Fires of the Faithful (28 page)

“Serve the Lady first,” Teleso said as the servant approached him. He looked at me apologetically. “I wasn’t
able to bring servants with me from Cuore, so I’ve had to make do. They’re all refugees, you understand—they work for me instead of building the wall—so we’re not even really up to the standards of Pluma.”

“Ah,” I said. I watched the servant as he cut a thin slice of meat and raised it over his head, then set it in the center of the table as an offering to Her.

“Now serve the guest,” Teleso said patiently when the servant started toward him again. Without looking up, the servant piled several slices of meat onto my plate, and suddenly I was ravenous. Ignoring the funny-looking implements by my plate, I speared the meat with my knife and took a bite.

Teleso chewed methodically as he watched me dig in. Several times he gestured to the servant to serve me more food. “You’re not drinking your wine,” he said as I mopped up the last of the juices with a piece of crusty bread.

“That cup it’s in,” I said. “I’m afraid I’ll break it.”

Teleso chuckled, not unkindly. “They’re sturdier than they look,” he said. “Just don’t drop it on the floor or throw it across the room.”

I picked it up carefully and took a sip of wine. The glass stayed in one piece. “From Cuore,” he said proudly. “Excellent vintage.” I nodded politely, although Doratura’s wine was better, or even Bascio’s.

The servant brought us tea when we were done, and Teleso leaned back in his chair to sip his, cupping his hands around the mug to warm them and looking at me thoughtfully. I met his eyes in a glare and he chuckled again, unoffended.

“So,” Teleso said, after a while. “I heard you came here voluntarily.”

“I was hoping to find that a member of my family had
survived the destruction of my village,” I said. “None had.”

“How unfortunate,” he said, with what sounded like genuine regret. “Where did you learn to play the violin?”

“Originally, from a man in Doratura. Then I spent five years at the conservatory in Bascio.”

“Of course, the peasant conservatory,” he said. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I said. “Signore.” It was common knowledge that the peasant conservatories had higher standards than those that admitted the children of gentlemen for a fee.

“Call me Teleso,” he said expansively. “Are you any good? My men thought you were quite something, but they’re not exactly musical experts.”

“I like to think so,” I said.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Why did you leave the conservatory so close to finishing?”

I looked down and took another sip of tea, debating how to respond. I didn’t think I wanted to tell him the lie that I’d been caught with a boy; on the other hand, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to share my opinions of the Circle.

“Come now,” Teleso said. “This can’t be such a difficult question. Surely you had your reasons.”

“I wanted to see my family,” I said.

“Homesickness? After all that time?”

I met Teleso’s eyes in a fierce glare. Teleso looked as though he were about to press the issue, but his gaze faltered and he dropped the subject.

“Let me see your violin,” he said. I picked up the violin from where I had set it next to my feet, and took the case
down to his end of the table. Teleso set his tea down carefully, then pushed his chair back and set the case on his lap. He unfastened the largest buckle, then unlaced the leather thongs to open the case. “Lovely instrument,” he said. “Where was it made?”

“Mivera.”

“Of course,” he said. He took out the violin, stroked his hands along the smooth wood. “There is no instrument more lovely, is there?”

“No.” I had seen violins made with inlaid wood of different colors, or mother-of-pearl accents, but mine was very simple. Still, even the simplest violin was beautiful to my eye, and mine was of a dark wood with a strong grain.

“Let me hear you play.” He offered me the violin and bow; I took them and went back to my end of the table, sitting back down to tighten the bow hairs and tune the violin.

“Any requests?” I asked, standing up again.

“Whatever you like,” he said.

I pushed my chair in with my foot and backed into a corner of the room, tucking the violin under my chin. Teleso seemed like someone who would be more impressed by virtuosity than singability, so I played one of the more technically impressive solos I’d learned at the conservatory. He applauded enthusiastically when I was done.

“Bravo,” he said. “Another.”

I played a long selection of pieces from my days at the conservatory; he clapped for each. “I have a request,” he said finally. “I don’t know what it’s called, but it has a catchy rhythm.” He tapped it out on the table.
Da
dat da
da
dat da
wham wham wham
. The Redentore funeral music.

