A Magic of Twilight nc-1

by S L Farrell

  The best way to learn the truth is by seeing it with your own eyes. After what happened at the Gschnas, there may be very little time.

  There had been no signature.

  Ana wasn’t certain what she should feel or what she should do. A note from the Numetodo Envoy, offering to meet. . Would the Archigos expect her to tell him about this? For that matter, if he did already know and she remained silent, then what might he think?

  She crumpled the note and the box and flung them into the fireplace, watching the edges turn brown and then erupt into flame. She picked up the shell on its chain and twirled it in front of her. She thought of putting it in one of the drawers in her desk, or perhaps hiding it among her clothing. She examined the shell, the grooves so well-defined in the stone, as if they had been sculpted. She lifted the chain and placed it around her neck. She glanced in the mirror as she touched the shell, and then placed it under her robes. No, it wasn’t obvious there. “Watha,” she called, “has the Archigos arrived yet?”

  Watha entered, bowing and giving Ana the sign of Cenzi. “He should be here any moment, O’Teni,” she said. Ana saw her eyes flicker over the table and around the room-looking for the box, she was certain. The woman licked her lips as if she were about to speak, then evidently thought better of it. “I’ll send Tari out to watch for the carriage,” she said at last.

  “Thank you, Watha.” The woman bowed again and left the room.

  Ana touched the shell again under the folds of her robe as she looked in the mirror. A plain, weary face stared back at her, with brown circles under the eyes. She remembered nothing of last night beyond her attempt to heal the Kraljica. All the events of the Gschnas were overlaid with a sense of unreality, as if it were something that had happened to another Ana. The payment for her use of the Ilmodo had been severe; her body still ached and the weariness touched her limbs despite a long sleep; it was already nearly noon and she felt as if she’d slept only moments.

  “The Kraljica. .” she’d asked through cracked, dry lips as soon as she’d awakened. Watha had been there, sitting on the chair at the foot of her bed.

  “Is she. .”

  “The Archigos sent a messenger around earlier, O’Teni,” she’d answered.

  “He said that the Kraljica is unchanged, and to tell you that you’ll be seeing her midday. He’ll send a carriage. We were all terribly worried when we heard what happened, O’Teni, especially after what nearly happened with the Archigos.”

  Ana sighed, looking in the mirror. She knew that the Archigos intended her to use the Ilmodo once again today on the Kraljica, and she wasn’t certain she could do that, not as drained as she was. And if she did, then how would she feel when the lamps were lit around the city.

  Would she even be awake?

  She touched the shell under her robes once more. Ana had certainly felt attraction before, certainly, though that affection had rarely been returned-it seemed to be reserved for prettier women than her.

  But Vajiki ci’Vliomani. . Karl. .

  It could all be pretense, her mirror image seemed to be telling her with the frown she saw. He’s a Numetodo; you’re an o’teni. What you felt could be pretext, all one-sided yet again, so that he has a door into the Faith.

  He could be intending to corrupt you. Be careful. Be very careful.

  “I will be,” she said to the mirror.

  “O’Teni?” a voice questioned from the door, and she started, turning her head to see Sunna there. “What were you saying?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Is the carriage here?”

  “Yes,” Sunna said. “I told the teni to let the Archigos know that you’ll be right down.”

  The Archigos said little beyond the required greeting until the teni driver closed the carriage door and began his chant to start the vehicle rolling through the streets. The carriage lurched over the cobbles as it turned onto the Avi a’Parete, people on the street bowing and giving the sign of Cenzi as they passed, their faces solemn. Ana knew what the gossip of the city must be like. The Archigos sighed deeply. “I was able to learn something last night,” he said. “Do you remember ci’Recroix’s painting in the Kraljica’s parlor? The one of the family?”

  “Yes, Archigos. It’s a very enchanting painting that makes me want to keep staring at it. The woman with the baby. . I half expect to hear the infant suckling.”

  “The family he portrayed is dead. Every one of them,” the Archigos told her. “They died, I’m told, within a day after the painting was completed, of some tragic and unknown disease. Strangely, that seems to be the case with several of the subjects of ci’Recroix’s paintings over the last four or five years, though not before: the person whose portrait he captured suddenly and unexpectedly died. A series of tragic coincidences, which didn’t come to light since ci’Recroix never accepted a commission in the same city twice.”

