by David Hair
Inveglio looked sick. ‘But the Harkun will run amok – we’d have to send men . . .’ His voiced tailed off.
‘Which is exactly what he wants,’ Cera concluded. ‘He knows that we’d either have to abandon the Forts and let the Harkun come, or divide our forces to man them, and either move would be disastrous for us.’ She gazed steadily at Staria. ‘Gyle is stringing you along, Senora Canestos. You know this, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You’re reconsidering your loyalties, but you want to know two things: can the Nesti win, and will we tolerate your differences afterwards? Those are the essential questions, are they not?’
Staria glanced at Elena. ‘Maybe I should have adopted this one.’
Leopollo and Kordea pulled identical pouts.
‘The answer to the first question is: yes, we can win, with or without you.’ Cera’s voice was firm and assured, which impressed Elena. You had to make statements like that with complete certainty.
She’s so good at this now. Urte really is her stage.
‘As for the second point,’ Cera said, ‘I remember a case in the Beggars’ Court of Brochena, last year.’ She jabbed a finger at Leopollo. ‘I remember you. A young woman allowed her family to sacrifice her to protect her brother, whom you had seduced. There was nothing I could do about it, and you did nothing to prevent it.’
The young man hung his head. ‘That was . . . unfortunate. It wasn’t meant to happen that way.’ He looked to his mother for support. ‘What could I do? It shouldn’t even be a crime!’
‘But it is,’ Cera said tersely. ‘You used your protected status to prey on him, then he blamed the girl. You destroyed that family thoughtlessly with your lustful whim, and yet you demand the right to be protected.’ She glared at Leopollo until he squirmed and looked away. She turned back to Staria. ‘There’s a middle ground, Senora Canestos. If we’re to work together, we need to find it.’
‘Fair enough – but I swear, for every one case like that you trot out, I’ll throw ten straight back at you!’
‘Then we’ll both deal with it, when we can. If we’re to tolerate your people, be tolerable! I’m not saying I don’t sympathise, but most of my subjects are uneducated and conservative, and I must heed them. The equality you seek isn’t possible here, but something approaching it might be.’
Comte Inveglio looked increasingly uncomfortable. ‘This matter has not been discussed in Council,’ he reminded Cera.
‘I know, Piero. All I’m saying to Senora Canestos is that I’m willing to contemplate matters that others might not, such as the thought that frocio are born, not made. I’m also willing to contemplate that perhaps love between two of the same gender, provided they are old enough to understand what they are doing, isn’t wrong. But I’m fully aware that neither civil nor religious laws agree.’
‘We must step carefully.’
‘I agree. I will not sacrifice the laws of Javon for expedient allies. But there is an opportunity here for us all.’
Inveglio said in a cautious voice, ‘I am not opposed to the discussion taking place.’
‘Thank you, my friend,’ Cera said, relief evident in her voice.
Staria rubbed her chin. ‘We can talk some more, certainly. But Gyle undoubtedly has his spies in both our camps.’ She glanced at Capolio, who nodded. ‘We can talk, but if we’re seen to be delaying our withdrawal from the Rift, we’ll draw suspicion.’
‘So what?’ Kordea growled. ‘What’s Gyle going to do about it?’
Staria threw her adopted daughter an impatient look. ‘I’m not going to make any open moves just yet.’ She looked at Elena. ‘You understand that, don’t you, Ella?’
‘Of course,’ Elena replied, a little disappointed, but Staria was only being realistic. ‘You’ll likely need both legions if you’re to hold the Forts anyway. Delay, procrastinate, just don’t show up in his army, and we’ll be grateful.’
Piero and Cera were frowning, and so was Kazim, but she sensed that this was as good as they’d get.
As both parties drifted back to their respective skiffs, the tension between Leopollo and Kazim especially was still conspicuous. Then Kordea said something insulting in Leopollo’s ear, judging by his reaction, and the low words in Estellan they exchanged quickly turned into a fiery screaming match.
As the pair threw their hands in the air and stomped off in opposite directions, still hurling insults, Elena said, ‘And they’re going to inherit your legion, Staria?’
‘If they earn it, they’ll get it. What more can I do?’ Staria looked at Elena slyly. ‘I offered Kordea to Cera as a bodyguard, back in Brochena when you were missing. She turned her down.’
