A Magic of Twilight nc-1

by S L Farrell

  Karl put his eye to the optics again. “If I could get that close to him, without him knowing it. . I don’t know how he can’t feel my stare, like I’m standing just to the side of him.” He straightened up again. “Ana, go ahead and take another look.”

  She shook her head at him. “I prefer this distance,” she said, looking at the carriage from the rooftop: safely small and removed. She saw the Archigos’ carriage appear on the far end of the Pontica, surrounded by green-robed teni. Seeing ca’Cellibrecca in the ornate, gilded brocades of the Archigos that Dhosti ca’Millac had worn so recently, the broken globe of Cenzi golden at his breast, made her lips twist into a scowl.

  Mahri touched the device and it swung easily, the thicker end pointing toward the city gates. “Look here,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”

  Ana bent over the verzehen again. As her eye adjusted to the circular world it revealed, she saw the stones of the mighty gate that had been formed from the massive stones of the ancient city wall. There, caught between the stones midway up the tall column to the south side of the gate, there was a cylinder that seemed to be formed of glass-she could see just one end of it, thrust deeply into a chink in the mortared cracks. “A vial,” Ana said, “sealed with brown wax on one end. There’s something inside-a red substance? — but I can’t see it well.”

  “I put the vial there,” Mahri said. “Like the verzehen, there’s nothing magical about it. It holds two different chemicals, separated by a stopper of wax. Alone, those substances do nothing. But if that vial should break or the wax melt, and the chemicals come into contact. .

  well, they are violently incompatible with each other. Each would seek to destroy the other and erupt like one of the great volcanoes of Il Trebbio, spewing flames and smoke and sending the stones of the gates crashing down on whomever was below.”

  Ana had straightened again. Out on the Avi, the Kraljiki’s carriage moved slowly and inexorably toward the city gates. Mahri’s single good eye held her. “But nothing will happen unless the vial breaks or is heated-something someone who knew the Ilmodo could do easily, I’m certain. All it would take is a few moments of chanting and the proper release, easily reachable from here.” From the street, the cheering in-tensified as the Kraljiki’s carriage rolled below their building and began to make the turn toward the gate. Mahri’s eyebrow raised. The sun touched the scars of his face; to Ana, it appeared to be a stern mask.

  “The stones would crush those beneath utterly, and the panic that would follow would kill more. Such an event, properly timed, would end the life of the Kraljiki or the Archigos,” he continued. “I’ve no doubt of that.”

  Ana tore her gaze away from Mahri. She stared at the Kraljiki, then down the street to ca’Cellibrecca, whose carries was now leaving the Pontica. “I’ll do it,” she heard Karl say, almost eagerly, but Mahri lifted a hand.

  “No,” he said. “You won’t. I won’t allow it. It’s Ana’s choice. Ana’s alone.”

  “Who will be blamed?” Karl persisted. “The Numetodo. That’s always the way it is with them. Why not make it the literal truth this time?”

  “I won’t allow it,” Mahri repeated. “Ana?”

  Why not? Either of them would take your life without remorse or regret.

  Justi never loved you, not one moment; he took what you offered and used you to betray the true Archigos. And ca’Cellibrecca would have done to you as he did to poor Dhosti. It was only Dhosti’s warning that saved you at all.

  You would only be doing to them what they would do to you, or to Karl, or to Mahri. .

  “Ana?”

  The Kraljiki’s carriage turned. The Garde Civile around him were at the gate, the carriage itself close now. Why not? Can the Hirzg be a worse ruler? Can he hurt you more than the Kraljiki or ca’Cellibrecca already has? Cenzi would forgive you-the Divolonte itself says it: “Those who defy and subvert Cenzi’s Will will be sent to meet Him, and full justice will be given unto them.” You can make them pay for Dhosti, for the Numetodo they’ve killed, for the torment they gave Karl, for the way they treated you. It would only be fair. .

  The Kraljiki’s carriage was nearly at the gate. All she had to do was speak the words. A simple spell of fire-something U’Teni cu’Dosteau had taught the class in the first year. She mouthed the words of the Ilmodo, felt her hands begin the shaping of the spell.

