A Magic of Twilight nc-1

by S L Farrell

  “We’ll know soon enough whether steel will be necessary,” Justi told ca’Rudka.

  “Do you think that’s a possibility, Kraljiki?” Ca’Rudka was looking past the tents to the mountains and the army waiting there.

  Justi was wondering the same, but he didn’t answer and ca’Rudka didn’t pursue the question. Justi gestured to the others, and they continued on toward the tents. Pages hurried forward as they reached the greensward: taking the reins of the horses; bringing steps to help Justi and the others alight from their mounts. Servants led the horses away to graze, and others came forward to offer drinks to the retinue. Justi waved them aside, not wanting to put anything in the burning pit that was his stomach. “This way, Kraljiki. The Hirzg is waiting for you.”

  A long table had been set up in the middle of the tent, with two ornate chairs at either end. Less comfortable and ornate seating was arranged around the focus of the two ends so that the Kraljiki and the Hirzg could each consult with their advisers at need. Two scribes stood by folding desks with parchment, quills, and fully-charged inkwells, prepared to document the proceedings. Pages and servants stood by along either side, ready to provide refreshment or to ferry documents from one end to the other, or simply to shoo away annoying insects.

  As Justi strode into the cool twilight of the tent, Hirzg ca’Vorl rose slowly and almost grudgingly from his chair at the end of the table, though his retinue was already standing. Justi recognized a few of them from his ceremonial trips to Brezno: the stick-figure of Markell, the Hirzg’s secretary and adviser; U’Teni cu’Kohnle, the head of Firenzcian war-teni. But the person wearing the starkkapitan’s eagle wasn’t Ahren ca’Staunton, but some younger offizier whose face was unknown to Justi.

  All but ca’Vorl had bowed their heads reflexively as he approached the table with the Archigos and ca’Rudka to either side of him, but Justi could feel them staring as if they were trying to see inside him-all but ca’Vorl himself. The Hirzg simply watched, as if slightly bored by the proceedings. Justi stood behind the chair and stared back, and finally ca’Vorl gave the barest motion of his head to Justi, the shadow of a nod.

  “I had hoped to meet you again in more. . pleasurable circumstances, Hirzg Jan,” Justi said as a page pulled back the heavy chair for him and he sat. He nodded to the gathering; the Hirzg seated himself across from Justi, and then there was the rustling of cloth and harsher groan of mail and plate as the others found their seats around them.

  Justi glanced at a thick leather portfolio placed on the table in front of him, stamped with the rampant stallion insignia of Firenzcia. “What is this?”

  “Those are my terms for your surrender, Kraljiki,” ca’Vorl answered easily. “Let me summarize them for you. You will abdicate your title in favor of me, and hand over control of the Garde Civile to Starkkapitan ca’Linnett. My army will continue through Passe a’Fiume to Nessantico City to retain order during the transition of government. Archigos ca’Cellibrecca will return with me; he would be permitted to retain his title as Archigos as long as I perceive that he is cooperating. For your part, Kraljiki, I will allow you to retain your ca’ status, your title of chevaritt, and the lands of the ca’Ludovici estates in northern Nessantico, but you will absent yourself from all affairs of the Holdings on peril of your fortune and your life. There are, of course, many more details set out in the agreement, but those are the broad strokes. All I require is your signature and we are done here.”

  Justi glanced down once at the folio, resisting the urge to spit on it.

  The man has always been arrogant, but this is beyond arrogance. . Some of Hirzg’s retinue were carefully smiling, amused by Justi’s discomfiture; his own people sat silent and stunned. Did he know what I’d planned?

  Justi gestured, and one of the pages scurried forward to place a portfolio in front of the Hirzg.

  “These are my terms,” Justi told the Hirzg. “Your army will immediately retreat beyond the Nessantico borders. Your starkkapitan and all a’offiziers of the army will surrender their arms and commissions to Commandant ca’Rudka. You, Hirzg ca’Vorl, will be taken to Nessantico as my hostage until the ransom I demand is paid by your family, at which time you will exchange your daughter for yourself as hostage.

