Turning the Storm

by Naomi Kritzer

  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.

  In the evening, Lucia cut my hair short and used a less-ragged blanket to make me a new tunic. “You make an attractive boy,” she said, inspecting her handiwork.

  We had a spare leather belt, and I folded my red sash and put it away. My neck felt chilled when she'd finished cutting my hair, and I pulled Bella's cross off and tucked it in with the sash. “I suppose I'd better leave this behind,” I said.

  “Yes,” Lucia said. “It's what's in your heart that matters, anyway.” She turned me around to face her. “I think God wants you to go,” she said. “And I really think this is important. Take heart, Eliana. Gèsu will always give you the strength you need, to face anything. He's with you, Eliana. Always.” She kissed me. “I will pray for you every day that you're gone.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and I knew, this is the price. And I knew, as I kissed Lucia good-bye, it was worth it.

  PART TWO

  Are You As I Am

  CHAPTER THREE

  In my Mother's house there are many rooms.

  —The Journey of Gèsu, chapter 4, verse 13.8

  What's your name?”

  “Daniele.”

  “Where were you born?”

  “Mirago.”

  “Don't look so stricken.” Lia punched me gently in the arm. “No one will question your story if you look like you believe what you're saying. Let's try again. What's your name?”

  “Daniele.” This will never work, I thought. It's crazy to think it could. “I am from Mirago. I just graduated from the conservatory in Pluma.”

  “Good. Say it again.”

  “My name is Daniele.” Even though I was telling myself that no one would believe me, my voice was getting steadier, more confident. “I was born in Mirago, but I've been living in Pluma and going to the conservatory there.”

  “Again.”

  I repeated my name, my hometown, and my most recent history until Michel returned to our camp with the paints he'd gone to buy at the apothecary's shop. “Now pay attention,” Michel said. He dabbed paint first on my face, then on Lia's so that I could see how it was done. “Your skin needs to look a little rougher, and you can use these to add a little shadow to your throat, like this.”

  Lia peered at me. “Michel, you did an excellent job. She really looks like a boy.”

  “You don't,” I said, blinking at Lia.

  “I have a girl's haircut and girl's clothing. You're dressed as a boy.” With Michel peering over my shoulder and advising me, I practiced putting the paints on myself until both Lia and Michel pronounced my efforts adequate.

  “Where did you get so good at this, anyway?” I asked Michel as we rolled the paints up in a cloth and shoved them deep into my pack.

  “Mascherata is my favorite festival,” Michel said. “I love disguises.”

  I bound my breasts, and Michel helped me add a little padding to my shoulders to make my build look more masculine. “Don't worry too much about the shoulders,” he said. “Lots of boys your age are skinny. Just make sure your breasts don't stick out too much.”

  Lia hunted down a calm pool of water where I could see my reflection, but I couldn't see myself well enough to be reassured. So the next time we passed through a village, she made me go in with Michel to ask for a meal. “Good practice.”

  We approached one of the larger outlying farms; we could smell fava beans and root vegetables cooking as we approached. I let Michel knock on the back door. “Good morning, signora,” he said to the woman who answered his knock. “We are traveling to Cuore. Would it be possible for us to purchase lunch fr
om you?”

  The woman waved aside Michel's purse. “It may have been a hard year, but we're not so poor yet that we'll take money for hospitality. Come in and have a seat.”

  The woman's name was Celsa. I mumbled my alias as I sat down next to Michel, feeling deeply uncomfortable in my false identity.

  “Why are you going to Cuore?” Celsa asked as she started frying up wheat cakes.

  Michel poked me. “I've been attending the conservatory in Pluma,” I said, indicating my violin case. What if she knows someone at the conservatory? This is a mad idea; we should head back to the wasteland now. “I won a position in one of the ensembles at the Imperial Court.”

  “Good for you!” Celsa turned away from her cooking briefly to give me a friendly smile. “But you don't look like a musician,” she said to Michel. “Why are you traveling?”

  “To take care of my brother here,” Michel said, giving me a punch in the arm. “We're twins—hard to believe, isn't it? He got all the talent. I got the muscles.”