  The carriage moved into the gate. The crowds pressed around it, cheering and waving as the Kraljiki waved back to them. They would wave and cheer the same way if it were Hirzg ca’Vorl riding through those gates, because cheering was safe. Pretending to be on the side of the victor was safe, even when the victor was no better than the person he replaced.

  The flame searing flesh, great boulders flying in the air, the screams. .

  Justi’s death, or the Archigos’, yes, but others would die with them, all those down there who are cheering and shouting only to protect themselves, and who haven’t asked for any of this. .

  Her mouth closed. Her hands stopped moving.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Ana,” she heard Karl say, but she was looking at Mahri’s impassive face.

  “I just. . can’t,” she said again, not quite certain who she was trying to tell. “Not like this. What happens if I do it?” she asked the wind, the sun, the sky. “Do I help, or do I just end up causing more hurt and confusion and death? I don’t know. .”

  She lifted her hands, let them fall. The Kraljiki’s carriage moved through the gates and past; the Archigos’ carriage moved between. The crowds roared, a sound like the roaring breath of Cenzi Himself. Ana felt tears burn her eyes. “I can’t do it. Not without knowing. Not without some hope that I’m changing things for the better.”

  Mahri simply nodded. She felt Karl’s arms go around her from behind. “I understand,” he whispered in her ear. “I do.”

  They watched the Archigos’ carriage pass through the gate, following the Kraljiki out of Nessantico and onto the Avi a’Firenzcia and the waiting Hirzg.

  Parleys

  Jan ca’Vorl

  “I think it’s very pretty, Vatarh. It should be a painting.”

  “I wish I could see it with your eyes,” Jan told his daughter. “All I see is a battlefield.” He let his arm rest around her shoulders and hugged her.

  The pine-studded arms of the Cavasian Range cradled Passe a’Fiume in their long, steep slopes. There, the River Clario poured white and fast in its descent from the Sigar Highlands of Nessantico’s eastern reaches. The town was perched on the Clario’s western bank; a wide bridge arched over the Clario from Passe a’Fiume’s eastern gate: the Pontica Avi a’ Firenzcia, the only safe place to cross the wild Clario for many miles in either direction, until the river settled itself and widened as it prepared to meet the great A’Sele.

  The town knew its importance-the largest of the cities in eastern Nessantico, it still resided almost entirely within the three-century-old fortified walls that had been erected on the orders of Kraljiki Sveria I during the interminable Secession War, as Nessantico sought to bring Firenzcia fully under its control. The thick, granite walls had repelled a half-dozen sieges since the time of the Kraljiki Sveria.

  Now the populace looked out from flower-boxed windows and crenellated towers and wondered whether they could survive a seventh assault.

  “Can the war-teni really break those walls, Vatarh? They look so thick.”

  “They can. They will, if the Kraljiki doesn’t submit to our terms.”

  “He won’t,” Allesandra said with certainty. “If he’s like you, Vatarh, he won’t submit.”

  He chuckled at that. The mirth sounded out of place.

  Jan had arrayed the army on the slopes across the Clario-a few miles from the city but high on the ridges that faced the town. He knew the citizenry could see the tents and cook fires, the fluttering banners and the dark, writhing mass of the soldiery, covering the slopes like a horde of ravening insects about to descend and feed upon the town. />
  They had seen the army assemble over the last two days; they could glimpse them through the wisps of morning fog even now. He knew the fear they would be feeling, and knew the forces the Kraljiki had brought with him would give them little solace.

  Even if the Kraljiki could manage to hold the town, a siege would mean the deaths of many who lived there. A victory that costly would be hardly distinguishable from defeat.

  From his vantage point, Jan could make out through the mist the parley tents set in the field just across the Clario from Passe a’Fiume: like white flowers set in the grass before the glowering city walls and the dirty brown-green ribbon of the river. The banner of the Kraljiki flew from the central post of the largest tent. There were a few hundred of the Garde Civile there, but the Kraljiki kept the bulk of his soldiers hidden behind the stern, gray, and impassive ramparts of the city walls.

  It didn’t matter: Jan’s spies, set out well ahead of the army, had reported their numbers to him.

