A Magic of Nightfall nc-2

by S L Farrell

  “You’re afraid…”

  “… You doubt yourself…”

  “No!” she told them all, angrily. “I can do this. I will do this. You’ll see. You’ll see when the Hirzg is in there with you. You’ll see.”

  They’ll know you. The A’Hirzg will know you…

  “No, she won’t. People like her don’t even see the unranked, as I was to her. My voice will be different, and my hair, and-most importantly-my attitude. She won’t know me. She won’t.”

  With that, she plucked the pouch of golden coins from the bed and placed it in the chest with the other fees. From the chest, she pulled out the battered bronze mirror and looked at her reflection in the polished surface. She touched her hair, looked at the haunted, almost colorless eyes. It was time for her to become someone else. Someone richer, someone more influential.

  Someone who could get close enough to the Hirzg…

  THRONES

  Allesandra ca’Vorl

  Within a moon…

  That’s the promise the White Stone had made. Allesandra wondered if she could keep up the pretense that long. It was more difficult than she’d thought. Doubts plagued her-she had dreamed for the last three nights that she had gone to the White Stone to try to end the contract. “Just keep the money,” she’d told him. “Keep the money, but don’t kill Fynn.” Each time he’d laughed at her and refused.

  “That’s not what you want,” the White Stone replied. In the dream, his voice was deeper. “Not really. I will do what you desire, not what you say. He’ll be dead within a moon…”

  She hoped Cenzi was not rebuking her. Fynn probably contemplated killing me as Vatarh was dying, thinking I would challenge him for the crown. He would still do so if he suspected me of plotting against him-he’s as much as said that. This is no less than he deserves for what Vatarh and he did to me. This is what he deserves for his continued arrogance toward me. This is what I must do for me; this is what I must do for Jan. This is what I must do for Vatarh’s dream. This is the only way…

  The words were burning coals in her stomach, and they touched all aspects of her life. She had suspected it would one day come to this, but she had also hoped that day might never arrive.

  Since the attempted assassination, Fynn had enjoyed the adulation of the Firenzcian populace and Jan-as the Hirzg’s protector-had been taken up with it as well. Everyone seemed to have forgotten entirely that Allesandra had anything to do with the foiling of the assassination. Even Jan seemed to have forgotten that-he certainly never mentioned, in all his recounting of the story, that it had been her who pointed out the assassin to him.

  Crowds gathered to cheer whenever the Hirzg left his palais in Brezno, and there were parties nearly every night, with the ca’-and-cu’ of the Coalition. There were new people there every night, especially women wanting to be close to the Hirzg (still unmarried despite his age) and to the new young protege Jan.

  Her husband, Pauli, also enjoyed the influx of fresh young women into the palais life. Allesandra was far less pleased with it, and even less pleased with Pauli’s attitude toward Jan. “He’s your son,” she told him. Her stomach roiled with the argument she knew was coming, and she placed a hand on her abdomen to calm it, swallowing the fiery bile that threatened to rise in her throat and hating the shrill sound of her voice. “You need to caution him about these things. If one of these eager ca’-and-cu’ swarming around him end up with child…”

  Pauli gave her an expression that was near-smirk, making the bile slide higher inside her. “Then we buy the girl and her family a vacation in Kishkoros unless she’s a good match for him. If that’s the case, let him marry her.” His casual shrug was infuriating. Allesandra wondered how many Kishkoros vacations Pauli had bought during their years of marriage.

  They were standing on the balcony above the palais’ main ballroom floor. Another party was in progress below; Allesandra could see Fynn and the usual cluster of bright tashtas, and that made her hands tremble. Archigos Semini was close by as well, though Allesandra didn’t see Francesca in the crowd. Jan was in the same group, talking to a young woman with hair the color of new wheat. Allesandra didn’t recognize her.

  “Who is that?” she asked. “I don’t know her.”

  “Elissa ca’Karina, of the Jablunkov ca’Karina line. She was sent to represent her family for the Besteigung, but was delayed near Lake Firenz and just arrived a few days ago.”

  “You know her well, then.”

  “I’ve… talked to her a few times since her arrival.”

