by S L Farrell
She and the other teni of his staff nodded.
Ana stared at the lamps of the city as she walked back to her apartments, and she gazed from her windows that looked west, trying to see if she could pick out the Bastida among the clustering of rooftops. She could not.
That morning, after a sleepless night, Watha brought the news that all the Numetodo within Nessantico had been rounded up, that squads of the Garde Kralji, on the A’Kralj’s orders, had entered Oldtown while she and the Archigos had been at the temple, taking all those suspected to be Numetodo into custody. The Bastida, it was rumored, was full of them.
This was for the safety of Nessantico during the Kraljica’s funeral, the A’Kralj had declared, according to Watha. No Numetodo would be allowed to mar the elaborate, ritualized display of grief and affection for their fallen ruler. They would remain in the Bastida during the three days of official mourning, after which the new Kraljiki would make a ruling regarding them.
While Ana waited in the Archigos’ outer room with Kenne and the other teni of his staff, she could hear them whispering the gossip and rumors, each of the statements wilder and more unlikely than the next:
“. . I’ve been told in confidence that it was a Numetodo servant who poisoned the Kraljica. Yes, I’m certain; my sister’s husband works in the palace and they all know it there. .”
“. . my vatarh told me that the Numetodo were planning to steal the Kraljica’s body and hold it for ransom. That’s why the commandant is so upset. .”
“. . No, they wanted the Kraljica’s body to desecrate it in a bizarre rite of theirs. I’ve heard that from four people who would know. .”
“. . what happened was that the Numetodo were caught using their sorcery to poison the entire drinking water system of the city. Several people have already died from it in Oldtown. That’s why they’ve been rounded up. .”
“. . I’ve heard that the Numetodo are rising up in all the cities of the Holdings in celebration of the Kraljica’s death, the bastards. Why, in Belcanto, they were running through the streets singing. .”
Ana could not listen to their chatter; she saw Karl’s face in each of the rumors.
The Archigos came out at last, leaning heavily on his staff of office, and as Ana and the others descended the stairs from his apartments, she could detect nothing in his glances to her. She wondered at that.
She wanted to ask him what he was thinking; she wanted to tell him that she’d rather he screamed his anger than to have this silence between them, but there was no time. They came out onto the square outside the temple just as the A’Kralj was being helped from his carriage, accompanied by the commandant and several of the city guards. The
early morning sun illuminated an orderly chaos-the a’teni all moving their own people into position for the formal procession; the press of onlookers past the ring of guards; the ca’-and-cu’ families awaiting their moment to view the body of the Kraljica.
“Ah, A’Kralj ca’Mazzak,” the Archigos said as the A’Kralj approached, the quartet of Garde Kralji with him pushing aside those citizens and teni between the A’Kralj and the Archigos. The A’Kralj wore a white, silken bashta over which hung a heavy cloak brocaded in gold filigree. Against the white, his dark beard and hair stood out in harsh contrast, the jaw jutting forward characteristically. Around his neck was a golden chain from which depended a pendant set with ambergris and a yellow diamond. His fingers were bare of rings, but Ana knew that later this night, before the public procession, he would take the signet ring from his matarh’s hand and place it on his own finger. Renard walked alongside him, carrying the A’Kralj’s gilded mourning mask should it be needed. The mask was to allow the A’Kralj privacy in his grief, but to Ana, the A’Kralj seemed more exuberant than sorrowful.
The commandant, accompanying the A’Kralj, nodded faintly to Ana. She shivered and gave no sign that she noticed. The Archigos
gestured, and his retinue bowed as one and gave the A’Kralj the sign of Cenzi.
“A’Kralj, I am so sorry for your loss, but I know you will follow her and take Nessantico to heights beyond even her dreams,” the Archigos said as they rose from their bows. He looked like a wizened child against the athletic bulk of the A’Kralj.
“Thank you, Archigos,” the A’Kralj answered in his high, nasal voice. It sounded like an adolescent’s. “I know Matarh appreciated your long service and devotion to her, and I look forward to the same service from you.”
