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Authors: S. L. Farrell

BOOK: A Magic of Dawn
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Allesandra ca’Vörl
 
A
LLESANDRA KNEW THAT there would be a backlash to her decision to hold a state funeral for Ambassador Karl ca’Pallo. She just hadn’t expected it to be quite so vitriolic nor so rapid.
Her aide Talbot entered her chamber with a quick warning knock. “I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, Kraljica,” he said with an elegant half-bow as her
domestiques de chambre
diplomatically left the room. “A’Téni ca’Paim is here to see you. She insists it is ‘vital’ that she see you immediately.” Talbot frowned. “I swear, the woman doesn’t know how to speak in anything but hyperbole. If her breakfast is late, it’s a crisis.”
Allesandra sighed and set down her fork. “It’s about our request to use the Old Temple for Karl’s funeral?”
“I sent your request over to A’Téni ca’Paim’s office less than a turn of the glass ago. So, yes, I suspect that’s why she’s come. A’Téni ca’Paim seems . . . well, rather nervous and upset.” Talbot’s pale eyes glittered with a hint of amusement, a corner of his thin mouth lifting. But then, Talbot was a Numetodo, which meant that he might believe in other gods than Cénzi or no god at all. Being a Numetodo rather than a follower of Cénzi had become nearly fashionable in Nessantico in recent years—the fact that ca’Paim was the leader of the Faith in Nessantico mattered not at all to him.
Allesandra pushed the silver tray away from her. Cutlery rattled, tea shivered in the cup. “Since the a’téni herself has come rather than sending one of the lesser téni over, I assume she feels this can’t wait?”
“A’Téni ca’Paim said that she was—and I quote the woman—prepared to stay here until the Kraljica can find time to see me.’ Though if the Kraljica wishes to make her wait until this evening or even tomorrow, I’d be pleased to give A’Téni ca’Paim that message.”
“No doubt you would,” Allesandra said; Talbot flashed another grin. “And to bring her blankets and a pillow, too. But I suppose I might as well get this over with. Wait half a turn so I can finish my breakfast, then bring her up. Ply her with those candies from Il Trebbio, Talbot; perhaps that will sweeten her mood.”
Talbot bowed and left the room. Allesandra glanced up at the painting of Kraljica Marguerite, a masterpiece by the painter ci’Recroix. The painting, like most of the city of Nessantico, had undergone extensive restoration from the damages it had sustained a decade and a half ago, when the Tehuantin had sacked Nessantico. Rips in the canvas had been meticulously glued together, the smoke stains carefully cleaned and the burned sections repainted, though the restoration work was visible if one looked closely at the canvas: even the best painters still could not match ci’Recroix’s subtlety (or literal magic, if one believed the tales) with the brush. Archigos Ana, Allesandra knew, had insisted that the painting had been ensorcelled and was responsible for Kraljica Marguerite’s sudden death. Certainly Kraljiki Audric had displayed an unhealthy relationship with the painting of his great-matarh, treating it as if the portrait were the Kraljica herself. Allesandra occasionally found herself glancing uncomfortably at the painting, installed over the mantel in the reception room of her apartments in the rebuilt palais. Marguerite always seemed to be gazing back at Allesandra, the painted highlights glistening in her eyes and an inscrutable expression of half-disgust touching her lips, as if the sight of a ca’Vörl bearing the crown and ring of the Kralji pained her.
Perhaps it did, in whatever afterlife the woman inhabited. No matter what the truth of the painting’s history might be, Allesandra found that the piece served as a reminder of what Nessantico had been under her rule, and what perhaps it might become again.
“Does it bother you, Marguerite?” she asked the painting.
There was no answer.
She finished her meal and called the
domestiques de chambre
to take the tray, telling them to bring a new tray with tea and scones for the a’téni. Talbot knocked again on the outer door just as the servants brought in the tea. “Enter,” Allesandra said, and Talbot stepped into view.
