Turning the Storm (7 page)

“He's gone. He took a horse and disappeared.”

It took a moment for this to sink in. “Why? Did he have a fight with someone?” I asked, but that was ridiculous. Except for that first day, Felice got along with pretty much everybody.

“No. No one. He spoke to no one—took the fastest horse—” Vitale was white, staring at our faces. “Don't you
get
it? Tomas said—he said—he's gone to the Circle. He
must
have gone to the Circle. Once he knew our plans—”

“Impossible,” Giovanni said, but his face had gone pale. “Felice knew the password; he'd met Cilo—”

“Your bloody password! Giovanni, if he was a spy, what could he know, what could he
tell
them …”

“We have to retreat,” he said. “Get back to the wasteland
now
. Eliana. Trust me on this one—”

And I would have, but that was when the fires came down.

I grabbed for my whistle, blew
retreat, retreat, retreat
. The first wave had not hit the area nearest me, but I could see flames rising from farther in the woods. White sparks streamed toward the sky like fleeing stars and I heard screams of agony. “Oh my God,” I said. “Lucia.
Lucia
.”

Giovanni took off at a run—I didn't see to where, but I stood frozen for a moment next to the still-gasping Vitale, looking around uselessly. I turned, and in the twilight, I could see a handful of figures on the hill behind us, clasping hands, silhouetted against the darkening sky and the bright burning forest. I counted. Five mages—that was all it took. Five of them. As I watched,
they turned toward us, scanning the field we'd camped in. Michel grabbed me, whirling me so that he stood between me and the mages, as if he meant to shelter me with his own body if he could.

Over my head, I saw the fire spring into life like a billowing gold cloud. The color darkened to red, and the cloud slowly unrolled. As the edge of the cloud touched the tops of the trees, they burst into bright white flames. The cloud of fire paused for a moment, and I could almost feel the mages taking a collective deep breath. Then the flames flashed down toward me and I closed my eyes tightly, knowing that in an instant I would feel my flesh burning around me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I heard a child's cry of agony and opened my eyes to see Vitale consumed in flames. “No,” I screamed, and tried to move toward him, but Michel was still holding me, more out of fear than protection. I stared down at his hands and mine, whole and unburned. Vitale's scream ended as his body crumbled into ash.

The woods were flaming around me; the very air seemed to have turned to pulsing fire. Yet even the grass I stood on was untouched. I turned, dragging Michel around after me, and stared at the hill. At first I could see nothing but the fire, but as it burned everything there was to consume, I saw that one mage stood with arms outstretched to the sky—in summoning, not in supplication. Even with the flames to provide light, the face was shadowed, but I knew with cold certainty who it was.
She
was protecting me. Even as she killed everyone around me. Killed Vitale. Killed
Lucia
. My hands moved to cross myself.
Oh, God, spare Lucia
.

Michel still stood with his arms around me, protected
by my nearness. At least I could save Michel. As the flames died down to rolling waves at our feet and then faded to nothing, I dragged him through the blackened field with me. Remembering my whistle, I blew
retreat
again and again, though the Lupi in the outer ring that had not been blasted in the first attack were already fleeing as fast as they could.

Five mages. How many mages sat in the Circle? Nearly two hundred? Yet our entire army fell to five. Yes, it was an ambush, but
five mages
.
What were we thinking
? What was I thinking? I knew what mages could do.
Of all the people here, I should have known what mages could do
. How could I possibly have thought we could face them?

God wants us to win, so we will. Somehow
. Lucia's words rang in my ears. I had held on to those words through all these months, letting the easy victories against isolated, demoralized soldiers fool me into thinking we could win this war.
All those people dead. Vitale, dead
. And it was my fault; I had led them here, and because of me, they had died.

I should have never trusted Felice, or the information he brought back from Pluma. I should have taken Giovanni's advice and split up the army.
It was my fault
. Michel sobbed into my shoulder as we walked. If I'd reached for Vitale, if I'd tried to protect him as Michel had tried to protect me, he would have lived as well.