The Archigos bowed again at that, though Ana knew that he heard the same lack of conviction in the A’Kralj’s words-ritualistic, too polite, and ultimately meaningless. The man’s deep-set eyes flickered across Ana’s face, and she thought his lips tightened with the glance.
The Archigos seemed to notice as well, for he motioned to Ana to step forward. “You remember O’Teni Ana cu’Seranta?” he said. “I spoke of her to you the other day, as we were discussing the arrangements for the funeral.”
“Matarh introduced us at the Gschnas, Archigos,” he said. He held out his hand and she took it. His eyes appraised her; she could almost hear the calculations inside his head. “Yes, I remember her, and I remember our talk, Archigos. Good to meet you again, O’Teni. I only wish it were in better circumstances.”
She realized that they were both waiting for her to speak. “As do I,”
she answered belatedly. “We all mourn your loss, A’Kralj. It’s a tragedy for the entire Holdings.”
Words vacant of true feeling, she knew. Like herself.
He nodded. “Indeed,” he said. He sniffed-a concession to congestion rather than grief, Ana thought-and looked her up and down once more. “The Archigos speaks highly of you, O’Teni, and my matarh did as well, when she was alive. They both seem to feel that you’ve been particularly blessed by Cenzi, and that it would be. .” He paused, as if considering his next words. “. . advantageous for me to know you better. I have always found that listening to the advice of those I trust is a good tactic, so I intend to do exactly that. Very soon. I trust you’ll be amenable as well? A luncheon in the palais perhaps, the day after tomorrow-Gostidi?”
Ana lowered her head. She could see no way to refuse politely.
“Certainly, A’Kralj,” she answered. “It would be my pleasure, assuming my duties to the Archigos do not interfere.”
“I’m positive the Archigos will make certain they do not,” he answered, and Ana could hear the Archigos grunt his assent, though she would not glance at him. “I’ll tell Renard to arrange it, then.”
“Arrange what?” a voice interrupted, and Ana lifted her head to see A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and his daughter standing just behind the A’Kralj. The a’teni was smiling, but the expression on his daughter’s face was far less friendly.
“I was arranging to take luncheon with O’Teni cu’Seranta on Gostidi,” the A’Kralj said to ca’Cellibrecca.
“Gostidi?” ca’Cellibrecca asked. He pursed his lips over his doubled chin and tapped a forefinger on his cheek. “I must remind the A’Kralj-as the Archigos should know, too-that he has the Ceremony
of the Kralji that morning, and he and I were planning to discuss the disposition of the Numetodo in the Bastida afterward, and both will take some time.”
“I assume that I will still find sufficient time to eat, A’Teni,” the A’Kralj remarked. “Or would you deny the new Kraljiki his sustenance?”
“Of course not,” ca’Cellibrecca answered quickly. The expression on his face soured. “In fact, I could join you, and I’m certain Francesca would be willing as well. I hope to have some news from her husband by Mizzkdi or Gostidi, and. .”
“I think not,” the A’Kralj interrupted. “While the company of you and Vajica ca’Cellibrecca would be most agreeable, I would like to speak with the O’Teni more privately.” Ca’Cellibrecca’s mouth remained open for a moment as if he would say more. The A’Kralj raised his eyebrows, and ca’Cellibrecca bowed his head. His daughter’s dark eyes were reproachful as they stare
d at the A’Kralj, but he stared blandly back at her.
For a moment, the tableau held. Ana thought of ca’Cellibrecca and what he’d done to the Numetodo in Brezno, and she imagined Karl in the a’teni’s hands. From the roiling inside her, a flame of anger sent searing heat. She lifted her chin. “I would like to talk to the new Kraljiki regarding the Numetodo as well,” Ana said. “I think the Kraljiki needs to make his decision as well-informed as possible.”
The Archigos coughed as if startled. With the comment, both A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and his daughter swiveled their heads to stare at Ana. She could feel the heat of their gazes and didn’t dare look at them. Instead, she kept her eyes on the A’Kralj, who laughed, suddenly and surprisingly. “There, you see, A’Teni? O’Teni cu’Seranta is not the quiet, obedient mouse you think she is, and judging by the look on the Archigos’ face, she has surprised him as well. I’m beginning to look forward to our luncheon, O’Teni, to see what other surprises you might have for me.”
