S Farrell - A Magic of Nightfall

Her hands came down. Kenne heard her breath slow. She waved the gardai away. “That smell…” she muttered. “I remember that most of all.” She turned slowly to the Archigos. “This is not magic?” she said. “How can that not be the Ilmodo, Archigos?”

“Because it is only alchemy,” Kenne told her, “a combination of ingredients that reacts violently when it comes into contact with fire. There were traces of this black sand in the wood of the High Lectern after Archigos Ana was killed; the same traces were in the Sun Throne and on the body of Kraljiki Audric.”

“The Numetodo claim that faith in Cenzi isn’t required to use magic, that anyone can do it, that it’s no more complicated than being a baker. They look at rocks shaped like shells and skulls and concoct strange theories, they conduct experiments-in alchemy as in other ‘sciences’ as well as magic. That seems to me to indict the Numetodo.” That was Odil ca’Mazzack. He glared at the Archigos, and the Kraljica nodded at his words.

“I’m telling you that this is not from the Numetodo,” Kenne persisted.

“Even when Vliomani just happens to be the one who has shown you this,” Odil retorted scornfully. “Seems a strange leap of logic.”

“The black sand is a Westlander concoction,” Kenne told them. “Here’s the logic, Councillor. Eneas cu’Kinnear had just returned from the service in the Hellins. You’ll also remember that Commandant cu’Ulcai has just told us how the Westlanders were able to tear down the walls of Villembouchure with explosions similar to those that killed Archigos Ana and Kraljiki Audric.”

“And he said the explosions were the magic of the Westlander war-teni, these ‘nahualli.’ ” Odil shook his graying head. The extra skin around his throat wobbled with the motion. “I think the Archigos is mis-”

“No!” This time Kenne nearly shouted the word, stamping a foot on the ground at the same time. “I am not mistaken. I know you all think of me as a doddering old fool who’s a poor pale shadow of what an Archigos should be. There you might be right, but you are wrong in this. Worse than wrong-I have evidence that makes me believe that the false Archigos Semini was involved in the assassination of Archigos Ana. And if that is the case…” He stopped, out of breath. They were staring at him, all of them, as if they might at a child who was throwing a tantrum. “We need the Numetodo, Kraljica, Councillors,” he continued, lowering his voice. “We need their skills, their magic, and we need their knowledge. Nessantico is about to be under siege from both west and east, and we can’t afford to lose those who can help us.”

There was a long, painful silence. Odil licked his lips and sat. The other Council members lowered their heads, glancing at each other. Kraljica Sigourney stared outward to the dark stain on the tiles. “We will consider what you have said, Archigos,” she said finally, and he knew what that meant.

He grunted, lifting himself from his seat again. He took the staff of the Archigos in his right hand-the cracked globe wrapped in the naked, writhing bodies of the Moitidi-and gave the Kraljica the sign of Cenzi with the left. Again, he shuffled his way from the dais. As he passed the spot where the black sand had exploded, he stopped. The tiles there had broken. He picked up one of the larger pieces: the soft blue glaze razor sharp along one edge, the smooth surface stained with what looked to be soot. The smell of the black sand was strong. Kenne hefted the chunk of tile and let it fall, and the sound was that of a dish breaking. He watched bits of the tile bounce and scatter.

“All of Nessantico could look like this,” he told them. “All of it.”

There was no answer. He tapped the end of the Archigos’ staff on the tile and shuffled on.

The Parley tent was arrayed in the field between the two forces: just off the Avi a’Firenzcia and about halfway between Passe a’Fiume and Nessantico. As they approached, Sergei could already see the shadowed forms of Odil ca’Mazzack and Aubri cu’Ulcai under the white fabric, along with U’Teni Petros cu’Magnaoi, there as the Archigos’ representative. The Firenzcian delegation was Sergei, A’Hirzg Allesandra, and Starkkapitan ca’Damont, accompanied by the required array of chevarittai and attendants. Since neither the Kraljica nor Archigos Kenne were present, the Hirzg and Archigos Semini, at Sergei’s suggestion, remained behind. Neither one of them had been pleased with the arrangement.

“Matarh, I should be there,” Jan had insisted. “I am the Hirzg and whatever happens there should be, must be my decision.” He had glared at Sergei, at his matarh.

“So it will be, Hirzg,” Sergei told the young man. “I promise you that. But for you to be there…” He shook his head. “You are the Hirzg, as you said. There is no peer in that tent for you; there is no peer in the tent for the Archigos either. You, Hirzg Jan, can’t be expected to parley on equal terms with Odil ca’Mazzak, who is just a member of the Council of Ca’-you would be lowering yourself to do so. I can tell you that it’s exactly what they want you to do. It would be an admission that the Hirzg of the Coalition is someone who is lesser than the Kraljica of the Holdings.”

He had looked to Allesandra and the glowering Archigos then. “You asked me to give you my knowledge, to help you. That is what I’m doing here. Appearances matter. They matter a great deal. They especially matter to those in the Kraljica’s Palais.”

In the end, with Allesandra’s support, he had won the argument. Jan, at least, had been somewhat gracious about it. The Archigos had stalked off angrily, and they had heard him complaining throughout the encampment for the next few turns of the glass.

As the Firenzcian contingent dismounted and servants took their weapons and horses and offered refreshments, the Nessanticans came forward. Sergei clasped cu’Ulcai’s arm warmly, smiling at his longtime offizier. “Aubri,” he said, “I wish we could have met again under better circumstances. I heard what happened with poor Aris…” He clasped the man on the shoulder and gave the sign of Cenzi to U’Teni cu’Magnaoi. “Petros, it’s good to see you also. How is Archigos Kenne?”

“He is well, sir, and sends his blessing to you,” the older man answered.

Sergei leaned close to the man as he hugged him. “Has Kenne received my messages?” he whispered into the older man’s ear. “Does he agree?” Sergei felt Petros’ faint nod. He also saw the appraising glances of both the delegations on him as he greeted the two men: Allesandra as well as Odil ca’Mazzak. They were both suspicious; they both had a right to be. Sergei nodded to ca’Mazzak and took his seat to the left of Allesandra.

Ca’Mazzak gestured, and pages came forward to give Allesandra, Sergei, and the starkkapitan scrolls of heavy parchment. “This is the offer of Kraljica Sigourney,” ca’Mazzak said as they scanned the words there. “Your army will be permitted to return to Firenzcia. The outlaw Sergei Rudka will be handed over to us. Reparations will be paid by Brezno to the Holdings for the destruction of crops and livestock by their army, and for the violation of the Treaty of Passe a’Fiume. If you find the terms acceptable, all that is required is the signature of the A’Hirzg as the representative of the Coalition.”

It was no more than Sergei had expected. He’d witnessed Holdings arrogance and hubris too many times before.

Starkkapitan ca’Damont gave a snicker through his nose, tossing the parchment on the table. “And how does the Kraljica intend to enforce this, Councillor?” he asked. “With the few battalions you’ve given Commandant cu’Ulcai? I’ve nothing but respect for the commandant, who is a fine offizier, but one doesn’t fight off an angry bear by threatening him with a twig.” He seemed to realize then that he’d spoken out of turn. His face reddened slightly. “My pardons, A’Hirzg. I’m a simple offizier, but these demands… ” He swept the parchment from the table to the floor; a page scurried over to pick up the scroll but didn’t return it to him.