‘She chose rightly, then,’ Elena sniffed. ‘Kordea has a fair bit of growing up to do.’
‘True. But they’re both lonely, in their own ways, and it might have done them good. She’s not a bad girl.’ Staria looked at her. ‘You’ve never had children, have you Ella?’
‘No, no children. Not yet.’ Elena replied, unable not to glance at Kazim.
Staria wasn’t blind. ‘Perhaps I’ll ask again in a few months, hmm?’ She smirked knowingly, then opened her arms up, offering a hug. Elena hesitated momentarily, then decided that a show of trust was required. They embraced, kissed both cheeks. ‘There, not so bad,’ Staria whispered. ‘No need to break my jaw this time.’
‘I think we were both a little different back then,’ Elena acknowledged. ‘Friends?’
‘Of course! It’s a man’s world, Ella. We girls have to work together.’ Staria looked at Cera. ‘All of us.’
23
Vulnerability
Thaumaturgic: Earth
Most magi see the powers of the gnosis only in terms of its destructive potential. This is especially true of our young men, who want to destroy, to break, to kill, as if true honour can only be demonstrated by such acts.
We must impress upon these young magi, especially our Earth-magi, that there is also honour in making, in constructing things that last, things that will still be used and enjoyed by our children’s children’s children.
ORDO COSTRUO COLLEGIATE, PONTUS
Forensa, Javon, on the continent of Antiopia
Safar (Febreux) to Awwal (Martrois) 930
20th and 21st months of the Moontide
The weeks after the Battle of Forensa were marked by the sounds and smells of funerals. The city was steeped in the smoke of the pyres, and the wailing of tens of thousands at the huge ceremonies to mark the passing of the fallen. Soldiers mourned lost comrades, and girded themselves for battles to come. Bereft families echoed the wails of the Godsingers and the dirges of the Rimoni drui in the streets. The grief was all-pervasive, seeping through the stone and into Cera’s bones. There was a music to the sadness that fed Cera’s own distress.
She and Elena spent long hours sitting with Tarita, though seldom together. The little maid was still in a state of numbed shock, her lively personality drowned by the shock of paralysis. Timori sat with her too, and he was probably better for her than either woman, because after his initial shyness he babbled away about all that was happening, just as if Tarita was exactly the same as before.
When Cera wasn’t beside her maid, or visiting other crippled survivors, she toured the city, wanting to see and be seen as the people tried to clean up and regain some kind of normality. What she saw was a slowly unfolding miracle.
Like most of her countrymen, she’d never seen the good things that magi could do. She knew little of the rebuilding of Hebusalim by the Ordo Costruo after the Leviathan Bridge opened, or all the aqueducts and civic works. The only magi they had seen in Javon were battle-magi, waging war; this was the other side of the gnosis, with the Ordo Costruo labouring in the service of the city.
Earth-magi did as the trembling human officials directed as if they were humble servants, clearing the major roads and the canals, which the Water-magi quickly purified so there was drinking water everywhere again. Temporary bridges were thrown up and rubble cleared;
work that would have taken weeks for hundreds of labourers was done in days. Fire-magi took care of cremating the piles of bodies in pyres, saving their precious fuel; Animagi summoned wild kine herds to the slaughter to feed everyone. They healed the injured and scouted the enemy retreat, each day achieving huge feats – and yet the tasks multiplied: there were so many homeless, so many who’d lost their families, so many missing, and so many to feed.
Cera moved cautiously regarding the delicate matter of cooperation with Staria Canestos. Though the understanding they’d reached didn’t require joint actions, it did imply a softening of attitudes towards froci and safian. This was no time to try and change civil laws, not with so much else to do, and anyway, alliance with known social aberrants was technically illegal.
Her compromise position, which would require no new laws and was therefore eminently practical, was to make the mercenaries legally responsible for their own people – for which there was precedent. This relied on Staria being willing to prosecute her own people if they committed crimes, but allowed her to also turn a blind eye on other matters. Relying on Staria to punish her own if they committed crimes other than being homosexual might not be ideal, but it was expedient.
