S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

“The Kraljica. .” she’d asked through cracked, dry lips as soon as she’d awakened. Watha had been there, sitting on the chair at the foot of her bed.

“Is she. .”

“The Archigos sent a messenger around earlier, O’Teni,” she’d answered.

“He said that the Kraljica is unchanged, and to tell you that you’ll be seeing her midday. He’ll send a carriage. We were all terribly worried when we heard what happened, O’Teni, especially after what nearly happened with the Archigos.”

Ana sighed, looking in the mirror. She knew that the Archigos intended her to use the Ilmodo once again today on the Kraljica, and she wasn’t certain she could do that, not as drained as she was. And if she did, then how would she feel when the lamps were lit around the city.

Would she even be awake?

She touched the shell under her robes once more. Ana had certainly felt attraction before, certainly, though that affection had rarely been returned-it seemed to be reserved for prettier women than her.

But Vajiki ci’Vliomani. . Karl. .

It could all be pretense, her mirror image seemed to be telling her with the frown she saw. He’s a Numetodo; you’re an o’teni. What you felt could be pretext, all one-sided yet again, so that he has a door into the Faith.

He could be intending to corrupt you. Be careful. Be very careful.

“I will be,” she said to the mirror.

“O’Teni?” a voice questioned from the door, and she started, turning her head to see Sunna there. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Is the carriage here?”

“Yes,” Sunna said. “I told the teni to let the Archigos know that you’ll be right down.”

The Archigos said little beyond the required greeting until the teni driver closed the carriage door and began his chant to start the vehicle rolling through the streets. The carriage lurched over the cobbles as it turned onto the Avi a’Parete, people on the street bowing and giving the sign of Cenzi as they passed, their faces solemn. Ana knew what the gossip of the city must be like. The Archigos sighed deeply. “I was able to learn something last night,” he said. “Do you remember ci’Recroix’s painting in the Kraljica’s parlor? The one of the family?”

“Yes, Archigos. It’s a very enchanting painting that makes me want to keep staring at it. The woman with the baby. . I half expect to hear the infant suckling.”

“The family he portrayed is dead. Every one of them,” the Archigos told her. “They died, I’m told, within a day after the painting was completed, of some tragic and unknown disease. Strangely, that seems to be the case with several of the subjects of ci’Recroix’s paintings over the last four or five years, though not before: the person whose portrait he captured suddenly and unexpectedly died. A series of tragic coincidences, which didn’t come to light since ci’Recroix never accepted a commission in the same city twice.”

Ana’s chest felt as if someone were sitting on it. “I don’t think it’s coincidence, Archigos.”

The dwarf sniffed. “Neither do I, Ana. Neither do I. I think ci’Recroix has been. . practicing.”

“But why, and for his own reasons or for someone else’s?”

“That I don’t know, but I will find out. I have my suspicions, however.”

“The Numetodo?” Ana asked hesitantly, thinking of the note she’d received. She was afraid to even glance at the Archigos, afraid that he would see what she was hiding.

She felt more than saw the Archigos shrug. “Possibly, but I doubt that. The Kraljica is more likely to be sympathetic to the Numetodo than the A’Kralj, after all. Why, do you know something about them that would lead you to suspect them? I saw you with Envoy ci’Vliomani last night.”

He was watching her. She could feel his gaze on her, and she stared out the window of the carriage rather than look at him. If he knows about the note, if he’s read it, then I should tell him now so he knows that I won’t keep secrets from him. .

She knew she should open herself to him, but even as she started to speak, another inner voice objected. If you tell him and he knew nothing, he won’t let you go. He’ll make certain that Envoy ci’Vliomani is kept far away from you, and you’ll never know if anything he’s said or anything you might have felt is true. . “No,” she said to the window. “I was only speculating, that’s all. You’re right, of course, Archigos. Envoy ci’Vliomani told me that he was looking forward to meeting the Kraljica, and I believe he was sincere in that.” She forced herself to turn back to the Archigos. There was nothing in his wizened face that suggested he might be disappointed in her or that she had failed a test set her. “If not the Numetodo, then who?” she asked.

The Archigos only shook his head. “I won’t say. Not without more proof-proof that I fully expect is forthcoming. I’ve told Commandant ca’Rudka what I’ve learned, and he has started his own investigation.

The commandant has. .” The Archigos pressed his lips together momentarily. “. . sources and ways of gaining information I do not.”

Ana shivered, remembering the man and the sense of unspoken menace that exuded from him. She could imagine the ways to which the Archigos referred. “And the Kraljica?” she asked. “How is she this morning?”

The Archigos shook his head. “No better. Somewhat worse, perhaps. Renard wasn’t optimistic. She’s remained unconscious since the incident, and no one can rouse her.”

“Archigos, I don’t know if I can. Last night drained me so deeply.”

He reached out with his small, malformed hand and patted hers.

“I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t feel you can do, Ana. The choice is yours-yours and Cenzi’s.”

“And if she dies?”

The Archigos looked at her sharply, then frowned. “If she dies, Ana, then I fear for Nessantico. I truly do.”

Karl ci’Vliomani

“If she dies, we’re doomed. Utterly doomed.”

“It’s not that dire, Mika,” Karl answered. The tavern was cold despite the roaring fire in the large stone hearth near their table. The walls were laced with shadows and smoke, and the inn smelled of soot and ash from the poor ventilation of the flue. Despite the noon sun outside, the shuttered windows kept the tavern in perpetual dusk. The ale in the tankard in front of him was sour and too infused with hops for Karl’s taste. He longed for the malty, dark, and thick stouts and porters of home. Beyond the tankard, Mika looked frightened and worried, leaning forward to whisper harshly across the table.

“No? Did your dancing with the Archigos’ new toy go so well? You mean to say that you don’t foresee bodies hanging from gibbets here in Nessantico when the A’Kralj becomes the Kraljiki? Well, I do, Karl. I see them very clearly, and I see your face and mine on two of the bodies.”

“This wasn’t our fault. We both know that.”

“Right. That will be a great comfort to my surviving relations, I’m sure. I’ll make sure it’s carved on my gravestone: It wasn’t his fault. ”

With a disgusted growl, Mika sat back in his chair and downed his beer in one long gulp. “And you invited your toy to the meeting tonight?”

“Mika.” Now Karl leaned forward over the scarred, grimy tabletop. “I’m going to ask you just once, politely, not to refer to O’Teni cu’Seranta that way. I won’t ask you a second time.”

Mike started to retort, then swallowed whatever he’d intended to say. His gaze drifted away from Karl. “I’m sorry,” Mika said. “I’m terrified by what’s happened, Karl. I have family here in the city; you don’t.