Turning the Storm

by Naomi Kritzer

  That was the signal. Inside the tent, I lit a fresh candle. Lucia and Giovanni looked at me expectantly. “At least the weather should be good,” I said. We needed some chitchat first, to make this less suspicious.

  “Only if you trust Severo's skills as a weather-caller,” Giovanni said.

  “He's right five days out of seven,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, predicting ‘rain and a cold wind’ every day in late winter will be right, five days out of seven,” Giovanni said.

  “But he's not predicting rain and cold, he's predicting sun and warmth.”

  “Tea?” Lucia asked, pouring herself a new cup. She spilled some on her lap. “Damn,” she muttered, wringing out her skirt. I picked up a cup and took a sip.

  “In any case,” Giovanni said. “There are more important issues at stake here than the weather.”

  “I don't see what you're so worried about,” I said. “Everything's gone as planned so far. The dances work.”

  “Against five mages, yes. Against ten mages, yes. But what if they send the whole Circle?”

  I rolled my eyes and slammed down the teacup. “That's not going to happen, Giovanni, and you know it. They're going to stay safely penned up in their rabbit-hole until they run out of food. They're certainly not going to send more than a dozen mages when we've killed every mage they've sent our way so far.”

  “Just for the sake of argument, Eliana, how many mages do you think it would take to get through your defenses?”

  “Mine?” I pursed my lips and picked up my teacup for another sip as I considered. “At least fifty— probably a hundred.”

  “There are enough mages alive for the Circle to send more than that,” Giovanni said. “This could happen, Eliana. I think we should split the Lupi. Are you going to listen to me this time?”

  “Giovanni, Demetrio has asked us to secure Manico. That valley is the only logical staging ground.”

  “That's exactly the problem! They know where to find us.”

  “Giovanni, I spent two months spying on the Circle— at your request, as you might recall. Two months! I know these people. I know how they think. And they are not coming out of their hiding place until their lives depend on it. So far as they've seen, we can wipe the floor with them anytime we want.” I took a demure sip of tea. “I am generale,” I said. “Are you going to follow me, or not?”

  Giovanni picked up a cup of tea, then slammed it down so hard the cup broke. “You're a fool,” he said. “But you're the fool the Lupi support. Am I going to follow you? What choice do I have? I'd follow you to hell—and I probably will.” He stomped out of the tent.

  I turned to Lucia, who was wiping up the tea. “Do you think Isabella is going to give me this much trouble?” I asked.

  Outside the tent, Quirino watched Giovanni leave. “Quick,” he said to Felice. “We need to get you back to your tent.”

  Felice followed Quirino without protest. As they neared where they had started, Felice gripped Quirino's arm. “Signore, you haven't told me your name.”

  “I think it's best you don't know it,” Quirino said.

  “Do you wish to come with us when we leave? The Fedeli will provide you asylum. You could meet us—”

  Quirino shook his head. “You heard their plans. I am a musician, signore. I fully intend to be on that battlefield. And if the Circle attacks, they may rest assured that at least part of the field will be unshielded. My death will honor the Lady.”

  Felice fell back a step, stunned. “Your faith puts me to shame.”

  “You serve the Lady,” Quirino said. “As do I. That's all I need to know.” They were silent the rest of the way back to the tent.

  Quirino made certain that Felice was well guarded, then returned to my tent, a broad smile on his face. “Felice didn't just take the bait,” Quirino said. “He swallowed the fishing pole.”

  “Now we just hope that we really were lying,” I said.

  Giovanni clasped my shoulder. “I would truly follow you to hell,” he said, “if it meant kicking Felice's ass.”

  “Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” I said.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  We kept just enough Lupi in the valley to make it look crowded. I was in the valley, along with Lucia, but Giovanni would lead the reserve troops. We didn't tell the Lupi what we knew was coming until the Circle was almost there; some were probably spies, and could spoil the ambush. The attack came an hour after dawn. My scouts had returned exhausted. Just over a hundred mages, with guards and Fedeli soldiers, were approaching from the north. We formed dance-circles and prepared for battle.

