“Believe me, I know,” I said, bunching handfuls of bloodstained skirts in my fists.
“But remember, Amalia.” She gripped my shoulders, holding my gaze. “When you do that work, it will strip things from you, one by one. Force you to cross line after line.”
I thought of Roland, with a sharp twist like a knife in my lungs, and wished I could look away. “It’s already started,” I whispered.
“I know. And that’s why you need to decide now, when you’re still at the beginning of your journey, what lines you will not cross. What things you will never let go.” Her fingers flexed on my shoulders, as if she could squeeze the importance of her words into me. Memories I couldn’t begin to guess at crowded like shadows in the backs of her eyes.
She had been La Contessa for my entire life, powerful and inexorable as the tide, standing in the doge’s shadow, holding up the Empire and subtly molding it all the while. I had never really thought about what she might have been before she became such a potent and terrible being, or what choices and sacrifices she might have made in the course of her transformation.
I nodded slowly, with the ominous feeling I was sealing a pact whose price I did not yet understand. “I’ll remember.”
“Good.” She released me. “Especially remember it when you’re talking to the doge. Niro da Morante has walked a long road. He’s walked it for the good of the Empire, but he’s left many things behind along the way.” A strange smile pulled at her lips. “Sometimes those of us who’ve been traveling this path too long need the people coming behind us to pick up what we’ve abandoned and remind us of its value.”
Chapter Nine
I had barely stepped onto the dock at my palace, ruined skirts bunched unceremoniously in one hand and the other steadying myself on a post striped in Raverran blue and gold, when a crow fluttered down off the roof and landed on my shoulder. Its sudden, impossibly light, feathery presence at my cheek held all the warmth of a comforting hand, and as it cocked a shiny black eye at me, I could almost imagine the bright yellow rings of Kathe’s mage mark flashing curiously within them.
“Hello,” I murmured to it, as it shifted its scaly feet to more comfortably arrange the message cylinder tied to its ankle, tilting its head the other way. “Please convey my thanks to whichever of you saved us last night.”
The crow blinked, a pale lid flashing across its eye. I had no idea whether it understood.
I must have presented quite an image to the occupants of the boats gliding along the broad waters of the Imperial Canal in the late morning light: the Cornaro heir, in a rumpled and blood-soaked ball gown, disheveled hair spilling half loose down my back, muttering to a crow perched on my shoulder like some dark familiar. Perhaps the gossip sheets would print that I’d gone mad. But then, it was the morning after the Night of Masks; the city was full of strange, bedraggled spectacles as the last of the revelers staggered home trailing the broken bits of night-worn dreams.
I untied the message cylinder and had the slim scrap of paper unrolled before I stepped through the door that Old Anzo held open for me into the warmth of our artifice-heated foyer. The crow still rode on my shoulder, surveying the place with the beady gaze of a dubious dowager.
“I’ll get your guest a bit of raw meat from the kitchens, then, my lady,” Anzo said, but I was too busy scanning the message to do more than mumble vague thanks.
Returned home to find a weed problem at the south edge of my garden, it said. Pulled everything up for now. I did stop to peek into that nest we were talking about, and there are indeed eggs in it! Something may hatch soon. Thinking of our shopping expedition and hoping to see you again after I’ve dealt with this weed issue.
That line about the shopping expedition stopped me in the middle of the marble-clad foyer, cheeks burning. But this was exciting news, if I read it right; it seemed that the Lady of Eagles had been receptive to the idea of pressuring Ruven’s allies to withdraw from his war. Kathe insisted we veil our messages in allusion or code in case his birds were intercepted—though given that he did so even for the most harmless information, I rather suspected it was half an excuse for another game.
Graces knew I could use some good news right now. A rush of gratitude and affection for Kathe washed over me. I lifted a hand to the bird on my shoulder, thinking to pet it, and received a warning nip on my finger.
