A Magic of Nightfall (26 page)
Read A Magic of Nightfall Online
Authors: S. L. Farrell
His eyes widened slightly. “You want—”
“Yes,” she answered before he could finish the question.
“You took an incredible risk, Allesandra.”
“Well, I’ll admit you did rather startle me with your audacity. I almost decided to just let it happen. But large ambitions require large risks—as you obviously realize. And you owe me for the risk I took, Semini, because I made certain afterward that the assassination attempt can’t be easily traced back to you. I destroyed the evidence that could talk.”
“I had nothing to do . . .”
She waved at his weak protest. “Come now. Only the moon can hear us here, and we both know better. There’s
still
evidence against you, should I be forced to reveal it. We both know that if I were to relate to Fynn some of the conversations we’ve had, or to tell him about the missive you received from the Regent of Nessantico—” Semini’s eyes widened further at that, and Allesandra knew that her guess had been right, “—well, we know that the interrogators in the Bastida can extract a full confession from anyone. Fynn would order such an interrogation, even of the Archigos, should I insist. After all, I’m his loyal sister, who interposed herself between him and that vile Numetodo. And if you tried to tell him that
I
was involved, too, why, my actions and those of Jan would give the lie to that accusation, wouldn’t they?”
still
evidence against you, should I be forced to reveal it. We both know that if I were to relate to Fynn some of the conversations we’ve had, or to tell him about the missive you received from the Regent of Nessantico—” Semini’s eyes widened further at that, and Allesandra knew that her guess had been right, “—well, we know that the interrogators in the Bastida can extract a full confession from anyone. Fynn would order such an interrogation, even of the Archigos, should I insist. After all, I’m his loyal sister, who interposed herself between him and that vile Numetodo. And if you tried to tell him that
I
was involved, too, why, my actions and those of Jan would give the lie to that accusation, wouldn’t they?”
“What do you want?” Semini asked dully. He stepped back from her, as if her presence was a contamination. That pleased Allesandra; it meant that all the posturing was over. His fine, dark eyes flashed with the reflections of the téni-lights below them, his stance was that of a cornered bear, powerful and ready to defend itself to the death. She found she liked that.
“Actually, I don’t want anything more than what you want yourself,” she told him. “You and I are still on the same side, even though I know that you’re feeling uncertain of that. I like you, Semini. I do. I would like you to become the One Archigos. And you
will
be—if you do as I tell you. You made two mistakes, Semini. One was thinking that Fynn was only useful to us dead when, in fact, we
want
him alive. For now.”
will
be—if you do as I tell you. You made two mistakes, Semini. One was thinking that Fynn was only useful to us dead when, in fact, we
want
him alive. For now.”
“And the second?”
She tilted her head to the side, regarding him. “You thought that you were the one who should be making the decisions for us. I don’t expect you to make that mistake again. Back when I was a hostage in Nessantico, Archigos Ana often told how the Archigos always serves two masters: Cénzi for the Faith, and the person on the Sun Throne for the Holdings.”
She touched his arm once more. This time he did not draw back, and she laced her arm with his. “Come, let’s dance together, Archigos, since neither of our respective spouses seem to care. Let’s see how well we might move together.”
She urged him from the balcony and out again into the noise and light of the ballroom.
Enéas cu’Kinnear
“
Y
OU UNDOUBTEDLY HAVE CÉNZI watching over you, O’Offizier cu’Kinnear, though the news you carry is most disturbing.” Donatien ca’Sibelli, Commandant of the Holdings forces in the Hellins and twin brother to Sigourney ca’Ludovici of the Council of Ca’, paced behind his desk as Enéas stood at attention before him. The room reflected the man: clean and sparse, with nothing to distract the eye. The desktop was polished, with a single stack of paper on it, aligned perfectly to the edge of the desk. An inkwell and pen quill were set on the other side, with a container of blotting sand forming a perfect right angle above them. The wastebasket was empty. A single, plain wooden chair had been placed before the desk. The blue-and-gold banner of Nessantico hung limply on a pole in one corner.