  Firenzcia will also pay damages to the town of Ville Colhelm and for your plundering of Nessantico’s land. Those who disobey any of the decrees in these terms will be declared outlaw by the Holdings, and also by the Archigos of the Concenzcia Faith. Henceforth, Firenzcia will no longer have a Hirzg, but will be under direct control of a representative of the Holdings.”

  The smiles were gone from the Hirzg’s retinue now, and Justi leaned back in his chair as he swept the Hirzg’s portfolio contemptuously to the floor and thrust out his famous chin even further. “All I require is your signature, Hirzg ca’Vorl,” he said deliberately. “And we are done here.”

  Ca’Vorl glowered and a deep flush covered his face. Justi thought that the man was about to go into a frothing rage, but instead ca’Vorl slapped his hands open-palmed on the portfolio and roared a laugh that was made louder by the silence around them. “Kraljiki Justi, I have underestimated you. When I’ve met you in the past. . well, I confess that I thought you entirely devoid of humor. I see that I was wrong.”

  The grin vanished as quickly as it had come. His eyelids lowered, and he stared at Justi. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that I have an army perched before Passe a’Fiume, which is the doorstep to Nessantico, and I don’t believe that you have the forces or the will to stop me from walking through that door. The Garde Civile has been nothing but an adjunct to the Firenzcian army for two centuries now; it is Firenzcia who has fought the Holdings’ battles for the Kralji, not the Garde Civile. So. . let us talk realities here, not dreams. We both know what each of us want; neither will get it without bloodshed.” He picked up Justi’s portfolio and dropped it on the grass next to his chair. “What do you really offer, Kraljiki?” he asked. “What is genuinely on the table for us to consider?”

  Justi sniffed. He ached to draw the sword ca’Vorl had given him and strike the man dead-he could do that, he was certain, before the man could react or anyone could respond. He wanted the fight; he could feel it. It would feel good, better than this fencing with blunted words.

  It would ease the fury gathering in his chest and the fire in his belly.

  Matarh might have enjoyed this word-dancing, but he did not. You have to continue. . You need more time to be ready, time you can buy here.

  “Let’s define the true situation first,” Justi said finally. He could hear ca’Rudka relax alongside him; the man had tensed, ready-Justi realized-to defend him. Ca’Cellibrecca gave an obvious sigh of relief.

  “Passe a’Fiume has never been taken in a siege when it has been guarded by a full complement of Garde Civile; it now has that full complement and more. You can’t besiege the city without controlling the western gates on the other side of the Clario, and your army, no matter how strong, has no easy crossing of the river anywhere close. Should you somehow manage to make the crossing and continue your aggression in Nessantico, then Archigos ca’Cellibrecca will declare your troops and your war-teni in violation of the Divolonte. The Marque of all your teni will be immediately revoked and any services performed by them will be considered empty and void. The blessings of Cenzi will be withdrawn from your troops-those who die will find themselves in the hands of the death hags. Any war-teni who are captured will suffer the fate of those who use the Ilmodo against Cenzi’s Will.”

  Justi paused and glanced sharply at ca’Cellibrecca. The man looked ill. He was staring somewhere beyond ca’Vorl. “Archigos,” Justi snapped, and the man shivered, his jowls wiggling on either side of his jaw. He bowed and nodded, his gaze skittered past and around Justi’s face.

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly so, Kraljiki.”

  Justi blinked angrily at the slowness of the reply and its lack of fire, but he could say nothing to ca’Cellibrecca, not
here where they needed to present a unified front. “I’m prepared to allow you and

  your army safe passage back to Firenzcia. I will permit you to retain your title as Hirzg and your estates, but the tribute Firenzcia pays to Nessantico will be tripled for the next three years to pay for the damages you have caused. Command of the Firenzcian army garrisons will pass to Commandant ca’Rudka and offiziers to be named by me from among the Chevarittai of Nessantico. That’s what is on the table for you, Hirzg. That, or you may attempt to siege Passe a’Fiume and have your army break here.”

  Ca’Vorl yawned dramatically. “A fine, blustery performance, Kraljiki, but did you look out from the walls before you came here? Did you fail to see the number of cook fires or did Chevaritt ca’Montmorte and the Garde Civile who ran screaming form Ville Colhelm fail to tell you how well and fiercely my Firenzcians fight? Is the Kusah of Namarro sending troops to come to your aid, or the Fjath of Sforzia, or the Ta’Mila of Il Trebbio? — or are those rulers sending you empty pledges of support while they tremble on their own thrones and wait to see who finally takes the Sun Throne in Nessantico? Why, I don’t see any of their banners flying above Passe a’Fiume. . and I won’t, will I? As to the Archigos. .”