  Ana’s chest felt as if someone were sitting on it. “I don’t think it’s coincidence, Archigos.”

  The dwarf sniffed. “Neither do I, Ana. Neither do I. I think ci’Recroix has been. . practicing.”

  “But why, and for his own reasons or for someone else’s?”

  “That I don’t know, but I will find out. I have my suspicions, however.”

  “The Numetodo?” Ana asked hesitantly, thinking of the note she’d received. She was afraid to even glance at the Archigos, afraid that he would see what she was hiding.

  She felt more than saw the Archigos shrug. “Possibly, but I doubt that. The Kraljica is more likely to be sympathetic to the Numetodo than the A’Kralj, after all. Why, do you know something about them that would lead you to suspect them? I saw you with Envoy ci’Vliomani last night.”

  He was watching her. She could feel his gaze on her, and she stared out the window of the carriage rather than look at him. If he knows about the note, if he’s read it, then I should tell him now so he knows that I won’t keep secrets from him. .

  She knew she should open herself to him, but even as she started to speak, another inner voice objected. If you tell him and he knew nothing, he won’t let you go. He’ll make certain that Envoy ci’Vliomani is kept far away from you, and you’ll never know if anything he’s said or anything you might have felt is true. . “No,” she said to the window. “I was only speculating, that’s all. You’re right, of course, Archigos. Envoy ci’Vliomani told me that he was looking forward to meeting the Kraljica, and I believe he was sincere in that.” She forced herself to turn back to the Archigos. There was nothing in his wizened face that suggested he might be disappointed in her or that she had failed a test set her. “If not the Numetodo, then who?” she asked.

  The Archigos only shook his head. “I won’t say. Not without more proof-proof that I fully expect is forthcoming. I’ve told Commandant ca’Rudka what I’ve learned, and he has started his own investigation.

  The commandant has. .” The Archigos pressed his lips together momentarily. “. . sources and ways of gaining information I do not.”

  Ana shivered, remembering the man and the sense of unspoken menace that exuded from him. She could imagine the ways to which the Archigos referred. “And the Kraljica?” she asked. “How is she this morning?”

  The Archigos shook his head. “No better. Somewhat worse, perhaps. Renard wasn’t optimistic. She’s remained unconscious since the incident, and no one can rouse her.”

  “Archigos, I don’t know if I can. Last night drained me so deeply.”

  He reached out with his small, malformed hand and patted hers.

  “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t feel you can do, Ana. The choice is yours-yours and Cenzi’s.”

  “And if she dies?”

  The Archigos looked at her sharply, then frowned. “If she dies, Ana, then I fear for Nessantico. I truly do.”

  Karl ci’Vliomani

  “If she dies, we’re doomed. Utterly doomed.”

  “It’s not that dire, Mika,” Karl answered. The tavern was cold despite the roaring fire in
the large stone hearth near their table. The walls were laced with shadows and smoke, and the inn smelled of soot and ash from the poor ventilation of the flue. Despite the noon sun outside, the shuttered windows kept the tavern in perpetual dusk. The ale in the tankard in front of him was sour and too infused with hops for Karl’s taste. He longed for the malty, dark, and thick stouts and porters of home. Beyond the tankard, Mika looked frightened and worried, leaning forward to whisper harshly across the table.

  “No? Did your dancing with the Archigos’ new toy go so well? You mean to say that you don’t foresee bodies hanging from gibbets here in Nessantico when the A’Kralj becomes the Kraljiki? Well, I do, Karl. I see them very clearly, and I see your face and mine on two of the bodies.”

  “This wasn’t our fault. We both know that.”

  “Right. That will be a great comfort to my surviving relations, I’m sure. I’ll make sure it’s carved on my gravestone: It wasn’t his fault. ”

  With a disgusted growl, Mika sat back in his chair and downed his beer in one long gulp. “And you invited your toy to the meeting tonight?”

