A Magic of Twilight nc-1

by S L Farrell

  She turned, startled. He inclined his head to her. He could see puzzlement cross her face at the bow he made, unaccompanied by the customary sign of Cenzi, then her mouth opened in a soft breath and her eyes widened slightly. She took in his costume, her eyes narrowing.

  “Envoy ci’Vliomani?”

  He laughed. “I’ve been found out,” he answered. “I see I have more of a reputation than I might like. And you have the advantage of me.”

  He thought he saw the ghost of a nod, but she didn’t give him her name. She seemed strangely quiet, not like most of the ca’-and’cu’ he’d met, most of whom seemed anxious to dominate every conversation.

  “You’ve chosen an odd costume, Envoy,” she said, with a gentle remonstrance underneath the words.

  He brushed a hand over the green cloth of his teni’s robes. “I was going for irony. But I suspect I may have succeeded only in achieving poor taste.”

  He watched her struggle not to smile, then allow herself to show her amusement. He found himself smiling in return. “Oh, you could have made a worse choice, as I think U’Teni Estraven might tell you,” she answered. There was bright laughter in her voice, and the comment suggested that her opinion of the ca’Cellibrecca family was no higher than his own. He thought she was going to say nothing more, that she wouldn’t ever give her name and confirm his suspicion. Her gaze wandered past him to the other room as the orchestra lurched into a gavotte and dancers filled the floor. She seemed enthralled and terribly uncomfortable all at the same time. He found the combination intriguing.

  “I’m O’Teni Ana cu’Seranta,” she told him, and her gaze returned to him. She had eyes the color of long-steeped tea. Her head was tilted slightly, as if she were trying to decide how she should feel about him.

  “Just so we’re properly introduced. I saw you the other day, Envoy, when you were at the Archigos’ Temple.”

  He realized then why she had seemed familiar. “Ah, the teni who was outside the room when we left, the one with the Archigos’ secretary. So you’re the Archigos’ new protegee, and not just another handsome vajiki and chevaritt.” His smile widened, then he shook his head.

  Compared to most of the women at the Gschnas, she was unremarkable and ordinary in appearance, yet Karl found a compelling earnestness about her that made him want to linger. You’ve been too long away. Now what would Kaitlin think, you thinking about her like that? “I owe you both an apology and my gratitude, O’Teni.”

  “Apology? Gratitude? I don’t understand, Envoy. We’ve never really met. How is it that you need to either apologize to or thank me?”

  Puzzlement crossed her face under the foppish, silly hat.

  “It was you who saved the Archigos’ life last week. And it was, unfortunately, a Numetodo who was the would-be assassin. I apologize on behalf of all the Numetodo for that action-we’re not murderers or insurrectionists, no matter what the popular opinion might be. And I owe you my gratitude for intervening: because had you not, I’m afraid I would be in a cell in the Bastida or worse, and not standing here speaking with you.”

  Her lips pressed together and her cheeks were touched with a hint of color. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that?”

  “Are you?”

  “No.” Her answer came quickly and without any leavening. Yes, she’s honest to a fault. In that, she’s much like Kaitlin. Her head tilted a bit further; she crossed her arms, her weight on one leg. “I’d also suspect that it’s no accident that we’re speaking now, and that I really didn’t need to introduce myself. Would I be wrong?”

  He thought of a pleasant lie, of coming up with one of a dozen plausible excuses to have initiated the conversation with her, but he decided instead to respond to her with the same honesty. “I was watching A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and the Archigos,” he told her. “You can imagine how I might find their conversation interesting, or that I would want to know who A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca is having conversations with, given what happened in Brezno a few months ago. And you might also imagine that I pay attention to what happens within Concenzia-and that I would know of you as a result. As to why I would introduce myself to you. .” He rubbed a hand through his hair, his shoulders lifting under the green cloth. “Well, I’m not quite sure that I know the answer to that. It was a whim, truthfully. I saw your face when you were talking to Vajica ca’Cellibrecca, and I thought perhaps. .”

  An eyebrow lifted as he hesitated. “You thought perhaps you might use me as a way to get to the Archigos?”

