S Farrell - A Magic of Dawn

“I grew up in a ce’ family,” she answered. “I know what it’s like to be on the bottom of society.”

“And now you’re ca’, and you also know that it’s possible to be rewarded for your hard work and your intelligence. You’re an example of what every unranked and ce’ person can aspire to accomplish.”

“Possible, perhaps,” she said, “but I would argue that I am the exception rather than the rule, and that there are many unranked and ce’ who deserve better, and ca’-andcu’ who deserve less.”

Sergei lifted a hand. “No doubt. But who is to determine which? We have to leave that to Cenzi-ah, sorry. There I go again-or, as I suppose you would say, to an accident of fate.” He chuckled again. “And this is an argument neither of us will win, and I’ve no desire to leave you in a poorer mood than I found you. Varina, promise me that you’ll consider leaving the city.”

“I will consider it,” she told him. She didn’t tell him that she had already considered it and made up her mind. Instead, she smiled and put her own hands atop his. Her hands were like his: knobby and wrinkled, the flesh loose on the bones; the hands of an ancient. “Come,” she told him. “Let’s go upstairs where it’s more comfortable, and we can continue our talk over tea and scones.”

Gently, she ushered him from the workroom, locking the door behind them.

They snuggled together in the bed, and Nico kissed the slope of Liana’s shoulder, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her arms and her legs clutched him tightly, as if she wanted to hold him there forever, though he was held back by the surprising mound of her stomach. He laughed, stroking her hair and staring into her eyes. They were the color of rich earth after a rain, and he could see his own thin, bearded face reflected in them.

For a moment, his vision blurred and darkened, and it was as though there were a third person in the room with them: small and frail, a heart that could be heard above the pounding of his heart and Liana’s, and he thought he saw a form drifting away from them, leaving the room: a child’s form. A girl. He could feel the cold heat that he associated with Cenzi at the same moment. He closed his eyes, opened them again.

“Nico?” Liana asked him. She sounded worried. “You were so far away…”

Her arms had loosened around him. He tried to smile at her. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What did you see?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Or rather, I don’t know.” He stroked Liana’s abdomen. “I thought I saw… her.”

“Her?”

Nico gave a small nod. “Her.” He tried to smile, but found it difficult. Something about the brief vision bothered him. Why was the child leaving? Why did she vanish? Why did he not see either himself or Liana in the vision?

“A girl.”

Liana was suddenly weeping, but it was a cry of joy. She flung herself at him, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him. “A girl. Are you happy?” she asked. “Is that what you wanted?”

“No,” he said, then laughed at the face she made. “I mean, it doesn’t matter at all to me. Son or a daughter. All that matters is that the child is ours.” He gestured at the shabby room around them, another in the sequence of houses they’d fled to in Oldtown. “I have so little to offer you,” he said, and now it was Liana who laughed.

“Do you think that’s of any consequence to me?” she told him. “If you do, then Cenzi didn’t tell you everything.” Her arms gathered him to her again. “You offer me all that I want. I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy,” she whispered into his ear. “That’s all.”

“And I am,” he told her. “Liana, we should marry. I will ask Ancel-”

She surprised him then. “No,” she told him, shaking her head. Her hair drifted around her shoulders with the motion. “We should not.”

“Liana?”

She leaned back slightly, still holding him. Her gaze was serious and unblinking. “I know you love me, Nico. I know because you would never lie-not to me, not to anyone. You’ve no guile in you at all. I’m content with your love. And it may be that the Absolute-especially if he becomes what I believe Cenzi intends him to become-may need to marry someone for reasons other than love. He may have to do as the Archigi have done before, and marry to keep the Faith safe.”

He was shaking his head, but he could hear Cenzi inside his head: a deep, low approval, and he knew that she was right. Marriage could wait; it made no difference to his commitment to Liana or their child.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said to her, and she laughed.

“Perhaps not, but you have me, Nico, and I don’t intend to let you go.”

There were a half dozen of the war-teni of Nessantico gathered in the room, as well as a double-handful of the other teni from the city’s three temples. Most of them were young, most of them were e’teni, though a few, especially among the war-teni, had the rank of o’teni. Nico surveyed their faces as he entered the room behind Ancel and Liana. His arm was around Liana’s waist protectively; he saw some of them notice that and smile, as if they were pleased to see that the Absolute of the Morellis, Cenzi’s Voice, the Sword of the Divolonte, was as human as them, that he could love someone and produce an heir.

Nico kissed Liana’s cheek and smiled at her as she and Ancel moved to the side of the crowded room-the largest of three small rooms in their current refuge in Oldtown. The place stank of mold and rat feces, and the boards creaked and groaned under their weight, but Cenzi had told him that none of the Garde Kralji would find them here for now, so it must do. Nico gave them all the sign of Cenzi, which they returned.

They bowed their heads to him as well, every one. Nico nodded at that. He could feel Cenzi’s presence: a heat in the core of his body and a fire in his voice.

“Cenzi has told me that I can trust you,” he said without preamble. “He has shown me the heart of each one of you, and I know you. You have taken a great risk tonight to be here, and He knows this and blesses each of you for your devotion, and I appreciate it as well. I know that you hold the Toustour and the Divolonte to be the true Word of Cenzi. I know that you feel, as I do, that leaders of the Faith have lost their way. Archigos Karrol, A’Teni ca’Paim: they have abandoned Cenzi for the secular world, listening too much to Kraljica Allesandra and Hirzg Jan and too little to the Great Voice. I tell you …”

Nico paused, looking at each of them in turn, holding their gazes. He could sense Cenzi’s power building inside him. He let it do so, let the energy sear the words he would say. They emerged from his mouth as if he were spitting red coals and fire. The words raged in the tiny, dingy room; it wreathed them with Cenzi’s anger. “Cenzi said He would give us a sign, and He has sent us an unmistakable one. He has shown us in fire, in ash, and in blood how angry He is with the Faith. It was not enough that the Faith has coddled the unbelievers, the Numetodo, who deny Him entirely. No. Now He has sent the Tehuantin, heathens who worship a false god, to punish us for having fallen away from Him. There is but one way to save us. To cool Cenzi’s displeasure and to end His punishment, we must take our Faith back. We must take back the Faith for Cenzi, and for the people who truly believe. We must take it back now!”

Nico paused, gathering the energy once again. They were listening to him, rapt in the power of Cenzi’s words. Nico drew himself up, He raised his hands and his face to the bowed ceiling. He let Cenzi take his voice fully. “It is time,” he roared. “It is time to rise up and throw off the Archigos and a’teni who refuse to follow Cenzi’s path.”