  A young woman about my age came in with a bucket of water, and poured some of it into a kettle to make tea. “This is Partena, my eldest daughter,” Celsa said. Partena brought us tea when it was ready, and sat down across from me.

  “So you're going to play at court?” she asked. “That must be exciting!”

  “I suppose it is,” I said. Something about the intensity of her smile was making me nervous.

  “I've always wanted just to see Cuore. Have you been there before?”

  “No,” I said. “I'm from Verdia. I was born in Mirago, and I went to the conservatory when I was twelve—and I graduated last week.”

  Partena laughed a little as if I was very amusing, and tossed her head so that her dark hair caught the sun that slanted through the open door. Her hair was very long, and she wore it unbraided. She had a very pretty face, I noticed.

  “They kept you separated from the girls there, didn't they?” Partena asked.

  I nodded. Michel leaned forward and said, “This is why I'm glad that I'm the one who got the muscles, instead of the talent!”

  Partena laughed again, but turned back to me a moment later. “Didn't you ever … break the rules?”

  “Partena,” Celsa said. “Set out bowls for the meal, please.”

  Partena stood up reluctantly and turned with a flounce that made her skirt swirl a little around her hips. She set the table and rang a bell to call in the rest of the family from the fields. Everyone came in a few minutes later, setting down baskets of harvested beans and freshly dug turnips. It was a large family, with several hired hands; the table was crowded. Partena took the seat next to me.

  The oldest man—Celsa's husband, I assumed—made the ritual offering to the Lady, and everyone ate. The stew was thick and tasty, and I took a second helping but had to refuse a third. “Thank you very much,” I said when the meal was done and Michel and I stood up to go.

  “You don't have to go on today, do you?” Partena asked. “You could stay here for the night. We have plenty of extra space.”

  “We really need to keep going,” I said. “But thank you for your offer.” Michel tried again to give Celsa payment, and after refusing again, she agreed to have Michel and I do a quick repair to a broken door-hinge, which her family was too busy with the harvest to see to. Michel lifted the door into place (“I'm so glad you're the one with the muscles,” I said) while I drove in a fresh peg to hold it at the right angle. Partena expressed copious admiration for our skill and tried again to convince us to stay the night, then we were on our way.

  “There,” Michel said, as soon as the farm was behind us. “Did that convince you?”

  “Convince me of what?”

  “That you can pass as a boy?” I must have looked at him blankly, because he slapped his forehead and said, “I can't believe it.”

  “What?”

  “I can't believe you didn't notice! Partena was flirting with you.”

  “She was not!”

  Michel put on a dopey expression and batted his eyes in a poor imitation of Partena's manner. “Did you ever … break the rules?” he asked in a squeaky voice. “Why don't you … stay the night? It must have been a very, very long time since you've had the chance to really spend … time … with a girl.”

  “Oh, come on, Michel. She …” I paused. “Just because Partena …” I paused again.

  “She was flirting. Come on, El— Daniele. Admit it.”

  “All right,” I said. “She was flirting with me.”

  “See?” Michel said. “You look like a boy. And no one at court is going to have any reason to suspect otherwise.”

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Michel would not be my bodyguard in Cuore, of course. Giovanni had told him the passwords to gain the trust of the university reformers. He'd serve as a liaison, and more important, as a messenger between me and the Lupi. Michel knew where the Lupi would be spending the winter. To provide some margin of safety, if I were recognized and arrested, I did not. It gave me an odd feeling, as if I were shut in a room with no windows. What if I wanted to leave, and Michel refused? Not that I thought he would, but still … Worse, what if something happened to Michel?

  As we traveled toward Cuore, we camped out most evenings—we were used to the cold, and wanted to savor the last of our privacy. Lia wanted to teach me the songs that she'd written about me, since she swore I would have learned them if I'd been living in Pluma that summer. There were other new songs, as well, some political and some not, and she taught me those as well. Michel lay on his blanket, his head propped on his hand, listening drowsily as we sang.

  “How popular are your songs, really?” I asked, late one night as Lia packed away her lute.

  “Very popular,” Lia said. “I haven't been out of Verdia, but I think the songs have ranged a lot farther than that. You're becoming a folk hero.”