Y
OU UNDOUBTEDLY HAVE CÉNZI watching over you, O’Offizier cu’Kinnear, though the news you carry is most disturbing.” Donatien ca’Sibelli, Commandant of the Holdings forces in the Hellins and twin brother to Sigourney ca’Ludovici of the Council of Ca’, paced behind his desk as Enéas stood at attention before him. The room reflected the man: clean and sparse, with nothing to distract the eye. The desktop was polished, with a single stack of paper on it, aligned perfectly to the edge of the desk. An inkwell and pen quill were set on the other side, with a container of blotting sand forming a perfect right angle above them. The wastebasket was empty. A single, plain wooden chair had been placed before the desk. The blue-and-gold banner of Nessantico hung limply on a pole in one corner.
Ca’Sibelli, in his office at least, allowed nothing to intrude on his duty as commandant. There was no questioning ca’Sibelli’s loyalty or bravery—he had fought well against overwhelming odds in the Battle of the Fens and had been decorated and promoted by Kraljiki Justi, and his sister had served the state in her way, but Enéas had always suspected that the man’s brain was as sparsely furnished as his office.
“Sit, O’Offizier,” ca’Sibelli said, waving to the chair and taking his own seat. He plucked the top sheet from the reports and placed it in front of him as Enéas took his seat. The commandant’s forefinger moved under the text as he scanned it. “A’Offizier ca’Matin will be sorely missed. Seeing him sacrificed at the whims of the false gods those savages worship must have been horrific, and you’re extremely fortunate to have avoided the same fate, O’Offizier.”
Enéas had wondered at that himself, and the offiziers who had debriefed him since his return had often said the same, some of them with an undertone of accusation in their voices. He’d been three days in the wilderness around Lake Malik, avoiding Westlander villages and keeping his horse moving north and east. On the fourth day, starving and weak, his mount nearly exhausted, he’d glimpsed riders on a hill. They’d seen him as well and came galloping toward him. He’d waited for them, knowing that—enemy or friend—he couldn’t outrun them. Cénzi had smiled on him again: the group was a small Holdings reconnaissance patrol and not Westlander soldiers. They’d fed him, listened in astonishment to his tale, and brought him back to their outpost.
Over the next few days, as word was sent back to Munereo and the order dispatched that Enéas was to return to Munereo, he learned that barely a third of the army led by A’Offizier ca’Matin had managed to limp home after the chaotic retreat. Of his own unit, he was the lone survivor. The shock of the news had sent Enéas to his knees, praying to Cénzi for the souls of the men he’d known and commanded. Too many of them gone now. Far too many. The loss stunned him and left him reeling.
Now, Enéas simply nodded at the commandant’s comment and watched as the man continued to read, muttering to himself.
“The nahualli
were
with the army, then. Our intelligence was wrong.”
were
with the army, then. Our intelligence was wrong.”
“Yes, sir. Though I’ve fought against them many times and I’ve never seen spells like these—fire exploding from the ground underneath us, those circles of dark sand . . .” Enéas swallowed hard, remembering. “One of those spells went off near me, and I don’t remember anything after that until . . . after the battle was already over. They thought I was dead.”
“Cénzi put His hand over you and saved you,” ca’Sibelli commented, and Enéas nodded again. He believed that. He’d been more and more certain of it over the days since he’d left the Tehuantin encampment. Cénzi had blessed him. Cénzi was saving him for a special reason—he
knew
this. He could feel it. At night, he seemed to hear Cenzi’s voice, telling him what He wanted Enéas to do.
knew
this. He could feel it. At night, he seemed to hear Cenzi’s voice, telling him what He wanted Enéas to do.
Enéas would obey, as any good téni would.
