Turning the Storm (15 page)

My knees were shaking too badly to dance. “I will stay if I must, but normally I provide God's music; my dancing is clumsy.”

“Go in peace, then,” he said.

I clasped his hand. “Thank you, brother,” I said, and fled the house as fast as my shaking legs would let me.

∗    ∗    ∗

∗    ∗    ∗

I woke with a start, my hands shaking. I made a witchlight, and put a kettle on my fire to make tea. It would take some time to dispel the dream, and I didn't think I wanted to go back to sleep right away, even if I could. My window was shuttered for the night, but I suspected it was nearly dawn in any case.

Trying to think about anything other than my dream, I made sure my appearance was in order in case I had any unexpected visitors, and made my tea. My room had a small table, and I sat down to drink tea and think about the events of the previous evening.

Redentori in Cuore, and at least one from the enclave. No, wait. I thought back to the room of masked
people: they were all wearing medallions, all stamped in silver or gold. They were
all
from the enclave.

It wasn't surprising, really, when I thought about it. The Old Way had been making a resurgence throughout Verdia, not just among the Lupi; of course there would be Redentori here as well, and of course they'd be far more cautious. I wondered how many were spies— I could almost imagine repeated infiltration creating a secret Redentore cadre made up entirely of Fedeli spies. But, no. If they were all spies, they'd have killed me. I wondered if I were in danger, since any spies at that meeting had seen my face and knew I was a musician. I hoped they'd consider me too small a bird to bother hunting. I couldn't imagine leaving already; I hadn't learned, or done, anything
useful
yet.

Redentori in the enclave—some musicians, but some important enough to rate gold medallions. I
ought
to be able to find a way to use that. The Emperor controlled the army, and the Circle feared a strong army; the army without the Circle was nothing, except in the areas drained of magic, where the Circle was less than nothing. Perhaps one of the nobles I'd seen last night was close to the Emperor.

Outside my window, I could hear the cacophony of birds that meant that dawn was well and truly breaking, and I padded over to open the shutters. I leaned out to latch them open, and noticed something bright on my windowsill.

A spray of pink rosebuds. I picked it up, puzzled. Was this a token of love from a secret admirer? I sincerely hoped not; someone's romantic interest in me could make my life much more complicated. But it seemed more likely that someone had mistaken my window for someone else's, or that the flower had been
set aside briefly during a flirtation and forgotten, my windowsill only a convenient shelf. I left the flowers on my table and went to find some breakfast.

Ulisse knocked on my door while I was practicing that afternoon. “Can I come in?” he asked. “I don't want Valentino to see me.”

I stood back and gestured Ulisse in. “I don't have anything to tell you.”

“He didn't go out?”

“I don't know. I saw
someone
leave, and I followed. But it turned out not to be Valentino.” Ulisse started to say something in a wheedling tone, and I shook my head. “The man I followed almost killed me, Ulisse; I am
not
trying this again.”

Ulisse fell silent, abashed. “I'm sorry, Daniele. I didn't mean to send you into danger. Valentino would have been annoyed if he'd seen someone follow him, but he wouldn't have tried—well, of course not. I'm sorry.”

This seemed to be a good time to ask Ulisse some questions of my own, while he was off-balance and feeling guilty. “Quirino tried to explain the ‘gold’ and ‘green’ factions to me, but I'm not sure I really understood. You oppose sending the army into the wasteland against the Lupi because you're on the side of the Circle?”

Ulisse flashed me a grin. “I think Quirino made it sound simpler than it is. All the greens oppose raising a new army to crush the Lupi. Some of the greens
are
Circle loyalists, and want the Emperor to keep the army out of the wasteland because that's what the Circle wants. And others want the Emperor to keep the army out of the way because they are perfectly willing to hand the Circle a shovel and let them dig their own grave. You can probably guess which group I'm in.”

“And the golds?”

“The golds want the Emperor to raise a new army right away to crush the Lupi. Some are Fedeli supporters. Some are Circle supporters who don't want to take any chances and don't think the Circle knows what's in its own best interests. And some are hoping that the Circle is right to fear a powerful, confident army.”

“Which group is the dreaded Signora Clara in?”

“You know, I have no idea,” Ulisse said. “She keeps her dice well hidden. I suppose if I had to guess, I'd say she's a friend to the Fedeli; she threatened Valentino with a heresy accusation, after all.”

“If it was Clara who left the heretical icon in his room.”

“If it wasn't, it was someone acting on her orders,” Ulisse said. “I wish I knew if Valentino was behaving himself.”

“I did my best,” I said, and sighed, a bit theatrically.

“I know, I know. And I appreciate it.”

“I had another question about the factions,” I said. “What does the Emperor think? Does anyone know?”

“Well, so far he hasn't sent the army down to the wasteland, so he's siding with the green faction,” Ulisse said. “Of course, no one knows why. Is he on the side of the Circle? Is he secretly wearing the colors of the Lupi? Is he just more afraid of the Circle than he is of the Fedeli? No one knows.”

“What does the Emperor have to fear from the Circle
or
the Fedeli?” I asked.

Ulisse looked startled. “You don't know? Well, of course. You were at the conservatory. Emperor Iago died last year—you heard
that
at least.” I nodded. “He died of a very sudden illness, and he was not a weak man, or an old one. It is commonly believed that he
was poisoned by a political enemy. Of course, no one knows who. I think the Fedeli did it, personally, but I've heard it argued persuasively that it was the Circle. At any rate, Emperor Travan has plenty to fear, and no way of knowing
whom
to fear. I don't envy the Emperor.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“Me?” Ulisse gave me a broad grin. “I've seen him from a distance, but we've never been introduced.” Ulisse shrugged. “Mostly, the Emperor tries to stay out of the way of both the Fedeli and the Circle. I've heard some rumors implying odd things about the Emperor's sexual appetites, but I think those are just someone's idea of a good dirty joke. He's a very quiet man, very reclusive. Even when his father was alive, when I'd see him at a court event, he'd be avoiding the other people there as assiduously as possible. So if he
does
have unusual sexual tastes, they probably tend more toward the solitary pleasures, eh?” Ulisse chortled at the look on my face, then elbowed me and nodded toward the flowers on my table. “Nice roses. I hope
you
aren't planning on offering them to a pretty girl in a yellow dress.”

