A Magic of Twilight nc-1

by S L Farrell

  “Word has come from Nessantico, my Hirzg,” Markell said as he came abreast of Jan. Markell frowned as he handed Jan a leather courier’s pouch. “There’s a letter from A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca inside.”

  “And?” Jan asked.

  The frown deepened. “The rider tells me that the Kraljica is dead,”

  Markell answered. “Assassinated. Justi ca’Mazzak has been installed as the new Kraljiki.”

  Jan felt himself sitting up in his saddle at the words. That’s not possible, he wanted to rail at Markell. It must be a mistake. Jan stared out at his army, the army used so often by the Kralji when they wanted a rebellion crushed or a territory conquered, the army that the Garde Civile believed they rather than the Hirzg commanded. The army that was intended to force the Kraljica’s hand, a hand that was now dead and still.

  “Vatarh? What’s the matter?” Allesandra asked him. He ignored her.

  “Assassinated by whom?” he growled at Markell.

  “The gossip is that it was a Numetodo, according to the rider,”

  Markell said. “Kraljiki Justi has ordered the arrest of all Numetodo in the city.”

  Jan clenched his jaw, staring at the pouch in his gloved hand. He opened it, glanced at the letter with A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca’s seal on it, still intact. A suspicion began to form. All I did for him, all the planning. . “Starkkapitan,” he told ca’Staunton, waiting patient and silent with his face carefully arranged to show nothing, “we will make camp here for the day. Have your men prepare my tent. Find that rider; if he hasn’t spread word yet about the Kraljica, make certain that it stays that way. This is news I need to contemplate, and I don’t need rumors spreading though the ranks.”

  Ca’Staunton saluted and rode off, calling to his offiziers. He barked orders to them and they scattered, dust rising in a line from their horses’ hooves as they galloped toward the main force of the army.

  Two turns of the glass later, Jan called Markell to his tent. When the man entered, he went to Allesandra, playing with her soldiers, and hugged her quickly. “Go outside for awhile,” he told her. “Find your Georgi or get some food.”

  “I want to stay, Vatarh. I want to listen.”

  “No.” The single, firm word made her close her lips tightly. She gave Jan an ironic bow like a common offizier and left the tent. Watching the tent flap close behind her, Jan picked up the sheaf of parchments from his travel desk and tossed it toward Markell. “Ca’Cellibrecca is going to get his balls squeezed in a vise of his own making if he isn’t careful. When he does, I am going to enjoy hearing him squeal like the pig he is.”

  “Hirzg?”

  Jan waved a hand. “The man plays both sides, Markell. He had us get rid of his daughter’s inconvenient husband so she’d be free for marriage, and we went along with him. Now the woman’s free, yes, but she’s also free to marry the Kraljiki.”

  Markell blinked. “To have the Kraljiki married to. .” He stopped.

  Jan nodded. “Yes, my friend,” he said dryly. “You see it, too. A Kraljiki married to the Archigos’ daughter would be a perfect marriage of secular and religious power. And there just happens to be an un-married Kraljiki.” He pointed to the paper in Markell’s hands. “With her husband dead, ca’Cellibrecca’s daughter is now conveniently available for Justi. And the new Kraljiki will certainly be looking to marry soon to consolidate his position. Serendipitous, don’t you think?” Jan leaned back in his chair. “Kraljiki Justi ca’Cellibrecca. I’m sure A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca thinks that would be an excellent name. In fact, it makes me suspect that our Orlandi was the one behind the murder of the Kraljica, though of course he talks about nothing but the Numetodo in his letter, and how they must be exterminated. It’s wonderful to have such a convenient, politically-expedient excuse as the Numetodo. He also tells us that ‘it’s urgent that we abandon our present course for the time being.’ He says our plans must now wait ‘until we have a chance to fully examine the implications of the current situation.’ Though, of course, he’s now stuck in Nessantico for the duration and doesn’t know when he’ll return to Brezno. The cunning bastard. .”