But first Cera had to clear that with her own counsellors, and to her relief, that was not quite as hard as she’d feared: Piero Inveglio’s vocal support from the beginning was invaluable. Pita Rosco and Luigi Ginovisi had enough to worry about just coordinating the city’s repairs. Warriors like Justiano di Kestria were only concerned about the battle to come; and happy to make any deal that secured the Rift Forts and prevented the Harkun from being reinforced. The Jhafi captains were more difficult. At last they agreed to be bound by the decision of the senior Godspeakers.
Cera summoned the clergymen last. The Sollan drui rolled over easily enough once she pointed out that the Rimoni Empire was known to have tolerated all manner of behaviours seen elsewhere as vices, provided they were kept from the public domain – and anyway, the Sollan Church typically deferred to civil law.
The Godspeakers were harder work, but after an hour of batting aside arguments, the most senior of them, Luqeef, steepled his fingers and said, ‘With respect, Queen-Regent, might we change the nature of this conversation from these “frocio” and their perversions?’
Cera glanced at Elena. ‘What is it you wish to talk of, Godspeaker?’
‘I wish to speak of Victory, Queen-Regent.’
Cera’s heart pounded a little faster. Not all Godspeakers were so obsessed with their god that they barely saw the real world. Godspeaker Luqeef did have a well-deserved reputation for iron-willed faith, though. ‘Victory is our goal,’ she replied, wondering where he would go with this.
The cleric looked at Cera intently. ‘Many forget that the Prophet Aluq-Ahmed, Blessings upon his Name, was a warrior before and after Ahm came to Him. The Second Book of the Kalistham is a war chronicle, and it tells us very clearly that alliances of convenience were made, with Ahm’s blessing.’
‘I’ve never read the Second Book,’ Cera confessed. It was considered more of a chronicle than a religious text, and believed to be notoriously unreliable at that.
‘It is often overlooked,’ Luqeef said mildly, ‘but it has much to teach us, especially about the concept of holy war. The First Shihad, declared by Aluq-Ahmed against the Kings of Gatioch, was joined by men of Mirobez. The Prophet courted them even though he had targeted the heathens in the Mirobez Mountains for conquest. He knew he could not succeed in Gatioch without these allies, even though they were heathens.’
Elena frowned. ‘Godspeaker, Staria Canestos is no fool. If she perceives that our alliance is one of pure expedience, she will break it off, and at the most disastrous juncture she can conceive.’
‘Eventually, all alliances are a matter of expediency, Lady Jadugara. If you’d read Book Two, you’d know that.’
Cera saw Elena recoil irritably and put a hand on her arm. We’ve got what we need. ‘Then do we have your support to take this to the full Regency Council, Godspeaker? We propose a formal alliance with the Sacro Arcoyris Estellan, granting them immunity from civil law, provided they enforce military law.’
Godspeaker Luqeef gave a slow nod of assent. ‘You do.’
When the clerics had all gone, Elena barked out a harsh laugh. ‘Well, that was an eye-opener!’
‘Yurosians are not the only practical people, Elena. Luqeef knows that a defeat in war to Rondian invaders will harm the Amteh faith worse than some dubious allies.’
‘He’ll expect you to turn on Staria afterwards,’ Elena said in a low voice.
‘I won’t let that happen.’
‘You might not be the one in control then,’ Elena reminded her.
‘I know,’ Cera admitted. During the most desperate moments of the period when she’d assumed the Regency, she’d felt compelled to accept a marital alliance with Sultan Salim I of Kesh. It had seemed like a good idea – well, maybe not a good idea, but the only move she could make at the time. Now it felt like a death sentence. ‘At the end of the Moontide, the Sultan’s ambassadors will come and collect me,’ she said glumly, adding, ‘that’s if he still wants me.’
‘You’re no longer a virgin, you’re a widow, you don’t bring the throne of Javon with you and you’ve been condemned as a safian,’ Elena pointed out. ‘You’re not quite the catch you once were.’
Cera smiled faintly at Elena’s dry tones. ‘I suppose not. Let’s hope Salim sees it that way . . . but either way, I’ll need to make sure that Timori completely understands our arrangement with Staria. And I’ll need Piero to hold to it as well – he’ll be taking over my role as senior Nesti representative until Timori comes of age.’
Elena bit her lip. ‘I’ll still be in Javon; I’ll remind him of what’s been agreed.’