With that, the A’Kralj took a long breath and looked toward the temple. “And now I must pay my respects. Archigos, are you ready to lead us to my matarh? Vajica ca’Cellibrecca, would you do me the favor of accompanying me? Renard, my mask, if you please. .”
As Renard tied on the mask, Francesca placed her arm inside the A’Kralj’s proffered elbow with a venomous glance at Ana. The Archigos also looked up at her before gesturing to A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca. The processional line of teni began to move, haltingly, behind the Archigos’
slow progress. His staff clattered on the polished flagstones of the court, and Ana walked carefully alongside him, aware of the gazes burrowing into her back.
Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca
Francesca glanced back to him as they entered the temple. Orlandi could see from her face that she was distressed and upset, but there was nothing he could do for her other than to frown sympathetically and nod in the direction of the A’Kralj, to whose arm she clung. Pay attention to him. Be with him, he said with that glance. It’s what you need to do right now. He asked you to accompany him and that’s a great public honor. We’ve lost nothing yet. .
He’d believed that the A’Kralj was firmly under his control through Francesca. This morning had shown him the error of that belief. The lesson sent doubt careening through Orlandi’s head. He was like one of the street jugglers along the Avi, with far too many balls in the air around him, each moving in its own pattern. There was the Hirzg, already marching toward Nessantico’s border, as dangerous to handle as glowing coals. Orlandi had yet to hear from cu’Belli about Estraven’s fate, despite having told the man to immediately send a rider back. And now the Archigos appeared to have placed his own pawn directly in Francesca’s path, and the A’Kralj had not allowed Orlandi to sweep it aside.
He must continue to juggle. He could not put anything down safely yet.
He prayed as he walked, but his prayer was not for the Kraljica
whose body they approached slowly. The procession was lengthy: the Archigos, followed by the A’Kralj, then the half-dozen or so a’teni who, like Orlandi, had come to the city for the Jubilee, then the Kraljica’s many direct relatives-all walking between the lines of white-robed teni who had been in attendance of the Kraljica’s body since it had arrived here, walking in the teni-lit glory of the temple.
Cenzi, I have done everything for Your glory, for Your purposes. Show me, Your servant, that I have not lost Your favor. . Orlandi prayed, and he looked past the A’Kralj to the damned dwarf and his ugly whore, and his stomach burned.
I deserve the staff and the crown. I deserve to be Archigos; I should have been Archigos instead of him. I am the true keeper of the Divolonte, the true guardian of the Faith. The Divolonte and the Ilmodo and the teni hold together the very fabric of Nessantico, and I protect it for You against Your enemies who would tear it apart. .
As they entered the temple, the choirmaster in his loft moved his hands and the choir began to sing: Darkmavis’ Requiem for a Kraljiki.
The mournful harmonies swirled and circled, reverberating along the temple’s length, amplified and shaped by the teni choirmaster’s spell, the delicate melody sliding from tenors to baritones to sopranos and back again, the cadence of the basses relentless underneath. Orlandi watched the Archigos turn to his whore and whisper, and he saw her hands move in the pattern of light-making. Yet the motions were hesitant, and he saw her fumble and start over, and when the light blossomed between her hands it was weak and pale compared to that of the other teni standing in prayer along either side of the main aisle.
Orlandi found his eyes narrowing. Is this your sign, Cenzi? Have you answered me that quickly? The o’teni had danced with that foul Numetodo during the Gschnas, after all-and now she wanted to speak to the A’Kralj about the Numetodo the commandant had taken prisoner.
No doubt her viewpoint would be conciliatory and weak, mirroring that of the Archigos. She lacked the power of the true Faith no matter how much Cenzi had gifted her. Orlandi was certain that she misused her Gift as well-it certainly was the simplest explanation of why she would have seen the Kraljica so often during her final illness: under the dwarf’s direction, she had been using the Ilmodo against the laws of the Divolonte to try to heal the Kraljica. That certainly made sense for ca’Millac, since it was the Kraljica’s support that had helped maintain him as Archigos.