  Rising from his chair, Jan snatched the letter back from Markell’s hand and scanned it again, his nostrils flaring. He tossed the parchment into the small warming stove in the center of the tent and watched the edges curl, darken, and finally burst into flame. “I begin to believe that A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca always considered us a secondary strategy, something to use if his plot to kill the Kraljica failed and he couldn’t manipulate Marguerite’s poor excuse for a son. Now everything’s fallen in place for him. All that remains is for our army to stand down and he has everything he wants. The next news from Nessantico will tell us how that dwarf ca’Millac has died and ca’Cellibrecca has been installed as the new Archigos, and that the Kraljiki has married Francesca. As Archigos, he would hold the threat of withdrawing the Faith’s support from Firenzcia if I don’t submit-and U’Teni cu’Kohnle, who served with ca’Cellibrecca, just happens to be our chief war-teni.”

  “Cu’Kohnle is Firenzcian, unlike ca’Cellibrecca,” Markell said. “His loyalty is to you more than A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca.”

  “Maybe,” Jan grunted. “But when the A’Teni is Archigos Orlandi, that may change. The new Kraljiki will also insist that I stay married to that pious cow Greta. No doubt the news has reached Brezno by

  now; I’ll wager she’s on her knees praying to Cenzi in gratitude for her deliverance. I wonder if she and ca’Cellibrecca weren’t plotting this all along.”

  Jan paced the small perimeter of the tent and sat again. Outside, he could hear the sounds of the encampment: low talk, a burst of laughter, the clatter and bustle as food was prepared. Markell waited patiently, warming his hands over the coals where ca’Cellibrecca’s paper was now ash.

  “Vatarh?” It was Allesandra, standing at the tent flap. She let it drop behind her. “Vatarh, you told me that a good general must know which battles he can win and which he cannot. Is this one you can win?”

  He stared at her, shaking his head. “You were listening?”

  “You told me to go outside and find Georgi. I looked and I didn’t see him. You didn’t tell me not to listen.”

  Markell raised his eyebrows. Jan sighed. “So you’ve listened and you know. In that case, what do you think?”

  “In all the stories you’ve ever told me, and in all the ones Georgi knows, the Hirzg never gives up. I think A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca doesn’t know those stories, or he didn’t listen to them very well.”

  Jan laughed, and Markell joined in. “The wisdom of a child,” Jan said.

  He nodded, and applauded softly. “This has been a battle without armies,”

  he told her, “as it has been since we started this course. But we have an army with us. If we turn back now, we lose the advantage of the field.”

  “My Hirzg?” Markell asked.

  “Justi has the title. That’s all. He has nothing else yet. And

  ca’Cellibrecca isn’t yet the Archigos. We’re only two days from the border and a fortnight to the gates of Nessantico itself. Ca’Cellibrecca advises us to wait-but he has the interests of Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca in mind, not the Hirzg of Firenzcia. As my daughter has just said, he doesn’t know the stories of Firenzcia.”

  Jan saw the ghost of a smile press against Markell’s thin lips. “Should I inform the Starkkapitan that we will continue our advance in the morning?”

  “Tell him that I intend to pay a personal visit to the new Kraljiki,” Jan told him. “And send U’Teni cu’Kohnle in; I need to know where his loyalties truly lie.”

  “As you wish, my Hirzg,” Markell answered with a quick bow. He opened the flaps of the tent, and Jan heard him speak quickly to one of the gardai, and then the rattle of armor as the man strode quickly away.

  “A good general doesn’t hedge,” Jan said to Allesandra. “And he doesn’t hesitate because the winds have changed. He uses them, instead.”

  A
na cu’Seranta

  “Let me take your cloak, O’Teni Ana. They say the weather will change soon.”

  “Where’s Vatarh?” Ana asked Sala. The maidservant shook her head.

  “He’s not here, O’Teni Ana,” she answered. “He’s away in Prajnoli on business. He’s away almost all the time, ever since. .” She hesitated, and Ana saw a blush creep from her neck to her cheeks.

  “I understand,” she told the girl. “Don’t worry about it, Sala. Matarh?”

  “She’s expecting you, in the sun room. I’ll announce that you’re here.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll go on back and surprise her.”