“A’Téni ca’Paim,” he said, bowing more formally this time. He started to step aside to allow ca’Paim to enter the room, but she pushed past him. Only Allesandra saw the roll of Talbot’s eyes
Soleil ca’Paim was a portly woman in her mid-forties, with dyed dark hair showing white at the roots and a complexion that the emerald green of her robe rendered pasty. She had the harried look of a matron with too many children—and indeed she had birthed ten children in her time—but Allesandra knew it would be a mistake to think of her as soft, ineffectual, or unintelligent; a mistake many had made during her career. Soleil had risen quickly within the ranks of the téni from her beginnings as a lowly e’téni in Brezno, to her current position as the representative of the Faith for Nessantico. There was talk that, should Archigos Karrol’s ill health take him, the Concordance of A’Téni might elect her as Archigos. Certainly Archigos Karrol had shown her favor in giving her charge of Nessantico.
“Kraljica,” ca’Paim said, inclining her head. The woman was breathing a bit heavily, and Allesandra waved to the chair set across from her.
“A’Téni, it’s so good to see you. Would you like tea? These scones are still warm from the oven and our new pastry chef, I have to say, is excellent . . .” Allesandra waved to the servants, standing against the wall, and they scurried forward to serve the tea and hand the a’téni a plate adorned with several scones, drizzled with honey. A’ Téni ca’Paim was not one to turn down food: she ate a scone, then another, while the two of them talked pleasantries, circling around the subject they both knew must be broached.
Finally, ca’Paim set down the plate, dusted with sticky crumbs. “I received your request this morning, Kraljica,” ca’Paim stated in her flat, somewhat nasal voice. “While we of the Faith readily acknowledge Ambassador ca’Pallo’s long service to Nessantico and the Holdings, that doesn’t alter the fact that neither the Ambassador nor any of the Numetodo believe in Cénzi as we do, and the usage of Concénzia Faith’s facilities would amount to a
de facto
acceptance of their heretical beliefs.”
Allesandra set her own plate down. She put a hand on either side of it. “I must remind you, A’Téni, that the Old Temple was rebuilt at least partially with funds given to the Faith by the Holdings.”
Ca’Paim acknowledged that with an inclination of her head. “And for that the Faith is extremely grateful, Kraljica. We have tried to give back to the Holdings what we can. I’d remind the Kraljica that our light-téni donated their services to the Holdings for five years in thanks. Archigos Karrol, in particular, has been most generous with his attentions to the Holdings, making certain that the Faith is as well-served here as it is in the Coalition. But
this
. . .” Her lips pressed together, and Allesandra could see that the woman was concealing a genuine indignation, not something feigned because it was forced upon her. “This is a matter of
faith,
Kraljica, as you must see. Surely the Grand Hall here in the palais could accommodate the crowds that might wish to pay their respects to the Ambassador.”
Allesandra ignored the comment. “A’Téni, the Ambassador—and the Numetodo—have also given to the Faith. Your war-téni now use techniques developed by the Numetodo, in particular those created by the Ambassador
and
Councillor ca’Pallo both. Archigos Ana certainly saw the value of their work.”
Ca’Paim’s lips pressed together even tighter at the mention of Ana’s name, then she smiled, though with some effort. “One might think you’re deliberately trying to goad me, Kraljica.”
“One would be correct,” Allesandra said. “You have to admit it worked, Soleil. It always does.”
“And you always push the knife in as deeply as you can, Allesandra,” the woman answered, and the two of them laughed. Allesandra saw the woman visibly relax, sitting back against the cushions of her chair and taking another scone. “These are quite good,” she said to Allesandra. “Tell your pastry chef that he must send the recipe to my baker.” She took a bite. Swallowed. “Archigos Karrol would tell you the same as I’ve told you.”
“No doubt. But I haven’t asked
him
, have I?—not that there would be time to do so, in any event. I’m asking you.”
“I truly don’t like this, Allesandra, for several reasons. I wish you wouldn’t force the issue. It puts both me and the Faith in an awkward position.”