It wasn't until we had almost reached the wasteland that I realized the one other thing I had brought with me, still slung over my shoulder: my violin.

And so we returned to the wasteland, defeated, to take stock of who was left.

Giovanni, of course, had survived. Somehow I had expected to see him greet me at the edge of the campsite, grim and bitter and still pale with fear. He blamed himself for trusting Felice, and he blamed me for refusing to divide the army. Michel had survived with me shielding his body. Isabella had come through untouched as well, and had brought two of her own out with her.

Rafi, who had urged me to disband the Lupi because I had no way to fight magefire, was dead. Camilla the scout leader—dead. Martido and Fiora, the irritating couple that had quarreled over the bracelet—both dead. Perhaps half of those who had been in the woods that night survived, and I was amazed that it was that many.

My grief over the people we'd lost, and my fear for Lucia who was still missing, alternated with bitter, gut-twisting anger.
How could she
, I thought, again and again, as I sat alone at the north end of our makeshift camp, watching the road to see who returned. All these months, though I knew Mira was with the Circle, I had thought of her as their slave, as the Lupi had been their slaves. They had
forced
her to do magery; they had dragged her back to Cuore. Surely—I had thought— surely, she would never
truly
serve them again. But I knew that Mira had been the focus that night. She was the only reason I was still alive.

Lucia
. Please, God, I prayed.
Bring Lucia back to me
.

It took two days for the survivors to straggle back to our makeshift camp. Some of them greeted me as they arrived; others wouldn't look me in the eye. I hardly cared.
I'll do anything you want
, God, I prayed, again and again. I knelt and whispered the words out loud, when no one was nearby.
Anything. Just let Lucia return alive. She's the only one I have left
.

At the very end of the second day, I saw one person straggling down the road, limping and alone. I shaded my eyes, then started walking toward her, then running.

Lucia caught me in a tight hug. “You're alive,” I said into her hair as I pressed my face against her shoulder.

“Yes,” she said, and embraced me for a long moment. Finally she whispered, “Eliana, I have a message for you. I think it's God's will that you relinquish control of the Lupi to Giovanni.”

I went from relief to anger. “Because I was wrong about dividing the Lupi?”

“No,” Lucia said. “Because what you want, more than anything, is to protect your people. But we can't fight this war that way. Giovanni understands that. You do, too, but you can't do it without destroying yourself.” She stared into my face, her eyes bearing into mine. “Eliana. You have to give the army to Giovanni.”

“What am I going to do if I'm not leading?” Not that I really knew what to do now; how could I rally the troops, tell them we could fight and win, when I no longer believed it myself?

“There will be something,” Lucia said. “Please, believe me. I know. There will be
something
. Trust in God.”

I had made a promise.
I'll do anything, God, just let Lucia return alive
. Was this the price? “All right,” I said. “I'll go tell Giovanni that he's in charge.”

∗    ∗    ∗

Giovanni didn't gloat; in fact, he looked almost shattered, but he quickly agreed that I was probably right. I went to tell each of the surviving seconds that they would report to Giovanni now. We had always
theoretically been equals, but everyone knew who was really in charge. I didn't find Isabella right away; Michel had seen her leave the camp, walking into the wasteland. I followed in the direction he pointed, and saw her as I came around the edge of a hill. She didn't see me; her eyes were closed as she knelt, her arms upraised. I had never been quite sure of Isabella's beliefs, but this was the posture to pray to the Lady. I held back a moment and watched.

Isabella was speaking, but too quietly for me to hear. I could see tears glint on her cheeks. Then she pulled a small sachet from a string around her neck. My mother wore one of those; it held a lock of hair cut from each of her children, even the two who had died. All mothers kept them, to bless and pray for their children when they were distant. It was one of the oldest traditions given by the Lady to Gaius.

As I watched, Isabella unlaced the pouch, took out a lock of dark, soft hair, and laid it on a rock. With a flint and steel and a bit of tinder, she set fire to the hair. I smelled the acrid smoke from where I stood, and choked back a cough. Isabella watched the smoldering ash for a moment.