  “Mika.” Now Karl leaned forward over the scarred, grimy tabletop. “I’m going to ask you just once, politely, not to refer to O’Teni cu’Seranta that way. I won’t ask you a second time.”

  Mike started to retort, then swallowed whatever he’d intended to say. His gaze drifted away from Karl. “I’m sorry,” Mika said. “I’m terrified by what’s happened, Karl. I have family here in the city; you don’t.

  It’s not just what they’d do to me; it’s what would happen to them.”

  That’s why it’s all the more important that we meet with O’Teni cu’Seranta. The Archigos isn’t A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca, and maybe she can make the Archigos hear us. I came here to plead the case for tolerance with the Kraljica; if she’s gone, then I’ll go to Concenzia again and-” Karl stopped. The door to the tavern opened, flooding the room with light. There were growls and curses from the patrons until the figure outlined there shut the door again. Karl had shaded his eyes, though it hadn’t helped much: wild splotches of color chased each other over his field of vision, and he thought he saw, impossibly, a glint of metal in the middle of the man’s face. Through the welter of afterimages, the figure looked around, then fixed on them, striding up to their table.

  “Cenzi’s balls,” Mika cursed, his chair scraping and falling backward as he rose, his hand going to the knife on his belt. There was an answering ring of steel as the figure drew a sword from his scabbard. Even before Karl could react, Mika was pressed back to the wall with the point at his throat. In the attacker’s other hand, a knife blade flashed, pointed at Karl.

  The intruder’s nose was silver.

  Ca’Rudka clucked twice scoldingly at Karl, who started to speak as his hand lifted. “I really wouldn’t do that,” he said, and the point of his sword pressed harder against Mika’s throat, dimpling the skin. Mika lifted his chin, his mouth open, his eyes wide and frightened. “He’ll be dead before you can finish, Envoy. I’m faster than your spell, I promise you.”

  “Commandant,” Karl said, swallowing the release word that was in his own throat and forcing himself to remain still. The point of ca’Rudka’s knife gleamed a few inches from his chest; his sword remained at Mika’s throat. The pressure of the unreleased spell made Karl grimace. His head pounded. “I apologize for my friend. Here in Oldtown, a little paranoia is a survival tactic, as I’m sure you realize.”

  There was a commotion at the door; he heard several other people enter and the sound of their drawn weapons, but he didn’t dare look away. He thought he glimpsed blue and gold in his peripheral vision.

  “Commandant?” he tip of ca’Rudka’s sword withdrew slightly, leaving behind a mark that drooled blood. Mika touched his fingertip to the tiny wound and looked at the smear of red, his eyes still saucered.

  “Mika.” Karl caught his friend’s gaze and nodded his head toward the chair he’d overturned. “Sit down, and don’t move your hands- either to your knife or to make a spell. Commandant, will you take a chair with us? Can I order you a pint of ale? The local brew isn’t quite up to the Isle’s standards, but. .” Slowly, deliberately, Karl sat back down in his own chair. He put his hands on the table where ca’Rudka could see them.

  He saw ca’Rudka’s tight-lipped smile through his clearing vision.

  The commandant was still watching Mika, though now he lowered the knife that had threatened Karl. After a breath, the tip of his thin saber dropped and he sheathed both weapons. He waved to the men at the door-Garde Kralji-and they bowed and retreated, though they left the door open. No one in the tavern objected this time.

  Ca’Rudka took a chair from the nearest table and turned it backward before he sat-Karl realized suddenly that it was a fighter’s move: there was no back to block him if he decided to stand and retreat suddenly or to draw his sword again, and the chair itself would be easy to pick up as a defensive shield. Across the table, Mika sat gingerly, rubbing at the wound on his neck. “Too early in the day for ale,” ca’Rudka answered easily, as if conversing with old friends. “It’s not good for digestion.”

  “Nor would be sitting in a cell in the Bastida, I suspect,” Karl answered. “Is that where I’m bound, Commandant?”

  “Have you done something deserving of such punishment, Envoy?”

  Ca’Rudka folded his arms on the chair’s back and leaned forward, the smile still playing on his lips. “Or perhaps you hired someone to do it for you?”

  “I had nothing to do with the Kraljica’s collapse, Commandant.

