Fires of the Faithful (27 page)

There was a long silence. “Don’t be too hard on your friend,” Lucia said softly.

“She saved me—how can I hold that against her? But I don’t understand why she just
left
like that. Just because she’d used magic once. She could have refused after that.”

“It’s not quite that simple,” Lucia said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s difficult to explain.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I entirely understand it. But it is very difficult for mages to stop doing magery. Imagine that you were dying
of thirst, and someone offered you a cup of water. Even if you knew that the water was poisoned, you might drink it, because it would satisfy your thirst. And once you’d taken the first sip, it would be even harder to stop.” She looked into my face, searching for some sign of understanding. “As I said, I don’t entirely understand it, either. But don’t judge Mira too harshly.”

“I trusted the Circle, once,” I said.

“All of us did. Don’t judge yourself, either.” Lucia studied her hands. “I was in Verdia when the war broke out. Few people questioned the Circle’s story about the border raids that were leaving farm families dead.” Lucia sighed. “I didn’t even have to be a Redentore to know the real cause of the war—just a merchant’s daughter who had seen where certain crops went after they left Verdia.”

I sat up straight. “What are you saying? What caused the war?”

“A great deal of trade comes through Varena. We buy and sell commodities from people across the sea—spices, dyes, certain drinks that are like very strong wine, fruits, and sweet things that no one down here has ever seen. Of course, we need things to sell to them in order to have the money to buy the goods they bring.”

“Of course,” I said.

“There’s a flower that grows—or used to grow—in the southern parts of Verdia and northern parts of Vesuvia. It smells very nice, and with some work can be distilled into perfume. A few years ago, demand for this perfume suddenly shot up—who knows why, a court fad on the other side of the sea, most likely—and merchants from Vesuvia were cutting into Varena’s profits. I’m sure they felt the same way about us. Both sides wanted the war; it was a gamble, but they hoped to destroy the other side’s ability to make the perfume.”

I felt sick, but not really surprised. “Are you saying that the Circle
meant
to drain the land?”

“Oh no,” Lucia said. “I think that was an accident—I think even the Circle didn’t realize that would happen. But certainly they meant to burn the Vesuviani fields, to do what they could to keep the Vesuviani from growing those flowers.”

I shook my head and leaned back again. “I think right now you could tell me that they drained the land for the sheer joy of destruction, and I might believe you.”

“Don’t say that. They’re still people, even if what they do is wrong. Some of them even have family down here, like your friend, Mira.”

We were quiet for a while. Outside the tent, we could hear two old women arguing. They were arguing over a goat—someone had traded a goat for some chickens, but the goat died the next day. I looked at Lucia, baffled. The only evidence of goats in Ravenna was the meat in the soup at the barracks. Lucia grinned and shook her head. “I’ve heard these two at it before. That trade took place eight years ago.”

“Why would you fight over something like that here?”

Lucia shrugged. “Entertainment?”

“Do you ever feel like those women?” I asked, then flushed, realizing what an insulting question this could be. “With the movement and the Old Way, do you ever feel like there’s no real purpose in it? I mean—” I was in a hole, but I kept digging. “All my life I’ve trained to become a member of an orchestral ensemble. When I left the conservatory, I slammed that door shut. I still play and practice, but sometimes I feel like I’m just doing it because that’s what I’ve always done. Do you ever feel that way?”

I was afraid to look at Lucia’s face, afraid that she’d be furious at me, but she took my hand gently. “There are
some things that are never meaningless. God’s love is one. Music is another.”

I finally looked up, but she wasn’t looking at me. “There is power in the music of the Old Way and there is power in singing and dancing together—power that can’t be stopped by the Fedeli, Teleso, or the Circle,” Lucia said. “One of the villages I went to had lost every dance but the one they called the Dance That Turned the Storm. This was a village in Marino, just on the coast of the sea. A fishing village. Years ago, a terrible storm was coming from the ocean, the kind that can destroy houses, and they had nowhere to go to hide from it. As the storm approached, the whole village went to the piazza and joined hands to dance. When they stopped dancing, the storm had turned and headed back out to sea. There is power in the dances. Even here.” Lucia looked up to meet my eyes. “That’s what you were getting ready for, all these years, Eliana. Even if you didn’t know it. Not to play in an ensemble. To play the Dance That Turned the Storm. Someday.”

