Read A Magic of Nightfall Online
Authors: S. L. Farrell
A Magic of Nightfall (14 page)
The stag shuddered, the arrow plunging deep in the left side of its chest. It ran a few more steps, nearly to the woods. It seemed to be gathering itself—it leaped, but its front legs snagged on the log it was trying to vault, and it went down.
The stag lay on its side, its legs thrashing at the brush and tearing clods of grassy earth from the ground with its antlers. Fynn galloped up to where Jan had pulled up his horse. Allesandra saw him slap Jan once on the shoulder, then Fynn put another arrow to his bow.
With Fynn’s shot, the stag went still. A distant cheer echoed from the hunting party.
“Your son’s physique may be slight, but he’s an excellent horseman and a better archer. That was impressive—to shoot like that while in full pursuit.”
Allesandra smiled.
For a moment, he almost looked like his great-vatarh, riding that way. . . .
Below, Fynn and Jan had dismounted to go to the downed stag. “Moving archery is a skill taught to the Magyarian cavalry—and Jan’s had excellent teachers.”
For a moment, he almost looked like his great-vatarh, riding that way. . . .
Below, Fynn and Jan had dismounted to go to the downed stag. “Moving archery is a skill taught to the Magyarian cavalry—and Jan’s had excellent teachers.”
“He’s had excellent instruction in politics, as well. He waited for the Hïrzg to give the killing blow. I assume you’ve been his teacher in that.”
“He knows what he should do, even if he sometimes ignores my advice,” Allesandra said. “Generally because I’m the one who gave it,” she added.
“Children of his age feel they must rebel against their parents. It’s natural, and I wouldn’t be too concerned with it, A’Hïrzg. He’ll learn. And one day, if he were the A’Hïrzg rather than just another ca’ somewhere in the line of succession to be Gyula of West Magyaria . . .” He let his voice trail off.
Allesandra turned to him finally. He towered over her like a green-clad bear. His dark eyes were on hers.
Yes, he has eyes in which you could lose yourself.
“You continue to give me these little intimations and hints, Archigos,” she said quietly. “Do you have more than that to offer, or are you trying to goad me into revealing myself? That won’t happen.”
Yes, he has eyes in which you could lose yourself.
“You continue to give me these little intimations and hints, Archigos,” she said quietly. “Do you have more than that to offer, or are you trying to goad me into revealing myself? That won’t happen.”
Ca’Cellibrecca nodded slowly and leaned down to her. His mouth was close enough to her ear that she felt his warm breath. It made her shiver. “I have an offer, A’Hïrzg. If this is something that interests you, I do indeed,” he whispered. Then he stood and applauded toward the meadow. “The cooks will have some fine venison steaks,” he said loudly, “and there will be new antlers to adorn the palais. We should go down and meet the brave hunters, A’Hïrzg. What do you say?”
He offered her his arm.
She rose, and took it.
Karl ca’Vliomani
“
W
HERE ARE YOU GOING?” Varina asked him.
W
HERE ARE YOU GOING?” Varina asked him.
Karl had spent the the first night after Ana’s death at Mika’s house, but despite the solicitude of Mika and his wife, Karl had found their house—with their children and now the first of their grand-children always coming in or out—too full of life and energy. He’d gone back to his own suite of rooms on the South Bank. It was Varina who came there every day, badgering his servants and generally making certain that he was fed and cared for. She left him alone with his grief; she was there when he needed to talk, or when he simply wanted the feel of another person in the room. She seemed to know when he needed silence, and she allowed him to have it. For that, he was grateful.
He remembered long ago when he’d first shown Ana what the Numetodo could do. That night, it had been Varina, a raw newcomer to the group, who Ana had seen demonstrating a spell. Varina had grown much since then; she was second now to Mika within the Numetodo here in the city, and there was no one at all who rivaled her dedication to research, nor her ability with the Scáth Cumhacht. He had never quite understood how it was she had remained alone all these years: she had been particularly striking in her youth: hair the color of autumn wheat; wide, expressive eyes the color of ancient, varnished oak; a wonderful, engaging smile and laugh that always made others smile with her. She was still attractive even now in middle years, even if in the last few years she had seemed to age quickly. Yet . . . she seemed to take all the vitality and energy she possessed and put it solely into learning the intricacies of the Scáth Cumhacht and the Second World, to find all the ways to bind that power. Even within the Numetodo, she rarely seemed to speak at length to anyone but Mika or Karl. As far as Karl knew, she had no other friends or lovers outside the group. She was an enigma, even to those closest to her.
He appreciated Varina’s presence now, even if he didn’t know how to express it.
