Turning the Storm (4 page)

“That's the Eliana I remember,” Lia said.

“Then the Fedeli came.” I poured myself more wine; my hand trembled slightly. “Just before Mascherata. Celia tried to convince us all to turn ourselves in. But Mira would have had to flee, and Bella was ready to die for her newfound faith rather than forswear it. So we decided to brazen it out, though Celia nearly turned us all in anyway.”

“But she didn't.”

“No. On the night of Mascherata, they sent us all to dance in the courtyard—girls and boys together. Bella was playing. Very late that night, one of the Fedeli suddenly tore Bella's trumpet out of her hands and told her to swear loyalty to the Lady. When she said she was a Redentore, they cut her throat.” I knew that Lia would look horrified, that however many awful things she'd seen here at Chira, the murder of her old friend would
be no less dreadful. So I didn't look up. I fished Bella's cross out from under my shirt and held it out. “This was Bella's. I found it in the courtyard the next day and pocketed it.”

“Bella was wearing a cross while the Fedeli were at the conservatory?” Lia raised her wine cup in salute. “That's our Bella.”

“In the spring, I came back to our room one day, and there were a half dozen men lying in wait for Mira. They made me wait with them. One of them was a mage.” The wine tasted like ashes; I forced myself to take another sip. “It turned out that Mira was a mage, too, from the Circle. She'd run away and hidden at the Verdiano Rural Conservatory because she'd found out that it was the Circle's magic—” I set down my wine very carefully. “It was the Circle's magic that drained the Verdiani lands, that created the wasteland.”

Lia had not known this. She went white, and then carefully raised one eyebrow. “I should have guessed. We can't use witchlight here.”

“Nor anywhere else in the wasteland.” I sighed. “Liemo—that was the mage who'd come for her—tried to persuade Mira to go back to Cuore with him. She refused. So he had his guardsmen take me hostage. They were going to shoot me in the hand.” My hand curled tightly now around the wine cup. “Mira used her magic to destroy the bolt before it hit me. And then she just crumbled. She started to weep, and she followed him like a tethered animal. He'd brought an extra horse for her, and she rode away with him.”

The room was quiet. We could hear noise from beyond the building walls, but it seemed a long way away.

“Did Mira say anything? Did you say anything to her?”

“I begged her not to go,” I said. “I followed her to the courtyard and shouted for her not to listen to him. And when I knew she was leaving, no matter what I said, I sang to her—we all did. Giula, Flavia, Celia, and I. We sang her one of the Redentori songs she'd taught us. But she just rode away.”

Lia had eaten the last of the food from the cupboard. I got up, stretched my arms. “Did you want more cheese?”

“I wouldn't refuse it.”

I poked my head out the door and spotted Michel. “Go find me some cheese, would you?” I said. “I'm with an old friend.”

Back downstairs, Lia said, “There must be more to your story. Were you expelled from the conservatory for singing to Mira?”

“Oh, goodness,” I said. “No. But I didn't want to stay any longer. The Circle sponsored me, and I didn't want to take anything from them. And I wanted to tell my parents what had caused the famine. So I left, and so did Giula. We walked together as far as Pluma, and then went our separate ways. My home village, Doratura, was just a few days from Pluma.”

“Was?”

“When I got there, it had been destroyed. There were refugees that had come up from the wasteland, and soldiers that came down from Cuore to push them back. Doratura was caught between them. My whole family was dead.”

“I'm so sorry,” Lia whispered.

“I didn't know that for certain, though, when I first reached my village; there had been a few survivors, and I was told they'd all been taken to a place called Ravenna, in the wasteland. So I went to Ravenna. That
was a place like Chira—refugees held prisoner, building the wall. Starving.” Lia nodded. “Within a day or two I fell in with this group that was supposed to be planning a breakout. The person who approached me was Lucia. Her cousin Giovanni was there as well— though he was rude, petulant, and useless. Then there was a man named Beneto and a woman named Jesca. Giovanni, Beneto, and Jesca were all from the university in Cuore, and were officers in the Reform movement. They kind of adopted me—well, except for Giovanni, who'd hated me on sight. It turned out that Giovanni was supposed to be doing arms training for young men in Ravenna, secretly, so he was trying to make them all learn how to fight with swords. Gentlemen's weapons.” I shook my head. “I'd barely met Beneto and Jesca before Teleso, the military commander, had them both hanged for causing trouble. This was a catastrophe, because the next person in line to command was Giovanni. And then Teleso had me brought into the keep.”