  The Fedeli crested the hill and held their position. I had ordered our perimeter guards to fall back with only a token struggle; if the Circle and Fedeli took our bait, there would be far more soldiers than our perimeter guards could fend off. I couldn't see the mages beyond the Fedeli, but I knew they were there. This is for you, Mira, I thought, and raised my violin.

  The dancers knew how many mages had come for us today; I could feel their fear around me like smoke. Still, they clasped hands and never stumbled in their dance. I closed my eyes and the power flowed into me; I breathed it in like a vapor and drank it like wine. I whirled to face our enemy, feeling the spinning, blinding light of the dance soaring around me.

  I opened my eyes; the sky had turned to fire. The morning had been brilliant blue and white, as Severo had predicted; now the sky rolled with flames. The fire seethed overhead like a swollen river, and for a moment I felt nothing but fear.

  “Ask,” Lucia whispered from the circle. “Ask and you shall receive.”

  God, give me the power.

  The flames arced down upon us like hawks diving on their prey. I felt the power explode upward from my feet, rising to meet the flames like a wall of water, like a blinding storm of light. The curtain of flame shattered like glass, and ashes rained down softly over us, but no fire.

  That was when Giovanni's reserve troops rode in.

  The mages never had a chance. The reserve troops broke their line. The scattered mages tried desperately to band together, but most were too panicked to summon magefire. The handful that managed created only the small fires that we'd dealt with before. The Fedeli stood their ground, but the Circle Guard broke and ran; they were as terrified as the mages at the idea of fighting without magefire.

  Without their guards, at least half of the mages were cut down where they stood. The rest turned and fled. The second set of reserve troops were waiting for that, and met the fleeing mages and guards with a rain of crossbow bolts. Perhaps in the end, twenty-five mages got away, and a fair number of the Circle's guards. The Fedeli held their ground, refusing to flee or surrender. We killed them all. Felice was not among their number. No surprise there.

  We suspected that the Circle mages who'd escaped would fall back to Manico and make another stand from the Fedeli's fortress there. We marched to Manico the next day, intending to attack the city before they could regroup, but we found the city empty, the gates to the fortress left open. We walked in without resistance. Within the fortress, we could see the preparations for a battle—crossbow bolts heaped in bales like straw, oil in cauldrons to heat and pour down. But the city was deserted.

  “Maybe it's a trap?” I said.

  Giovanni shook his head. “They're not in any position to set a trap—at least not one that starts with an open gate. They lost their nerve.”

  The Fedeli bastion in Manico was one of the most substantial in the Empire—larger than their Citadel in Cuore, which was constrained by the enclave walls. Just beyond their fortress was the Cathedral of the Lady, which was even more impressive than Her cathedral in Cuore, since it had been built later.

  “Raise our standard,” I said. “Secure the city and search the Fedeli keep.”

  Minutes after the Lupi headed in, Severo reappeared at the door, an exuberant smirk on his face. “Look what we found,” he said, and shoved a dirty, furious man out the door.

  It took m
e a moment to recognize him. His hands were chained behind his back, and he wore the robe of a penitent. Nothing like the fine clothes I'd always seen him in before. “Felice,” I said.

  Felice stumbled back a step, only to run into Severo, who steadied him and then pushed him back toward me.

  “Where's the key to the chains?” Giovanni asked. Severo tossed it to him.

  “Where did you find him?” I asked.

  “He was left chained in the first office,” Severo said. He tipped his head, puzzled. “They must have meant for us to find him. Why did they leave him for us?”

  “They were probably unimpressed by the intelligence he brought back,” I said. “Weren't they, Felice?”

  Felice looked like he'd like to spit at me, but his mouth was too dry.

  Giovanni stepped forward and unlocked Felice's chains. “Severo, give me your sword,” he said. Severo drew his sword and gave it to Giovanni. Felice fell back a step, his face white as paper. “I said we'd finish this later,” Giovanni said to Felice. “And it's better than you deserve. You deserve to die kicking at the end of a rope. But I am no executioner—and I am going to be the one to kill you. You are under no white flag today. Defend yourself!” He threw Severo's sword to Felice.