He’d brooded on Ana’s death now for a week, turning it over and over in his mind like a sick, ugly compost. Someone had wanted her dead. Ana had been the target, the assassin waiting for her to come to the High Lectern; certainly Karl had seen the other téni at the service ascend the lectern to place the readings and the scroll with the Admonition that Ana had intended to read, and they had not triggered the explosion.
The more he contemplated that, the more there seemed to be only one answer. An answer he wanted verified.
Varina was leaning against an archway of the anteroom as Karl shrugged on his cloak, her arms folded. She didn’t repeat her query, only regarded him softly, as if concerned.
“I have an appointment,” he told her. She nodded. Still silent. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “I have questions to ask.”
Another nod. “I’ll go with you,” she said. He hesitated. “I won’t interfere,” she told him. “If you’re going where I think you’re going, you may need the support. Am I right?”
“Get your cloak,” he told her. She smiled briefly—a flash of white teeth—and plucked her cloak from the peg on the wall.
The Ambassador from the Firenzcian Coalition, Andreas cu’Görin, possessed a face as thin and angular as a falcon’s. As he rose from behind his desk, his heather-colored eyes regarded Karl and Varina as if the two were rabbits to be snatched up and devoured. The hawkish face was supplemented with a swordsman’s lean body. Karl could imagine that the man was more comfortable in armor than in the proper, conservative bashta he wore.
It made him wonder how effective he could be here.
“Ambassador ca’Vliomani, Vajica ci’Pallo, your visit is . . . unexpected,” cu’Görin said. “What can I do for you?”
Karl glanced pointedly at the aide who occupied the smaller desk on the other side of the room. “Gerald, why don’t you see if you can find that proposal on the new border regulations?” cu’Görin said. The aide, as burly and thick as cu’Görin was slight, nodded and shuffled papers noisily for a breath before leaving the room.
Karl waited until he heard the door click shut behind him. “I’ve spent the last several days thinking about Archigos Ana’s murder, Ambassador,” he said. The words sounded almost casual, even to his ears. Varina shuffled her feet uneasily next to him. “You know, as much as I try to find reasons for someone doing that, I can’t think of anyone who would want her dead except the people you represent.”
Varina sucked in her breath audibly. A cloud passed over the heather eyes, deepening them to green. The muscles of the man’s face tightened and his right hand closed as if it were searching for a sword’s hilt. “You’re rather blunt and direct, Ambassador.”
“I’ve given up diplomacy for now,” he answered.
Cu’Görin sniffed. “Indeed. Then I will be blunt as well. I find your accusation insulting. I’ll forgive you, knowing how . . .” His nose twitched, the eyes narrowed. “. . . close you were to the Archigos of Nessantico, but I also expect an immediate apology.”
“It’s been my experience that expectations are often disappointed,” Karl said.
“Karl . . .” Varina said softly. Her hand brushed his arm. “Perhaps . . .”
Her voice died, as if she knew he wasn’t listening. The anger burned in his gut. Karl wanted nothing more than for cu’Görin to make a physical move or to blatantly insult him, anything to give him an excuse to use the Scáth Cumhacht that was smoldering in his mind waiting for the release word. But cu’Görin shook his head; he didn’t sit, but seemed to lounge behind the desk, unperturbed.
“I think, Ambassador ca’Vliomani, that you discount the possibility that the assassin may have been a rogue, or perhaps hired by someone who had a personal grudge against the Archigos—someone within the Holdings of Nessantico. There’s no reason to attach a conspiracy to this.” His eyebrows arched; the rest of his body remained still. “Unless, of course, you have evidence that you care to share with me? But no, if you had
that
, you would have gone to the Regent, wouldn’t you? The Commandant of the Garde Kralji would be standing here, not two Numetodo heretics.” Slowly, almost mockingly, he sat again. Long fingers toyed with the parchments scattered on the desk’s surface, and the hawk face returned, looking scornfully at Karl. “I think we’re done here, Ambassador. Firenzcia has no business to do with heretics, and we never will. We’re wasting each other’s time.”
that
, you would have gone to the Regent, wouldn’t you? The Commandant of the Garde Kralji would be standing here, not two Numetodo heretics.” Slowly, almost mockingly, he sat again. Long fingers toyed with the parchments scattered on the desk’s surface, and the hawk face returned, looking scornfully at Karl. “I think we’re done here, Ambassador. Firenzcia has no business to do with heretics, and we never will. We’re wasting each other’s time.”
The dismissal was a wind to his internal fire.
“No!”