Isabella returned to the tent in late afternoon. “Teleso has ordered the whole camp to the piazza at sundown.”

“How will everyone fit?” I asked.

“The tents on the edges of the piazza will be taken down until the assembly is over,” Isabella said.

“Does anyone know why?” Lucia asked.

Isabella shook her head. “No. But I heard that they’re building a scaffold.”

Lucia covered her face with her hands. “How is Rafi?” she asked after a moment.

Isabella sighed. “He blames himself. You know Rafi.” She patted Lucia’s shoulder. “Give me one of your ration chits and I’ll go get you some dinner. They’re serving it early so that we’ll be done by sundown.”

We each gave her a chit and she ducked back out.

When evening came, Isabella gave us each a scarf to partially obscure our faces as we headed for the piazza. “Stay near the back,” she warned us.

“Beneto and Jesca—”

“Will know that your thoughts are with them. It will be nearly dark. Even if you were in the front row, they wouldn’t be able to see you.”

Despite this warning, Lucia dragged me nearly to the front of the piazza; it wasn’t difficult, as most people seemed to prefer to be farther back. I tucked my violin case under my arm, trying to hide it with my cloak, since we didn’t want to be recognized. The violin made me pretty distinctive.

As we reached the front we got a clear view of the scaffold. Two nooses dangled, slack in the evening calm. “Oh no,” I heard Lucia murmur; her hand turned cold.

The setting sun lit the black hills to the west with an orange fire, but I don’t think anyone else noticed. As the colors began to fade, the front door to the keep opened. “Teleso,” Lucia said. “No one else uses that door.”

A squadron of a dozen guards marched out. I recognized some of the faces. Teleso was making his men work extra shifts. Behind the guards was a slender man with dark hair and cold eyes. I knew without asking that this was Teleso.

Escorted by the soldiers, Teleso strode up the steps onto the scaffold. He gestured for silence and a hush fell over the crowd. “People of Ravenna,” he said. He had a strong voice, as clear and deep as a church bell, and it rang through the valley on the still evening air. “You know that my first duty and desire is to keep you all as safe and comfortable as possible. Ravenna offers refuge, shelter and sustenance to anyone who comes here willing to work. But to become part of our community, you must be willing to
allow others to live in peace. Thieves will be
punished
. Marauders will be
punished
. And those who would destroy what we have built here will be
cut off
from our community.”

Teleso gestured to the soldiers who still stood in the doorway, and they came forward, dragging Beneto and Jesca with them. Beneto blinked in the torchlight, trying to see past the glare to our faces; Jesca looked dazed and sick. The soldiers dragged them up the steps to the scaffold.

“Beneto and Jesca,” Teleso said, “have committed extortion, treason, and disloyalty.”

Beneto stirred. “Lies!” he shouted. One of the soldiers standing beside him slapped him across the face; the sound echoed through the piazza. A rustle of fear and anger wound through the crowd.

“They have entered into a deliberate campaign of terror against the people of Ravenna,” Teleso continued. “This community has no place for them.” He looked slowly around the crowd, and for an instant, his eyes met mine. I felt like a field mouse in the shadow of a hawk. “The sentence is death,” he said. He stepped down from the scaffold, and the soldiers shoved Beneto and Jesca under the nooses. I realized that one of the soldiers on the scaffold was Mario; he averted his eyes as he held Beneto’s arms. Another soldier slipped a noose over Beneto’s head, tightened it around his neck. Next to him, I recognized Niccolo tightening the other noose around Jesca’s. Mario and most of the others stepped back.

Beneto closed his eyes and shouted, “For the glory of God, and Her son, and the Light!” Niccolo shoved him off the scaffold. The crowd went rigid; I could see people around me touching their collars, their throats, watching Beneto’s desperate struggle for air. The soldiers had left his
hands untied so that he could claw desperately at the noose, legs kicking frantically to find purchase. Lucia stood rigid, hands pressed against her lips.