  Felice raised the sword and moved warily away from Severo and Giovanni.

  “Lady's tits,” I muttered, but backed up to let them fight. In the unlikely event that Felice won, I didn't think it would violate the rules of honor for me to hang him. And it would serve Giovanni right to get skewered for doing something this stupid.

  “Your treachery killed hundreds of Lupi,” Giovanni said. “You betrayed Eliana to the Fedeli. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Felice licked his lips, still circling. “Was not your beloved Eliana also a spy? We are the same, she and I. She served her masters, and I served mine.”

  Giovanni spat. “Eliana spied on the Circle. She does not betray friendship.”

  “Just wait,” Felice said. He paused to smile coldly. “But thank you for reminding me that my quarrel is not with you.” Without warning, Felice whirled and lunged toward me. I saw Giovanni's eyes go wide with alarm, but he moved quickly; before I had my own sword free from its sheath, he had drawn and flung his knife into Felice's back.

  Felice stumbled. The sword dropped from his hand, but he fell heavily forward and into my arms. I could smell blood mixed with the lingering scent of Felice's perfume. Gagging, I shoved him away, letting him collapse to the ground.

  Giovanni jerked his knife out of Felice's back. “Forgive me, Eliana,” he said. “I took a foolish risk giving him a sword.” He rolled Felice onto his back, but Felice's dying eyes were fixed on me.

  “We'll meet again,” Felice said.

  “I don't think that's likely,” Giovanni said, but Felice didn't hear him.

  Lucia came looking for me as we returned to the keep. “This place is built like a maze,” she said, clasping my hand. “We want to search the dungeon, in case they left prisoners behind, but we aren't sure how to get there. Do you know? Can you find it?”

  “I'd be more use in the Fedeli Citadel in Cuore,” I said, letting Lucia lead me into the building. “If this is anything like that, there should be passages into the dungeon through some of the offices. We'll need torches.”

  Giovanni rounded up some stray Lupi to help us search and to guard us, and I found an office that looked roughly like Rosalba's. The second door opened onto a narrow passage with a low ceiling. I shivered. “I think this might lead to the dungeons,” I said.

  I let Giovanni lead the way. The corridor ended with a spiral staircase; we headed down. I realized suddenly that the torch in my hand was flickering because I wasn't holding it steady. I clasped it with both hands, but it trembled harder. Lucia saw and took the torch from me. “We've found it,” she said. “You don't have to come down.” I shook my head and continued down the steps. It was cold at the bottom, and damp, and it smelled of blood and vomit. I found that I was having trouble taking deep breaths. Lucia put her free hand on my back as if to steady me. Giovanni glanced back; I expected an insult, but he gave me his most reassuring smile.

  “Hello?” Lucia said. Her voice echoed off the stone walls, but there was no answering call.

  “Maybe they took all the prisoners with them,” I said.

  The corridor opened up into a small guard room— empty, of course. Dice were still scattered on the table, and a half-finished cup of wine. I could hear a steady drip of water from somewhere down the hall, and the faint scrabble of vermin. We passed through the guard room and found ourselves in a cell block. Scores of cells were arranged in rows. The doors stood open.

  I went to the first cell; Lucia held the torch up. In the flickering firelight, I could see a woman chained to the wall, but her head hung down limp. I took the torch back from Lucia and went in to kneel beside the woman. The floor was cold, and wet. I took the woman's hand in mine; it was cold and stiff. She was dead; her throat had been cut.

  I straightened. “She's dead,” I said. Lucia reached out for me as I went into the next cell. The next cell held the body of a man. He was naked, and had been tortured. The implements were scattered on the floor beside him. His throat had been cut, as well. The next cell held the body of a woman, chained down to a table; she had also been tortured.

  My stomach rebelled. Lucia caught me as I fell to my knees. “Let's get you out of here,” she whispered.

  “No,” I said. “No! We have to be sure. Someone might still be alive.” I spat to clear the taste from my mouth and stood up. The Lupi were shaking their heads. Lucia was weeping. “Giovanni,” I said. “Help me look.”

