S Farrell - A Magic of Dawn

“What did you want, Hirzgin?” the young woman asked, brushing her hands on her apron and tucking a strand of her black hair behind an ear. She seemed guileless enough, but Brie had been watching Jan and Rhianna whenever the two were in the same room with her, and there was no doubt in her mind that Rhianna was certainly someone that her husband would bed if the opportunity presented itself. But she was relatively convinced it hadn’t happened yet. There was a skittishness to Rhianna whenever Jan was around, and she always kept herself a careful arm’s length from him. She didn’t act like someone who was already on intimate terms with him. Still, it was familiar, this dance; Brie had seen it too many times before: sometimes with servants, sometimes with one of the court ladies. Yet this time it was different, too. Rhianna didn’t seem as eager as the others to be caught, and that both pleased and worried Brie. She wondered what it was that Rhianna would want from Jan in return for the pleasures of her body, if she prized the gift so highly.

“I’ve been considering whether I should have you remain with the children here at Stag Fall,” Brie told her. She watched Rhianna’s face carefully. Yes, there was the hint of a frown, even though she tried to disguise it by wiping her brow with a sleeve.

“Paulus said that I would be going with the staff to the encampment,” she answered, and Brie smiled at her.

“Yes,” she said. “I know. But you’re so good with the children, Rhianna. Elissa especially likes you, and the nursemaids will have their hands full.”

Rhianna’s face was impassive. Carved from stone. The domestiques de chambre kept their heads down, intent on their own tasks: invisible. Brie knew that they had heard this conversation played out in one form or another before as well. “Whatever the Hirzgin wishes, of course,” Rhianna said, but the response was slow in coming and toneless.

“Unless, of course,” Brie continued, “the Hirzg would rather you were with us.”

Rhianna’s head came up, her eyes widened, and Brie felt the sickness tighten in her stomach. Such a strange look: fear and anticipation all at once, as if she doesn’t know what she wants… Brie kept the well-practiced smile on her face.

With Mavel cu’Kella, with the servants Maria and Greta, with the other women she’d known about, the decision would have been easy. Had Rhianna been like one of them, Brie would have her remain here, then dismiss her on her return. When lovers became too close to Jan, too bound up with him, they became a danger to Brie as well. With Rhianna, it wasn’t clear yet what was going to happen. Perhaps that’s better. If I sent her away, then Jan would just find someone else: someone I might not know about for too long. At least with Rhianna, I know who to watch, and I can always end it. She’s just one of the unranked, after all…

Brie nodded, as if to herself. “I’ll talk with the Hirzg,” she told Rhianna. “I’ll ask him what he thinks.”

The girl nodded. “I’ll…” She cut off whatever it was she might have said. “I should finish the packing in the meantime,” she said.

“Yes,” Brie told her. “I’ll leave you to that.”

She wouldn’t talk to Jan. She would allow the girl to come along as Paulus had wished. And she would watch.

She would watch very carefully.

A Offizier Pierre Ci’Santiago was obviously uncomfortable with the news he brought to Allesandra. Under curls of raven-black hair matted and unruly from the pressure of his uniform cap, now twisting in his hands, ci’Santiago’s gaze kept sliding away from Allesandra’s face like feet on slick ice. A glance toward the windows, then off to the painting of Kraljica Marguerite in its place over the mantel. Ci’Santiago seemed to shudder momentarily at the sight of Marguerite, perhaps remembering the madness of Kraljiki Audric years ago. “The Commandant has been captured by the Morellis.” Back to her, his eyes widening, then away again. “We’re not certain of his condition, but the body of A’Teni ca’Paim as well as those of several other teni and gardai were delivered to us.” Back, and this time moving down to his own feet. “The war-teni who had failed to ride with the Garde Civile force you sent to Villembouchure were there. All of them, when it was thought that they had fled the city rather than serve. Neither Commandant cu’Ingres nor A’Teni ca’Paim could have foreseen that.”

“No? Is that what you think, A’Offizier?” Allesandra asked. Her stomach burned as if she had swallowed a hot coal. “Isn’t anticipating the movements of the enemies of the state the Commandant’s job? Isn’t anticipating the movements of the enemies of the Faith the task of A’Teni ca’Paim?”

Ci’Santiago swallowed hard. “Well, yes, I suppose it is, my Kraljica, but…”

He stopped, as if uncertain what to say next, and she waved aside whatever objection he was concocting. She wished that Sergei were here-the man might be twisted and dangerous, but there wasn’t a better tactician in either of the Gardes. And if not Sergei, then Commandant ca’Talin, who was directing the action at Villembouchure. The attack on the Old Temple begged for leadership of the Garde Civile, leadership she suspected she wasn’t going to see from ci’Santiago.

“So A’Teni ca’Paim, my good friend and the leader of the Faith here, is dead,” she said before ci’Santiago could comment again. “And Nico Morel and his riffraff hold the Old Temple. What do you intend to do about that, A’Offizier, now that it would seem that you are in charge of the Garde Kralji?”

Ci’Santiago shook his head. “Kraljica, retaking the Old Temple would be costly in lives and perhaps in damage to the structure itself. With the war-teni and other teni Nico Morel has at his disposal, a frontal attack is nearly impossible. I have people contacting the architect cu’Brunelli for his architectural drawings of the temple, so that we can perhaps plan an attack from an unexpected quarter, but it may well be that the teni Morel has with him know the hidden ways of the Old Temple-especially the ancient sections of it-as well or better than cu’Brunelli, who after all was concerned mostly with the dome and the main temple area. We’re also looking for old maps or texts in the Grande Libreria as well. I’ve surrounded the Old Temple and the attached complex with my people. The Morellis have trapped themselves. They can’t escape and we will also keep out his people and food supplies, though the kitchens of the Old Temple complex were undoubtedly full.”

“So you’re telling me that he’s won, that the best we can do is lay siege to the Old Temple and hope to starve out the Morellis. One day maybe months from now. You’re telling me that, a quarter turn’s walk from the palais, we no longer control one of the most important buildings in the city?”

Ci’Santiago heard the heavy sarcasm in her voice. His gaze flittered away again. “To some degree, that’s an accurate assessment, Kraljica,” he said. “Unless you can commit some of the chevarittai and the Garde Civile to this, the Garde Kralji doesn’t have the resources to deal with this large and this powerful an insurrection.” He finally looked at her face again, and this time his gaze was hard and unblinking. “I’m simply being honest, Kraljica. I wish it were otherwise.”

She sighed. “I know. What does Morel want? Have we received demands from him yet?”

“His demands were pinned to A’Teni ca’Paim’s robes,” he answered, almost apologetically. He reached into a side pocket of his uniform jacket and handed a folded piece of parchment to Allesandra. She unfolded the stiff paper; the writing there was clear and bold, in a fine, small hand.