  And she has a bite when she wants to. . He spread his hands wide.

  “If I admit that, will you at least admire my honesty and keep talking to me?”

  “Talking to a Numetodo, even if he is the Envoy of Paeti?” The response was less harsh than it might have been.

  “We’re not all monsters who cause milk to sour, eat children, and lace the city wells with poison. Very few of us actually do that.”

  The barest hint of a smile touched her lips. “And what do the rest of you do?”

  This time, it was his turn to tilt his head and regard her. “We search for explanations.” She said nothing. She waited, silent, as the gavotte ended and another dance began. He reached into his pocket.

  “Have you ever been to the hills east of your city?” he asked her. “I’m told that there, embedded high up on the cliffs and days from the sea by even the swiftest boat, you can find seashells made of rock. Here, look. .” He brought his hand from the pocket. In his palm was a closed clam shell, formed in pale gray stone. “We have these in Paeti, too. I brought a few of them with me when I left to remind me of my home.” He pulled out the necklace he wore under the green robes so she could see it. “Our rock-shells have a different shape than those here, but we also find them in the mountains, far from the ocean, and they’re different than the shells in our sea. But look at it. .” He held out the shell to her. “Go on. Take it. Look at it. It’s perfectly formed, little different than what might wash up on the shore. Yet there are no seas in the mountains, and rocks don’t live and breathe and reproduce, as clams do.”

  She took the stony shell in her fingers, turning it over in front of her and running her fingertips over the thick ridges of the shell before handing it back to him. “I’ve seen these before,” she said. “The Toustour tells us that the earth is alive and that it pulses with forces. Those forces are the very ones Cenzi used to create the world. In the Final Admonition of the Toustour, it says that the interior of the world is filled with ‘lapidifying juices, wet exhalations, and subterranean vapors.’ All the shapes in rock that mimic life are formed by those.”

  “Why?” Karl asked. “Why do these forces make shapes that look natural?”

  She blinked at the question, startled. “Why? There’s no ‘why’ necessary, Vajiki. It’s written in the Toustour. One doesn’t question Cenzi’s reasons; one accepts them.”

  “I know a learned man-Stenonis, his name is-who lives in Wolhusen, Graubundi. He claims that these shells are incredibly ancient, that they form when shells are buried in the silt and sand of the sea floor, and then more and more layers fall on top of it until they’re buried deeply. He says that the shells are actually dissolved away and what you’re holding is an impression they left behind: like a sculptor’s mold, filled with the minerals dissolved in the water, while the soil and sand compress them so tightly they turn to stone.”

  “And then the water sprites who live under the sea quarry the rock and carry it up into the mountains at night when no one is watching?”

  Karl grinned and chuckled. “I must say that was kinder than the reaction I usually get. No, according to Stenonis’ theory, the mountaintops where the rocks are found were once at the bottom of the sea.

  Upheavals in the world have raised the land in some places and lowered it in others. And I know your next objection, too: why doesn’t this great cataclysm show up in any of our histories? Stenonis says that the world is untold millions of years old, and these risings and fallings t
ook place long before any people were there to witness them.”

  She was already shaking her head. “That’s not possible. Archigos Pellin I studied the Toustour, and he determined that Vucta created the world between ten and twelve thousand years ago. Are you telling me you believe this Stenonis and not the Toustour, which is the sacred word of Cenzi?”

  Karl shrugged. “I think there’s an elegance to Stenonis’ theory. I believe much of what we attribute to Cenzi and Vucta and the Moitidi may have more. . natural causes.”

  “Like the Ilmodo?” she asked. “Or whatever it is you call it.”

  He nodded. “The Scath Cumhacht. I could show you,” he said. “If your mind isn’t sealed shut with what the teni have taught you.”

  “I think I’ll decline your invitation, Envoy,” she answered. “I’m not easily duped by the tricks of street magicians. My faith is stronger than that.” She moved away from him, with a backward glance, going to the marble railing that separated the alcove from the main hall. She looked down at the lines of dancers, knotting and unknotting in the intricate patterns of the Cooper’s Dance. When she looked up he was leaning against the rail beside her, and he looked more at her than at the dancers. The corners of her lips were turned up unconsciously, her eyes were wide, and she leaned forward as she stared.

