S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

“Five thousand solas to the family. .” cu’Belli repeated, his eyes lifted to the frescoed ceiling as if totting up invisible figures there. He waved a fork whose silver tines held a chunk of dripping meat. If Orlandi knew the man at all, he was trying to figure out how he might acquire some of Vajiki cu’Seranta’s newfound wealth. “She must be truly unusual. What did the teni in charge of the acolytes say?” He placed the meat in his mouth and chewed contentedly and loudly.

“Very little of any help,” Orlandi answered brusquely. Especially since U’Teni cu’Dosteau is the Archigos’ friend, and hardly sympathetic with our cause. That damned dwarf. . Orlandi cleared his throat. One of cu’Belli’s faults was his tendency to ask questions as if he and Orlandi were somehow, impossibly, peers. “And this is not what I brought you here to discuss, in any case.”

Cu’Belli accepted the rebuke with a shrug, swallowing and taking a sip of the wine. “My apologies, of course, A’Teni. I just wonder if perhaps Vajiki cu’Seranta will be pleased with his payment from the Archigos.

The family’s debts, from what I understand, are substantial, and there will be far less than five thousand solas remaining after they’re paid.

Along with that, the family servants who have been dismissed over the last few years tell me that Vajiki cu’Seranta was in his daughter’s bedchamber at. . odd times. We may be able to exploit that and his greed, and make him pliable to our needs.”

Orlandi’s lips curled into a near-snarl at cu’Belli’s use of the plural possessive. “ My needs,” he said, “go well beyond the cu’Seranta family.

You’re a crude man, Carlo, and you think crudely. You’d use a hammer when a pinprick would do. It may be that I’ll look to Vajiki cu’Seranta later, but for now, I’m far more interested in what you have to tell me about your trip to Firenzcia. I expected a packet. .”

“Ah, that. .” Cu’Belli put the fork down on the plate with a clatter that made Orlandi’s eyes narrow. The man rummaged in a large leather pouch hanging from his chair. “While I was in Brezno arranging for a shipment of snowstout hides-and I must say, A’Teni, that they are beautiful hides and wonderfully soft and thick. Three of them would make a most attractive overcloak for you, and I would of course give you a generous discount-a messenger gave this to me for you.” He held up a small bundle wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine.

“I couldn’t help but feel that there was a large seal on the envelope underneath.” He favored Orlandi with a conspiratorial smile. “While I was there, I heard that Hirzg ca’Vorl has been making overtures to the Numetodo provinces against the Hirzgin’s strong advice. It would seem that the Hirzg has stronger ambitions than simply being related by marriage to the Kraljica. Maybe the Faith has something more substantial to offer him than a few Numetodo gibbeted in Brezno?”

Orlandi snatched the packet from cu’Belli, who snickered. “Have you been sufficiently refreshed, Carlo? If so, then I’ll direct my aide to give you payment for three snowstout hides, and to make arrangements for you to broker the sale of this season’s Brezno Temple wines.”

Cu’Belli took a sip of the wine on the table. “If all the bottles are as excellent as this one, I will secure you the best prices in the Holdings.

You anticipate a good harvest?”

“We pray for it,” Orlandi answered. “As you should pray for continued good fortune, Vajiki.”

“Always, A’Teni. You know that I’m a devout follower of Concenzia.” He ostentatiously pressed clasped hands to forehead before pushing his chair back from the table. “A pleasure doing business with you, A’Teni, as always. May Cenzi keep you well, my friend.”

Business is indeed all it is. Orlandi smiled at cu’Belli as he left the room, but it was only a practiced and meaningless movement of his lips. And perhaps it’s time I look for a better, more grateful, and less talkative partner.

As the door closed, Orlandi placed the packet on the table. With the knife cu’Belli had been using to cut the meat, he sliced the twine, then pulled apart the paper wrapper. He had little doubt that cu’Belli had already done the same, but the seal on the thick white envelope below seemed intact, the Hirzg’s monogram-a “V” composed of twin inclined swords wrapped in garlands of ivy-pressed deeply into the red wax. Orlandi doubted that cu’Belli had the courage or the skill to have taken off and reattached the seal, but it hardly mattered. The letter inside the envelope was written in a fair hand, but the words were unintelligible: coded.

Orlandi seated himself at the table, pushing aside cu’Belli’s plate and goblet, and spread out the paper. From a drawer under the table, he took a bottle of ink and a stylus; from a pocket in his vestments, he withdrew a disk composed of two dials of thin board, one slightly smaller than the other, both inscribed along their edges with the letters of the alphabet, though the sequence of the inner dial was scrambled.

He looked again at the Hirzg’s message-the number of letters in the first word told him how many steps to advance the inner dial, as well as the number to advance it for each succeeding word in the actual message. Hirzg ca’Vorl had an identical disk.

Laboriously, Orlandi decoded the message, turning the inner dial with each word and writing down the decoded snippets. By the time he finished, he was smiling.

Taking the letter, he rose from the table and went to the fireplace on the far wall, where he fed the missive to the flames one sheet at a time. After the last sheet curled into ash, he returned to the window, gazing out beyond the rooftops of Ile Verte to where-a hundred and more miles beyond-the Hirzg arrayed his army in Firenzcia.

When I’m the Archigos. .

The pieces were all in place, and Orlandi was seated on both sides of the board moving them. It didn’t matter who won this game: Justi ca’Mazzak might become Kraljiki (and perhaps he would even be Justi ca’Cellibrecca at that point. .), or perhaps Hirzg Jan might sit on the Sun Throne on the Isle A’Kralji with the Ring of the Kralji on his finger. Orlandi didn’t care-either way, he would depose the dwarf and the Concord A’Teni would name him Archigos even if the dwarf had named a successor. He would have the title that should have been his all along. The dwarf was of weak faith and had far too much sympathy for those whose beliefs differed from the correct interpretation of the Toustour, and for those who would bend the laws of the Divolonte.

Orlandi was furious at how ca’Millac could tolerate an “envoy” from the Numetodo in his own city; Orlandi had shown in Brezno what a genuine Archigos’ response should have been to those who mocked Cenzi and Concenzia. The Numetodo disgusted him. They believed in no gods. Worse, they believed that they could do what was forbidden in the Divolonte and use the Ilmodo without the Faith, without training from Concenzia, without the blessing of the Archigos. They believed that it was not faith that was necessary, but only reason. They were the true enemies. They would destroy Concenzia, and in doing that they would also destroy Nessantico and the Holdings. Their use of the Second World’s power mocked Cenzi. Their souls were already doomed; Orlandi would also doom their bodies.

Cenzi was on Orlandi’s side. He could feel the strength Cenzi lent him, stronger each day.

He lifted his clasped hands to his forehead. He prayed, and he thought, and he imagined.

When I’m the Archigos. .

Ana cu’Seranta