S Farrell - A Magic of Nightfall

He nodded silently. Again Elle crouched by the door with her wires; again, there was a click. Elle opened the door and slipped inside, leaving the door open. Nico couldn’t see anything inside, though he squinted hard. Someone in the room was breathing hard, as if asleep. His own breathing seemed terribly loud, and if Elle made any sound at all as she moved through the room, Nico couldn’t hear it. He clutched at the doorframe, frightened and wanting to disobey Elle and call out to her, but the fear choked his throat.

There was a soft snick, a startled grunt, and then Elle’s voice. “That’s right,” he heard someone say softly-it sounded somewhat like Elle, but her voice was pitched deep and low. It might have been a man speaking. “That’s a knife blade against your neck, and if you cry out or so much as move your hands, you’re a dead man. Do as I say, and you might live. If you understand, nod your head.” There was a pause, then: “Good. I know who you are and what you are. I’ve been watching you. Now, I want to know something else. Do you know a boy named Nico Morel? Answer me: yes or no. And softly.”

Nico’s own breath hissed in at the mention of his name. He heard the person half-whisper an answer: “Yes.”

With that single word, he knew the voice: Talis. Almost, he leaped into the room, but he remembered Elle’s warning and he remained crouched at the door. “Good. You get to live yet,” Elle whispered to Talis. “Ah! No moving now; remember what I told you. I’d hate for you to slice yourself open accidentally. You’ve shared the bed of the boy’s matarh?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love her? Answer true now.”

There was a hesitation in which Nico took a quick breath. Then: “I do.”

“And the boy? Do you care about him?”

The answer was quicker and more emphatic. “Yes. The boy is…” His voice trailed off into a long silence.

“The boy is what?”

“My son. And yes. I care about the boy. That why I sent away both him and Serafina-so they’d be safe.”

“But he came back here, to this city. You discovered that after the Numetodo had him. You knew the Ambassador ca’Vliomani wanted to talk to you, but you didn’t answer him. You abandoned the boy, to save your own skin.” Nico realized that she was talking mostly for his own benefit, so that he would hear Talis’ reply.

Nico heard the rustling of cloth and straw as, despite Elle’s warning, Talis moved. “Ow! No. That’s not true. Ow! Easy! You’re right, I knew Nico was here and didn’t answer the Ambassador, but not for the reasons you say. Because…”

“Because?”

“I saw the consequences of trying to do that. I saw that if I’d gone to the Numetodo, worse things would have happened: for Nico, for me, for all of us. If I could have gotten Nico back safely, I would have. I knew the Ambassador would treat him kindly. I knew Nico wouldn’t be hurt if I stayed hidden. But if I’d come for him, if I’d tried to rescue him, I didn’t know what would happen. He might be hurt, or worse. There could have been terrible consequences.”

“You know this because of magic. Westlander magic.” Nico could almost see Talis’ nod. It was hard to stand silent and listen. He wanted to go to Talis, to Elle, but he also wanted to hear what Talis would say. “And did you see this moment in your spells? Did you see me?” Elle asked in her strange, husky voice.

“No,” he said. “I kept seeing Nico in the scrying bowl, as if he were close, but there was something around him, something protecting him.”

“Then you did see me. I protect him. And I will continue to do so.”

“Where is he?” Talis asked. “Take me to him!”

“Why? Why should I do that?”

“Because…” Nico heard Talis swallow hard. “… Because he should be with people he knows. I can take him back to his matarh.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“Then I hope for your sake you keep promises.”

Following Elle’s answer, no one said anything, though Nico thought he could hear furtive, swift movements. He peered into the darkness until blobs of color swam in front of his eyes, trying to see. He could hear Talis stirring, heard him speak a word in another language, and Nico shivered, as if some invisble, cold breeze had touched him. Suddenly there was bright light, light that seemed to come from Talis himself. He was sitting up in bed, his blankets pooled around his waist and two small trickles of blood running down his chest from his neck, and the light was coming from a cold glow that sat in his upturned palm. Elle was no longer in the room, though curtains swayed in front of an open window near the bed. Talis saw Nico in the hallway, and his mouth dropped open. “Nico!”

Nico ran to him, crying.

The paper rustled in his hand as he held it at an angle so that Great-Matarh Marguerite could read it also. He could hear her intake of breath, harsh and annoyed. “We’ve confirmed that the seal on this is genuinely from Francesca ca’Cellibrecca,” Sigourney was saying as he read the missive. “And we’ve had independent confirmation that former Regent ca’Rudka… pardon me, Rudka… is indeed in Brezno and that he’s met with the Hirzg, the A’Hirzg, and the Archigos. As to the affair she talks about between the Archigos and A’Hirzg Allesandra… well, that we can only speculate about.”

The paper trembled in Audric’s hand. His great-matarh was staring at him, her eyes furious. “You believe this?” He was asking his great-matarh, but it was Sigourney who answered.

“We have no reason not to believe it.”

“Well, I have a reason-Maister ci’Blaylock pounded that history into me too well. Francesca ca’Cellibrecca’s vatarh betrayed my vatarh and all the Holdings at Passe a’Fiume.” His finger tapped the parchment. “Now she wants to ally with us? She wants a reward? ”

“If she’s right, Kraljiki, then we should be grateful for her warning. She can help us, as close as she is to the Brezno inner circles.”

“You genuinely think there’s going to be war?” Audric said, and hated the way he sounded: like a worried child. “You’re not a child. Not anymore. Now you must be Kraljiki,” Marguerite told him, and he nodded to her. He made his voice as deep and stern as he could. “The new Hirzg is foolish if he thinks he can do that. We will crush him. We will send him bleeding and broken back to Firenzcia.”

“Those are brave words, Kraljiki Audric,” Sigourney said, nodding, though her face looked rather unconvinced to Audric. “I’m certain that you’re right. But we can also hope it won’t come to that.” She inclined her head toward the painting on its stand next to him. “With Vajica ca’Cellibrecca’s help, perhaps we can force diplomacy on Firenzcia. Your great-matarh understood that; she didn’t use force unless it was necessary.”

“Don’t tell me what she would do,” Audric snapped at Sigourney. He coughed with the ferocity of the words, and had to press his kerchief to his lips until the spasm passed. When it was over, he continued, with less volume, his throat sore from the attack. “ I know her best. It’s me who understands my great-matarh. It’s me she talks to. Not you.”

Sigourney raised her hands, her eyes wide from his outburst. “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, Kraljiki. It’s just…” She lowered her voice, leaning toward him as if afraid someone might overhear, though there were only the three of them in the room. “We need to be careful here. It’s possible this may be nothing, or it may be the suspicions of a wife who feels she has lost the trust of her husband, especially if the rumors regarding Archigos ca’Cellibrecca and Allesandra are true. We have to consider Vajica ca’Cellibrecca’s motives.”