Cera was grateful for that, but her own plight was weighing heavily on her mind now. ‘I’ll be no one again,’ she said gloomily.
‘If Salim doesn’t want you, one of the Javon nobility will be more than happy to marry a Nesti.’
‘Either way, I’ll just be a broodmare and a token of alliance,’ Cera said bitterly.
‘Don’t underestimate the power the woman of a great House can have,’ Elena replied. ‘My mother was a mage-noble and she was far from no one.’
‘I don’t want to marry,’ Cera declared. ‘I don’t even care about love – well, all right, a little, obviously . . . but if I had to choose between love and the power to control Javon’s destiny, the choice is easy. I would rule! I want to pass laws and judgements to make Javon a better place!’
‘I know that, Cera. I’ve always known your priorities. But love teaches compassion and tolerance. A ruler without love is a tyrant.’
‘I’ll find love, one day,’ Cera replied, hoping that would be so. ‘But it won’t be easy to find, the love I want.’ It was as frank an admission of who she was as she was prepared to make, even to Elena.
‘I hope you do,’ Elena replied. ‘It’s a man’s world, truly, but there are other women who have ruled successfully.’
‘Staria once told me that a woman can’t have both leadership and love. She said it’s one or the other.’
‘Staria’s an old sourpuss. Queen Faltinia of Argundy was renowned for having three or four lovers a night, and yet she ruled alone for decades. It’s all in the way you project authority.’ Elena drummed her fingers on the table. ‘If you defeat Gurvon and retake Brochena, you’ll be in a strong enough position to break the engagement.’
‘Perhaps. But Kesh is Javon’s largest trading partner, so upsetting them wouldn’t be smart.’
‘You’re right, of course.’ Elena shrugged. ‘I don’t have a solution for you, I’m sorry.’ She yawned. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the hint of uncharacteristic vulnerability. It was Darkmoon, the last week of the month, when Mater Luna hid her face. Which reminded Cera of something.
‘How is the baby-making going?’ she asked, the sort of comment that
would have made Elena laugh when they were proper friends.
But Elena didn’t laugh. Cera knew she’d bled in the last week of Janune, but Febreux was another opportunity, and if the rings under her eyes were any judge, she and Kazim were seizing it.
‘We’ll see, won’t we?’
This decision was a big thing for Elena. She’d been with Gurvon Gyle for nearly twenty years and never had children. And Kazim was a Souldrinker – not that Cera fully understood the concept, but she knew such a union was unprecedented. There were obviously risks to Elena’s well-being, and it was clear many of the Ordo Costruo didn’t approve of the relationship, let alone taking it further – although the rest of the mage-scholars were treating it as an interesting experiment.
‘Good luck,’ she offered.
‘Thank you.’ Elena stood and bowed stiffly, clearly wanting to bring this discussion to an end. ‘Good night, Cera.’
After she was gone, Cera sat alone a while, then went to change for the evening’s court. She stayed with Timori through the evening meal; he needed the experience of speaking with older, more experienced men. After she’d put him to bed, she visited Tarita again, reading a tale from The Book of Before, a collection of folktales from northern Ahmedhassa, filled with afreet and djinn and princesses with magical powers. The girl listened with big moist eyes, and fell asleep halfway through, but Cera kept reading anyway, finding some kind of release from the day’s stresses in the familiar words.
Poor Tarita slept three-quarters of the day, the healer-nurses said. Perhaps death would have been kinder . . .
The fourth night-bell had rung by the time she got back to her rooms and changed into her nightdress, but instead of getting into bed, she lit the lamp on her desk and went back to the ever-present paperwork that was her burden and her release.
Brochena, Javon, on the continent of Antiopia
Awwal (Martrois) 930
21st month of the Moontide
Gurvon Gyle prowled the upper storey of Brochena Palace, the only person on the whole floor. He’d taken the royal suite, the very bed where Francis Dorobon had been murdered. He’d publically blamed that murder on Cera Nesti, which was feeling like an error now: the credit for that death far outweighed the truth of her sexual deviancy. The Jhafi of Forensa had greeted her return with reverence, and during the defence of her city she’d been an inspirational figure, by all reports. Increasingly, she was beginning to feel like his most dangerous enemy.