A Magic of Dawn (47 page)

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Authors: S. L. Farrell

BOOK: A Magic of Dawn
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She knew how Karl would have answered. She could almost hear his voice.
I know you love Nico, but he’s not the child that we knew. He’s changed, and he’s been terribly damaged, and he’s dangerous. He’s brought this upon himself.
“Yes,” she told Allesandra. “I’ll have to talk to the others, but I’m certain they’ll agree. I’ll arrange with Talbot to coordinate things.”
Allesandra nodded. Her face seemed to relax. “Thank you,” she said. “You won’t regret this, Varina. I promise.”
Varina pushed herself up from her seat, and Allesandra embraced her gently. “Thank you,” she heard the Kraljica whisper again. Allesandra’s lips brushed Varina’s cheeks momentarily, and the Kraljica turned to leave.
The wake of her passage smelled of flowers and damp earth.
 
Jan ca’Ostheim
 
W
HEN JAN READ SERGEI THE CONTENTS of the missive from his matarh, the Silvernose didn’t seem startled at all, which told Jan that Sergei already suspected what it said.
“Morel thinks that he has divine guidance,” Sergei said, rubbing—as he too often did—at the metallic nose glued to his ravaged, wrinkled face. “When one truly believes that Cénzi has set you on a course, you have no limitations. It’s a lesson many of the Kralji have had to learn. Now it’s Allesandra’s turn.”
They were gathered at the table in the dining “room” of the palais tents. Hïrzgin Brie was there, as was Starkkapitän ca’Damont and Archigos Karrol, who had come down from Brezno. Jan had invited Ambassador ca’Rudka to join them, not only because of the communique from Nessantico, but also because he enjoyed watching Sergei annoy both the starkkapitän and the Archigos.
“You speak like a Numetodo,” Archigos Karrol said to the man, but Sergei shook his head slowly, his jowls wobbling with the motion.
“I believe in Cénzi, Archigos, as firmly as do you,” the Ambassador said, and Jan thought he heard a strange sadness in the man’s voice, almost a regret. “I know that I will go to Him when I die, and the soul shredders will weigh me before Him. I believe.” Then he seemed to shiver, and his gaze wandered away from the Archigos and found Jan’s. “It’s not
faith
that’s the problem, Hïrzg Jan, only blind fanaticism. Morel insists that there is only one true path, and that’s
his.
Therefore, all the rest of us are wrong. The greater problem is that you have too many téni within the Faith who agree with Morel rather than you.”
Archigos Karrol spluttered at that. He lifted his bent head against the resistance of his curved spine. His long, white beard waggled; his brown-spotted fist banged at the table, rattling crockery. “
I
am the authority within the Faith, not this damned Morel. He’s already doomed himself by using the Ilmodo against my direct orders. His hands and tongue are forfeit for that, and his life is mine for the death of poor A’Téni ca’Paim.”
Jan heard Sergei sniff, saw his eyes, now enveloped in tired folds of skin, widen slightly. “Yes, we in Nessantico saw how well the war-téni obeyed A’Téni ca’Paim, whose authority derives from yours, Archigos. I wonder, if you order the war-téni of Firenczia to move against Morel, will you get the same obedience?”
The Archigos’ bald skull was pale against the angry flush of his face. He scowled, turning his head sidewise to glare at Sergei. “My war-téni will do as I tell them to do,” he said. Spittle flew with the comment; he didn’t seem to notice. He looked over to Jan. “Hïrzg, Hïrzgin, I find that my appetite has left me, and I need to speak with the téni here to give them the news about A’Téni ca’Paim and arrange for services in her memory. If you’ll forgive me . . .”
Without waiting for an answer, he gave the sign of Cénzi and pushed away from the table. Two o’téni in attendance rushed to help him. They handed him his staff and he shuffled away, his head facing the carpeted ground as he padded from the tent.
“I apologize, Hïrzg, Hïrzgin,” Sergei said after the servant had closed the tent flaps—painted in trompe-l’oeil fashion as a massive, carved wooden double set of doors—behind the Archigos. “I only told him the truth.”
“The truth is often unappetizing,” Brie answered. She glanced at Jan with that, a quick, sharp look. “I’m surprised any of us can eat at the moment.” Jan set down the knife he was using to cut the slice of roast on his plate. Brie smiled at him blandly. “I’d have the servants take that away,” she said, “but there are so few of our private staff left here. I wonder what keeps driving them away?”
Jan returned the same meaningless smile to his wife.
Sergei didn’t seem to have noticed the exchange. He stirred in his seat. “Archigos Karrol is deceiving himself if he doesn’t think that there are téni who are sympathetic to the Morellis—especially among the war-téni.”
“Our war-téni are
here,
” Starkkapitän ca’Damont interjected. “They’re actively working with me.”
“They’re here
now
,” Sergei answered. “But will they be tomorrow, or the day after? The news from Nessantico is just now arriving, and if it
was
Morel who asked the war-téni to stand down, as he claims, then perhaps that request is only just reaching them.”
“Sometimes, Ambassador,” ca’Damont retorted, “I believe you’re like an old black crow, with nothing but bad news and gloom to relate. You stink of the prisons you like so much.”
Jan looked over sharply at ca’Damont with the crude remark, but Sergei lifted a hand, shaking his gray head slightly. “You’ll be happy to know, Starkkapitän, that you’re hardly alone in that opinion,” Sergei told him. “But then, I’m a crow who over the years has dined on the remains of many victims who failed to listen to me or who said I was mistaken. I never take much satisfaction in that sort of meal, but it’s one I suspect I’ll continue to enjoy. Perhaps soon.”
The man’s fork scraped along his plate. Brie snickered nasally. Jan hurried into the conversational gap. “Villembouchure has already fallen, Ambassador. Nessantico will fall, too—again—if Firenzcia doesn’t come to her aid. Do you agree with that?”
Sergei nodded. “I do. Emphatically. Commandant ca’Talin is an excellent leader and I have nothing but respect for his martial skills, but he doesn’t have the resources he needs.”
“Why should I provide them?” Jan asked. “Why shouldn’t I let the Tehuantin flail against Matarh’s Garde Civile? Even if they
do
take the city, they’ll be so wounded in the process that I could take them with half the army I have here, and take the Sun Throne for myself—without waiting, without this treaty she’s sent. The Tehuantin will likely even take care of the Morelli problem. That’s what Starkkapitän ca’Damont and Archigos Karrol are advising me to do.” From down the table, ca’Damont grunted assent. “Why shouldn’t I follow their advice, Ambassador?”
Sergei sat silent for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his nose. “Because you’re a better man than I am, Hïrzg,” he said. “If it were Brezno facing invasion, and Kraljica Allesandra were considering whether to come to your aid, I might give her the same advice the Starkkapitän and Archigos are giving you now. Remain aloof; let the invaders wear themselves out first, then go in and take everything for yourself afterward. But I know her as well as I know you. She wouldn’t take that advice from me, any more than you will. She would come to your aid, if circumstances were that dire.”
“You’re awfully confident in your assessment.”
“I’m the Crow. I’m Old Silvernose,” Sergei answered with a wry, gap-toothed smile. “And I know that you, Hïrzg, even if you
were
willing to abandon your matarh entirely, you don’t care to inherit a broken empire and a broken city, so ruined that repairing it will make Firenzcia herself a pauper nation. Nessantico holds your heritage, as it does the heritage of everyone in the Holdings
or
in the Coalition. It is too precious a jewel to simply cast away.”
The man was warped and twisted. His predilections were odious. But Jan knew of no one alive who knew the intrigues of the nations so well—and the man had once saved his life, as well as his matarh’s. And, in this, he was right.
Jan nodded. With Sergei’s words, the decision had come to him, falling into place and erasing all the doubts. “That is why I will sign the treaty,” he told them. “I will take Matarh’s offer, and we will ride to Nessantico—if only to preserve the empire that will one day be mine.”
ILLUMINATIONS
 