  Justi saw the Hirzg’s gaze linger on ca’Cellibrecca for a breath. “In the Toustour,” the Hirzg continued, “it says that Cenzi listens to all those who pray to Him and that if their prayers are true and genuine, He will answer. I know we’re both also familiar with the Divolonte.

  The Archigos might recall Admonitions, where it says: ‘Kralji, be concerned with the lives of the faithful before death, for that is your role; Archigos, be concerned with the lives of the Faithful beyond death, for that is your task.’ So, I will listen to the Archigos when he talks to me about my Faith, not about politics. In the meantime, I prefer to listen to Cenzi Himself, rather than those who claim to speak for Him. If Cenzi is displeased with me, then I call on Him to take away the power of the Ilmodo from my war-teni. I assume He is perfectly capable of doing exactly that. Otherwise. .” The Hirzg brought his shoulder toward his cheek. “Perhaps the Ilmodo will tell us whose prayers Cenzi prefers: those of the Archigos, or those of my war-teni.”

  Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca

  “Perhaps the ilmodo will tell us whose prayers Cenzi prefers.”

  Ca’Vorl fixed Orlandi then with a stare that Orlandi could return only with great effort. He could feel the Kraljiki glaring at him from the side as well, and U’Teni cu’Kohnle also regarded him with an intensity that made Orlandi wonder how much the Hirzg had promised the warteni. Orlandi wanted to wipe away the beading sweat that was rising at the top of his forehead but didn’t dare. He knew that the Kraljiki was waiting for him to respond to the Hirzg’s defiance; he also knew that ca’Vorl was warning him. The Hirzg had no intention of bending to compromise here; the parley was already over. Orlandi knew it, whether Kraljiki Justi did or not.

  He is telling you that you have to choose. You must make your decision.

  Cenzi, what must I do?

  Cenzi didn’t deign to answer in any manner that Orlandi could discern. He opened his mouth, and prayed that Cenzi would send him the words to say. “I am the Voice of Cenzi here in this world,” he said, with all the firmness he could muster. “That is and always has been the role of the Archigos.”

  Ca’Vorl’s lips curled in amusement; the Kraljiki grunted. “There. You have your answer, Hirzg. .”

  Justi was saying, but Orlandi wasn’t truly listening. Not anymore. All his attention was on the thoughts battering against his skull.

  He had seen the army on the mountainsides and crawling along the Avi. He had looked out from the walls of Passe a’Fiume, and he had glimpsed the future. He thought of Francesca waiting in Prajnoli; he thought of the throne of the Archigos in Nessantico and how long he had coveted it and how it had become his and how he did not want to lose it, how it must be Cenzi’s Will that Orlandi become the Archigos: now and for the rest of his life. He had felt the chill of the air and smelled the foul odor of fear that rose from the sewers of Passe a’Fiume, a scent that would only grow more ripe and more pungent and more urgent if the city were closed up and surrounded.

  He did not want to be here if that occurred.

  He especially did not want to die here.

  It’s the dwarf’s fault. He brought in that woman cu’Seranta who nearly destroyed my plans for Francesca, then he died before I could bring him to trial and show everyone just how far from Cenzi’s design he had taken Concenzia. Even in death he cheats me…

  It had all seemed simple when he’d spoken with the Hirzg in Brezno so many months ago, when the Hirzg had broached the idea of their alliance and of deposing the Kraljica. But the Archigos had claimed a favorite in cu’Seranta and awakened from his long slumber, the Numetodo had risen, the Kraljica had been assassinated, and everything had become murky and complicated.

  He should not have been sitting here on this side of the table with the Kraljiki. He should have been entering Nessantico in triumph

  alongside the Hirzg. Now he wasn’t certain which side would win.

  He truly didn’t know, and Cenzi wouldn’t tell him.