  The house no longer seemed familiar to her at all-it had changed even more since she’d last been here. The smell of fresh plaster and paint hung in the foyer, an odor like guilt. The hallway beyond the front door was now a pale blue instead of the yellow she remembered, and when she reached the archway into the sun room, it was no longer draped with black as it had been when her matarh was sick but was now filled with flowers and plants, and there was a young male servant she didn’t know there with Tari. And the woman, standing with her back to Ana and tending to a pot of blue-and-white-petaled skyblooms. .

  Ana felt her breath catch. After the argument they’d had the last time they met, Ana had been surprised when her matarh had sent Ana a request to visit. Please, Cenzi, don’t let her still hate me. .

  “O’Teni Ana!” Tari exclaimed, seeing her, and the woman turned from the skyblooms.

  “Ana. I’m glad you came.” Matarh smiled gently, and Ana felt the tension within her dissolve with the greeting. Abini set down the small trowel and spread her arms. Ana went to her, letting herself fall into the embrace, her matarh’s arms snug around her. Ana found herself crying, all unbidden; her matarh continued to hold her tightly. “Hush, child. Hush. .”

  Ana sniffed and wiped at the betraying tears, pulling away slightly.

  Tari and the young man were pointedly looking away from them. “You’ve engaged some new help,” she said.

  “That’s Jacques, who works around the house and on the grounds, and we have a new cook as well, who makes the most wonderful soups.

  They were both recommended to me by Vajica cu’Meredi-do you remember her? She’s used to call on us before. .” For a moment the old pain crossed her matarh’s face. “. . when your brothers were still alive and before I became sick. She’s made several calls to our house since you received your Marque. All this. .” Her matarh pressed her lips together, fine wrinkles gathering. “All this is because of you, Ana.

  Everyone knows how the Archigos chose you personally, and that you tended to the poor Kraljica. .” She stopped then. “Tari, why don’t you have Cook make Ana something? Jacques, if you’d tend to the bushes in the rear garden. .”

  They ducked their heads and left. Abini continued to hold Ana.

  “You look so sad,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

  Ana could only nod. She didn’t trust her voice.

  “Is it the Kraljica? Her death was a shock to us all, and now there’s that horrible news come from Firenzcia about poor U’Teni Estraven ca’Cellibrecca being murdered; I used to enjoy his Admonitions. I hope they kill every last Numetodo in the city for what they did.”

  The image of Karl, bound and silenced in the tower of the Bastida, came to her. So did the memory of seeing him, of his brief single kiss. .

  “Matarh,” Ana interrupted. “Stop. Please.”

  Abini’s eyes widened, and Ana kissed her cheek to soften the impact of the words. “I should have come to see you sooner, Matarh,” she said. “I wanted to. But. .” I couldn’t, because I was afraid he would be here. I couldn’t because of what we said to each other the last time. .

  There was pain in her matarh’s eyes. “Ana, I thought about what you told me, and for a long time I was angry.”

  “Angry with me, Matarh?”

  Abini was shaking her head. She’d let go of Ana’s arms and returned her attention to the skyblooms. Her fingers fluffed the petals idly. “Tomas told me about what happened the time you came here,

  when. .” She stopped, sighing. “Tomas told me that he said something to you that made you angry, and there was an accident. He said the Ilmodo is so strong in you, which is why the Archigos chose you, and that you couldn’t control it.”

  “No, Matarh. That’s not why. Vatarh-”

  “Hush, Daughter!” Abini said sharply, turning back to her. Her eyes were wide again. Her fingers touched Ana’s mouth, trembling. “Don’t say anything, Ana. Please. Tomas. . he could have left me after I became sick, but he didn’t. No matter what you think of him, no matter what. .” She paused, her lips pressing together before she began again.

  “He’s not a horrible man. He’s flawed, yes, but he lost his sons and thought he had lost a wife, and the struggle he had to keep our family as cu’. . In his heart, I truly believe he didn’t intend to hurt anyone, Ana.”

  “And that forgives him?” Ana could not keep the anger from her voice. “That makes everything all right for you?”

  “No,” she answered. Her gaze grew hard. “It doesn’t. It’s why. . it’s why he’s not here anymore. He may never be here again.” She brought Ana to her once more; Ana resisted for a moment, then let

  herself fall stiffly into the embrace. “I confronted him, Ana. I told him what you said. He denied it at first, but he. . he couldn’t look at me.”