  Perhaps half of the forces that had been at Ville Colhelm under ca’Montmorte, a few thousand straggling in from Chiari and Prajnoli, perhaps five thousand who marched with the Kraljiki and the Archigos from Nessantico. Many of the citizens are fleeing from the eastern gates, desperate to leave the city, but the conscription squads are at work there, not letting the men leave.

  The Kraljiki commanded a force smaller than the army at Jan’s back but more than enough to make a siege of Passe a’Fiume difficult. However, there were movements underway that Jan doubted had touched the Kraljiki’s awareness. As in a game of cards, knowing the hand your opponent has been dealt grants an enormous advantage in the bidding process. Jan smiled grimly as he stared down at the parley tents, waiting for the meeting this afternoon.

  “The Kraljiki will make his stand here, but he’s not certain of the outcome-that’s why he wants to parley,” Markell’s voice said.

  Jan chuckled again as he released his daughter to glance at Markell.

  His aide’s stick-thin figure appeared strangely out of place in chain mail.

  Markell, too, was gazing out through the thin morning fog at Passe a’Fiume.

  “As usual, you know exactly what I’m thinking,” Jan told him. “As does Allesandra. I would seem to be utterly transparent to both of you.”

  “It’s my job to anticipate you, my Hirzg,” Markell answered somberly. “I know this isn’t what we’d hoped for-former Starkkapitan

  ca’Staunton’s stupidity at Ville Colhelm cost us an easy crossing of the Clario, and many lives if we have to take this city by force. Still, a siege of a week, quite possibly less, and you would have your surrender, I think. The Kraljiki is seeking a diplomatic solution, not a military one. As his matarh would.”

  Jan scowled. Markell’s assessment was all too true: had ca’Staunton obeyed his orders at Ville Colhelm, the Kraljiki would still be in Nessantico and the Garde Civile in their garrisons, and the gates of Passe a’Fiume would already be open to Jan-as well as the road to Nessantico. Stupidity would need to be repaid in blood now. Much blood. .

  “You sound certain, Markell. I’m afraid I’m not.”

  It was Allesandra who answered. “Kraljiki Justi has never met you in battle, Vatarh.”

  “I appreciate your confidence,” Justi answered her with a smile, “but Markell’s face is far too solemn. What is it, Markell?”

  “U’Teni cu’Kohnle has requested an audience,” Markell told Jan.

  “He’s waiting in your tent. He says he is. . concerned about the war-teni, since we know the Archigos is with the Kraljiki in Passe a’Fiume.”

  Jan sighed audibly. He rubbed his arms against the morning chill.

  “Ah. I was expecting that. Do we have word from ca’Cellibrecca?”

  “No, Hirzg. Though in the Archigos’ defense, it would be difficult for him to contact us at the moment.”

  Jan sniffed. “Ca’Cellibrecca can’t straddle sides any longer. He’d best realize that. He’d be well-advised not to betray me, or if he does, he should pray to Cenzi that the Kraljiki prevails because I will have worse than his life if he stands in my way.” He took a long breath and let it out abruptly.

  “Yes, my Hirzg,” Markell said. “And U’Teni cu’Kohnle?”

  “I’ll talk with him. Come, walk with me and Allesandra back to the tent.” Jan put his arm around his daughter again as he took a last glance at the field and the tents waiting outside the walls. .

  “Semini,” he said as he entered. “You wanted to see me.”

  Cu’Kohnle gave Jan the sign of Cenzi along with a deep bow that displayed the thick growth of gray-flecked, black hair on his skull. His cheeks and chin were stubbled with the same gray as his hair. Muscular arms flexed under the green robes, and Jan saw the steel links of mail underneath. The broken globe of Cenzi hung prominently around his neck. “My Hirzg,” he said. “Thank you for taking the time.”

  “I know what concerns you, Semini,” Jan said. “Certainly you knew that it might come to this.”

  Cu’Kohnle smiled tight-lipped. “If you’ll forgive me, the entire Strettosei spans the difference between ‘might’ and ‘has,’ my Hirzg. It’s no longer a case of ‘might,’ and because of that, many of the war-teni are troubled. I came to speak for them.”