I flinched slightly, pressing my back against the wall behind me. “I don’t know it, signore,” I said.

His cold eyes narrowed. “The Fedeli do not run Ravenna, Eliana. I do.”

I pulled myself up and gave him a long, measured look across the violin. He smiled slowly; this time, it almost reached his eyes. “My youngest sister went to a conservatory,” he said. “Our father paid the tuition; he thought having a musician in the family would give us a bit of culture. I know from her that
all
musicians learn the Old Way songs, sooner or later. So don’t tell me you don’t know this song.” He leaned forward across the table and his eyes narrowed again. “You should want to stay on my good side,” he said gently. “And I want to hear you play this piece.”

I closed my eyes and picked a key, drawing my bow slowly across the first note. As I began the piece, I could almost hear the low rustle of feet on ash and rubble, remembering Amedeo dancing as I mourned my family. I held my tears in check tonight, and kept my feet still.

Teleso was silent for a long time when I finished. Then he poured himself a cup of wine and drained it. “Not bad,” he said. “You will stay as my guest in the keep tonight. The maidservant will show you to your room.”

She was a girl a year or so younger than me, dark-eyed and painfully thin. She avoided meeting my eyes as she led me up a winding staircase and through a heavy oak door. “Is this satisfactory, signora?” she asked as I caught my breath and looked around the room.

“Yes,” I said.

I surveyed the room slowly from the doorway. It was easily three times the size of my room at the conservatory. The floor was covered with deep rugs woven of a dark red wool. In the center of the room was a vast soft bed, piled high with pillows and quilts. A linen nightdress was laid neatly across the bed, along with a robe and slippers.

“Pull this cord—” the maidservant touched a silk rope by the door “—to summon me if you need anything. Do you require anything now?”

I shook my head.

“Good night, then.” She started to close the door.

“Wait—” I said. She froze, her hand still on the doorknob. “What’s your name?”

“Arianna,” she said. She looked up for a moment and I caught a flash of brown eyes and long lashes. “May I go now, signora?” I nodded and she closed the door.

I didn’t want to tread on the rugs with my boots on, so I leaned against the wall by the door and pulled them off, then padded across the floor in my stockings.

A few amenities were missing from the room. There was only a tiny slit of a window, high along one wall. There was also no way to bar the door. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to shut the people in the keep out of my room, but suddenly this lack disturbed me intensely and I dragged one of the heavy chairs to the door and wedged it under the knob.

In the flickering candlelight, I caught a sudden glimpse of a strange man across the room, and nearly jumped out of my skin. The man jumped, as well, and I realized that I was looking at a mirror.

There were few mirrors at the conservatory, and the opportunity to see my reflection was rare. I had seen my reflection in water, of course, and in polished metal dishes, but I had never seen myself in men’s clothing. When I spotted the mirror, I went for a closer look, and decided that I really did look like myself—just different.

I was a mess. My hair was tangled and my face was thin and dirty. My clothes were dirty, too, although I liked the way the tunic looked on me, especially with the red sash. Much better than the conservatory robes. I didn’t think I
looked that much like a boy, except for maybe all that dirt. There was a basin in the room, so I undressed and sponged off my body, then washed my hair. The soap was perfumed, a sweet, heavy scent. I didn’t like it, but it was an improvement over the dust and grime.

It took me a long time to comb out my hair. It had tangled badly in the wind and dust, and washing it had removed the dust but set the tangles into a sodden mess. It was just as well it was short; if I’d had to comb such tangles out of long hair, I probably would have lost all patience and cut it off with anything handy.

I was tempted by the linen nightdress, but decided after a few moments that wearing it would be accepting more of Teleso’s forced hospitality than I really wanted. I put my tunic and trousers back on, dirty though they were, then folded the nightdress neatly and laid it across a chair. I suppose if I’d really wanted to demonstrate my reluctance to accept Teleso’s hospitality, I would have slept on the floor instead of in the bed, but there was no point in being a damn fool about it. I crawled under the covers and was asleep almost instantly.