Anzo returned with writing materials for me and a small tray of tidbits for the bird; he set the latter on the table that normally accepted notes and cards from those who called while we were out. The crow made a fluttering hop onto the silver platter and began unceremoniously snatching up morsels at once.
I sank right down onto the cold marble floor in a puddle of skirts, clutching my quill and ink bottle and paper, hands trembling with the urge to tell Kathe everything that had happened in Lady Hortensia’s garden. He knew too well what it was to have your enemies hurt your friend in order to hurt you. If he were here, he would understand at once, and then ask some convoluted, odd, witty question that would somehow both cut to the heart of the matter and banish its power with laughter.
But I couldn’t commit anything so personal to a letter. I closed my eyes a moment, composing the scattered pieces of my thoughts, and then began to write.
Excellent news about the nest. We unfortunately found a rather poisonous snake in our own garden, and it bit a friend. Hopefully he will be well. Thank you for your associate’s assistance in dealing with the snake. We are thoroughly looking over the garden for signs of any other damage it may have left behind. I hesitated, then added, I find myself missing your company already. Wish you were here.
There. That would have to do. I didn’t have time for more; Old Anzo was already pointedly mentioning that Rica had laid out fresh clothes for me in my room.
I had to meet with the doge, after all. And with Niro da Morante, it was best to prepare for even the friendliest meeting as if it were a battle.
“Come in, Lady Amalia. Sit down.”
Niro da Morante, doge of Raverra and the Serene Empire, beckoned me wearily into his personal study. I’d heard it said that he preferred the warm light of flame to the cold radiance of luminaries, and indeed, half a dozen oil lamps drew gleams of gold from the ornately embellished ceiling, the walls, and the elegant scrollwork on his desk. Someone had pinned a map of the northern border up over the dark oil portraits on one wall, and his desktop drowned in papers; an aide hustled out past me as I entered, her arms full of more paperwork and her fingers hooked through the handles of several empty coffee cups.
I eased into the room, giving my entire attention to the man before me. The doge held the power of life and death, fortune or ruin, in his every word; it wouldn’t do to miss a single one of them. The scents of book leather, coffee, and ink enveloped me as I settled into a delicate antique chair opposite him.
His deep-set black eyes analyzed my face, drifting briefly to the falcon’s-head brooch on my shoulder. “You spoke with Lord Ruven last night,” he said without preamble.
I nodded, my stomach flipping over at the memory. “He wished to enlist my assistance in magically attacking his neighbors. I turned him down, of course.”
“Did he give you any sense whatsoever of what his purpose was in Raverra, what his plans might be, or what else he was doing in the Serene City last night?”
I racked my memory for any detail that might prove useful. It was hard to focus with the doge’s eyes on me; ever since I was a child, I’d always felt whenever I was in his presence that I must be in trouble. “He had a flask of his command potion on him,” I recalled. “It sounded about half-full. So he must have used some of it.”
The doge rolled a quill between his fingers, the feather making a fluttering circle. “We’ve discovered at least two instances where he did. But my understanding is that it takes very little of this potion to have an effect; the Mews informs me that a cupful in an ale barrel would be enough to place anyone who had even a sip of that ale under his contro
l.”
“There were probably more,” I agreed grimly. “For that matter, he could have had half a dozen more flasks, for all we know. But I think the potion might be a distraction in this case, Your Serenity.”
“A distraction.” The doge’s pen stilled. “The Council has been working late into the night for months to try to prevent or counter the seemingly infinite types of havoc Lord Ruven could cause with this potion. He could use it to sabotage our border defenses, assassinate our leadership, plant forces behind our lines, spy on our military councils, set up magical traps, control local or even imperial leadership… There are too many possibilities to defend against them all, and any one of them could prove catastrophic. And you’re telling me you think it may be a mere distraction?”
“Not in the broader picture, no.” I lifted my hands hastily. “But last night, perhaps. Why would Ruven come all the way to Raverra to spread his poison personally? He could send someone to do it for him, with far less chance of discovery.”