Karl shouted. “We’re
not
done!” He gestured, speaking one of the release words he’d prepared before he’d come. Quick fire crawled over the papers on the Ambassador’s desk, consuming them in the instant it took cu’Görin to react, jumping backward from his seat. A quick wind followed, blowing the papers past cu’Görin and out the open window and whipping the Ambassador’s bashta—that had to be Varina. “That fire could have been directed to you as easily as those documents,” Karl told him. He heard the door crash open behind him and he lifted a hand warningly as he felt Varina turn to face the threat. “I didn’t come with only a single spell, Ambassador, and my friend is stronger than I am. Tell your people to stay back, or I guarantee that you—at least—won’t leave this room alive.”
“No!”
Karl shouted. “We’re
not
done!” He gestured, speaking one of the release words he’d prepared before he’d come. Quick fire crawled over the papers on the Ambassador’s desk, consuming them in the instant it took cu’Görin to react, jumping backward from his seat. A quick wind followed, blowing the papers past cu’Görin and out the open window and whipping the Ambassador’s bashta—that had to be Varina. “That fire could have been directed to you as easily as those documents,” Karl told him. He heard the door crash open behind him and he lifted a hand warningly as he felt Varina turn to face the threat. “I didn’t come with only a single spell, Ambassador, and my friend is stronger than I am. Tell your people to stay back, or I guarantee that you—at least—won’t leave this room alive.”
“Neither will you, if you persist in this nonsense,” cu’Görin snarled, and Karl nearly laughed.
“That hardly matters to me at this point,” he told the man. Varina’s back pressed against his. He felt her arms lift, preparing a spell.
The Ambassador waved a hand to the people behind Karl. He heard a sword being sheathed and felt Varina’s arms drop again. “I tell you again, Ambassador,” cu’Görin said, “you are mistaken if you think that Firenzcia was involved in the Archigos’ death. Kill me, don’t kill me; that won’t change that fact.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Cu’Görin sniffed. “Lack of belief is the core of the problem with the Numetodo, isn’t it? Do you want me to mourn for your Archigos, Ambassador? I won’t. She brought this fate on herself by coddling the Numetodo and by her refusal to acknowledge the Archigos of Brezno as the true leader of the Faith. Violence was an inevitable result of her actions, but to my knowledge, it wasn’t Firenzcia that did this. That’s the truth, and if you can’t believe me . . .” He shrugged. “Then do what you must. You’ll only be demonstrating that the Numetodo are indeed the dangerous fools that every true believer knows them to be. Look at me, Ambassador.
Look
at me,” he said more sharply, and Karl glared back at him. “Do you see a lie on my face? I tell you—the one who killed the Archigos wasn’t anyone known to me or hired by me.
That
is the truth.”
Look
at me,” he said more sharply, and Karl glared back at him. “Do you see a lie on my face? I tell you—the one who killed the Archigos wasn’t anyone known to me or hired by me.
That
is the truth.”
Karl could feel the Scáth Cumhacht vibrating madly inside him. He wanted nothing more than to lash out at this pompous fool, to watch the man’s arrogance crumble into a scream, to have him cry out in agony as he died. But he could also hear Ana. He knew what she would tell him, and he let his hand drop to his side. He heard Varina sigh with relief.
Cu’Görin’s words gave him no comfort. But he was beginning to wonder whether cu’Görin might not have told him the truth as he knew it, and Karl was also remembering a time many years ago and another person who could harness the Scáth Cumhacht—though he didn’t call it that, nor did he call it the Ilmodo.
“If I find that you’re lying, Ambassador,” Karl said, “I won’t give you the opportunity to give me your excuses or to draw your sword. I’ll kill you wherever I find you. That is also the truth.”
With that, he turned and Varina moved to his side. There were three guards blocking the doorway, but Karl shoved past them and strode out into the cool air and sunshine.
“What in the Eternal Six Pits was that?” Varina raged at him when they were outside on the Avi a’Parete again. She grabbed at his sleeve and pulled him to a stop. “Karl! I mean it. What did you think you were doing?”
“What I needed to do,” he spat back at her, more sharply than he intended, still flushed with anger at cu’Görin and the man’s attitude and his own gnawing doubts. They were all contained in his retort. “If you didn’t want to be there, you didn’t need to come.”
“Ana’s
dead
, Karl. You can’t bring her back. Accusing people without evidence is just going to get you dead, too.”
dead
, Karl. You can’t bring her back. Accusing people without evidence is just going to get you dead, too.”
“Ana deserves justice.”
“Yes, she does,” Varina shot back. “Let those whose job it is give her that. She wasn’t your wife, Karl. You weren’t lovers. She wasn’t the matarh of your children.”
The fury boiled inside him. He lifted his hand, the cold heat of the Scáth Cumhacht rising, and Varina spread her hands. “Do it!” she spat at him. “Go on! Will that make you feel better? Will that change anything?”
He blinked; around them, people on the street were staring. He dropped his hands. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Varina.”
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