I slept heavily; when I woke, for a moment, I didn’t know where I was, and I thought wildly that I was back at the conservatory, since it had been so long since I’d slept in a proper bed. This bed was much too soft, though, and after a moment, I remembered where I was. I got up and made up the bed, then dragged the chair away from the door. I was tuning my violin to practice when Arianna arrived with my breakfast—a bowl of porridge, sweetened with honey, and a mug of tea. I sat down and ate everything she’d brought, scraping the sides of the bowl with my spoon to get the last remnants, although if I’d pulled on the cord by the door and asked, she probably would have brought me another bowl.

Setting the bowl aside, I looked up at the window, high on the wall. It was over my head, so I pulled the chair over to the window and stood up to peer out. I could see down into the piazza, and to the tents beyond. The scaffold was still standing. The tents that had been taken down for the execution last night were back up, but the piazza was empty. No one wanted to set foot there. I climbed off the chair and pushed it back to where it had been.

I took my violin and went back to the mirror, checking my posture in the reflection. I closed my eyes as I played a set of scales, trying to imagine myself back in a practice room at the conservatory. Even with my eyes closed, the sound was strange, muted and gentled by the rugs and tapestries. This room was kept scrupulously clean; instead of dust, I could smell the lingering scent of tea and porridge. But when the breeze came into the room, it carried the sour smell of rot, like decaying corpses. I shuddered.

There was a knock at the door and I opened it. It was Arianna. “Excuse me,” she said, flinching.

“Come in,” I said, backing away from the door. “What is it?”

Arianna carried a colorful bundle in her arms. “Dresses,” she said, holding them out toward me. “Signore Teleso sent them for you. You can pick out whichever one you like.” I didn’t make any move to take them, so she laid them on the bed, shaking each one out and smoothing the fabric.

“I want to keep the clothes I have,” I said.

“He said for you to wear what you like,” she said.

“Good.”

Arianna brushed out the last dress, then looked up at me hesitantly. “You have not been in Ravenna long, Signora Eliana?”

“No.”

“Be careful,” she said. “Your life will be easier if you
don’t make him angry.” Arianna looked back down at the dresses. “These are nice dresses. They would look lovely on you.” I didn’t respond, and she excused herself, closing the door behind her.

I went back to practicing.

Teleso swung the door open without knocking. “Good morning,” he said amiably, and closed the door behind him.

“Hello,” I said, lowering my bow but not my violin.

Teleso looked me up and down, then glanced at the bed. “Were none of the dresses satisfactory to you?”

“I like these clothes,” I said.

Teleso walked over to the bed, held up one of the dresses. It was a wine-red velvet. “How about this one?” he asked.

“I like these clothes,” I said again.

“At least let the servants wash them.” He ambled back over to stand in front of me. “You can wear one of these in the meantime.” He laid the dress across my hands.

I stroked the fabric as I held it up against myself. It was almost as soft as cat’s fur. “It’s made for a smaller woman,” I said with a relieved smile. “There’s no way this would fit me.”

Teleso scowled and took the dress back. “We’ll see if we can find something your size.”

“I’m very tall,” I said. “For a woman.”

“Indeed.” Teleso looked me up and down again, slowly, then abruptly ordered, “Sit.” He gestured toward the chair.

I sat. Teleso remained standing, pacing over to the bed to toss the dress down.

“You’re likely to be here for a while,” he said, “so please understand that this advice is for your own good.” He glanced back at me. “That girl, Lucia. She’s trouble,
she’s
in
trouble, and she’s likely to get in
worse
trouble. Steer clear of her.” He glanced at me again. I tried to keep my face bland, but I could feel a flush rising to my cheeks and I knew I was glaring at him. “There is one person here who can make your life significantly easier, and that’s me. You should
want
to stay on my
good
side.”

“Am I on your good side now?” I asked.

“Of course,” Teleso said. He picked the dresses up from the bed, shook them out, and draped them across his arm. “I’ll see about finding something that might fit you better,” he said, and went back out.

Arianna returned sometime later with a new set of dresses. “These are larger,” she said, unfolding one and holding it up.