S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

The Archigos seemed to notice as well, for he motioned to Ana to step forward. “You remember O’Teni Ana cu’Seranta?” he said. “I spoke of her to you the other day, as we were discussing the arrangements for the funeral.”

“Matarh introduced us at the Gschnas, Archigos,” he said. He held out his hand and she took it. His eyes appraised her; she could almost hear the calculations inside his head. “Yes, I remember her, and I remember our talk, Archigos. Good to meet you again, O’Teni. I only wish it were in better circumstances.”

She realized that they were both waiting for her to speak. “As do I,”

she answered belatedly. “We all mourn your loss, A’Kralj. It’s a tragedy for the entire Holdings.”

Words vacant of true feeling, she knew. Like herself.

He nodded. “Indeed,” he said. He sniffed-a concession to congestion rather than grief, Ana thought-and looked her up and down once more. “The Archigos speaks highly of you, O’Teni, and my matarh did as well, when she was alive. They both seem to feel that you’ve been particularly blessed by Cenzi, and that it would be. .” He paused, as if considering his next words. “. . advantageous for me to know you better. I have always found that listening to the advice of those I trust is a good tactic, so I intend to do exactly that. Very soon. I trust you’ll be amenable as well? A luncheon in the palais perhaps, the day after tomorrow-Gostidi?”

Ana lowered her head. She could see no way to refuse politely.

“Certainly, A’Kralj,” she answered. “It would be my pleasure, assuming my duties to the Archigos do not interfere.”

“I’m positive the Archigos will make certain they do not,” he answered, and Ana could hear the Archigos grunt his assent, though she would not glance at him. “I’ll tell Renard to arrange it, then.”

“Arrange what?” a voice interrupted, and Ana lifted her head to see A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and his daughter standing just behind the A’Kralj. The a’teni was smiling, but the expression on his daughter’s face was far less friendly.

“I was arranging to take luncheon with O’Teni cu’Seranta on Gostidi,” the A’Kralj said to ca’Cellibrecca.

“Gostidi?” ca’Cellibrecca asked. He pursed his lips over his doubled chin and tapped a forefinger on his cheek. “I must remind the A’Kralj-as the Archigos should know, too-that he has the Ceremony

of the Kralji that morning, and he and I were planning to discuss the disposition of the Numetodo in the Bastida afterward, and both will take some time.”

“I assume that I will still find sufficient time to eat, A’Teni,” the A’Kralj remarked. “Or would you deny the new Kraljiki his sustenance?”

“Of course not,” ca’Cellibrecca answered quickly. The expression on his face soured. “In fact, I could join you, and I’m certain Francesca would be willing as well. I hope to have some news from her husband by Mizzkdi or Gostidi, and. .”

“I think not,” the A’Kralj interrupted. “While the company of you and Vajica ca’Cellibrecca would be most agreeable, I would like to speak with the O’Teni more privately.” Ca’Cellibrecca’s mouth remained open for a moment as if he would say more. The A’Kralj raised his eyebrows, and ca’Cellibrecca bowed his head. His daughter’s dark eyes were reproachful as they stared at the A’Kralj, but he stared blandly back at her.

For a moment, the tableau held. Ana thought of ca’Cellibrecca and what he’d done to the Numetodo in Brezno, and she imagined Karl in the a’teni’s hands. From the roiling inside her, a flame of anger sent searing heat. She lifted her chin. “I would like to talk to the new Kraljiki regarding the Numetodo as well,” Ana said. “I think the Kraljiki needs to make his decision as well-informed as possible.”

The Archigos coughed as if startled. With the comment, both A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and his daughter swiveled their heads to stare at Ana. She could feel the heat of their gazes and didn’t dare look at them. Instead, she kept her eyes on the A’Kralj, who laughed, suddenly and surprisingly. “There, you see, A’Teni? O’Teni cu’Seranta is not the quiet, obedient mouse you think she is, and judging by the look on the Archigos’ face, she has surprised him as well. I’m beginning to look forward to our luncheon, O’Teni, to see what other surprises you might have for me.”

With that, the A’Kralj took a long breath and looked toward the temple. “And now I must pay my respects. Archigos, are you ready to lead us to my matarh? Vajica ca’Cellibrecca, would you do me the favor of accompanying me? Renard, my mask, if you please. .”

As Renard tied on the mask, Francesca placed her arm inside the A’Kralj’s proffered elbow with a venomous glance at Ana. The Archigos also looked up at her before gesturing to A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca. The processional line of teni began to move, haltingly, behind the Archigos’

slow progress. His staff clattered on the polished flagstones of the court, and Ana walked carefully alongside him, aware of the gazes burrowing into her back.

Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca

Francesca glanced back to him as they entered the temple. Orlandi could see from her face that she was distressed and upset, but there was nothing he could do for her other than to frown sympathetically and nod in the direction of the A’Kralj, to whose arm she clung. Pay attention to him. Be with him, he said with that glance. It’s what you need to do right now. He asked you to accompany him and that’s a great public honor. We’ve lost nothing yet. .

He’d believed that the A’Kralj was firmly under his control through Francesca. This morning had shown him the error of that belief. The lesson sent doubt careening through Orlandi’s head. He was like one of the street jugglers along the Avi, with far too many balls in the air around him, each moving in its own pattern. There was the Hirzg, already marching toward Nessantico’s border, as dangerous to handle as glowing coals. Orlandi had yet to hear from cu’Belli about Estraven’s fate, despite having told the man to immediately send a rider back. And now the Archigos appeared to have placed his own pawn directly in Francesca’s path, and the A’Kralj had not allowed Orlandi to sweep it aside.

He must continue to juggle. He could not put anything down safely yet.

He prayed as he walked, but his prayer was not for the Kraljica

whose body they approached slowly. The procession was lengthy: the Archigos, followed by the A’Kralj, then the half-dozen or so a’teni who, like Orlandi, had come to the city for the Jubilee, then the Kraljica’s many direct relatives-all walking between the lines of white-robed teni who had been in attendance of the Kraljica’s body since it had arrived here, walking in the teni-lit glory of the temple.

Cenzi, I have done everything for Your glory, for Your purposes. Show me, Your servant, that I have not lost Your favor. . Orlandi prayed, and he looked past the A’Kralj to the damned dwarf and his ugly whore, and his stomach burned.

I deserve the staff and the crown. I deserve to be Archigos; I should have been Archigos instead of him. I am the true keeper of the Divolonte, the true guardian of the Faith. The Divolonte and the Ilmodo and the teni hold together the very fabric of Nessantico, and I protect it for You against Your enemies who would tear it apart. .

As they entered the temple, the choirmaster in his loft moved his hands and the choir began to sing: Darkmavis’ Requiem for a Kraljiki .

The mournful harmonies swirled and circled, reverberating along the temple’s length, amplified and shaped by the teni choirmaster’s spell, the delicate melody sliding from tenors to baritones to sopranos and back again, the cadence of the basses relentless underneath. Orlandi watched the Archigos turn to his whore and whisper, and he saw her hands move in the pattern of light-making. Yet the motions were hesitant, and he saw her fumble and start over, and when the light blossomed between her hands it was weak and pale compared to that of the other teni standing in prayer along either side of the main aisle.