“Oh … no.” I actually found myself blushing. “I found these on my windowsill this morning.”

“Really?” Ulisse arched his eyebrow. “You've certainly become a heartbreaker quickly.”

“It was probably intended for Valentino.”

“Maybe it was that Fedele priestess you play for. Isn't her name Rosa?”

“Rosalba,” I said. “And I very much doubt these are from her.”

Ulisse shook his head. “Well, thank you for your
efforts, and I'm sorry again that you nearly got into trouble. I'll leave you to your practicing.”

I stepped out later that afternoon to play in the garden: I stood beside a fountain and chose the tune of a romantic ballad, which attracted a number of sweet young couples. I didn't see Sura anywhere; with any luck, Clara was keeping her mewed up inside East Court, where she couldn't get Valentino into trouble. I did catch a glimpse of Rosalba, who gave me a friendly wave; I dipped my head in response.

When evening came, I sat down to put away my violin, and noticed that a yellow flower like a lily had been left on the edge of the fountain, close to where I was playing. I dismissed it as a flirtation device that had been accidentally mislaid, and left it behind when I headed to dinner.

∗    ∗    ∗

I had intended to go down to the university district after dinner, just to give Michel a quick report. I didn't have that much to tell him, but I wanted to see a face I could trust. But as I was taking a second piece of bread, Fabia came looking for me and Valentino. “Egidio's quartet was supposed to play for the Emperor's banquet tonight, but Egidio sprained his wrist today, so we're filling in. Go get your instruments and meet me by the fountain.” Valentino crammed the slice of meat he was eating into his mouth, and I resisted the urge to do the same with my bread; if I was hungry later, I could send a servant for a snack.

Fabia led us to the Imperial Palace. I had been impressed by the welcoming banquet I had attended, but this party made that one look shabby and informal.

Everyone in attendance here was among the nobility, high-ranked enough to live in the East Court if not the Imperial Palace itself, and people were dressed in their best clothing—dark green velvet with a pattern woven in with red thread; heavy yellow fabric that reflected the light like glass. The nobles had separated out by color, moving to opposite sides of the banquet hall, and very few seemed to have chosen neutrality tonight.

“That's Clara,” Valentino whispered as we took our places in the gallery. I peered down at the lady he had indicated. It's difficult to judge appearance from above and I could not see her face from where we were, but even from above I could see the straightness of her back and the set of her jaw and shoulders. This was a lady who knew and appreciated power.

I turned back to Valentino after a moment. “You
flirted
with her?”

Valentino shrugged. “I was new here.”

I shook my head. Only Valentino.

Fabia tapped lightly on the rail and Valentino and I took our places and tuned our instruments.

The Emperor's entrance was announced with a blast of trumpets. I rose with everyone else as he came in, studying him curiously. He had not in fact attended my welcome banquet; this was the first I'd seen him. He wasn't as tall as I'd expected; of course, no one described Emperor Travan as “short,” but he was. He was richly dressed in dark blue, with a golden eagle clasp holding his cape at the shoulder. He flicked the cape neatly out of his way as he sat down. I took my seat on Fabia's signal, then struck up some lively dinner music.

From where I sat, I had an excellent view of Emperor Travan, and I studied him throughout the meal, paying
just enough attention to Fabia to stay on the beat. Various nobles attempted to attract the Emperor's attention throughout the meal, and he gave each the barest attention, shrugging off the servile smiles everyone seemed to have for him. My first thought was that he was cold and unfriendly, but as the meal wore on, it became clear that he was simply miserable, going through the motions because that was what was expected of a monarch.

I could hear the general murmur of conversation and the occasional high-pitched giggle, but I could make out no conversation from the musicians' gallery, even during our breaks. I suspected nothing of consequence would be discussed at such a meal anyway, but it would have been nice to have that confirmed.

Toward the end of the meal I moved my attention from the Emperor to his guests. They had seated themselves along color lines, with the gold-clad nobles to the Emperor's left and the green-clad to his right. I recognized some of the faces from my visits to the gardens. Valentino's erstwhile lover Sura did not appear to be in attendance. However, as I scanned the gold-clad nobles, my eyes met those of one of the ladies. Her eyes glinted slightly as she looked at me and I realized that I was looking into the face of Signora Clara. My own eyes widened involuntarily as I waited for her gaze to move on, but she held my eyes—she had been watching me, and was not displeased to have been discovered. I had rehearsed the piece we were playing enough times that my hands and fingers continued to play, even as my face went hot and cold and I almost panicked. Then Clara dismissed me, turning away to talk quietly with the man next to her at the table, and my arms went watery with relief.

The rest of our performance passed without incident. We had only been engaged for half the banquet, to provide the guests with some variety. As we packed up our instruments to move out of the gallery and let in a small ensemble of woodwinds, I noticed one other person looking at me—the Emperor. He looked away quickly when our eyes met, so quickly that I almost thought I had been mistaken. I looked up hesitantly as I tightened the last of the buckles of my violin case, and caught him looking at me again.

“Did you see Signora Clara staring at you?” Valentino asked as the servants brought our cloaks to us and escorted us to the palace door.

“No,” I said. “Was she?”
Why was Clara staring at me? Did she suspect? Why was Travan staring at me? What on earth did they want
?