A Magic of Dawn (37 page)
Authors: S. L. Farrell
“I will consider it,” she told him. She didn’t tell him that she had already considered it and made up her mind. Instead, she smiled and put her own hands atop his. Her hands were like his: knobby and wrinkled, the flesh loose on the bones; the hands of an ancient. “Come,” she told him. “Let’s go upstairs where it’s more comfortable, and we can continue our talk over tea and scones.”
Gently, she ushered him from the workroom, locking the door behind them.
T
HEY SNUGGLED TOGETHER IN THE BED, and Nico kissed the slope of Liana’s shoulder, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her arms and her legs clutched him tightly, as if she wanted to hold him there forever, though he was held back by the surprising mound of her stomach. He laughed, stroking her hair and staring into her eyes. They were the color of rich earth after a rain, and he could see his own thin, bearded face reflected in them.
HEY SNUGGLED TOGETHER IN THE BED, and Nico kissed the slope of Liana’s shoulder, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her arms and her legs clutched him tightly, as if she wanted to hold him there forever, though he was held back by the surprising mound of her stomach. He laughed, stroking her hair and staring into her eyes. They were the color of rich earth after a rain, and he could see his own thin, bearded face reflected in them.
For a moment, his vision blurred and darkened, and it was as though there were a third person in the room with them: small and frail, a heart that could be heard above the pounding of his heart and Liana’s, and he thought he saw a form drifting away from them, leaving the room: a child’s form. A girl. He could feel the cold heat that he associated with Cénzi at the same moment. He closed his eyes, opened them again.
“Nico?” Liana asked him. She sounded worried. “You were so far away . . .”
Her arms had loosened around him. He tried to smile at her. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .”
“What did you see?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Or rather, I don’t know.” He stroked Liana’s abdomen. “I thought I saw . . .
her
.”
her
.”
“Her?”
Nico gave a small nod. “Her.” He tried to smile, but found it difficult. Something about the brief vision bothered him. Why was the child leaving? Why did she vanish? Why did he not see either himself or Liana in the vision?
“A girl.”
Liana was suddenly weeping, but it was a cry of joy. She flung herself at him, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him. “A girl. Are you happy?” she asked. “Is that what you wanted?”
“No,” he said, then laughed at the face she made. “I mean, it doesn’t matter at all to me. Son or a daughter. All that matters is that the child is ours.” He gestured at the shabby room around them, another in the sequence of houses they’d fled to in Oldtown. “I have so little to offer you,” he said, and now it was Liana who laughed.
“Do you think that’s of any consequence to me?” she told him. “If you do, then Cénzi didn’t tell you everything.” Her arms gathered him to her again. “You offer me all that I want. I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy,” she whispered into his ear. “That’s all.”
“And I am,” he told her. “Liana, we should marry. I will ask Ancel—”
She surprised him then. “No,” she told him, shaking her head. Her hair drifted around her shoulders with the motion. “We should not.”
“Liana?”
She leaned back slightly, still holding him. Her gaze was serious and unblinking. “I know you love me, Nico. I know because you would never lie—not to me, not to anyone. You’ve no guile in you at all. I’m content with your love. And it may be that the Absolute—especially if he becomes what I believe Cénzi intends him to become—may need to marry someone for reasons other than love. He may have to do as the Archigi have done before, and marry to keep the Faith safe.”
He was shaking his head, but he could hear Cénzi inside his head: a deep, low approval, and he knew that she was right. Marriage could wait; it made no difference to his commitment to Liana or their child.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said to her, and she laughed.
“Perhaps not, but you have me, Nico, and I don’t intend to let you go.”
There were a half dozen of the war-téni of Nessantico gathered in the room, as well as a double-handful of the other téni from the city’s three temples. Most of them were young, most of them were e’téni, though a few, especially among the war-téni, had the rank of o’téni. Nico surveyed their faces as he entered the room behind Ancel and Liana. His arm was around Liana’s waist protectively; he saw some of them notice that and smile, as if they were pleased to see that the Absolute of the Morellis, Cénzi’s Voice, the Sword of the Divolonté, was as human as them, that he could love someone and produce an heir.
Nico kissed Liana’s cheek and smiled at her as she and Ancel moved to the side of the crowded room—the largest of three small rooms in their current refuge in Oldtown. The place stank of mold and rat feces, and the boards creaked and groaned under their weight, but Cénzi had told him that none of the Garde Kralji would find them here for now, so it must do. Nico gave them all the sign of Cénzi, which they returned.
They bowed their heads to him as well, every one. Nico nodded at that. He could feel Cénzi’s presence: a heat in the core of his body and a fire in his voice.
“Cénzi has told me that I can trust you,” he said without preamble. “He has shown me the heart of each one of you, and I know you. You have taken a great risk tonight to be here, and He knows this and blesses each of you for your devotion, and I appreciate it as well. I know that you hold the Toustour and the Divolonté to be the true Word of Cénzi. I know that you feel, as I do, that leaders of the Faith have lost their way. Archigos Karrol, A’Téni ca’Paim: they have abandoned Cénzi for the secular world, listening too much to Kraljica Allesandra and Hïrzg Jan and too little to the Great Voice. I tell you . . .”
Nico paused, looking at each of them in turn, holding their gazes. He could sense Cénzi’s power building inside him. He let it do so, let the energy sear the words he would say. They emerged from his mouth as if he were spitting red coals and fire. The words raged in the tiny, dingy room; it wreathed them with Cénzi’s anger. “Cénzi said He would give us a sign, and He has sent us an unmistakable one. He has shown us in fire, in ash, and in blood how angry He is with the Faith. It was not enough that the Faith has coddled the unbelievers, the Numetodo, who deny Him entirely. No. Now He has sent the Tehuantin, heathens who worship a false god, to punish us for having fallen away from Him. There is but one way to save us. To cool Cénzi’s displeasure and to end His punishment, we must take our Faith back. We must take back the Faith for Cénzi, and for the people who truly believe. We must take it back
now
!”
now
!”