The doge frowned. Shadows flickered across his face, pooling in his eyes and around his mouth. “You have a point. Very well, then; you know Ruven better than anyone in the Serene Empire. What manner of task would he travel hundreds of miles to accomplish himself?”
I bit my lip. Kathe had made the journey to Raverra for a few hours of conversation with me, but I rather doubted that Ruven shared his consideration. “It has to be something only he could do. Either something he wouldn’t trust to an underling, or a task that required his powers as a Witch Lord.” I set my hands to my brow to block out the shifting light of the candles and the doge’s intent stare, thinking. “Check the major libraries for missing books on magical theory. The personal collections of scholars whose homes were open for the Night of Masks, too. He’s definitely still researching magical means to extend his powers, and he wouldn’t trust someone else to get the right books.” What else? If I were Ruven, what would I want with Raverra? “Graces preserve us. Make sure he didn’t do anything to physically undermine the city. If he used roots or water plants to attack Raverra’s support structures, he could tumble half our buildings into the lagoon.”
I heard the scratching of a quill, but I kept my eyes covered. “Anything else?” the doge asked.
“I’d have alchemists examine the water supply for tampering on general principle. And it’s still certainly worth checking for his potion, but I’d focus more on specific people whom he might have wanted to interrogate or to give complex orders he could relay best in person. Sprinkling it randomly around in buffets might let him coordinate some manner of sabotage or mayhem, but wouldn’t let him accomplish a specific goal, since he couldn’t know who he would get.” I lowered my hands at last. “That’s what leaps to mind. I’ll keep thinking, and let you know if I come up with anything else.”
“This is very helpful.” The doge rubbed his brow with his fingertips. “Thank you, my lady. Even if I now have more concerns to keep me awake at night. I will have all these looked into at once.”
I shifted to the edge of my chair, ready to rise. “Is there anything else, Your Serenity?”
“One thing.”
Something about his tone froze me as surely as Ruven’s magic.
The doge reached into a cabinet beside his desk and took out a bottle of such a deep red wine that it looked black in the lamplight. He poured a glass, never taking his eyes off mine. The rising music of the flowing wine should have been a soothing sound, but it scraped my nerves raw.
He handed the glass across his desk to me. I took it, but didn’t drink.
“You are young, Lady Amalia,” he said dryly.
I swallowed, my throat like parchment. “I suppose I am, Your Serenity.”
“But even so, you must understand the danger facing our Empire. The Witch Lords may not have the power to conquer us, but they could shatter this time of peace and prosperity we have built, and cast us into an age of decline and suffering.”
I wasn’t at all convinced they couldn’t conquer us. The doge had never stood before the Conclave of all seventeen Witch Lords, feeling their power crushing the very air with the sheer weight of their magical presence. But I nodded. “I am aware of the gravity of the situation, Your Serenity.”
“Then surely you see that now, at this critical moment, we can’t afford to make a move that could weaken the Empire and tip the balance into ruin.” His black eyes glittered in the lamplight, waiting, watching.
Hells. He was talking about my Falcon reform law. We had a mad Skinwitch with absolute power over every living thing in a domain the size of a country planning to invade our borders with magical powers we could barely begin to comprehend, and he was worried about whether he’d continue to be able to conscript mage-marked children into his army.
But then, I was worried about that, too.
“Now more than ever is the time to uphold the principles that make the Empire civilized,” I said softly.
The doge let out a quiet sigh, as if I’d said something predictably disappointing. “Your mother tells me that you are no fool, my lady. She tells me that you believe what you’re doing will actually strengthen the Serene Empire, by giving the Falcons more reason to be loyal patriots and less to secretly sympathize with our enemy. And it is not impossible that in the long run, you may have a point.” Deep, skeptical lines graven into his face allowed no softening of hope to accommodate any point I might have; the concession was to my mother, a matter of politeness, and not to my ideas. “But you’re burning down the bridge we’re standing on. This is not the time to talk about whether we need to build a new one.”