“Why?”

“He said he wanted to hear me play.” My ears and cheeks started to burn. “He acted like he wanted something else, though.”

“I think I can guess,” Lia said.

“Well, he didn't want it enough to force the point. He said he wasn't interested in unwilling women—though I think he was ready to stretch the definition of
willing
. Anyway. He also wanted me to play for the funeral of Beneto and Jesca. Both Teleso and the Ravenna reformers wanted the same thing—a riot. The reformers who were left thought that they could use the riot to break out. Teleso thought he could use the riot to kill a whole lot of Ravenessi and ease pressure on the food supplies.
And he had soldiers assigned to shoot people he particularly didn't like, such as Lucia.”

“He needed a riot for that? Why?”

“
That
is an interesting story in itself. There was a soldier named Mario who had a strong influence over the other soldiers. Mario was a good man, and he thought it was wrong to shoot without provocation. So if Teleso wanted the soldiers to shoot down a prisoner, he needed to make sure that the prisoner provoked them.”

Lia looked down at the table, a bit ruefully. “There wasn't anyone like that here.”

“We were lucky.”

“Was Mario Redentore?”

“No, definitely not,” I said. “He believed devoutly in the Lady. His faith inspired him—a lot.” Michel arrived with a basket of cheese, bread, and wine. I poured more wine for both of us and carved off a wedge of cheese. “Where was I?”

“I think you were telling me how you became the Head Troublemaker in Ravenna,” Lia said.

“That's right. The funeral. Teleso had me play the Redentore funeral music, so that people could dance. Well, I knew the riot was coming, and when I saw the soldiers surrounding the dancers, I was able to defuse things so there wasn't a riot. Teleso was furious. He had me thrown into the dungeon, and the next morning, he had me dragged outside again. I defied him publicly, and he had me flogged. It sounds strange, but
that
gave me what I needed to take over as ‘generale’ of the Ravenessi army. Because I'd defied him, and because I didn't cry under the lash.”

“What did Giovanni think of that?”

“He was furious. But he got used to the idea eventually. To train people to get ready for the breakout, we
used a game, Shepherd-and-Wolves, so that they learned to fight together. And then the morning after Dono alla Magia, I led the uprising.”

“And you won—that's pretty obvious.”

“We did, though a lot of people died, including Mario. Teleso caught me alone, and nearly killed me. I beat him thanks to Giovanni's weaponry lessons.” I gave Lia a rueful grin. “We've learned to get along. Officially we're both generali of the Lupi.”

“And unofficially?”

“We're both addressed as ‘Generale,’ and people do what I tell them to do.” Mostly. “After the breakout, we sent the children and the people who didn't want to fight up to Doratura, my old village. It's not in the wasteland, and it could be rebuilt. That's where Giula went; she ended up in Ravenna for a bit, too.” I left out the part about Giula becoming Teleso's mistress. Lia's opinion of Giula was low enough already. “The rest of us freed two more of the slave labor camps, and now Chira. And that's it. That's my story.”

Lia raised her wine cup to salute me.

“You looked surprised when I said that the famine was caused by magery,” I said. “You didn't know that?”

“No,” Lia said. “I did know it couldn't be just salt; that couldn't do this, no matter what the Circle said. But magery …” She considered. “It makes sense.” She poured herself more wine. “So do I get sent off to Doratura? Or can I stay with you and be a soldier?”

“You can do whatever you want. It's only the children we send away. Would you want to join the army?”

“I don't know,” she said. “I'll have to think about it.”

“You'll have until tomorrow morning. That's when we'll be moving on.” Something occurred to me. “What exactly had you heard about us? The Lupi, I mean?”

“They started bringing in more soldiers about a month ago—just a few at first, but more and more lately. Of course, we all wondered why. We'd never caused any trouble. But rumors came with the soldiers.” Lia stretched, gathering her thoughts. “First we heard there'd been a breakout at another camp, and they were here to make sure nothing like that happened in Chira. Of course, that gave people ideas; if someone else could manage it, maybe we could, too. There was talk for a while, but then Demetrio hanged all the talkers he could find, and then some.” She shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. “The next set of soldiers brought word of a rebel army. They called you the
Cani
, dogs, but we could tell they were afraid. You'd had some success; that was all we heard.