“Cénzi was indeed with me, Commandant.” Enéas felt that fervently—what other answer could there be? He had expected to die, and yet Cénzi had reached out to the heathen Niente and touched the man’s heart. That was the only explanation. And despite the hunger and thirst, despite the exhaustion after he’d left the Westlanders, in some ways Enéas had never quite felt so invigorated, so full of life and
alive
. His very soul burned inside him. Sometimes he could feel energy tingling in his fingertips. “That’s why, Commandant, I’ve made the request to return to Nessantico. I feel that this is the task for which Cénzi has spared me.”
alive
. His very soul burned inside him. Sometimes he could feel energy tingling in his fingertips. “That’s why, Commandant, I’ve made the request to return to Nessantico. I feel that this is the task for which Cénzi has spared me.”
There was a destiny for him to fulfill. That was why he escaped the Westlanders; it had been Cénzi working within Nahual Niente. Nothing more. Certainly not the workings of their false god Axat.
Ca’Sibelli had frowned slightly with Enéas’ last comment. He ruffled his papers again. “I have prepared a report to send back to Nessantico,” ca’Sibelli continued, “and a recommendation for a commendation for you, O’Offizer cu’Kinnear. But still, we’d sorely miss your experience and your leadership here, especially with the loss of A’Offizier ca’Matin.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Commandant,” Enéas answered. It was not like him to protest in the face of orders, but Cénzi was a higher authority. “But reports are dry things, and those in Nessantico, especially the Regent and the Kraljiki, need to know how dire our circumstances are here. I think . . . I believe I would be well-suited to take the message back. I can talk directly to those in Nessantico about how things are here. They can hear from my lips what has happened. I can convince them; Cénzi tells me that I can.”
You will go to your leader. You will talk to him, and you will give him a message for us. . . .
He thought, for a moment, that he heard that sentence in a great, deep voice within his head. Enéas was too startled to speak immediately. “Commandant,” Enéas continued, “I do understand that my place is here with the troops, especially with the Westlanders threatening to advance on Munereo herself. I will return here, as soon as I possibly can, but I can give your report so much more impact. I promise you that. I would suggest that you go yourself, but your expertise and leadership are critical to our victory against the Westlanders.”
He thought, for a moment, that he heard that sentence in a great, deep voice within his head. Enéas was too startled to speak immediately. “Commandant,” Enéas continued, “I do understand that my place is here with the troops, especially with the Westlanders threatening to advance on Munereo herself. I will return here, as soon as I possibly can, but I can give your report so much more impact. I promise you that. I would suggest that you go yourself, but your expertise and leadership are critical to our victory against the Westlanders.”
Ca’Sibelli waved his hand. The movement stirred the top papers on the desk, and he stopped to align them again. He sighed. “I suppose one offizier more or less isn’t going to make a difference—or, rather, I believe you when you say you can make far more difference speaking to the Kraljiki and the Council of Ca’ than by bearing a sword here. Perhaps you’re right about Cénzi’s Will. All right, O’Offizier cu’Kinnear: you will leave tomorrow morning at first light on the
Stormcloud
. E’Offizier cu’Montgomeri has my report for you to deliver; you may pick it up as you leave. I will expect you back here with
Stormcloud
’s return.”
Stormcloud
. E’Offizier cu’Montgomeri has my report for you to deliver; you may pick it up as you leave. I will expect you back here with
Stormcloud
’s return.”
Ca’Sibelli stood, and Enéas scrambled to his feet to salute. “You already know that A’Offizier ca’Matin had recommended you for the title of Chevaritt,” the commandant told him as he returned the salute. “I have signed off on that recommendation; it will also be on the
Stormcloud
for the Kraljiki to sign. I suspect that there are great things in store for you, O’Offizier. Great things.”
Stormcloud
for the Kraljiki to sign. I suspect that there are great things in store for you, O’Offizier. Great things.”
Enéas nodded. He suspected that also. Cénzi would make certain of it.
Audric ca’Dakwi
T
HE WIND-HORNS OF THE TEMPLE droned First Call, their mournful, discordant notes shredding the last vestiges of sleep.