  Jan was certain that there were other motives at work here. He knew cu’Kohnle enough to know that the man was fanatically devout; he also knew him well enough to know that his devotion was to Cenzi and not necessarily to those who claimed to speak for the God. There was raw ambition and ego in the man. . and that meant he could be manipulated. Jan gestured to the table where the pages had placed wine and bread. “Please, help yourself,” he said. “What of you, Semini? Are you troubled?”

  “I’m as troubled as any person of faith would be,” he answered. He took a piece of the bread and broke off a hunk from the end of the loaf.

  He turned it in his fingers. “The Concenzia Faith is what sustains us, and the Archigos is the person to whom we swear our allegiance. Not to the Kraljiki. Not even, with your pardon, the Hirzg. So yes, I am troubled, because the Archigos is there in Passe a’Fiume and with the Kraljiki, and it’s not a trivial consequence for a teni to be cast out from the Faith.” He glanced down at his wiry hands, holding them up to Jan.

  “You know what happens to a teni who has been cast out, should he ever use the Ilmodo again.”

  There it is, then. Jan watched as cu’Kohnle tucked the bread carefully into his mouth, chewed a moment, and swallowed. “Continue, Semini. I’m listening.”

  “I’m a practical man, as you know, my Hirzg. I was born in Firenzcia. Within the Faith, I served Archigos Orlandi for his entire tenure as A’Teni of Brezno. My loyalty was always more to him than to that dwarf Dhosti, and my loyalty was also always more to the Hirzg than to Kraljica Marguerite, and certainly far more to you than to Kraljiki Justi.

  My sympathies are with the new Archigos’ stated goals, as you know. I would gladly help drive the Numetodo from the Holdings and end their heresy. The Ilmodo must remain in the hands of Concenzia, for many reasons. I realize these are sentiments you share as well, and that is why you and the Archigos were so well-suited to each other. I also gave my word to serve you in your position as the leader of the Firenzcian army, as did the other war-teni here. I am Firenzcian. But. .”

  He tore another piece from the loaf. “If the Archigos declares that we war-teni who fight with you are in defiance of the Divolonte, then I don’t know. Some will still fight; some will not. The same is true of the chevarittai and the soldiers: there are those who will be afraid to fight if they think doing so endangers their relationship with Cenzi.”

  Jan nodded. And you wouldn’t be saying this to me if you didn’t already have your solution in mind, and if you weren’t looking for something.

  He poured wine into one of the goblets and held it out to cu’Kohnle, then poured himself a glass. “I appreciate your cautions and thoughts, Semini,” he said. “It strikes me that, since po
or Estraven ca’Cellibrecca never reached Brezno, the seat of A’Teni of Brezno lies vacant, and that as the person who leads my war-teni and as the confidant of the Archigos when he was at Brezno, you are now the highest ranking teni in all Firenzcia. I would suspect-and I only speculate here, Semini-that the Archigos could be persuaded, after we have prevailed, to name you as A’Teni of Brezno.”

  Jan saw small muscles twitch along cu’Kohnle’s jaw line as the man pondered Jan’s half-promise. Yes. That was it! “For that matter,” Jan continued, “should the Archigos make the terrible mistake of betraying me here, a mistake he might well make, then after our victory I would be in a position to influence all the a’teni of the Faith to name a new Archigos, one whose loyalty was beyond question. I reward well those who stand with me, Semini. I reward them very well, especially if they demonstrate how effective a leader they can be. I assure you that the soldiers of Firenzcia will not fail to fight even if a false Archigos threatens their souls-because those who command them will not allow it.

  Because I will not allow it. Starkkapitan ca’Staunton failed to understand that, but Starkkapitan ca’Linnett seems to have grasped the concept. Do you take my meaning, Semini?”

  The man nodded, slowly. “Yes. I believe I do, my Hirzg.”

  Jan took a step toward him, close enough that he could see the hairs in the man’s nostrils. “Then I ask you, U’Teni cu’Kohnle, as the commander of the war-teni, do you think that those in your charge would understand that an Archigos who has betrayed his word to me is a false Archigos who does not deserve his title? Do you think they would understand that such a man no longer speaks for Cenzi, no matter what title he might claim for the moment?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. He was looking at Jan, but his gaze was somewhere else, wandering in his imagination. “I think I can persuade them to see your point of view, my Hirzg, if it should become necessary. Yes.”