  The hesitation and choice of words told Allesandra more than she wanted to know. She closed her eyes for a breath, rubbing at her stomach. She wondered if it had just been flirtations or more. “I’m sure Jan would appreciate your familial interest, just as Fynn appreciates his First Taster.”

  “That was crude and beneath you, my dear.”

  She ignored that, peering over the railing. “How old is she?”

  “Older than our Jan by a few years, I’d judge,” Pauli told her. “But an engaging and interesting woman.”

  “And a candidate for a Kishkoros vacation?”

  She heard Pauli chuckle. “She might prefer a more northern location, but yes, if it would come to that.” She felt him move close to her, staring down at the crowd. “You can’t protect him forever, Allesandra. You can’t live his life for him, and you can’t keep someone his age captive-not without expecting him to resent you for it.”

  “ I was kept captive,” she answered him, and pushed away from the railing. “You can’t live his life for him.”’ But I will shape his future. I will… “We should go down.”

  They were announced into the party by the door heralds. She went directly to Fynn and Jan, while Pauli bowed to her and went off on his own. Archigos Semini’s eyes widened a bit with her approach-since the attempted assassination and their one subsequent conversation, the Archigos had engaged in little more than the required polite talk with her. She wondered what he’d think if she told him what she’d done.

  The ca’-and’cu’ in the group all bowed low as she approached. She bowed also-a mere inclination of her head-to Fynn and gave Semini the sign of Cenzi. She smiled toward Jan, but her gaze was more on the woman with him. Elissa ca’Karina was one of those women who was incredibly striking while not being beautiful in a classical sense, and the arms emerging from the lace of the tashta were decidedly muscular-a horsewoman, perhaps. Her eyes were her best feature: large, a pale icy blue, and made prominent by judicious application of kohl. Allesandra judged her to be in her early twenties-and if she was unmarried at that age given her rank, then perhaps there was some scandal attached to her: Allesandra decided that a judicious inquiry was in order. The lines of the vajica’s face seemed oddly familiar, but perhaps that was only because she was little different than the others: young, eager, smiling, all eyes and laughter and attention.

  “A lovely party, Brother,” she said to Fynn. His smile was nearly predatory as he glanced around them.

  “Yes, isn’t it?” he responded, and his pleasure was obvious. “I’m absolutely surrounded by loveliness.” Bright laughter answered him. Allesandra smiled in return, but she watched her brother’s animated face. The image came to her of him sprawled bloody on the tiles, with a pebble over the left eye and the right staring blindly up at her. She shook away the thought, swallowing heat again. “Don’t you think so, Allesandra?”

  “I do. I see here two young bees and an old hornet surrounded by flowers, and the flowers had best be careful.” More polite laughter, though she saw the Archigos frown as if he were trying to decide if he’d been affronted. Her gaze went back to Vajica ca’Karina. “Jan, you’ve neglected to introduce your yellow rose.”

  Jan straightened and slid the barest fraction of an inch closer to the young woman. Almost protective… Yes, he’s interested in her. And look at the way she keeps glancing at him… “Matarh, this is Vajica ca’Karina. She’s here from Jablunkov.”

  El
issa bowed her head to Allesandra. “A’Hirzg,” she said. “I’m so delighted to meet you. Your son has told us many delightful things about you.” Her voice held the accent of Sesemora, blurring the consonants ever so slightly. The voice was husky and low for a woman. Something about the young woman, though…

  “Have we met, Vajica ca’Karina?” Allesandra asked. “Perhaps at one of my vatarh’s Solstice feasts? The shape of your face, the lines of it…”

  “Oh, no, A’Hirzg,” the woman answered. The smile was disarming, the laugh enchanting. “I would certainly remember having met you, and especially your son.”

  Allesandra was certain of that last statement, at least. “Then perhaps it’s a family resemblance? Would I know your parents?”

  “I don’t know, A’Hirzg. I know they once entertained Hirzg Jan, many years ago, but that was while you were still…” She stopped there, blushing as she recognized what she was about to say, and hurrying on. “I was named after my matarh, and my vatarh is Josef-he was a ca’Evelii before he married my matarh. Our chateau is east of Jablunkov, in the hills. A very pretty place, A’Hirzg, though the winters can be rather long there.”

