S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

He listened to Ana’s fledgling Admonition from the High Lectern. Her Admonition was largely a tribute to Archigos Dhosti’s memory and a plea for tolerance.

“. . remember that Archigos Dhosti realized that there are more things in the world than we can imagine, and that even Nessantico must change. With Kraljica Marguerite, we were lulled by peace for too long a time, and we woke to find that there were movements afoot that we had not seen because we didn’t want to see them. We were afraid. We can no longer be afraid; we can no longer close our eyes and pretend that all is as we wish it to be. We must embrace those who can help us, because without their help, we cannot survive. My. .” Mahri heard the pause, saw the almost-amused grimace that accompanied the hesitation. “. . predecessor as Archigos had a fondness for quoting the Divolonte. I tell you that I hold those laws in no less regard than he.

Let me quote: ‘As child grows to adult, so must the Divolonte grow.’ We have no choice but to accept such change now. The Concenzia Faith

is emerging from a long, quiet childhood; from the sheltering arms of its parents into a world that is dangerous and uncomfortable. We are Nessantico. We are the Holdings, and we are great and we are vast, but there are those who would destroy our greatness with their petty, narrow concerns. I tell you this: to contend with the rest of the world, we must also be willing to learn from it.”

There was silence in the temple when she finished speaking, then came a susurrus of whispers among the ca’-and-cu’ gathered there. He saw them lean toward each other with faces grim and frowning; he could see the mouthed word “Numetodo” on their lips even if he could not hear it. If Ana had hoped to convince the ca’-and-cu’, she’d not succeeded, not if their posture was any indication. Even the Kraljiki, in attendance in the royal alcove to the left of the High Lectern, seemed uncomfortable with her words, and none of the a’teni on the dais with her were smiling. Karl was in attendance also, in a rear alcove of the temple with people who Mahri knew to be among the remaining local Numetodo. They were also grim, watching the reaction.

The rest of the service went quickly. When Ana gave the Blessing of Cenzi to the attendants, they left the temple quickly while Ana and the a’teni went to the vestry at the rear of the building.

Mahri, in his niche, sighed and closed his eyes. His hand touched the glass ball in its pouch. She would want this now. He knew it. He hurried toward the vestry, stopping in the shadows at the edge of the nave. Several of the e’ and o’teni attendants waited there for their superiors to emerge, talking softly among themselves. Ana and the other a’teni of the Conclave were inside the closed doors.

He could feel the X’in Ka swirling about him, and he let down the barriers of his mind to bring it in. He spoke softly so that the teni would not hear him; his hands swayed and turned and cupped the air. This spell was long and complicated, and it would utterly exhaust him later.

It would also cost him a few years of his life. But again it was necessary, as it had been necessary in the past.

He knew the sacrifices that were demanded of him. He’d agreed to them long, long ago.

The world shifted around him. The very air hushed. The sound of the e’ and o’teni’s voices became low and almost unheard. He moved, and it was as if he were pushing his body through sand. Each step was a labor, and it seemed to take him days to reach the vestry doors a dozen strides away and slide past the living statues of the teni. It took nearly all his strength to push one of the doors open and shut it again.

Around him, Ana and the a’teni were frozen, caught in the midst of removing their gilded outer vestments from the service. The crown of the Archigos lay on the seat of the chair next to Ana; she was still leaning over, her hands open as if she had just laid down the golden band.

He went up to her and put his finger along the side of her neck. He took her presence in his mind, holding it. He felt her lurch into motion, heard her gasp.

“It’s just my finger,” Mahri said in his broken, raspy voice. “It might as easily have been a knife.”

Ana straightened, taking a stumbling step back from him. She glanced quickly around the vestry, seeing the others snared in midmotion. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together. “You betrayed me, Mahri. You gave me to the Kraljiki.”

“Yes,” he answered calmly. “I gave you to the Kraljiki. And look at where you are now.”

“You didn’t know that would happen.”

“It was by far the most likely scenario. Tell me, Ana, if I had advised you and Karl to surrender yourselves to the Kraljiki, would you have done it? You don’t have to answer; I already know. And so do you.”

She started to protest, but he spoke over her. The X’in Ka burned inside him as he held them both in the spell, searing him from the inside; he wanted to scream with the pain. He could almost feel the new scars rippling his already-savaged face. He had to release her, quickly, or the fire would begin to consume her as well. “Not much time,” he said. “I came to give you this.” He untied the pouch from his belt and handed it to her. It seemed heavier than before as he placed it in her palm. “Inside the ball is this very spell,” he told her, gesturing at the unmoving people around them. “It takes you outside the constraints of time. Say my name when you hold the ball in your hand, and the spell will release.”

“Why?” The single word hung there as she looked at the pouch, as she glanced at the glittering orb inside, shimmering with soft orange light.

“You will need it. Think, Ana: it could have been a knife at your throat and not my finger. I give you the same power-to hold time still and do whatever it is you need to do. I’ll tell you this, also, a saying we have in the Westlands: a snake without its head cannot strike you.”

She shook her head, but Mahri closed his eyes and released her from the spell. She froze in mid-protest, and he walked laboriously to the door, as rapidly as he could in the gelid air. As soon as he was out of the temple, he released the spell entirely, almost falling to the stone flags of the court as the X’in Ka flowed out from him and the world surged into motion again.

He hurried away toward Oldtown, toward the bed into which he would collapse for the next few days.

Ana ca’Seranta

“…a snake without its head cannot strike,” Mahri said.

Ana shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean,” she started to say, but a sudden disorientation came over her in that moment, and Mahri vanished while the teni in the vestry with her lurched back to sudden life.

The disorientation felt oddly familiar. She couldn’t quite decide why.

She was holding the pouch in her hand. The leather was supple and worn; the weight inside was heavy and she remembered the glow of it, the color of a dying sun behind clouds. She tucked it quickly into a pocket of her green robes. None of the a’teni noticed; none of them were looking at her. None of them had looked at her since she’d left the High Lectern. Colin ca’Cille, Alain ca’Fountaine, Joca ca’Sevini, all the others: they were old men, all of them. At least a few of them had har-bored aspirations to be Archigos themselves, and they would all rather have been in their own cities than trapped here in Nessantico with the Hirzg’s army approaching. She could feel their resentment, palpable.

“You’re all blind,” she told them. They glanced at her now, startled.

“You’re so folded into yourselves that you can’t see,” she told them. Her hands were trembling, as if from the exhaustion of a spell. “I need all of you to leave me now. Send Kenne in to me as you go.”