 
Niente
Rochelle Botelli
Varina ca’Pallo
Jan ca’Ostheim
Allesandra ca’Vörl
Sergei ca’Rudka
Nico Morel
Brie ca’Ostheim
Varina ca’Pallo
Niente
 
 
Niente
 
C
ITLALI WAS NOT ONE TO HIDE HIS ANGER and displeasure. Niente suspected that was true of all Tecuhtli—when everyone is below you in stature, there’s no need to conceal your feelings.
Citlali’s face was nearly as ruddy as the eagle tattooed on his bald skull. Even the black, geometric lines of the warrior across his body were dimmed. Behind him, the well-muscled form of the High Warrior Tototl loomed. Citlali pointed at Niente as he entered the tent. “You’ve lied to me,” he said without preamble.
Niente grasped his spell-staff tightly, feeling the power of X’in Ka trapped within it, and wondering if he would need to use that today. He forced his bowed back to straighten as best he could. He ignored the screaming of his muscles and the urge to sit down. He lifted his face to Citlali and Tototl, let them see the scarred and withered horror that his use of the scrying bowl and the deep enchantments made in the name of the Tecuhtli over the years had made of him, how he aged far more than his years in the service of the Tehuantin. His blind and white left eye stared at Citlali. “Tecuhtli, I have never—”
“Your own son tells me this,” Citlali interrupted. That, Niente realized, explained why Atl had avoided him this morning, remaining far down the army’s column from the Tecuhtli and Nahual’s escorts. “He says that he also has the gift of Axat’s far-sight,” Citlali continued, “and he insists that your path at Villembouchure nearly led us to disaster. No, be silent!” he roared as Niente started to protest. “Atl said that had we followed the path that Axat showed him, we would not have needed to leave our fleet blocked and tangled in the A’Sele, that we wouldn’t have had the losses we had in the river or at Villembouchure. He says we could have gained an easy victory there, and have sailed with the fleet on up the A’Sele to Nessantico.”

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