  “Would you care to dance, O’Teni?” he asked.

  “With a Numetodo?” She glanced at him, but the smile widened.

  “What would they say?”

  “They would say that you’d chosen a particularly ungraceful partner, but one who at least attacks the movements with energy and enthusiasm. They would say, ‘She must be taking pity on him. .’ ”

  Now she did laugh. “Surely it’s not as bad as that?”

  “Oh, it’s far, far worse,” he said, and extended his arm to her. “May I demonstrate?”

  He thought she’d take his arm, but instead she stepped back. “I’m still not certain of your intentions, Envoy.” He could see the uncertainty still in her face, and he suspected that it was more than his intentions that worried her. She glanced around, as if looking for the Archigos.

  “In my country, they say that there is truth in music, that no one can lie while they’re dancing. Ask me your questions out on the floor, and I must tell the truth in response. Think of the information you could bring to the Archigos as a result.”

  That brought a faint smile to her lips. “I don’t think the Archigos would care to see one of his o’teni dancing with the Numetodo Envoy.”

  “But the Kraljica herself sent me an invitation to this Gschnas. Are you saying she made a mistake?” The young woman shook her head.

  As she started to speak, Karl brought his finger to his lips. “No, I won’t listen to any more arguments. Here’s the bargain. I’ll tell the Archigos you were attempting to convert me, and that as a result I now find myself sorely tempted to abandon my heretical ways. That should earn you the Archigos’ gratitude.”

  “I’m certain achieving your conversion wouldn’t be that easy.”

  “How will you know unless you try, O’Teni? Or is that answer also in the Toustour?”

  She looked around again, but the Archigos was nowhere to be seen.

  She laughed, if a bit nervously, and laced her arm in his. They went down the steps toward the dancers.

  Sergei ca’Rudka

  To one side of the hall, a massive apple tree seemed to be growing from the wall, with sparkling juice flowing freely from the ripe apples on its branches into a small rocky pool below. Attendants dressed as squirrels handed out mugs which the attendees could fill from the tree. Sergei shook his head as he was offered a mug, and brushed his hands against the overhanging leaves-the stiff silk was amazingly realistic, and he wondered how long it had taken to sew the thousands of them on the false tree. He glanced up at a large knot in the bole of the tree and nodded: there, he knew, behind a mesh of black fabric, a pair of eyes were carefully watching the Gschnas for any signs of trouble. So far, the evening had been without incident, but with the Kraljica and the A’Kralj about to make their entrance, Sergei preferred to scan the hall himself.

  He wore a hawk’s head mask that concealed his silver nose, but otherwise his athletic figure was dressed only in simple black, and though all real weapons were forbidden in the hall, he wore his own sword at his side.

  He moved easily through the crowds, who tended to part before him in any case, with a glance at the fierce hawk’s beak and the glittering eyes behind it. He nodded to the ca’-and-cu’ who guessed at his identity with a tight smile under the mask, but he didn’t linger for conversation.

  He saw the Archigos and A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca in conversation in one of the private alcoves and moved on. He saw other, more intimate trysts in the shadows of the hall and passed them by also. He had nearly made a circuit of the entire ball when he stopped.

  There was something wrong about the man: the manner in which he regarded the crowd; the frayed edges of the jester’s costume that he wore; the fact that his cape didn’t seem to move as freely as it should; the predatory gesture of rubbing his fingertips together as he started to move toward a knot of people in conversation near the kneeling glass statue holding the musicians. Sergei watched the man seem to acciden-tally bump against one of the men there, and apologize profusely before moving away again.

  Sergei sidled up behind the jester. “I’m impressed,” he said.

  The man turned, startled. He looked as if he were about to run, but Sergei waggled a forefinger in front of the man’s face. The jester stared at it, as if transfixed. “You’ve a very smooth touch,” he told the man

  “Chevaritt ca’Nephri never noticed, but I did.”