  “Folk heroes don't lose their armies.”

  “I'm working on a song right now that emphasizes the fact that you survived that night,” Lia said. “Folk heroes don't win every battle.”

  Michel had been lying on his back—I'd thought he'd fallen asleep—but now he rolled over and propped himself up on his arm. “Hey, Daniele,” he said. “Do you suppose Felice really met with the reformers in Pluma? I remember when he came back with Camilla and Tomas, they brought news of how popular those songs were, and he said that he'd met with the reformers in Cuore. And that the Circle had withdrawn to Cuore.”

  I thought back to the conversation with Felice. “I don't know if he actually met with the reformers, or if he was bluffing us. Do you remember what exactly he said?”

  Michel paused for a moment, trying to remember. “He said that the Circle had withdrawn to Cuore, and that the reformers thought they were going to sit tight and wait to see what the Lupi did. And he said, ‘If you want to strike at a large target like Pluma, there's no better time.’”

  “That's right,” I said.

  “And Giovanni asked about someone named Cilo. Felice said that Cilo agreed with the plan, and Giovanni said he couldn't believe it, because Cilo never thought it was the right time to act. And Felice said—I remember this line, because I thought it was funny—‘I was doing a little interpretation.’”

  I tucked wool in around Daniele's violin, to cushion and protect it. “I remember that now. I bet Felice never met with the reformers.”

  “If we'd thought of it, we could have had Giovanni ask him about someone who didn't exist,” Michel said. “‘What does Daniele think,’ if there wasn't anyone up there named Daniele.”

  “If Felice had fallen for it, he'd have just claimed that someone named Daniele had joined,” I said. I mimicked Felice's voice: “‘But there is a young man named Daniele—perhaps he joined after your most recent trip. He's quite young, just sixteen, and he stands about as tall as Generale Eliana.’” I buckled the violin case. “We'd probably have believed him.”

  “Yeah.” Michel rolled back onto his back.


  I wrapped up in my blanket and stared up at the sky. It was a clear night, with a thin crescent moon; I could see almost as many stars as I could back at Ravenna. I closed my eyes, remembering the rolling flames that had filled the evening skies a few weeks earlier.

  “Don't blame yourself.” It was Michel's voice. “I never suspected Felice, either. Neither did Giovanni.”

  I sat up. Michel was still on his back, looking up at the sky. “You know what's really sad?” I said. “If he'd walked into our camp and said, ‘I've come to join you,’ I might have suspected. But no. He came saying, ‘I've come to take over from you.’ That's why I never suspected he was a spy.”

  “Remember that,” Lia said, curled up on the other side of the fire. “Felice fooled you, and you'll fool the people in the enclave. If you run into trouble, brazen it out, like Felice did.”

  How would someone like Felice handle it, if he were a girl pretending to be a boy, and someone suspected the truth? If it were a woman who was suspicious, he'd probably offer to prove his sex by bedding her. Despite my bitterness, I found myself smiling a little. I'll have to keep that strategy in mind. I pulled my blanket over my face and fell into an uneasy sleep.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  After a week of walking, I knew the songs Lia thought I should know, so she insisted that Michel and I take a riverboat the rest of the way. We would be in Cuore much sooner. I agreed with some reluctance; my false identity was still as uncomfortable as a new pair of boots. Still, I couldn't believe it would be significantly easier even after another month, so Michel and I boarded the boat and said good-bye to Lia, who was staying in Verdia.

  We arrived in Cuore on a damp, cold day a month and a half after the Autumn Equinox. The boat docked a mile outside the city, and Michel and I disembarked and joined the other travelers jostling their way along the muddy road. There were merchants with wagons loaded high with bolts of cloth, and finely dressed men and women on horseback, and filthy beggars in rags.

  Unlike Pluma, Cuore had no walls. When we got off the boat, I'd have said the city had already started. There were houses and shops clustered along the road. Old women sat outside with apples spread on a blanket, selling them to the travelers. The houses became more closely packed as we drew closer, and then, when we stepped into the city itself, the dirt road ended. The streets of the city itself were paved with brick and rock.