  Nothing. Nor did any Numetodo. This is not what any of us wanted.

  Quite the opposite.”

  Ca’Rudka stared at him for a breath, silent. At last, he gave a faint nod. “Yet the Archigos tells me that the Kraljica was attacked with a spell, Envoy, and not a spell like those the teni use. The rumors I hear of the Numetodo. .”

  “. . are much exaggerated,” Karl told him. “You just saw that demonstrated a moment ago, Commandant. If we were as powerful as people seem to believe, we would have burned your body to a cinder in the instant you drew your sword or turned you into a clucking chicken. Or we’d have hidden our presence so well that you wouldn’t have known where we sat drinking. Seeing that I could do none of those things, then I doubt that I have the ability to harm the Kraljica.”

  “This is my city, Envoy. It’s my business to know certain people within it and where I might find them. But let’s not be disingenuous.

  We both know that the Numetodo play with the Ilmodo, despite the in-terdiction against such meddling in the Divolonte. Or are you claiming that the Numetodo attack on the Archigos was just a parlor trick?”

  “Everyone also saw how easily a mere acolyte turned that fool’s spell, Commandant. If I’d used the Scath Cumhacht at the Gschnas, I would have been seen and heard doing so and the Archigos or A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca or any of the other dozens of teni there would have noticed it, don’t you think? And if we had the ability to plant a triggered spell that powerful, I assure you I wouldn’t have made myself so visible in the crowd.”

  “No, I doubt you would have,” ca’Rudka answered. “Which is why you’re not headed for the Bastida already. But I think you understand why I would need to ask, and to watch your face as you answered.” The smile tightened and faded. Karl could see his distorted reflection in the polished nostrils of the commandant’s nose. “I consider myself a good judge of character, Envoy. I find that I like you. I do. You’re unfortunate in your choice of companions-” that with a glance at Mika, “-and your loyalties are suspect, but I like you. I’d hate to see you, well, suffer for your choices.”

  “I would say we are in agreement with that final sentiment, Commandant. So how might I avoid that?”

  Ca’Rudka’s hand curled and lifted. Drifted down again. “It may be that you can’t, Envoy. So much is in flux at the moment. I’m only a tool in the hand of the Kraljica, after all-or the Kraljiki, s
hould the A’Kralj take the throne-and I do what they ask me to do.”

  “Even if innocents are hurt.”

  The smile returned. “I find that, like those who give me my orders, I don’t really care whether a few innocents suffer as long as Nessantico herself is protected.”

  “The way innocents were butchered in Brezno?” Mika interjected.

  “Did their blood and their torment protect Nessantico? Are the Holdings and Concenzia better for the display of their tortured bodies?”

  Ca’Rudka didn’t answer, only flicked his gaze over to Mika for a moment before returning his attention to Karl. “I would suggest, Envoy, that you leave Nessantico now. Your diplomatic mission is over at this point. Leave as soon as you can. Today.” With an abrupt and lithe movement, ca’Rudka stood, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “I can’t,” Karl told him. “I have my own orders that I have to fulfill.

  You can understand that, Commandant.”

  A nod. “I can. Then I’ve done all I can do for you, Envoy. I can’t protect you. The rest is in the hands of Cenzi.”

  “That’s something else we’ll have to disagree upon,” Karl answered.

  This time, ca’Rudka’s smile seemed almost genuine. He nodded again, deeper this time, and turned. He left the tavern, closing the door behind him. Slowly, as false darkness settled around the patrons once more, the sound of conversations swirled through the smoke-tinged air.

  “So the man with the silver nose rather likes you,” Mika said. “How interesting.”

  Karl was still staring at the door. He could still feel the tension in his body, a vibration so strong that he wondered it wasn’t audible. Mika rubbed at his wounded throat.

  “Shut up, Mika,” Karl said. “Or next time I’ll just let him run you through.”

  Edouard ci’Recroix

  Edouard sat perched on a rock on the banks of the A’Sele not far downriver from Pre a’Fleuve. Leave Nessantico by the Avi a’Firenzcia, his contact had told him. But then follow the flow of the A’Sele.