S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

“And spoil the mystery?” Karl thought a grim smile creased Mahri’s scarred, distorted mouth, but it might have been a trick of the shadows.

“If I were you, I’d be wondering what Nessantico might be like if A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca became Archigos and the A’Kralj was suddenly Kraljiki Justi III.”

“I don’t have to wonder,” Karl told him. He rose from the chair.

“You should. There are worse options.”

“Such as?”

“What if it weren’t Kraljiki Justi who ruled Nessantico, but someone who had once been Hirzg? Brezno is ca’Cellibrecca’s seat of power, after all.”

“Then why would ca’Cellibrecca’s daughter be tying herself to the A’Kralj?”

“An intelligent man makes plans for every possible scenario. Whatever you may think of A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca, don’t make the mistake of thinking him or Hirzg Jan stupid.”

“And your plans, Mahri? What might they be?” Karl glanced out of the window toward the street again, empty now except for an utilino strolling south toward Oldtown Center. “I’ll grant that you’re more than you seem and I won’t make the mistake of mocking you again. But I still don’t know what you have to offer me-or what I might offer you.

I’m here representing what’s at best a loose coalition of minor kinglets whose lands are smaller than some of the Kraljica’s personal estates, all huddled just outside the Holding’s current borders. I don’t control an army; I don’t even have much influence on those to whom I report. I’m a minor dignitary who hasn’t yet managed to steal even a moment of the Kraljica’s time despite persistent efforts and-I must say-some substantial bribes.”

“You’ve neglected to mention that you sit at the top of a network of Numetodo here in the city and throughout the Holdings. You control Mika ce’Gilan, who in turn is part of the top cell here in the city. I’ve been watching him for some time now. The unfortunate ce’Coeni was just a member of one of the lower cells-the one you know as Boli’s cell, wasn’t it-though I’m certain that he wasn’t acting on your orders.”

His training allowed Karl to show nothing to Mahri of what he was thinking. How does he know all this? I have to tell Mika that we have a bad leak in our organization. . “You’re constructing a conspiracy by the Numetodo where there’s nothing, Mahri,” Karl said. “I’m sure Commandant ca’Rudka would be impressed by your analysis, but I’m not. We Numetodo can’t even agree on what we believe ourselves,

much less cooperate well enough to organize. We have people who still have some lingering belief in Cenzi, however different from the Concenzia; we have those who worship some of the Moitidi in various forms; we have others who believe that there may be no gods at all, that everything in the world can be explained without the need for a god’s intervention. We’d like the freedom to search for our own truths without being persecuted by the Concenzia Faith or the Kraljica’s minions. We’re not a threat to the Holdings or Concenzia as long as they’re not a threat to us. Beyond that, I don’t care who rules the Holdings. That’s all I’m here to ask for, and I’m just what I appear to be. Nothing more.”

“So am I,” Mahri answered blandly. “As much as you.”

Karl decided to ignore that. “If the A’Kralj worries you, then why not kill him? You know where he is and from what I’ve seen, you’d have no problem getting to him. Get rid of the man.”

“Death doesn’t kill beliefs,” Mahri said. “It only gives those beliefs more strength. A philosophy is not a person-if it’s a truly vital way of thinking, the death of its founder only feeds its growth. That’s the mistake ca’Cellibrecca and Hirzg Jan would make. It would be a shame if the Numetodo did the same.”

“Then what kills a belief, if not the death of those who believe?”

Mahri didn’t answer. Under the shadowed cowl, the man’s single eye stared back at Karl. “Ah, that is the question, isn’t it?”

Ana cu’Seranta

“Have you a costume yet for the Gschnas, Ana?” Kenne asked.

Ana shrugged. She glanced past Kenne, seated at his paper-strewn desk, to the open door of the Archigos’ reception room, where she could see Archigos Dhosti and three of the a’teni: Joca ca’Sevini of Chivasso, Alain ca’Fountaine of Belcanto, and Colin ca’Cille of An Uaimth. Also in the room was a tall and rather handsome man she didn’t recognize.

All five of them were in the midst of what appeared to be an energetic discussion. “Beida and Watha tell me that they have something put together for me, but they won’t show it to me yet. What about you?”

Kenne shook his head. “Not going. The Archigos has me working here tomorrow evening.” He tapped the nearest pile of paper. “Going through reports from Firenzcia.”

Ana felt a guilty blush creep up her neck from the high collar of her green robes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d known, I’d have told the Archigos to have you accompany him instead of me.”

Kenne chuckled at that. “Do you think you’re not going to be working? Believe me, you will be, and far more visibly than me. No, I’m quite content with my lot, Ana. Besides, you’re the new celebrity and he has to show you off.”

Her blush heightened and Kenne laughed again. “And before you go apologizing for that, too,” he continued, “let me tell you that I’m not even slightly jealous. I’m happy where I am, where I can pass along any difficult problems to the Archigos or the a’teni.” He must have noticed her gaze drifting, for he glanced over his own shoulder to the open door.

“Envoy Karl ci’Vliomani is with them,” he said.

That made Ana’s eyebrows rise. “The Numetodo?”

Kenne nodded. “For a heretic, he’s on the attractive side, don’t you think? He speaks very well also. I’ve always found the Paeti accent enchanting.” Ana’s eyebrows lifted even higher on her forehead, and Kenne grinned at her. “I’m just telling you what I’m thinking. I’ll wager you’ll feel the same way.”

Ana decided not to answer, but she continued to stare at the man.

“Why is he here?”

“The Archigos asked to see him. I think the Archigos wanted to allay fears that what happened in Brezno would be repeated here. He wanted the envoy to know that not all the a’teni have the same opinion as A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca. Ah, here they come.”

The group was moving toward the door. Ana caught a hint of the envoy’s speech, colored-as Kenne had intimated-with a strong accent and a pleasing, sonorous baritone. The man had a voice any teni at the High Lectern would envy. “. . pleased to have been able to speak to you, Archigos, A’Teni. I would appreciate it, too, Archigos, if you could speak to the Kraljica on my behalf. I would be most grateful for the chance to meet with her and directly address any concerns she might have.”

“Perhaps after the Jubilee is over, Envoy,” the Archigos answered.

The envoy smiled-he had a pleasant smile, one that seemed genuine and guileless. Lines creased around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, well-worn and telling Ana that the expression was one comfortable and familiar for him. She found herself staring at his features, imagining what he might be thinking, trying to visualize him performing the forbidden Numetodo magic or denying the existence of Cenzi. This was the enemy, yet it was far easier to have imagined heretical thoughts being reflected in a twisted, ugly visage, not this. Not this. “Ah, yes,” the envoy said, and his green eyes sparkled in the teni-light from Kenne’s desk lamp. “The Kraljica should have her much-deserved celebration first. After the Jubilee, then-and I’m in your debt, Archigos. I can see myself out. . ”