S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

“You will,” Ana insisted. “And you’ll do it now. I’ll also need a carriage.”

The young woman seemed terrified. Her matarh, Sunna, came in a moment later, and Ana repeated her request. Sunna conferred with Watha, who left the room with a terrified glance at Ana. Sunna muttered to herself as she rummaged-far too slowly-through trunks and closets to find clothing for Ana. Ana heard the outer door to her apartment open and close before Watha returned to help her matarh; Ana decided that Beida had been sent to inform the Archigos. By the time she’d dressed, the outer door opened again and Beida entered the bedchamber to announce that a carriage was at the door for Ana’s use.

Ana left the apartment, refusing the offer of a quick dinner from Watha, and Sunna’s insistence that someone from the household should accompany her. She wondered if she were being entirely foolish, since the walk down to the carriage exhausted her and she half-stumbled into the seat as the teni-driver held the door open for her. “Your destination, O’Teni?” the young man asked. It was the same driver who had picked her up from her house that day that seemed so long ago now; she knew that he would tell the Archigos everything. He was staring at her, at her lack of green robes.

“Cooper Street, one block from Oldtown Center,” she said to him.

He nodded and closed the door. She felt the carriage sway as he took his seat and heard the beginning of his chant as the wheels began to turn. She leaned back against the cushions, her hand touching the shell under her tashta.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re already exhausted and need to rest.

The Archigos will be upset, and thus you risk not only yourself but your family’s well-being. Worse, you endanger your very soul. .

She ignored the nagging voice and closed her eyes, feeling the lurch of the carriage and the sound of the wheels as it passed along the Avi a’Parete.

“We’re here, O’Teni,” the e’teni’s voice said through the leather flap between the carriage and his seat, seemingly only a few moments later, and Ana realized that she’d fallen asleep during the trip. She lifted the curtain at the side of the carriage. They were parked on a street lined with shops, with a tumult of people moving around them. Poking her head out the window, Ana looked around. It was dusk, the sun already gone though the sky was still deep blue and the first stars had yet to appear. Farther up the street, she could glimpse the wide expanse of Oldtown Center, where lamps set on ornate posts around the circumference of the Center waited for the spells of the light-teni to set them ablaze.

Oldtown Center had, a few centuries ago, been the social nexus of Nessantico, a function now given over to the square around the Archigos’ Temple and the newer and grander buildings on the southern bank of the A’Sele. The memory of Oldtown Center’s past was preserved in the tall, ancient buildings that flanked it and in the fountain in the middle with its stained bronze statue of Selida II, posed far larger than life with his war-spear and shield and the writhing body of a subdued Magyarian chieftain raising his hands in mute supplication at his feet: at its height, Oldtown Center had been known as Victory Square.

Now, the buildings that had once housed the offices of the Kralji’s government and the grand apartments of the wealthy were run-down, tired, and ancient. The offices were now street-level shops, the grand residences had been broken up into myriad tiny apartments above the shops teeming with the households of ci’ and ce’ and even unranked families. There was still a vitality to Oldtown Center, but it was unre-fined and raw, just as strong as it had always been but gone darker and potentially more dangerous.

“O’Teni,” the driver called through the flap, his voice audibly tired from the exertion of the drive. “Where did you want to go?”

“This is fine,” she told him. She glanced out again at the signs over the doors. “Just there-Finson the Herbalist. They have a tea infusion that my matarh always made, and I thought it might help the Kraljica.”

She opened the door and stepped out before the driver could dismount.

“Wait here for me,” she told him. He was only a black silhouette against the ultramarine sky. “I shouldn’t be long. Stay here.”

She hurried away even as she heard him protest; she was fairly certain that his instructions from the Archigos were to remain with her.

She rushed into the shop, a bell chiming as she opened the door. The herbalist-an older man with white eyebrows that curled over deep-set eyes, glanced up from a table near the rear of the store. The store smelled of herbs and the multitude of lit candles holding back the murk.

“What can I do for you, Vajica?” he asked, coming forward to a counter adorned with glass jars stuffed with dried leaves.

Ana placed a siqil on the counter, the the silver profile of the Kraljica on the coin glimmering in the candlelight. “You have a rear door?” Ana asked, her fingers still on the coin.

He was staring at the siqil-more money than he would see in a week’s sales. “Yes, Vajica. Just past there.” He pointed to the darkness at the back of the store without taking his eyes from the coin. “Here, I’ll show you. . ”

Ana shook her head. “I’ll find it,” she said. “Thank you.” She lifted her fingers from the coin and hurried around the counter. The smell of herbs was nearly overpowering, but she found the door and found herself in a narrow alleyway where the stench was more human and far less pleasant. To her right, an opening beckoned, leading to another of the warren of streets around the Center. Faintly, she thought she heard the bell chime on the herbalist’s front door. She pulled the shell necklace from under her clothing and half-ran down the alley and out into the street, letting the rush of the crowds carry her. She circled around Oldtown Center for a time, moving around it and away from where

she’d left the carriage-always looking around her to see if she saw the driver, avoiding the neighborhood utilinos with their staffs, lanterns, and whistles in case they’d been instructed to watch for her-until she heard the chant of the light-teni at their work.

Then she walked into Oldtown Center itself.

The open space was busy, but quickly looking around, Ana saw no one who seemed to be searching for her. No one seemed to notice her at all. She wondered what the driver was doing; whether he was frantically looking for her or whether he’d returned to the Archigos with the admission that he’d lost his charge. In the sky above, the first stars were twinkling, and a group of six e’teni were moving slowly from lamp to lamp, each in turn erupting into cold, bright flame. The crowd-many of them in foreign clothing-cheered with each lamp, giving the sign of Cenzi and following the teni around the perimeter, then to the quartet of lamps around the fountain.

As Ana lurked on the edge of the crowds well away from the teni, she felt someone brush against her side. “O’Teni cu’Seranta?”

She started, taking a quick step away from the man, who raised his hands as if to show he had no weapon. He was no one she knew, dressed in nondescript, plain clothing. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mika,” he said. “The rest of my name you don’t need.

Envoy ci’Vliomani asked me to escort you to where he’s waiting. He said to tell you that the shell is one from the Isle of Paeti, and that he hopes you found it interesting. Will you follow me?”

He started to walk away from the fountain and the crowds, to the west. He didn’t look back. Ana watched him for several strides, until there were several people between them. Biting her lip between her teeth, she followed at last, quickening her steps and weaving among the passersby until she was at his elbow. He didn’t speak, only moved out from the center into the narrow streets leading away and into Oldtown itself. “Where are you taking me?” she asked at last.