It’s your reputation you’re worried about. Not the Faith.
Allesandra smiled again at the older woman. “The Old Temple is better suited for the crowds than the Grand Hall here in the palais. You have to admit that; you saw the hall at the Gschnas.”
“Yes, but the Old Temple is dedicated to Cénzi’s worship, and as a Numetodo, the Ambassador was outspoken in his disbelief in our tenets. He believed there were no gods at all.”
“Yet—again—he
has
helped your Faith, and he was also Archigos Ana’s great friend. Whatever you might think of Ana, you can’t say that she wasn’t bound to the Faith’s beliefs. I’m not asking you to give Karl the funeral rites of the Faith—and Varina would rightly howl in protest if I did. I’m asking to use the best venue in the city for the occasion. That’s all. Cover the murals if you wish. Take all the trappings of the Faith out from beneath the Great Dome. The Grand Hall here is large enough, yes, but it’s still under construction—that was fine for the Gschnas, but not for the dignity demanded by this funeral. The funds we could spare went first to the reconstruction of the Old Temple and Cu’Brunelli’s Dome, not to the Kraljica’s Palais.”
A grimace. “I can’t offer you my staff’s help. Not openly.”
Allesandra knew then that she had won. She wondered if ca’Paim could hear the satisfaction in her voice. “Talbot can reach out to your aide for procedural details and to decide how many of my own staff we need to assign to ensure everything goes smoothly. We’ll use palais staff and the Garde Kralji for crowd control. And you can tell Archigos Karrol that I bullied you into accepting this by threatening to withhold the final payment on the building funds.”
“Would you do that?”
Allesandra brought one shoulder toward her cheek. “Is it necessary?”
One of ca’Paim’s fingers stroked the golden summit of another scone. The woman sighed. “No. I suppose not, though I still don’t like it.”
“Good,” Allesandra said. “And you’ll be there, Soleil? Seated next to me?”
Another sigh. “You’ve become shameless as you’ve aged, Allesandra. Absolutely shameless. I will attend since you insist, but I won’t speak. I cannot.”
“That’s understood.” Allesandra leaned forward and patted the woman’s hand. “Thank you, Soleil. I’ll tell Varina what you’ve done; she’ll appreciate the gesture.”
“What about Nico Morel’s followers?” ca’Paim asked. “He’s the one you should be worrying about. You know how deeply that man hates the Numetodo. They are sure to protest, and demonstrations by the Morellis have turned violent before. Have you read the proclamation he and his people posted all over the city yesterday about the Ambassador’s death? They’ll be railing against any display of support for the Ambassador, and there might well be worse trouble with them.”
This time it was Allesandra who frowned. “Ambassador ca’Rudka showed me the proclamation, and it was vile and disgusting. You’re probably right. Perhaps Commandant cu’Ingres might give Vajiki Morel and his local troublemakers free lodging in the Bastida for a few days, assuming we can find them before the ceremony. In any case, I’ll make certain the Commandant’s posted sufficient gardai in case there is an issue. And if you would have your téni tailor their Admonitions today and tomorrow against the Morellis . . .”
“Fine,” ca’Paim told her. “That much I’m happy to do. But I have to tell you, Kraljica . . .” ca’Paim frowned sternly. “There are téni here, especially the younger ones but even those high in the Faith, who have an unhealthy amount of sympathy for Nico Morel and his philosophy. Far too many of them than I like.”
“I know,” Allesandra told her. “That infection is among the populace as well, I’m afraid. The man’s influence is is becoming increasingly dangerous. Soleil, I appreciate your cooperation in this. I know it’s not what you want, and I know that it will cause you grief with Brezno, and for that I’m genuinely sorry.”
Ca’Paim nodded to that and plucked another scone from the plate. “Archigos Karrol and Brezno I can deal with,” she said. “I only hope this turns out to be what
you
want, Allesandra.”

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