  She looked away herself, blinking away tears, then hugged Ana tightly again. “I know, and I’m terribly sorry for what he did to you, but I don’t want to talk about this, Ana. Not now when I finally have you here.”

  Abini’s voice whispered in her ear. “Let’s talk about you. Tell me how things are for you.”

  Talking about Vatarh is talking about me, she wanted to say to her matarh. He is part of why I am the way I am. But she could not. She sighed. You’ve kept it inside this long. If that’s the price you must pay to have Matarh back, pay it. Pay it and be grateful.

  She didn’t know what to say. Too many things pushed at her, but she was afraid to talk of Karl, and if she could not speak of Vatarh. .

  “I’m having luncheon with Kraljiki Justi tomorrow,” she said finally.

  “The Archigos, he feels that I-” She stopped as Tari entered the room again, placing a tray down on a low table. Fragrant steam wafted from two bowls there; wine purpled twin goblets. Tari bowed at the two of them and left. Abini gestured toward the chairs.

  “Sit,” Abini said. “Let’s talk as we eat.” As they sat, as Ana took a spoonful of the soup, Abini looked at her curiously. “The Kraljiki will be looking for a wife,” she said. “It’s what everyone is talking about. Even Vajica cu’Meredi mentioned it. . and you. You’re in much of the gossip I hear now, Ana.”

  “It’s not what I would want, Matarh,” Ana said. She set the spoon down; it clattered too loudly on the porcelain.

  Abini smiled sadly. “Ana. When did you ever believe that marriage is what someone who is ca’-and-cu’ might ‘want’ it to be?” she asked gently. “We’re not the unranked, who can marry whomever they want because it doesn’t matter. Love isn’t a necessary element for a marriage, Ana; you know that. Love comes later, if it comes at all. If Cenzi Wills it.”

  “Did it come for you, Matarh?”

  The smile vanished. “No,” she answered. “I always respected your vatarh, and he always respected me.” The frown deepened. “At least until my illness. Until what he did with you.”

  “Why did you marry him? You’ve never told me.”

  “I never told you because you were too young at first, then the Southern Fever took me away when I might have sat with you and explained how things are for a young woman.” She smiled again. “But now I can tell you. His family came to my vatarh and matarh. They offered a substantial wedding price; the cu’Seranta name was considered to be on the rise; your great-vatarh even thought that the Gardes a’Liste might name us ca’ once, though that turn
ed out to be a vain hope after Vatarh died, only two years after my marriage. Still, Tomas kept the require-ments of our contract. Our marriage was what it needed to be. But did we come to love each other?” Her head moved from side to side. She stared at her soup. “No.”

  “Did you ever love someone?”

  Abini’s smile returned, faint and tentative. “You did,” Ana said, and the realization made her suddenly feel one with her matarh. “You loved someone. And did you give in to it?” she asked.

  Abini glanced out toward the grounds. “Yes,” she said, so quietly that Ana leaned forward to hear her. “Once.”

  “Who? Tell me, Matarh. Who was it, and did you. .?”

  “You can never tell your vatarh.”

  Ana sniffed. “That’s an easy promise. I don’t intend to ever see him again.”

  Abini’s face colored, and Ana didn’t know if it was because of her remark or because of the memory of her matarh’s indiscretion. “I won’t tell you who it was-you would know the name. But. .” Abini leaned back in her chair. Her eyes closed. Her mouth opened slightly. “What caught me first was the smell of him: sweetnut perfume. The perfume smelled so different on him, and then I turned to look, and he was looking right at me. I remember that best of all-the shock of our gazes meeting that first time. I was much younger then, of course, and I’d recovered my figure after Estravi’s birth.” Her eyes opened. “Do you hate me, knowing that I was married already, that I was already a matarh?”

  Ana shook her head. “No, Matarh. I don’t hate you. I understand.”

  A nod. Abini’s eyes closed again. “We didn’t say anything to each other, not that first time. But I found that our paths kept crossing, as if Cenzi Himself were throwing us together, and your vatarh was gone all the time with his duties, and so. . well, we began to talk. His own wife had died the year before in childbirth, and the child hadn’t survived the year. We talked about that, and other things, and. .”