S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

The Ilmodo slid around her again, and this time, this time she felt the cold shock of contact. She groaned aloud with relief, snatching at the Ilmodo with her mind before it could dance away once more. The words and her hands shaped the power. She took the Gift and moved her awareness to the man in front of her, she put her hands on his head again and let herself fall into him, searching for the pain in him and ready to release the Ilmodo to erase it. .

Thank you, Cenzi.

. . and she felt nothing. There was no pain in Justi’s head. No throbbing of agony in his temples or his neck. She moved through his body, searching. . There was a nagging stiffness in his knees and lower back from years of hard usage in the saddle and on the fencing arena, and a clustering of scar tissue on his side from injuries in one of the Garde Civile’s campaigns in which he’d been wounded. Nothing else.

The Ilmodo burned in her and she could not hold it any longer, so she released it: to his knees, the spine, the scars. As the energy rushed from her, she gasped and sagged to the floor, exhausted.

He has no headache. . Cenzi, what have I done?

She felt more than saw his hands around her, too weak to resist him as he lifted her and took her into the bedroom and laid her down there.

“Thank you, Ana,” he said. “I’m feeling much better now. . ”

Justi ca’Mazzak

“Well, was I right, Justi?” Francesca asked. “Did the Archigos’ little whore perform as I told you?”

He thought about lying to her, just to see how she’d respond, but he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and kissed the soft flesh there. “It was as you said,” Justi answered. “She used the Ilmodo against the laws of the Divolonte.” He saw her try to hide a smug, self-congratulatory smile and fail. She’s ruthless but predictable. Those were, in Justi’s opinion, good qualities for a Kraljiki’s wife.

“It’s as my vatarh said,” Francesca corrected him gently. “That whore and the Archigos use the Ilmodo against the Divolonte. They

both deserve to be cast out of the Faith. They deserve the fate you should also give the Numetodo who are in the Bastida. You know that’s why she gave herself to you-to save her Numetodo lover. She’s nothing more than a harlot.”

And why did you give me your body, when you were already married?

He toyed with the thought of asking her that, just for the enjoyment of watching her reaction. Instead, he pressed his lips together as if in thought. “That may be,” he said, “but I confess that after Ana’s minis-trations I feel better than I have for the last few years. I can understand why Matarh thought she would be a good match for me.”

As he’d known it would, that banished the smile from her painted

lips. The tiny lines around the corners of her eyes deepened as her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed together. Then she seemed to realize the transparency of her emotions and ran her hand down his chest and past his waist. She caressed him as she snuggled close to him in the bed. “I’m the better match for you, Justi,” she said coquettishly. “I could prove that again, if you’d like.”

“I’m certain you could,” he told her, kissing her. He began to move on top of her, but a bell rang quietly in the outer room and both of them sighed.

“Don’t go,” she whispered to him, tightening her arms about him.

“Renard knows not to interrupt me without good reason,” he told her. “This can wait.” Reluctantly, he rolled from bed and donned a dressing gown and slippers. He went into the outer room, closing the door behind him. He sat in the chair nearest the fire and poured himself wine from the flagon on the side table. He took a long sip. “Enter,” he called.

The door opened and Renard hurried in. “My apologies for the intrusion, Kraljiki,” he said, “but you asked me to come to you if there were news from Firenzcia. One of the message birds came a half-turn ago. This was attached to its leg.” Renard held out a roll of paper to Justi.

The message was one of the phrases which Justi, Renard, and Sergei had agreed upon. There is bright sun in Firenzcia. “Then there’s no threat from the Hirzg’s army,” Justi said. He found that the news was almost disappointing.

“Except that there was an additional verification word that commandant ca’Rudka had told them to attach to the message. That word is missing. And the commandant had O’Offizier ce’Kalti write out all the phrases before he left so he could compare them to the writing on any messages we received. According to the Commandant, this is not written in O’Offizier ce’Kalti’s hand.”

“Perhaps ce’Kalti suffered an accident, or had the bird handler write out the message.”

“Or perhaps this is not a genuine message, or someone other than ce’Kalti was responsible for it and intends to deceive us.”

“Ahh. .” Justi leaned back, staring at the parchment again. “Interesting, isn’t it, that A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca strongly urged us not to send the Garde Civile into Firenzcia. He said he was convinced that the Hirzg would not be so foolish as to bring his army within a day’s march of the border.”

He heard the click of the bedroom door and saw Francesca pad barefoot into the room, clad in another of his gowns.

“Vatarh knows the Hirzg better than anyone in Nessantico,” she said. “Brezno is his charge, after all, and he and the Hirzg talked often.

I think that Vatarh’s opinion is well worth attention. Always.” Renard acted as if her presence were entirely expected, responding to her as if she were dressed in a vajica’s finery rather than wrapped in one of Justi’s robes.

“The a’teni’s opinion is indeed valued, Vajica ca’Cellibrecca,” he answered, though Justi noticed that he kept his gaze on the parchment in Justi’s hand rather than on Francesca. “But the Hirzg is famous for his rash decisions. Look at what he did in the war with Tennshah-without the Hirzg’s provocation, the war might have ended with the Kraljica’s negotiations at Jablunkov.”

“The Hirzg has cooperated with my vatarh in the past,” Francesca persisted. “He listens to Vatarh, almost as if he were the Archigos.” She placed herself behind Justi’s chair. Her hand rested on his shoulder, possessively.

“Indeed, Vajica,” Renard said. His gaze found her now. “The Kraljica was very familiar with the relationship between the Hirzg and your vatarh. And its consequences.”

Justi felt Francesca’s grip tighten angrily on his shoulder. Justi pushed himself up from the chair before she could speak. “I will want to speak with Commandant ca’Rudka in a turn of the glass, Renard. Please make sure that he’s here.” He fingered the scroll once more. “And thank you for bringing this to my attention so quickly.” Renard bowed low to Justi, then gave a far more abbreviated bow to Francesca. He strode quickly to the doors and out.

“That man is unbearably insolent,” Francesca hissed before the doors had fully closed. “He was the Kraljica’s servant, not yours. You should have rid yourself of him.”

“He was indispensable to my matarh and, for the moment, to me,”

Justi told her. “So I would prefer that you avoid making an enemy of Renard, my dear. He would make a very bad enemy, I think; he has been here long enough to know where all the skeletons are buried and who put them there. It would do you well to remember that.”

He watched her struggle to put away her anger, drinking the rest of the wine. He dropped the parchment to the table. “I pray that your vatarh is right about the Hirzg. If he isn’t, then I will be looking to him to support me against the Hirzg and against his country.”