HE WIND-HORNS OF THE TEMPLE droned First Call, their mournful, discordant notes shredding the last vestiges of sleep.
Audric allowed Seaton and Marlon to help him from his bed. Even with their assistance, Audric was out of breath by the time he was standing on his feet in his bedclothes. His
domestiques de chambre
held him, their hands on him as they stripped his night shift from him, then began to dress him for the morning’s audience. Swaying slightly in their hands, panting, he glanced at Marguerite’s portrait. She smiled grimly at him.
domestiques de chambre
held him, their hands on him as they stripped his night shift from him, then began to dress him for the morning’s audience. Swaying slightly in their hands, panting, he glanced at Marguerite’s portrait. She smiled grimly at him.
“You’re weak physically because you’re weak politically,” the Kraljica told him. “Cénzi has sent your illness to you as a sign. You’re swaddled in iron shackles that you can’t even see, Audric: heavy and confining and weighing you down, and it’s that burden that sickens you. The Regent has placed them around you, Audric. He steals power from you; he steals your health. When you break free of the Regent’s shackles, when you are Kraljiki in fact as well as in title, your sickness will also fall from you.”
“I know, Great-Matarh,” he told her. It was an effort just to lift his head. The corners of the room were as dark as if night still cloaked them; he could only see the painting. “I look forward . . . to that day.” For a moment, Marlon and Seaton stopped in their attentions, startled at his reply.
“Soon,” she crooned to him. “Whatever you do, it must be soon. The Regent intends to weaken you until you die, Audric. He poisons you with his words, with his advice of caution, with the power he’s stolen from you. He wants it all for himself, and he is killing you to have it. You must act.”
“That’s what I’m doing today, Great-Matarh,” he told her.
“Kraljiki?” Seaton asked, and Audric glanced angrily at him.
“You do not interrupt when I am in conversation with your betters,” he spat, the words broken by gasps for air. “Do so again and you will be dismissed from my service, and flogged for your insolence besides. Do you understand?”
He saw Seaton glance at Marlon, then give Audric a quick, low bow. “My apologies, Kraljiki. I . . . I was wrong.”
Audric sniffed. Marguerite smiled at him, nodding in the frame of her picture. “Hurry yourselves,” he told the two. “Today will be a busy one.”
A half turn of the glass later, he was dressed and breaking his fast at the table on the balcony of his bedchamber, overlooking the formal gardens of the palais. He heard the knock on the outer door, and the hall servant talking to Marlon. “Kraljiki,” Marlon said a few moments later as Audric sipped mint tea, savoring the smell of the herb. “Your guests are awaiting you in the outer chamber.”
“Excellent.” He set the cup down and waved away Marlon and Seaton as they hurried to assist. “Leave me. I’m fine,” he told them. As he walked past the portrait of Marguerite, he nodded to her, then went to the door to the reception chamber. Marlon moved to open the door for him, and Audric held up his hand, waiting to gather his breath again, waiting until he could breathe without gasping. He nodded finally, and Marlon opened the door.
He watched them rise quickly to their feet as he entered, bowing: Sigourney ca’Ludovici, Aleron ca’Gerodi, and Odil ca’Mazzak—all members of the Council of Ca’, the three most influential among the seven. Sigourney was the keystone, he knew: she carried the ca’Ludovici name as had Kraljica Marguerite. Thin and active, her long, fine-featured face animated, she was approaching her fourth decade, her hair a false coal-black shining white at its roots—and with her twin brother commanding the forces in the Hellins, she had the voice of the military behind her as well. Odil, a hale sixty, had sat on the Council of Ca’ for the longest time of all of them. His body had the lean, shriveled appearance of smoked meat and he walked with a careful shuffle supported by a cane, but his mind remained sharp and keen. At barely thirty, Aleron was one of the younger members of the Council, but he was charismatic, charming, carrying his weight well enough to still be considered handsome—and he had married well into the ancient ca’Gerodi family.
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