  “What. .” The man stopped, licked his lips. His body was tensed, as if he were about to bolt. “What are you talking about, Vajiki?”

  “I’m talking about Chevaritt ca’Nephri’s purse that is now in there,”

  Sergei said, pointing to the man’s cape. “And I wouldn’t try to run. Look around you-do you see the three men in hawk masks approaching us?”

  The man’s gaze flickered over the crowd, his mouth open. “Yes, I see that you do. If you go quietly, it will be better for you. If you were to make a scene and disturb the revelry, well, I would be very. . irritated. And I would make certain that my irritation was assuaged back in the Bastida.”

  The man’s shoulders sagged. “Vajiki, please. . All I wanted was to get a little money for my family. To buy some food. The children. .”

  “I’m certain your motives were pure,” Sergei told him softly, almost sympathetically. “But the law is also clear. Take him,” he said to the guards who had come up alongside. “Chevaritt ca’Nephri’s purse is in the lining of his cape-please make certain it’s immediately returned to him-the chevaritt is a good friend of the A’Kralj, after all. You’ll find other purses there as well; hold them until you can locate the owners.”

  With that, Sergei turned as the man was escorted quietly from the hall. He allowed himself a small smile as he regarded the hall once again. The orchestra was playing the Cooper’s Dance, one of his favorite of Darkmavis’ songs, and he watched the dancers for a bit. A couple, late onto the floor, caught his eye. One of them was dressed as a fashionable young man but was obviously a woman; the other, dressed as a teni. . his gait, his bearing were familiar. Sergei strolled slowly toward them down one side of the dance floor, watching. The attention they were paying to each other was a more subtle and sensual dance than the one to which they moved. He sniffed once through his silver nose in quiet amusement, realizing who was wearing the teni’s robes.

  The man certainly was brazen. He admired that in an enemy.

  When the dance ended and the two paused at the edge of the floor, he came up to them.

  “Have you been tending to your plant, Envoy?” he asked the teni.

  “Has it bloomed for you yet?”

  He’d expected more of a reaction, but the man only smiled. “Commandant. As y
ou can see, I’ve discovered a flower all on my own.” He indicated the woman next to him. “O’Teni Ana cu’Seranta, this is

  Commandant Sergei ca’Rudka, whose name I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  “You flatter me, Envoy ci’Vliomani,” Sergei said, smiling politely.

  He bowed and gave the sign of Cenzi to the woman, whose gaze kept moving from one of them to the other. “O’Teni, I don’t believe we’ve formally met, though I certainly know of you. It seems that you’re as much a protector of the Archigos as I am of the Kraljica.”

  “The Archigos doesn’t need my protection, I’m afraid,” the o’teni replied. “He’s quite capable on his own.”

  Sergei nodded. “I hope your family home has been repaired satisfactorily, O’Teni. An unfortunate accident. It was fortunate no one was seriously injured.”

  The polite smile she was wearing froze on her lips. He saw ci’Vliomani glance strangely at her. “Yes, I’m sure Vatarh would agree with you, Commandant.”

  “I wouldn’t trouble myself with it much, O’Teni,” Sergei said. “Mistakes will happen; the important thing is to learn from them and to not repeat them.” He glanced from her to ci’Vliomani. “Envoy, I trust you’re not here to make a mistake yourself.”

  “I’m here to enjoy myself, Commandant, like everyone else. And to have a chance to glimpse the Kraljica, who invited me.”

  “Ah. The Kraljica. I’m certain you know that her time is extremely limited and her schedule for the evening already made. I would hate to have to. . disengage someone who tried to approach her without her express permission.”

  “You worry too much, Commandant. I’m certain that O’Teni cu’Seranta would stop me if I attempted anything that would make me look foolish.”

  Sergei smiled thinly. “Yet somehow she didn’t stop you from dancing, Vajiki.”

  The Numetodo put on a face of exaggerated hurt, placing his hand over his chest. “Commandant, you wound me to the quick. Why, we of the Isle of Paeti are renowned for our grace and form, as I’m sure you know. If I missed a step or two, it was because the musicians don’t know how to play properly.”