  Giovanni took one of the torches and went with me as we made a rapid circuit of the cells. Most of the cells were occupied. Every prisoner was dead. In the last cell, there were two bodies. Next to the body of the prisoner was the body of a Fedele priestess. She had driven the knife into her own throat, when she'd finished killing the prisoners—to avoid capture by us, presumably. Beside her body was a folded paper; I picked it up. FOR HER GLORY, it said, in an elegant, ornate script.

  I recognized that script. I knelt by the body and turned the priestess's face toward the torchlight. It was Rosalba.

  The anger rose around me like steam as we went up the stairs. “Why?” someone was whispering between sobs. “I don't understand. Why?”

  “‘For Her glory,’” Lucia muttered. “These weren't the everyday heretics, these were the dangerous ones. These were the Redentori.”

  I still felt like I couldn't breathe; as soon as we were up the stairs, I went outside. The news of what we had found in the dungeon spilled through the city, and furious Lupi returned, looking for me, wanting orders, wanting a target for their anger.

  It was late afternoon, and the sun slanted down, glinting off the stained-glass windows of the Great Cathedral. Lucia stirred beside me. “For the glory of God,” she shouted. “Destroy Her Chapel! For the lives of the Redentori slaughtered in cold blood—burn the Cathedral of the Lady!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The higher the flight, the farther the fall.

  —The Journey of Gèsu, chapter 30, verse 2.

  We gathered outside Cuore like dusk before a storm. From the peak of the hill to the south, I could see the camps of the Lupi and the Imperial Army, tents and campfires fading to the horizon. It was spring now, and the smell of wet dirt and new growth mixed with wood smoke and horse sweat and old blood. The defeat at Manico had been catastrophic for the Circle and the Fedeli. As Demetrio had predicted, the survivors of that battle retreated to the protection of the Imperial enclave. And so we'd still have to take Cuore, but at least it would be easier.

  Back in the center of the camp, Placido had arrived. “Good afternoon, Generale,” he said, bowing slightly. He'd brought two Servi priests with him—not the vulture or the screech owl, but Servi nonetheless.

  Michel had also come with him. I grabbed Michel in a bear hug, which he re
turned enthusiastically. “How'd you manage this?” I asked.

  “The Emperor gave me permission to fight this battle at your side,” he said. “He knew I wouldn't want to miss it. Also—did you ever wonder how the Emperor got out alone during Mascherata? Demetrio and I finally got it out of him. There's a sewer tunnel that was built by the old Empire; it hasn't been used for centuries, apparently, and it leads under the wall. The Emperor told me how to find it, and I can lead people there to open the gates to the enclave.”

  Placido had brought a letter from Clara, which I pushed aside to read later. “Keep the Servi out of my way,” I said. “I don't want them bothering my soldiers, not the night before a battle.” Placido nodded a surly assent.

  “I'm sure you want to speak with the Imperial Generali,” I said. “So I won't keep you.”

  “Of course,” Placido said, teeth clenched. He probably wanted a word with me, but he wasn't going to get it if I could help it. I might get lucky and die in the battle, and then I'd never have to listen to him.

  “What does Clara's letter say?” Giovanni asked when Placido had gone.

  “I don't know,” I said, pulled it back out, and handed it to Giovanni. “You read it.”

  Michel dined that evening with Lucia, Giovanni, and me. He was doing well in the Emperor's service, although he missed us. The Emperor wanted Michel to stay on as a personal guard even after the war was won. “I'll probably do it,” Michel said. “I lost my family to the famine. My former home is in the wasteland. I don't really have anywhere else to go.”

  “That's going to be true for a lot of the Lupi,” I said.

  “Doesn't that make you nervous?” Giovanni asked.

  “I hadn't really thought past the end of the war,” I said.

  “Maybe you should start thinking.” Giovanni slid Clara's letter across the table to me. “Clara talks at some length about the Emperor's hopes that the Lupi will find something to do with themselves outside of Cuore once the war is over. I think somebody's getting nervous.”