But perhaps. . perhaps there was more here, something he was missing. Could Cenzi have withdrawn his Gift from cu’Seranta? There, the dwarf frowned at his o’teni, and she released the poor spell entirely.
Her hands went dark and empty. He saw her whisper to the Archigos apologetically, no doubt pleading weariness if the dark, pouched flesh under her eyes were any sign.
Orlandi made a mental note to speak to the commandant. Perhaps the man knew something, though he was the Kraljica’s man, not Orlandi’s. .
The A’Kralj had reached his matarh’s body, the Archigos and O’Teni cu’Seranta moving to one side. The Kraljica’s face remained covered with her death mask: painted, closed eyelids and mouth, her hair frothing white around the gold. The A’Kralj stood at his matarh’s right hand with Francesca still at his side, gazing down on her. As Orlandi watched, the A’Kralj’s hand reached out and stroked not her hand but the staff of the Kralji, which would be in his own hand tomorrow morning. Orlandi bowed his head and closed his eyes as the procession halted to let the A’Kralj have his time with his matarh, Francesca moving politely to one side to allow the A’Kralj his privacy, but Orlandi doubted that the man prayed. Rather, he was probably thinking of tomorrow, when he would be declared Kraljiki, when he would sit on the Sun Throne, bathed in the radiance of his position.
You must choose. .
Perhaps the Hirzg would indeed be his best choice. Jan ca’Vorl would certainly be a strong Kraljiki, and his sympathies were definitely in line with Orlandi’s, and Orlandi already had in hand the proposal from the Hirzg for Francesca’s hand to cement their alliance. While the A’Kralj might be Francesca’s lover, while he intimated that such a marriage would interest him, he’d also announced no formal engagement. If the A’Kralj was going to assert himself, if he was going to consider scorning Francesca for that plain whore of the dwarf’s who was no better than one of the grandes horizontales, then perhaps. .
Orlandi sighed. His temples ached, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into his heated tub with minted balm on his forehead. But that wouldn’t happen for some time yet, not until all the Kraljica’s interminable relatives had had their moment with the Kraljica.
The A’Kralj finally stirred, lifting his head and making the sign of Cenzi over his matarh. He leaned forward and gave her a ceremonial final kiss, their masks clinking metallically as they touched. The Archigos waddled forward as Francesca took the A’Kralj’s arm once more.
The Archigos blessed the A’Kralj, his voice loud in the temple. Orlandi thought the dwarf looked ridiculous, like a wrinkled toddler talking to an adult-not only would Orlandi
be an Archigos as the needs of the Faith demanded, he would look the part as well. He would not be a mockery of the position like this one.
Soon enough, if it is Your will. .
The A’Kralj, as the choir’s dirge swelled again, strode regally away with Francesca at his side and the Archigos and O’Teni cu’Seranta and his staff behind. They left the temple by the side door, and faintly Orlandi could hear the crowds packed into the temple square acknowledge the A’Kralj.
Orlandi came forward himself, and he and the other a’teni arranged themselves around the body. With satisfaction, Orlandi noted that none of the a’teni challenged his right to stand at the Kraljica’s head.
The a’teni. . the majority of them would stand with him, he was certain, when the time came. A Concord A’Teni would vote to depose the hated dwarf ca’Millac when Orlandi brought charges, and then they would elevate him to Archigos. .
The first of the Kraljica’s too-numerous nephews and nieces came forward with his family, the line stretching well into the rear of the temple, and Orlandi sighed again.
As the mourners slowly moved past, he contented himself with thoughts of what he would do once he was Archigos, when this was his temple. .
Karl ci’Vliomani
The noon sun spilled golden on the walls of the Bastida, but seemed to avoid actually touching the dark, grimy stones. Karl
stood on a ledge high in the tower, protected only by a flimsy strip of open wooden rail. From his vantage point looking east, he could see the gilded domes of the Archigos’ Temple. Between the rooftops of the intervening buildings, he glimpsed the massive crowd around the temple as the city waited for the Kraljica to begin her slow, final procession around the ring of the Avi a’Parete: at dusk as the lamps of Nessantico were lit.
