A Magic of Nightfall nc-2

by S L Farrell

  Semini nodded his head. He was watching her as a wary dog might watch another. “I was ordained here in Brezno by Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca, my marriage-vatarh, but as a young o’teni I traveled with him to Nessantico several times when he was A’teni of Brezno.”

  “Then you undoubtedly understand why Nessantico was always the center of the Holdings. There’s a grandeur and history there that one can’t feel anywhere else. You can understand why-some day when the Holdings are unified again-Nessantico will become the center of the known world once again. I’m certain of that.” She touched his arm; she could feel him draw back. “I want to thank you, Semini. You gave me the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to Fynn just how loyal I was to him-despite the way Vatarh disposed of me as heir, despite Fynn’s paranoia and suspicions toward me, despite all the arguments and quarrels we’ve had. He’ll never suspect again that I or Jan would conspire against him.”

  Even in the dimness of the balcony, lit only by teni-lamps set on either end of the railings, she could see color darken his face. His hands made fists at his sides, and he looked away from her. He said nothing.

  “Kraljiki Audric won’t live long, from what I’m told,” she continued. “I’ve discovered that I really don’t want to be the Hirzgin, Semini. But when the day arrives that the Holdings become one again-let us say, under a Kraljica-it will need a strong Hirzg to be the Holdings’ sword, the role Firenzcia has always played. Now, my son will make a grand Hirzg one day, don’t you think? A wonderful leader.”

  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?”

  “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 teni-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.”

  “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: Cenzi 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.

  Eneas cu’Kinnear

  “ You undoubtedly have Cenzi 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 Eneas 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 Eneas 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 Eneas 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.”

  Eneas 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. Cenzi 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 Eneas 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 Eneas to his knees, praying to Cenzi 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, Eneas 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.”

  “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…” Eneas 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.”

  “Cenzi put His hand over you and saved you,” ca’Sibelli commented, and Eneas nodded again. He believed that. He’d been more and more certain of it over the days since he’d left the Tehuantin encampment. Cenzi had blessed him. Cenzi 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 Eneas to do.

  Eneas would obe
y, as any good teni would.

  “Cenzi was indeed with me, Commandant.” Eneas felt that fervently-what other answer could there be? He had expected to die, and yet Cenzi 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 Eneas 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 Cenzi has spared me.”

  There was a destiny for him to fulfill. That was why he escaped the Westlanders; it had been Cenzi working within Nahual Niente. Nothing more. Certainly not the workings of their false god Axat.

  Ca’Sibelli had frowned slightly with Eneas’ 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,” Eneas answered. It was not like him to protest in the face of orders, but Cenzi 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; Cenzi 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. Eneas was too startled to speak immediately. “Commandant,” Eneas 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 Cenzi’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.”

  Ca’Sibelli stood, and Eneas 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.”

  Eneas nodded. He suspected that also. Cenzi would make certain of it.

  Audric ca’Dakwi

  The 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.

  “You’re weak physically because you’re weak politically,” the Kraljica told him. “Cenzi 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.

  “Please, be seated,” Audric told them. He took his own seat near the hearth, on the other side of which his great-matarah’s portrait hung. He could imagine her, the back of her head to them as she listened. “I’ve asked you here today because I value your counsel, and I would like your opinions.” He paused, for breath as well as effect. “I won’t waste your time. I wish to have Regent ca’Rudka removed from his position and to have the full powers of the government granted to me.”

  He saw Odil sit back visibly in his chair, and Sigourney and Aleron exchange carefully-masked glances. “Kraljiki,” Aleron began, then stopped to run his tongue over his thick lips. “What you ask.. . well, you are only two years
from reaching your legal majority. I know it seems a long time to someone of your age, but two years…”

  “I’m perfectly aware of that, Councillor ca’Gerodi,” Audric said scornfully, his voice interrupted by occasional coughs and pauses for breath. “You were there when Maister ci’Blaylock tested me on the lineage of the Kralji. I know my history, perhaps better than any of you. I would mention Kraljiki Carin…”

  “Yes, Kraljiki.” It was Odil who spoke. “There is an admitted precedent in Carin, but Carin…”

  “ ‘But Carin?’ ” Audric repeated as the man stopped. Odil inhaled deeply as he sat forward in his chair.

  “Kraljiki Carin was precocious in nearly every way,” Odil continued. He looked down at his fingers, folded in his lap, speaking more to them than to Audric. “With the Kraljiki’s pardon, the history of Nessantico is my avocation, and I would say that there were extenuating circumstances with Carin’s extraordinary ascension. At twelve, he was thrust into command of the Garde Civile against the forces of Namarro when his vatarh was killed-and he demonstrated extraordinary skills in that battle. The histories all say that he had the ability to recall everything that he ever heard. He also had Cenzi’s Gift, and could use the Ilmodo nearly as well as a war-teni. And Carin’s health-” with that, Odil finally looked directly at Audric, “-was excellent.”

  “And Carin’s Regent was himself the one who went to the Council of Ca’ to request that the Kraljiki be given full power early,” Sigourney added quietly as Audric felt the heat of blood on his cheeks. “Perhaps if Regent ca’Rudka came to us with such a recommendation…”

  “Ca’Rudka is the problem!” Audric shouted. Gently… He heard his great-matarh’s voice in his head. Look at their faces, Audric. You frighten them with your power and you must be careful. Use your head. Play them. You want them to listen, you want them to do your bidding. You must sound like an adult, not a petulant child. You must sound reasonable. Make them believe it’s in their best interests to do what you ask. Tell them. Tell them all the things we’ve talked about…