“Now,” she said. “Now you are truly dead to me.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. Then she crossed herself, and I heard her mutter, “God forgive me.”

I should not have seen this. I would talk to her later, I decided, and slipped away.

A few nights later, Lia arrived without warning. She found me with Giovanni and Lucia; I was still included in war councils, still addressed as Generale, just as Giovanni had been. “I've got something you might be interested in,” she said to me without preamble. “Here.”

The letter she handed me was sealed. “Don't open it,” she said.

“Lia, what is this?”

“It's the letter of introduction for one Daniele, a premier violinist of the Pluma conservatory,” she said. “He was just accepted into one of the ensembles in Cuore— playing within the Imperial enclave, in fact.” She handed me another paper. “Here's the paper offering him the position.”

I read it over quickly. I recognized the name of the ensemble; it was one of the many small ensembles that provided chamber music at court. “So where is this Daniele?” I asked.

“Dead,” Lia said. “He died of a fever. But the Circle doesn't know that. Nor do they have any particular idea of what he looks like. Come on, Eliana, you know what I'm thinking! Don't you think there's anything you could accomplish if you were within the enclave of the Emperor? The enclave of the
Circle
?”

Giovanni's eyes lit up as mine went wide with alarm. “Oh no,” I said. “Lia, I'm not that good. I'm out of practice. And anyway I'm a
woman
. Daniele was not.”

“Cut your hair short again. No one looking at you ever knows you're a girl.”

“My voice—”

“Is deep enough to pass,” Lia said. “There are boys your age with voices squeakier than mine.” She clasped my hand and looked at me eagerly. “You'll pass, Eliana. Maybe if you stayed there five years they might suspect your lack of a beard, but not now. And you won't be staying there for five years, will you?”

“Eliana, you've got to do it,” Giovanni said. “We're never going to get this sort of chance again.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I demanded. “Spy on them?”

“Well, yeah,” Giovanni said. “And maybe more. Look, we know that the Circle is afraid of the army. Well, maybe they have
reason
to be afraid. Or maybe you could
give
them reason. You could gather information, win allies, you could even assassinate people in their beds! Well, maybe not that. But—”

“Giovanni, you're talking about court intrigue. What do I know about intrigue?”

“What did you know about leading an army? What did you know about training fighters? What did you know about
strategy
? When has not knowing what you're doing stopped
you
from doing anything?”

“You're just trying to get rid of me. To get me out of your way.”

“Why would I bother? You've been
staying
out of the way. Eliana, no one else can do this!”

“I can't either,” I said. “Giovanni, there are members of the Circle who
know
me, two of them. They will know that I don't belong there. There are Fedeli who could recognize me—”

“Eliana, I've spent most of my life with people like this. Trust me, they will never recognize you because they will never
look
at you. People like the men of the High Circle never look in the faces of their inferiors, and that's what they'll consider you. For all intents and purposes you will be
invisible
. Can't you see how useful that is?”

“What about Felice? We never caught Felice, and we
know
he was working for them.”

“Court is huge, Eliana. And why would they be keeping a spy like Felice there? The chances are miniscule.”

“
If
I go, how long do you expect me to stay there? What am I supposed to come back with?”

“The secret that will win the war,” he said, then laughed. “I don't know, Eliana. Use your own judgment. Something will tell you it's time.”

“Yeah,” I said, “like I'll find out I've been recognized. Or it will finally sink
in
that palace politics are just not my cup of tea.”

“Eliana, you'll be good at it. I mean that. Don't tell yourself you can't do it, because you can. You'll win this for us, because you know what? I'll lead the Lupi as far as they'll follow me, but I think this is the best chance we've
got
.”

I thought about it.

“I'll need a haircut,” I said softly. “And a different violin. The sound—violins are very distinctive. A musician could identify me from that alone.”

Lia had brought the dead boy's violin, and I spent some time that afternoon practicing with it, getting used to the new sound. It was a better violin than mine, with a fine tone, but I decided to bring my own bow.