Nico paused, gathering the energy once again. They were listening to him, rapt in the power of Cénzi’s words. Nico drew himself up, He raised his hands and his face to the bowed ceiling. He let Cénzi take his voice fully. “It is time,” he roared. “It is time to rise up and throw off the Archigos and a’téni who refuse to follow Cénzi’s path.”
The command snapped their heads up, pulled them from their seats. For a moment, it was chaos in the room, with dozens of voices contending as Liana and Ancel tried to calm them. It was only when Nico raised his hands that quiet returned. Nico pointed to one of the war-téni, the slashes of an o’teni on his green robes. “You,” he said. “Tell me why your face is so full of fear.”
The war-téni rubbed a hand through short, dark hair. He glanced around at the others before answering. “Absolute,” the man answered. “You ask us to go against the oaths we have all taken as téni—the oaths that we made to Cénzi.”
“I know that oath. I have taken it myself,” Nico answered. “I pledged to obey the Archigos and to follow the Toustour and Divolonté, as did you. That is why I no longer use the Ilmodo even though Cénzi’s Gift burns within me. But listen to me now: it is the
Archigos
and the a’téni who listen to him who have broken their oaths, for they make it impossible for us to both obey them and obey the Toustour and Divolonté. If the Archigos, with his orders, demands that we break with the Toustour and Divolonté, which come to us through Cénzi, then it is
our duty
—as téni and by the oath we’ve all taken—to refuse to obey them.”
Archigos
and the a’téni who listen to him who have broken their oaths, for they make it impossible for us to both obey them and obey the Toustour and Divolonté. If the Archigos, with his orders, demands that we break with the Toustour and Divolonté, which come to us through Cénzi, then it is
our duty
—as téni and by the oath we’ve all taken—to refuse to obey them.”
The o’téni was nodding before Nico finished speaking, and he turned to the others. “Do any of you have more objections? Come, let us hear them.”
One of the e’téni lifted a tentative hand, and Nico gestured to him. “Absolute, there are those who say that you only wish to be Archigos yourself.”
Nico smiled at that, clapping his hands together. “I wish to serve the Faith however Cénzi demands that I serve it. If Cénzi would one day bring me to the Archigos’ throne, then I would be a poor servant if I refused Him. But I’d also be a poor servant if I let pride and desire govern my actions.” He pointed to the téni, then let his finger sweep over all of them. “I would tell you, all of you, that you should watch me as I watch the Archigos, and if you see me ever,
ever
acting in my own interests rather than those of the Faith, then you should raise your voices against me. Do you wish to do that now? Do you?”
ever
acting in my own interests rather than those of the Faith, then you should raise your voices against me. Do you wish to do that now? Do you?”
They were silent. Nico let the quiet reign, listening to the sounds of their breaths, the noise their feet made on the rough boards under their feet. Finally, he gave them the sign of Cénzi again. “I thank you,” he said. “And Cénzi thanks you. Now—listen to me. Here is what we must do . . .”
S
TAG FALL WAS MORE BEAUTIFUL than any description she’d had of it.
TAG FALL WAS MORE BEAUTIFUL than any description she’d had of it.
The palais sat in the center of hundreds of acres of mountainous forest, clinging to the side of one of the tallest slopes like a limpet, with arms of thick-hewn timbers that supported its many balconies and wings. The approach to the villa was long and arduous, the road winding back and forth across the face of the heavily-wooded and ancient mountains of the range. The switchbacks would have drawn any enemy laying siege to Stag Fall into long, vulnerable lines, and there were cliffs above many of the sections where defenders could easily send boulders, arrows, and spells down upon hapless attackers. Morning and night, thick, white mists rose from the valleys, so dense that they muffled all sound and confused any sense of direction.
The palais itself was built from rich oak and adorned with other precious hardwoods. It was polished and gleaming, its dark-paneled rooms large with huge inviting hearths that were used year-round; even in summer when Brezno would be sweltering, the nights here still held a chill. Rochelle had thought Brezno Palais foreboding: a fortress of cold stone. Stag Fall was a glimpse into another world, a forest world. Stag Fall was softer and more inviting than Brezno Palais, but it was no less formidable and no less a fortress.
A caretaker staff remained permanently at Stag Fall to care for the villa when the Hïrzg or other notables were not there, but with the Hïrzg and his family arriving, the permanent staff was placed under the control of the Hïrzg’s personal staff. Paulus ci’Simone was no Rance ci’Lawli, and it showed in his rough and almost territorial interaction with the two staffs. Rochelle had seen Rance’s ability to smooth ruffled feathers between staffs; Pauli was far less polished, and tended to bark orders rather than listen to explanations. Rochelle witnessed it daily.
“Damn it, woman, the Hïrzgin won’t eat the venison cooked that lightly. Do you know absolutely nothing about how your mistress prefers her meat? Another half-mark of the glass on the fire, at least! There should be no red left in it.”
Paulus glared at the cook, who slapped the cut of meat back onto a spit and thrust it over the open fire again. Paulus made a sound of disgust. “Rhianna!” he barked. “As soon as this incompetent has the meat acceptably cooked, make certain the meal gets up to the Hïrzgin’s room while it’s still hot. She’s been waiting too long already. I can’t waste my time here any longer—I have to see to the Hïrzg’s attendants now; they seem to have misplaced his riding leathers.”
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