S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight

Ca’Staunton reddened further. “My Hirzg, that’s unfair,” he answered, his jowls flapping as he spoke. “I have always endeavored to follow your orders to the best of my ability.”

“It’s your ability that is in question,” Jan snapped back at him. “But not any longer. Markell?”

Markell stepped forward then, standing to the side of Jan’s chair. He withdrew a scroll from the single side drawer of the table and handed it to ca’Staunton. His voice was formal and unemotional. “Ahren

ca’Staunton, you have been found guilty of treason by the Court of Chevarittai Firenzcia for deliberate disobedience of the orders from your Hirzg, and for endangering Firenzcia, her people, and the Hirzg with your actions. Your titles of chevaritt and starkkapitan are hereby revoked. The Court’s judgment is that you deserve to be executed for your crime, and that punishment is to be carried out immediately. The Court’s order has been reviewed and signed by the Hirzg; his seal is af-fixed, as you see.”

“No!” Ca’Staunton’s shout pushed Jan’s spine against his chair.

“You can’t do this!” the man bellowed. “You-your vatarh always said to me that you were reckless and a fool.” With one motion, he tossed the scroll aside and drew his sword-Jan heard the hiss of blade against scabbard, like a shrill wind through fir branches-and charged toward Jan.

He made only a single step. Cu’Linnett moved at the same time,drawing his sword and pivoting. The a’offizier’s blade slashed across ca’Staunton’s ample stomach, the starkkapitan’s rush burying the

edge deeply in his abdomen. Ca’Staunton doubled over at the point of impact, his eyes wide, and he grunted like an animal. Cu’Linnett completed his turn, ripping out his sword. Blood spattered in a gory, diagonal line across the tent fabric very near Allesandra, who stared, her mouth open and a painted soldier clutched in her hand. Ca’Staunton remained standing for a breath, hunched over, his sword still pointed threateningly at Jan.

The sword dropped from the man’s hand. A surge of red poured from his mouth.

He fell.

Jan was still seated in his chair, his hands folded in his lap. Markell’s own sword was drawn, the double-edged steel gleaming protectively in front of Jan. Markell sheathed the blade as Jan slowly rose and came around to the blood-spattered front of the field desk. Ca’Staunton’s body twitched, his eyes wide and frightened, the blood still flowing from his mouth and nostrils as his hands tried to stuff pink loops back into the gaping wound. Cu’Linnett stood above him, his sword tip at ca’Staunton’s neck, his foot on the starkkapitan’s chest. “My Hirzg?” he asked. “If I may? The man suffers.”

Jan didn’t answer at first. “Allesandra?” he asked, looking back at his daughter. She stared at the blood, but now her head turned to him.

Her face was serious and pale.

“I’m fine, Vatarh,” she said. She gulped audibly before speaking again. “He was a bad starkkapitan.”

“Yes, he was,” Jan told her. He nodded to cu’Linnett. The man’s sword thrust and ca’Staunton went still. Jan bent down beside the body and tore ca’Staunton’s insignia of rank from his uniform blouse, heed-less of the blood that stained his hand. He spat on ca’Staunton’s body as he hefted the silver-and-brass weight of the starkkapitan’s eagle in his palm. Markell nodded once behind the desk, as if he guessed at Jan’s thoughts. Allesandra watched him from the rug. He held out the insignia toward cu’Linnett.

“Starkkapitan ca’Linnett,” and the doubled change in title and name brought the man’s head up sharply. “I thank you for your defense of your Hirzg. And I extend my congratulations on your victory today- may you have many more as starkkapitan. You have demonstrated that you are a fine example of the chevarittai of Firenzcia. As reward, I name you Comte of the town of Ville Colhelm. Direct your offiziers to take the army across the Clario, and secure your town; I will cross the Clario myself this evening and will meet you there so we can discuss our future strategy.”

Jan extended his hand with the insignia toward the man, who finally sheathed his sword and took it. “You may leave us, Starkkapitan,”

Jan told him as the man stared at the eagle in his hand. “You’ve much more to do before the end of this day.” Ca’Linnett glanced at the body of ca’Staunton. “You should look at him,” Jan said. “Look well. Memo-rize what you see.”

“My Hirzg?”

“You may think that you did this, but you didn’t. This was ca’Staunton’s fate, no matter whose hand held the sword. This is what happens to those who can’t meet my expectations, Starkkapitan. I trust you don’t think me reckless and foolish.”

Ca’Linnett swallowed visibly again. He saluted. “Good,” Jan told him. “I’m glad we understand each other. Until this evening, then, Starkkapitan. Oh, and if you would send someone in to remove the carcass. .”

Another salute, and ca’Linnett fled. Jan went to Allesandra and gathered her in his arms. Together, they looked down at the body. “Your desk is ruined, Vatarh,” Allesandra said. Splashes of brown-red crusted the surface of Great-Vatarh Jan’s painted face and dripped thickly from the desk front.

“It will clean up,” he told her.

Ana cu’Seranta

Ana cried silently in the darkness, her face to the wall. At least she hoped she was silent. She didn’t know where Mahri was-he’d left the apartment for the streets a few turns before and not returned, but Karl was curled up in a nest of blankets on the other side of the room, and she didn’t want to wake him.

Not silent enough. . She realized she could no longer hear Karl’s soft snoring even as she heard his footsteps behind her, then felt the movement of the straw-stuffed mattress on which she lay. “Ana. .”

Karl’s hand touched her shoulder with his whisper. “I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened to you.”

Ana wiped furtively at her eyes, grateful for the gloom. She did not trust herself to speak. She remained huddled there, silent, as if she could stopper up her grief for the past and her fears for her future by sheer force of will. She heard him speak a spell-word and a soft light blossomed, no more than a candle’s worth. She could see her shadow on the wall in its steady light.

“I thought I heard you,” Karl said. “I thought. .” She felt him shift his weight. The hand moved from her shoulder to stroke her hair. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

She shook her head. The light vanished, and she felt the warmth of him along her back as he lay down next to her. “You should know that your coming to me in the Bastida was what kept me alive and sane,” he said. “I was afraid that I was going to die there, afraid that I’d never see you or Nessantico or the Isle of Paeti again. Never smell the ocean or feel a soft shower from a passing cloud while the sun still was shining on the meadow. Never feel the power of the Scath Cumhacht in me again. .” He stopped. His hand slid down her arm until he found her hand. He laced his fingers in hers. “But I could always remember you, long after you left. Ana, I don’t know what you did to keep me alive and safe, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I will always be in your debt.”

She could not hold back the sobs anymore. The emotions rose within her, racking her until her shoulders heaved. His fingers tightened around hers. After a moment, she returned the pressure, and that calmed her somewhat. Karl released her hand to put his arms around her and cradle her into himself. He let her cry, saying nothing, just letting the grief and shame flow from her. His head snuggled into her neck; she felt his lips against her there, kissing her once softly.