“The last group of soldiers knew some names. Eliana, Giovanni, Lucia. We whispered your names back and forth as we worked on the wall. The initial story was that you were in charge, and Giovanni your lover.”

I choked on my wine. “Giovanni is
not
my lover.”

“Well, it made a good story.” Lia half grinned at my expression. “Lucia was said to be Giovanni's sister—”

“Cousin.”

Lia raised an eyebrow from behind her wine cup. “And the story said you were all apostates—Redentori.”

“Some of us are, but not all. Mario would be here now if he hadn't died freeing Ravenna—and he was
not
Redentore.”

“Somehow they missed the violinist part, though, or I'd have wondered if it was you. I'd assumed it was someone older … Anyway. About five days ago, Callista thought she saw someone watching us from the crest of one of the hills nearby. There was a great deal of whispering about that, but it was kept very
quiet. If it
was
the first advance of the Cani—the Lupi— as we hoped, the last thing we wanted to do was tip off any of the guards.”

We had been fortunate. “I'm glad you kept your mouths shut.”

“So am I.” Lia smiled. “Most of the victims of Demetrio's purges were men, so there are more women here. I think women are better at keeping secrets.”

That reminded me of Giovanni. “I should go back up to Demetrio's study and see how Giovanni's work is going.” I finished the last of my wine. “Want to come?”

Lia shrugged. “I certainly don't have anything else to do with myself.”

We went up the short stair from the kitchen to the main floor, and down the hall to the study. Lupi saluted as I passed; Chirani refugees stared after me, wide-eyed. Some of them also saluted; a few of them knelt to brush the fabric of my trousers as I passed, as if I were a high-ranking priestess. The Lupi guarding the study stood aside to let us in.

Giovanni sat at the desk, papers piled around him. “Found anything?” I asked.

Giovanni looked up and glared at me bitterly. “I think Demetrio burned most of the important papers before he killed himself. But it's difficult to tell, as he kept the rest in some sort of code. Either that or his handwriting was really atrocious.”

Lia slid unobtrusively into one of the chairs near the fireplace to watch us. “Let me see,” I said, and picked up one of the papers. “How are you sorting, if you don't know what anything says?”

“Based on where I found it. Those were in the second drawer.”

The paper was covered in scrawled symbols. “Do
you think there's a symbol that goes with each letter?”

I asked.

“How would I know?” Giovanni said.

“You went to the university, didn't you?”

“Give it a rest, Eliana,” he said. “No, we didn't cover secret codes at the university. If you don't have any ideas, put it back where you found it; I want to keep stuff in some sort of order.”

“May I see?” Lia asked.

Giovanni looked up. “Sorry,” I said to Lia. “I should have introduced you. Lia, this is Generale Giovanni. Giovanni, this is Lia, my roommate from the conservatory.”

His eyes flew wide. “The mage?”

“No, don't be ridiculous. Lia was my roommate
before
Mira.”

“Oh,” he said, losing interest. I handed Lia one of the papers. She pursed her lips as she studied it. “Do you think you can figure it out?” Giovanni asked her.

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “Can I look at the other papers?”

“Help yourself,” Giovanni said. Lia started sorting through the piles, pulling out a clean sheet of paper to take notes.

There wasn't really room for me at the desk, so I went to poke through the cabinets. I found an almost-empty bottle of potent wine and a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon. The letters weren't in code. The handwriting was feminine, and after a few moments of reading I concluded they were from Demetrio's sweetheart.

I nearly tossed them aside; I didn't like thinking of my enemies as the sorts of people who had sweethearts. Besides, the family letters we'd found at other
camps had been uniformly useless. But there was so little here that we were even able to read, I sat down with them anyway, just for a moment.

Demetrio's lover was named Clara, and she was a lover but not a wife, because the Lady had failed to bless their assignations with a child. It was not a common situation, but it did happen; Clara had come under quite a bit of pressure from her mother and the local priestess to end things with Demetrio and seek a husband that the Lady might show more approval of. It wasn't until the third letter that I realized the priestess she referred to so casually was one of the most high ranking in Cuore—a name even I was familiar with, though admittedly I'd heard it from Lucia. Clara was a lady of quite a significant rank, who lived within the enclave of the Circle and the Emperor, and her letters detailed extensive gossip regarding court politics.