S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

Sergei ignored the apology. “Capitaine, is this man’s story true?”

Ci’Doulor nodded. “Yes, Commandant. There was sorcery here.

Numetodo work.”

“You had a guard rendered unconscious two days ago and since

then the prisoner was unresponsive, and you didn’t inform me. When you were told that there was something odd happening here earlier this evening, you decided that finishing your supper was more important.

Seeing sorcery inside the cell, rather than inform me or someone in the Kraljiki’s or Archigos’ offices, you ordered this e’offizier to unlock the cell. You went inside. Alone. And now the prisoner is. . gone. Are any of those facts substantially incorrect, Capitaine?”

Miserably, ci’Doulor shook his head. “It just wasn’t possible for him to escape, Commandant. We both know that.”

“Then he’s still here, eh? I’m sure you’re right. Then I’ll leave you to search the cell thoroughly.”

The sarcasm struck ci’Doulor like a lash to his head. “Commandant, I’m sorry. I should have. .”

Sergei lifted his hand, shaking his head at the same time and silencing the capitaine. “No, Capitaine. This is entirely my fault and I’ll accept the blame. It was my decision to leave you in charge of the Bastida when you were obviously not competent to perform that function.

Therefore, I lost the prisoner, not you. But I can at least rectify my mistake so it won’t be repeated. I relieve you of your command.”

Sergei gestured to ce’Ulcai to leave ahead of him, then walked to the cell door. Ci’Doulor was still standing in the center of the room, his body slumped, and now he began to follow them. Sergei shut the door in the man’s face. As ci’Doulor called out in alarm-“Commandant!

What are you doing?”-he turned a key in the lock and closed the viewhole in the center of the door. There were muffled screams and cries from the cell and a pounding of fists on the door. Sergei handed the set of keys to ce’Ulcai.

“Your rank is now o’offizier,” Sergei told him. “I’ll have another of the Bastida gardai relieve you from your post immediately. Have the Bastida’s healer look at the wound on your head; tomorrow morning

after First Call, report directly to me at the office of the Garde Civile. I can use competence there.”

Sergei gave the sign of Cenzi to the man and went back down the long staircase, wondering how he would tell the Kraljiki and A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca what had happened, and wondering why he felt more

relieved than angry.

Dhosti ca’Millac

“You’re certain of this?” Dhosti asked Kenne. His secretary nodded.

“It came directly from our source in the Bastida, Archigos,” Kenne had told him. “I just received the message.”

So the Kraljiki has ordered the execution of the Numetodo, despite Ana.

And ci’Vliomani has vanished somehow. That will only inflame them further.

I wonder if Ana knows yet. .? The beginnings of a headache throbbed on either side of his forehead, and his shoulders sagged. He suddenly felt very tired and very old.

“I’ll have to speak with the Kraljiki,” Dhosti said. “Immediately. I pray that it’s not true, though if ci’Vliomani has truly escaped, I’m glad, though I doubt the poor man can evade Commandant ca’Rudka for long. Let me just finish this letter, and. .”

He had no time to finish. Dhosti heard the commotion in his outer office: one of his staff member’s loud voice protesting that the Archigos could not be disturbed. Then the tall, double doors pushed open and A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca strode through, his robes swirling. There was a quartet of gardai from the Garde Kralji with him. Dhosti’s e’teni recep-tionist trailed after them, still protesting.

The expression on ca’Cellibrecca’s face told Dhosti everything he needed to know.

“E’Teni,” he said. “A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca is always welcome in my offices. Please return to your duties.” He looked at Kenne, who was glaring angrily at ca’Cellibrecca. “Kenne, why don’t you deliver the package I gave you earlier while A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and I talk?”

Kenne’s head snapped away from ca’Cellibrecca. “Archigos? You’re certain? I can stay here, in case you might need me.”

“Go on,” he said. “You should deliver the package. Please. And tell the teni in the office that we should not be interrupted. For any reason.”

Kenne’s eyes widened, but he gave the sign of Cenzi to the Archigos and-perfunctorily-to ca’Cellibrecca, closing the doors behind them.

Dhosti placed the quill he’d been using back in its holder and stoppered the ink. He blotted the paper in front of him, then folded his hands on top. “Orlandi,” he said. He deliberately didn’t look at the soldiers. “This would seem to be more than a social visit. I hope you’re not making a foolish mistake.”

“The mistake was yours, Dhosti, when you deliberately ignored the Divolonte. Not even the Archigos can do that.” Ca’Cellibrecca seemed unable to keep a smug half-smile from his face.

“You have proof of this? I would like to see it.”

“And you will, when you are brought before the Guardians of the Faith and the Concord A’Teni.”

“And you, as Tete of the Guardians, will no doubt endeavor to give me a fair trial.”

Ca’Cellibrecca’s smile broadened. “I assure you that I will follow the precepts of the Divolonte, as I have sworn to do.”

“No doubt.” Dhosti wondered how long he could stall here before he would have to submit to the inevitable. You had the throne of the Archigos for nearly eighteen years, longer than many. Eighteen good years, and you helped the Kraljica become the Genera a’Pace, the great creator of peace.

You knew when the Kraljica was murdered that this might be coming. .

“And no doubt you will take the throne as the new Archigos before the seat has even grown cold.”

“That decision will be up to the Conclave, as it has always been.”

“I’m an old man, Orlandi. All it would have required is patience on your part and you might have been the Archigos in a few years anyway.

Perhaps less. Cenzi will be coming for me soon.”

“You think I could wait while you maneuver your own heir into position?” Ca’Cellibrecca sniffed. “Surely you don’t think me that stupid.

Cenzi will send you to the Hags for your sins against Him, Archigos, and for your arrogance. Were I you, that would not be something I’d be anticipating with pleasure. But the Guardians will leave to Cenzi the decision of when you visit the Hags.”

Dhosti had seen the sad ones convicted by the Guardians, the teni who had violated their vows and been cast out from the Concenzia

Faith, their hands cut off and their tongues removed so that they could no longer use the Ilmodo. Their terrible wounds were always cauter-ized, so that they might not die of them. They might wander for years as visible warnings of what the Faith would do to those who betrayed it.

Dhosti imagined himself in that state, and his bowels turned queasily.

“Who accuses me, Orlandi? You? Your cronies within Concenzia? Are you sure you have enough of the a’teni in your pocket?”

“The Kraljiki himself makes the accusation, Archigos. Justi himself will testify to the Guardians against you and O’Teni cu’Seranta. I’m certain that when the a’teni hear the Kraljiki speak, those who have hesitated will be convinced. I’ve already spoken to ca’Fountaine and ca’Sevini; they agree with me that the Concord should be convened immediately.”

The words came with the finality of a sword strike to a bare neck.

It’s done, then. There is no hope. “Honestly, I would prefer you kill me outright, Orlandi. Now, if you like. I would accept the blow. That would be kinder than what the Guardians will do, and we both know it. We’ve never been friends, but even you would acknowledge that I care about the Faith as much as you do. All that I’ve done, I’ve done because I truly believed my course to be the right one, and I would say the same of you, Orlandi, even though we disagree. Slay me now, if that’s what it’s to be. I won’t beg, but I ask you to have that much pity on me.”