“And yet—”
“I am not debating you, my lady. I am instructing you.”
I stiffened as if he’d slapped me.
This was the moment when, if I were my mother, I might redirect him with a laugh, as if of course he were joking, and find some way to reword what he’d said to seem to be an endorsement of my law, in a way he’d find it difficult to refute. Or back off, for the moment, seeming to agree with his wisdom, and find a new angle from which to make my next move.
But I was not my mother. She had grace and subtlety I never would. All I had was an idea, and a sense of honor I was not willing to bend even for the doge of Raverra. Not when hundreds of Falcons and their families were counting on me.
“With all respect, Your Serenity,” I said carefully, “I am a full member of the Assembly, and I have the right and the power to put forth this legislation for a proper vote.”
The doge steepled his fingers and stared at me over them for a long time. “You do,” he said at last. “And I have so many ways, my lady, to ensure that your legislation fails. Some of them may damage your career, which would upset your mother. Do not make me use them.”
It occurred to me, looking into his lined and cynical face, that he might have known about Caulin’s gambit to stir up fear against mages at Lady Aurica’s party. Hells, he might have ordered it.
My mother’s words to me this morning took on a whole new context. Sometimes those of us who’ve been traveling this path too long need the people coming behind us to pick up what we’ve abandoned and remind us of its value.
She wanted me to save her friend from himself.
The idea that I could somehow restore the idealism of the doge of Raverra was so preposterous that I couldn’t quite suppress a smile. Who did she think I was, the Grace of Mercy, to restore compassion to his withered old heart?
No, not compassion. And I couldn’t defeat him with reason, either, because he was too skilled with that tool himself. Strangely enough, in this moment it wasn’t my mother’s tactics or my own I instinctively wanted to reach for; it was Kathe’s.
“Your Serenity.” I kept my smile on, despite the flicker of annoyance that crossed the doge’s face. “You have served the Empire for longer than I’ve been alive. I’ve seen how hard you work, and you don’t seem to relish the glory one might argue is your reward. Why do you do it?”
The d
oge’s eyes narrowed. “I’m uncertain where you’re going with this, Lady Amalia.”
It’s a game. I leaned forward, searching out some spark of feeling within his glittering black eyes. “You must care very passionately about the Empire,” I said, “to dedicate your life to it as you’ve done. There must be something about it you want to preserve and protect, more than anything. Something you value above yourself.”
There was a moment, balanced like the wind-stirred page of an open book, when he might have answered. A moment where I could see the dusty gears of his heart shedding rust and churning back into motion, and words of truth gathering on his tongue. But then he pressed his lips together, and the moment passed.
“Of course there is,” he said. “Your point?”
I had to hope that those gears were still turning, even if he chose not to share his thoughts. “Raverra has become great by climbing over the bowed backs of the mage-marked,” I said. “Think what heights the Serene Empire could rise to if we let them stand.”
He lifted a skeptical brow. “And if, on standing, they put their feet on our necks?”
“You rule the Serene Empire,” I said softly. “If you let fear rule you, then you make it the master of us all.”
For a moment, there was silence. The light of the oil lamps cast moving shadows across Niro da Morante’s face as he regarded me with an expression I couldn’t begin to read.
Finally, he blew out a huff of breath and picked up his quill again. “I am more concerned at the moment with Lord Ruven attempting to become the master of us all.” Dismissal sounded in his tone. “If you have no further information for me, I have a great deal of work to do, and I imagine you do as well.”
I rose and bowed, uncertain whether I had won or lost this game of mine, but suspecting I had at least scored a point or two. “Yes, Your Serenity. That we do.”
Chapter Ten
If the old bastard himself was warning you off, he must think you can win,” Zaira said as we crossed the Mews garden together. “Guess I’d better start paying attention to this law of yours after all.”
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