  Allesandra nodded to all that, committing the names to memory for the message she would send. Jan touched Elissa’s arm as the musicians on the ballroom’s stage started to play. “Matarh, I promised Elissa a dance…”

  Allesandra smiled as graciously as she could. “Of course. Jan, we really must talk later…” but he was already leading Elissa away. Fynn had moved out into the open dancing space as well.

  “He’s a fine young man, your son, and very brave.” Semini’s emerald-hued robes shifted as he gazed at her. He seemed uncertain as to whether to come closer to her or to flee. The compliment was so bald that Allesandra felt no compulsion to reply to it.

  “Is your Francesca well? I notice she’s not here tonight.”

  “She is indisposed, A’Hirzg. These endless celebrations for the new Hirzg are tiring, especially for someone with so many ailments. But she sent her regrets to the Hirzg, and there is a meeting of the Council of Ca’ tomorrow and she takes her responsibilities as councillor very seriously. There is no one who thinks more of Brezno than Francesca. It is practically all she thinks about.”

  His tone was blatantly scornful. Allesandra realized then that it had been Francesca who had put the Archigos on his path. It was her ambition driving him, not his own. Semini, she suspected, would still be a war-teni if it were not for Francesca. She wondered if Francesca, too, harbored images of Fynn laying dead, but with Francesca herself taking the throne. “And you, A’Hirzg?” Semini asked. “Forgive me, but you seem a bit pale this evening.”

  “I find that I’m a little indisposed, Archigos.”

  He nodded. Under silver-flecked eyebrows, his dark gaze scanned the floor; she followed it to find Pauli laughing in a knot of older women, his hands gesturing finely as he spoke. “A family problem?” Semini asked.

  “Possibly.”

  He nodded, as if musing on that. “When we last spoke, A’Hirzg, you said we were on the same side.”

  “Aren’t we, Archigos?” she asked him. “Don’t we both want what’s best for Firenzcia?”

  He took a long breath. “I believe we do. At least, I hope so. And the last time, you asked me to dance. You said you wanted to know how well we moved together. But you left without giving me an answer.” Another pause. Another breath. His gaze came back to her, intense and unblinking. “Did we? Did we move together well?”

  She touched his arm. She felt muscles lurch under his robes, but he didn’t move away. “I seem to remember that we did,” she told him. “But perhaps a reminder would be good. For both of us.”

  She led him out onto the dance floor.

  She thought he moved very well indeed.

  Audric ca’Dakwi

  His Great-Matarh frowned as he struggled to breathe on the bed. “Get up, boy,” she told him. “The Kraljiki can’t lie there weak and helpless. The Kraljiki must be strong; the Kraljiki must show he can lead his people.”

  “But, Great-Matarh,” he told her. “It’s so hard. My chest hurts so much…”

  “Kraljiki?” Seaton and Marlon entered the bechamber from the door to the servants’ corridor. The two of them struggled with a heavy wheeled easel draped in gold-brocaded blue cloth.

  “Ah,” Audric said. “Good.” He pointed to the painting over the fireplace. “You see, Great-Matarh? Now you may come with me wherever I go.” He supervised as his attendants took down the painting and placed it carefully on the easel, making certain it was secured to the frame of the device so it couldn’t fall. Audric watched, and thought that Marguerite looked pleased. “It must have been boring, having to stare at the same room all day and night. It would have driven me mad…” He looked at Seaton. “Have they come as I ordered?”

  “Yes, Kraljiki,” Seaton answered. “They’re waiting for you in the Sun Throne Hall.”

  “Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting. Bring the Kraljica with us.”

  “And you, Kraljiki? Should we call for a chair?”

  Audric shook his head. “I no longer require that,” he told them, told Marguerite. “I will walk.”

  Seaton and Marlon glanced quickly at each other and bowed. Audric took as deep a breath as he could and led them from the bedchamber.