  Orlandi lifted doleful eyes past the Hirzg to the steep hillsides beyond the tent. The Hirzg was talking again, replying to something Justi had said, but Orlandi heard none of it. As he gazed at the landscape, the clouds parted momentarily and shafts of bright sunlight sluiced over the Firenzcian encampment. Armor glinted and sparkled, the tents

  gleamed, the banners waved.

  Not over the city, though, Orlandi realized as he glanced over his shoulder. The city remained in shadow.

  Then the clouds closed over the sun once more, and the gloom returned. Orlandi smiled.

  Thank you, Cenzi.

  Orlandi sat in his chair, feeling the relief and certainty fill him. He knew now what he must do. He knew. He would send word to Francesca tonight, and then he would act.

  There was motion in front of him and he realized, belatedly that everyone was standing. He rose from his own chair, groaning with the effort. “I will send you my answer by tomorrow, Kraljiki,” the Hirzg was saying.

  “Then I hope you come to the right decision, Hirzg. We both understand the consequences, either way.”

  “Indeed.” The Hirzg gave a slight bow, his clasped hands to his forehead; his attendants bowing lower behind him, and around Orlandi there was a rustling as the Kraljiki and those around him returned the gesture. Servants and pages ran for horses and cloaks as the parties left the tent in opposite directions.

  Justi said nothing until they were riding back to Passe a’Fiume. He gestured to ca’Rudka to ride alongside him, and for Orlandi’s carriage to pull abreast. “There will be war,” he said without preamble. “We can expect the Hirzg’s answer in the form of an attack.”

  “I agree, Kraljiki,” ca’Rudka said.

  “We’ll continue preparations inside the walls,” Justi said. “I will send messenger birds to Prajnoli to empty the garrison there. Better to make our stand here than at Nessantico. Archigos, you will prepare your declaration against the Hirzg, his war-teni, and those who fight with him.”

  Orlandi smiled and bowed his head from the carriage. The satisfaction continued to flow through him; nothing the Kraljiki said could upset him. “As you wish, Kraljiki.”

  “Good. The Hirzg has overreached, and he will pay for his ambition. He has built his house, now let him live in it.” Justi glanced over his shoulder at the Hirzg’s entourage, moving up the Avi toward their encampment. The hillsides were sullen with the gray clouds overhead, but Orlandi didn’t care.

  He had seen the sun there. He had been given his answer.

  Sergei ca’Rudka

  “They can’t truly siege the town until they have all western gates blocked. That means the Hirzg either has a hidden force approaching us from Montbataille Pass-which wouldn’t surprise me-or he intends to have at least two battalions ford the Clario north or south of th
e town. My bet would be south, since the river’s less wild there, but we can’t rule out a northern crossing. We’ll need forces here and here, and possibly here as well.”

  “Commandant?”

  Sergei glanced up from the maps of Passe a’Fiume and the surrounding area to see his aide ce’Falla at the door. Ca’Montmorte and the other offiziers and chevarittai in the room continued to stare down at the maps. “Did you fetch the Archigos for me, Aris?” he asked, his index finger still pressed to the yellow parchment. “I was beginning to wonder. We really need his input on the war-teni.”

  “I can’t find the Archigos, Commandant,” ce’Falla said. “I don’t think. .” He stopped. Swallowed. “I don’t think he’s inside the town walls. None of the e’teni in his retinue know where he is, and his u’teni are gone as well, and there are reports that the temple gate in the outer wall was found unlocked.”

  Sergei suddenly felt as if he’d swallowed a live coal. “Get others searching,” he called to the others. “We need to know what’s happened.”

  A turn of the glass later, it was apparent that ca’Cellibrecca had fled Passe a’Fiume, and Sergei reluctantly informed the Kraljiki. “The Archigos is probably with Hirzg ca’Vorl now,” Sergei said to the Kraljiki, who stared out into the night from a window, his thoughts unguessable.

  The Kraljiki had taken residence in the villa of Passe a’Fiume’s Comte; from the tower that rose well above most of the buildings of the town, Sergei could glimpse the fires on the mountainside beyond the Kraljiki.

  A table in the middle of the room was spread with copies of the maps that decorated Sergei’s office. “Those barricading the walls near the temple heard Ilmodo-chanting,” Sergei continued, “and there were strange flashes of light from the windows-about a turn of the glass after supper, according to the servants.”