S Farrell - A Magic of Dawn

Varina nodded; it was all she could muster.

“I have a proposal for you,” Allesandra said. She was looking out toward the Old Temple again. “You want Nico left alive. I think that’s foolish, but I’m willing to grant you that wish-at least temporarily-if you’ll give the Holdings the secret of this sparkwheel.”

She was looking directly at Varina now, with the question written on her face. Varina couldn’t hold her gaze for long; she looked away, toward the painting of Marguerite. “Allesandra…” She began, but couldn’t continue. How could she tell her how frightened and guilt-ridden that made her feel, how the future she imagined-a world where the formula for black sand was common knowledge, where anyone could construct a sparkwheel-would be like. She had no illusions that someone wouldn’t improve upon the black sand formula: make it more powerful, more deadly. She had no doubt that some skilled artisan would be able-like Pierre Gabrelli-to take her design and perfect it; make a better and more effective weapon.

She could imagine that world. She wasn’t certain she wanted to live in it.

You won’t. How much longer will you live, even if you survive the coming siege by the Tehuantin? Five years? Ten? You won’t see the world you create.

But it would be hers, nonetheless. Her name, and the name of the Numetodo would be attached to it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Allesandra said. “What would Karl have told you, Varina?”

“You can’t stop knowledge: it wants to be born, and it will force its way into the world no matter what you do.” She heard his voice in her ear, as clearly as if he were standing alongside her. She gasped, an intake of breath that was almost a sob. “I’m afraid of what we would be unleashing, Allesandra. You’re a believer in Cenzi, but this

… This would shake the foundations of the Faith. This would say to the world that magic is less important and less effective than simple knowledge. We Numetodo already defy the Faith-we refute the idea that magic must be confined only to the Faithful, that it comes from Cenzi. This would go further, Allesandra. I’m afraid…” She shook her head. “But Karl would say that once the duck is cooked it can’t ever be uncooked, so you might as well eat it.”

“Then tell us how to make your sparkwheels, and I’ll set the smithies and artisans of the city to work. It may be our only hope.”

She was still shaking her head, still haunted by the vision of the world she might be creating. They both heard Talbot’s knock on the door of the chamber, and the aide opened the door. He inclined his head to Varina before addressing Allesandra. “Kraljica, Ambassador Sergei is in the palais; he’s just come from Firenzcia.”

“Send him up,” Allesandra told him, and Talbot bowed and shut the door again. Varina started to rise, and Allesandra gestured to her to stay. “No,” she said. “We both have things to tell him.”

There was a new knock on the door, and Talbot announced Sergei, who hobbled into the room with his cane. He looked more tired than Varina remembered, as if he hadn’t slept well.

“Sergei,” Allesandra said. “You’re back quickly. Did you have a good trip?” Allesandra’s voice had a strange tremor to it that jerked Varina’s head around.

“I had an interesting trip, in many ways,” he answered, but under the metal nose, he was smiling as he lifted a scroll from his diplomatic pouch and handed it to Allesandra. “Your treaty, Kraljica,” he said. “Signed. Hirzg Jan is on his way with the Firenzcian army.”

Varina saw mingled relief and concern war in Allesandra’s face, as if the news simultaneously cheered and saddened her. She wondered at that. “Excellent,” Allesandra said, but the enthusiasm for the word was missing from her voice.

“I saw Vajiki ca’Vikej in the hall as I was coming up, and he asked about it,” Sergei said, almost too offhandedly. “I told him that I didn’t report to him, but to you. He didn’t look happy at the answer.” Then he glanced at Varina. “Varina, I understand that the Numetodo were instrumental in removing Nico Morel and his people from the Old Temple. I’m glad to see that you’re unhurt. Is it true that you have Nico’s child?”

Varina nodded. Holding her… Looking into her innocent, trusting face and seeing Nico’s face there as well… Watching the wet nurse she’d employed feeding her… “A daughter,” she said. “Her name is Serafina.”

Sergei nodded, staring at her strangely. “Good. I’m glad she’s in your hands. And I’m sorry, also-I know how this must make you feel. I promise you that I’ll talk to Capitaine ce’Denis and make certain that when the time comes, Nico’s death is quick. If the Faith wants his hands and tongue, they can take them afterward.”

Varina shuddered at the image, though there was nothing but empathy in Sergei’s eyes. “There may not be a death,” Allesandra said before Varina could compose an answer. “If the Numetodo cooperate.”

“Ah?” The white wings of Sergei’s eyebrows lifted. He glanced again at Varina. “Cooperate how?”

“Varina’s developed a black sand device, a mechanism-something anyone can operate with no magic required, and yet it’s devastating. Several of the Morellis and war-teni were killed with them during the assault. I believe it could literally change the way of warfare.”

So she understands that as well as do I… Varina shifted uncomfortably in her chair. If Allesandra glimpsed the same future that Varina saw, then it didn’t seem to trouble her. “I haven’t yet agreed,” she reminded Allesandra. “I have to think about this.”

Allesandra left the balcony window to crouch down in front of Varina, almost like a supplicant. She took Varina’s hands in her own. “Varina,” she said, her eyes not allowing Varina to look away, “there isn’t time to think. There isn’t time to hesitate at all. The Westlanders will be here in a few days. It’s good that Jan is bringing his army, but that still might not be enough-not given what the Tehuantin did at Karnmor and at Villembouchure. Commandant ca’Talin says there are four or five times the numbers who came here last time. The longer we wait, the fewer of your sparkwheels we can make and the less time we have to train people to use them. You can’t think on this. You need to give me an answer-because it’s not just Nico’s life that is at stake here, but that of everyone in this city, yourself included.”

“I don’t care about my life,” Varina answered. “Not anymore. Not since Karl died.”

“Don’t say that,” Allesandra answered, squeezing her hands. “I won’t listen to talk like that. And you don’t mean it either. You have the child to think about now.”

Varina tried to smile back at Allesandra. She felt exhausted, and sore from the exertions of the assault. Sergei knelt down alongside Allesandra, groaning with the effort. “Listen to the Kraljica,” he said to her. “She’s saying what we both feel-and Talbot and the rest of the Numetodo as well.”

Varina sighed. She closed her eyes. Outside, she could hear birds twittering in the garden of the palais and the faint clamor of people out on the Avi. Quiet sounds. The sounds of peace. Allesandra’s hands were warm on hers, which felt like cold stone on her lap.

Dead things. Broken things.

“All right,” she told them. “Tell Talbot to come to my laboratory this evening. I’ll give him the plans and formulae.”

Capitaine Ari Ce’denis looked weary, as if he hadn’t slept well for a few days. That was probably true, since the Bastida’s cells were stuffed as they had rarely been: with the rebellious war-teni, with the Morellis who had survived the assault on the Old Temple. And there was their prized prisoner: Nico Morel.