  He thought perhaps he’d made a mistake by the time they’d walked nearly the length of the main wing of the palais. He was panting rapidly from the effort and could feel sweat dampening the back of his neck and beading on his forehead. He dabbed at the moisture with the lace of his sleeve as they reached the hall gardai. When they started to announce them, Audric stopped them. “A moment,” he said. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his breath.

  “You can do this,” he heard Marguerite say, and he nodded to the gardai. They opened the doors for them. “The Kraljiki Audric,” one of them intoned into the hall.

  Audric heard the rustling as the seven people inside came to their feet, their heads bowed as he entered: Sigourney ca’Ludovici, Aleron ca’Gerodi, Odil ca’Mazzak… all the appointed members of the Council. He could also see them desperately trying to glance up to see what was making such a racket as Seaton and Marlon wheeled in Marguerite’s portrait behind him. “Kraljiki,” Sigourney said, lifting from her bow as he stopped in front of her. “It’s good to see you doing so well.”

  Her gaze slipped past him to the painting, and he saw her struggle to keep the puzzlement from her face.

  “The reports of my illness have been exaggerated by those who wish to do me harm,” he told her. “I am well, thank you, Councillor.” He nodded to the others in the room. For a moment, he was frightened, like a child among a forest of adults, but then he heard Marguerite’s voice in his ear, whispering to him: “You are superior to them, boy. You are their Kraljiki; behave as if you expect their obedience and you will get it. Act as if you are still a child and they will treat you that way.”

  With a nod to his attendants, Audric strode to the Sun Throne, forcing down the cough that threatened to double him over. He sat, and the Throne bloomed into light around him, the crystal facets gleaming. The e-teni stationed around the room relaxed as the glow surrounded him. Audric closed his eyes briefly as the easel was moved to sit at his right hand. His great-matarh could see them now, all of them.

  They were staring at him, at Marguerite. “See the greed on their faces. They all want to sit where you’re sitting, Audric. Especially Sigourney; she wants it most of all. You can use that to get them to agree…”

  “I won’t keep you long here,” he told the Council. “We are all busy people, and I am looking strongly at ways to bring Nessantico back to prominence against our enemies to both West and East. That is, I am certain, what each of us want. I vow to you now; I will reunite the Holdings.”

  The speech nearly exhausted him, and he could not keep away the cough that followed, smothering it in a lace handkerchief. “The Council of Ca’ isn’t all
present, Kraljiki,” Sigourney said. “We are missing Regent ca’Rudka.”

  “I was aware of that,” Audric told her. “He is missing for good reason: the Regent was not invited.”

  “Ah?” Sigourney breathed questioningly as the others murmured.

  “See the eagerness-especially with Cousin Sigourney? They are all thinking about where they would stand if the Regent fell, and calculating their chances…”

  “Yes,” Audric said before any of them could voice an objection. “I called this meeting to discuss the Regent. I won’t waste your time with diversions and small talk. For the good of Nessantico, I am asking for two rulings from the Council of Ca’. One, that Regent ca’Rudka be immediately imprisoned in the Bastida a’Drago for treason-” the uproar nearly drowned out the rest, “-and that I be elevated to rule as Kraljiki in truth as well as title.” The clamor of the Council redoubled at that statement. Audric sat back and listened, letting them argue among themselves. “Yes, use the opportunity to rest, and to listen…”

  He did that. He watched them; he especially watched Sigourney. Yes, she kept glancing over to him as she spoke to the other councillors. He could see her weighing him, judging him. “This is what I desire,” Audric said at last, when the hubbub had died somewhat, “and it is what my great-matarh desires as well.” He gestured to the portrait, and was gratified to see her smile in return. They stared, all of them, their gazes moving from him to the painting and back again. “The Regent is a traitor to the Sun Throne. Ca’Rudka wishes to sit here where I am sitting now, and he is plotting to do so even at the expense of our success in the Hellins and against the Coalition.”

  Aleron cleared his throat noisily, glancing at Sigourney. “Councillor ca’Ludovici has mentioned to all of us here your concerns, Kraljiki, and I wish to assure you that we take them seriously,” he said. “But proof of these accusations…”