Jesca cried out, “Death to the ones who have left us to starve.” Niccolo shoved her off the scaffold. Her face contorted as she tried uselessly to suck air past the noose, but through a supreme act of will, she clenched her arms at her sides, refusing to claw at the rope like Beneto. She would die with dignity. I touched my fist to my chest, then held it out, a soldier’s salute to his commander.

“Live with God, Jesca,” Lucia whispered. “Live with God, Beneto.” The woman on the other side of me turned away; others wept openly. As the last of the golden sunset faded in the hills, Beneto’s struggles finally ended; Jesca’s body became limp and still. Lucia’s hand found mine; she was as cold as ice, and so was I. People began to drift out of the courtyard. “Who will lead us now?” Lucia whispered.

“Come on, Lucia,” I said. As I started to help Lucia back toward the tents, I felt someone staring at me. I looked up to glare, and met Teleso’s cold eyes. I turned away hastily, but from the corner of my eye I could see him gesture to someone. As we tried to slip past the edge of the keep, a soldier blocked our path.

“Signora Eliana,” he said.

“Yes.” I looked up unwillingly.

“You’re to come with me,” he said.

“What?” Lucia cried.

“He’s not looking for you, Lucia,” the soldier said. “He just said to bring him the violinist.” More kindly, he added, “It’s all right. I think he just wants to hear her play.” Glancing around, he gestured sharply to someone, and I saw Isabella coming over. “Take Lucia,” the soldier
said to her. “I don’t think she’s in any shape to get home by herself. I’m to take Eliana to the keep.” Isabella looked at me for a moment, wide-eyed.

“I’ll be fine,” I said to Isabella, having no idea whether I was telling the truth or not. “Tell Lucia I’ll be fine.”

“Come on,” the soldier said to me, and he had a sword, so I followed him into the keep.

T
eleso waited just inside the door of the keep. “Signora Eliana,” he said. “What a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard a great deal about you.”

Forcing myself to meet his eyes, I drew myself straight and raised one eyebrow silently.

“After your performance last night, half my soldiers were singing your praises. The rest were on duty at the time, and were thus denied the opportunity to hear you.” He gave me a smile that never reached his eyes. When he reached to touch my arm I jerked away without thinking.

“Don’t be afraid,” Teleso said. “I only want to converse with you, and to hear you play.” He held out his arm, crooked slightly at the elbow. “Take my arm, signora,” he said. I stood motionless for a moment. “Take my arm!” he said impatiently.

Awkwardly, I slipped my hand under his arm. The last time I had practiced this gesture was with Mira.

“Good,” Teleso said, tucking my arm snugly against his side. “Now, if you will join me for supper, I would
appreciate the opportunity to demonstrate the advantages of friendship with me. Come.”

Teleso led me down the corridor and up a staircase, through a door into a room with a long table, and finally to a chair at the table. “Where are you from, Eliana?”

“Doratura,” I said. Teleso released my arm and pulled a chair out for me, slipping it neatly under me as I sat.

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” he said, “I need to speak to my lieutenant about a few details. The servants will be in shortly with our meal.” He went out, closing the door behind him.

With Teleso gone, I took a deep breath and looked around. An iron circle of candles swung by a chain from the ceiling, lighting the room. There was a thick rug under my feet; I could feel the plush pile even through my boots. The table itself was long enough to seat twelve, but only two places were set, one at each end.

The door opened and I jumped, but it was only a servant. He poured wine into a cup made of glass as thin as an eggshell, then set it by my hand. It looked as if it would shatter if I picked it up, so I decided not to; I didn’t want to spill wine on the tablecloth. The plate was also made of a thin, fragile-looking material. I tapped it gently with my fingernail; it made a
tink
noise like a bell. A knife and spoon were laid next to the plate, but there were two spoons and several items I had never seen before and had no idea what to do with.

The door opened again; this time it was Teleso. He sat at the other end of the table. The servant filled his wineglass, then left and returned a moment later with a platter of food.