepted the ovation. Allesandra felt a lightness she had not felt in a long time. She saw Erik among the audience, still isolated, near the Holdings councillors and chevarittai but not with them, and well away from the Firenzcians. He applauded as loudly as the others, but his grin was smug and self-satisfied. She hated it.
She took Jan’s hand in hers, lifting them both in the air. “To a new union,” she said loudly. “Of family, and of countries.”
The applause and cheers redoubled. The light and glow in the room brightened around both of them, and if Allesandra knew that it was only an effect of the light-téni huddled in the room behind the dais, it still seemed fitting and right.
 
That evening, after the reception and a brief Third Call blessing by Archigos Karrol, Talbot escorted them to the private dining room within her apartments in the palais. Allesandra walked with her arm linked in Jan’s; Archigos Karrol stumped along behind with a cane and a single téni attendant and Starkkapitän ca’Damont, while Erik trailed the company by a pace.
Waiting for them in the room were Sergei and Varina. Varina was empty-armed now, having given Nico’s daughter to the care of servants for the duration.
“Kraljica! Hïrzg Jan!” Sergei’s voice boomed as Talbot opened the door and stepped aside. “You don’t know how delighted I am to see the two of you together! Matarh and son, as it should be. Hïrzg Jan, you certainly remember Varina ca’Pallo, A’Morce of the Numetodo . . . “
Varina bowed to Jan, who returned the bow, but Allesandra heard a distinct hiss of distaste from Archigos Karrol. The man muttered something Allesandra couldn’t hear to his attendant.
“Please, sit,” Allesandra told them, gesturing to the round table Talbot had set up in the room, laden with decanters and covered plates. “There are refreshments, and we’ll have dinner brought in later. Jan, if you would sit next to me . . .” She watched the others settle around the table: Sergei to her left hand with Varina next to him; Archigos Karrol to Jan’s right, then Starkkapitan ca’Damont. Erik sat between the Firenzcians and the Nessanticans, with Varina and ca’Damont on either side of him; she saw him glance uncomfortably at ca’Damont, who had defeated his vatarh. The Archigos’ téni attendant and Talbot took a small table to one side of the room, near the servants’ door. Allesandra waited until they’d all settled and Talbot had gestured to the wait staff to pour wine.
“This is a momentous occasion,” she said finally, lifting her glass. “I would propose a toast to the renewed Holdings, and to my son, Hïrzg of Firenzcia and now A’Kralj of the Holdings.”
“And to victory over the Tehuantin,” Sergei added.
Allesandra nodded. “To the Holdings, and to victory.” The phrase was echoed around the table, though Jan only lifted his glass with a smile, without saying anything.
“Kraljica, I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown us,” Archigos Karrol said, though the expression on his face belied the words. “But the work of the Faith awaits me. I should go to the Old Temple and see what the vile Morellis have done. And I would like Nico Morel given over to me tonight, so that I may immediately place the judgment of the Faith on him.”
“So you may take his hands and tongue, you mean?” Allesandra asked the man, and Varina gasped. She stared at Allesandra, as if afraid that Allesandra would hand Nico over despite her promise. “So you may then execute him?”
The Archigos sniffed. “Indeed. Morel has placed this fate on himself, Kraljica. It’s not my doing. I will, of course, take hands and tongue publicly, in the Temple Square, so that everyone may see what happens to heretics who defy the Faith.” He glanced at Varina as he said the last.
“I’m afraid, Archigos, that I have changed Nico Morel’s fate, at the A’Morce Numetodo’s request,” Allesandra answered. “Nico Morel currently resides in the Bastida, and he will remain there at my pleasure.”
Karrol’s head turned toward Allesandra, like a turtle looking sideways. Both his hands were on the table, as if he were trying to decide whether to stand. Across the room, she saw his attendant start to rise; Talbot placed his hand on the young man’s arm, shaking his head. “How strange that a Numetodo unbeliever would be concerned with Morel’s life, since if Morel had his way, she would be in the Bastida or worse herself. But in any case, Nico Morel is the Faith’s business, not the crown’s or the Numetodo’s,” Karrol declared. “This is a matter of religion, not of state.”
“Ah.” Allesandra placed steepled hands under her chin. “Though war
is
a matter of state, Archigos. Tell me, how many war-téni did you bring with you?”
The Archigos hissed like a turtle, too, Allesandra decided. “I hear that it was less than two hands,” Allesandra continued. “So few . . . However, Sergei has promised me that Nico Morel will give us the war-téni of Nesssantico, and that he will also send word to those who refused to follow you, and that they will come at his call.” She saw Sergei nod at that, as Varina glanced at the silver-nosed man strangely. “It seems, Archigos, that Nico Morel is able to provide the state far more war-téni than
you
can. So I don’t think your business at the Old Temple is quite so pressing. I’ve already pardoned the téni and war-téni who followed Morel, provided they go to the front. Those few who still refused . . .” She lifted an uncaring shoulder. “Well, I will permit you to do with them as you will.”

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