A Magic of Nightfall (32 page)

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Authors: S. L. Farrell

BOOK: A Magic of Nightfall
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“A lovely party, Brother,” she said to Fynn. His smile was nearly predatory as he glanced around them.
“Yes, isn’t it?” he responded, and his pleasure was obvious. “I’m absolutely surrounded by loveliness.” Bright laughter answered him. Allesandra smiled in return, but she watched her brother’s animated face. The image came to her of him sprawled bloody on the tiles, with a pebble over the left eye and the right staring blindly up at her. She shook away the thought, swallowing heat again. “Don’t you think so, Allesandra?”
“I do. I see here two young bees and an old hornet surrounded by flowers, and the flowers had best be careful.” More polite laughter, though she saw the Archigos frown as if he were trying to decide if he’d been affronted. Her gaze went back to Vajica ca’Karina. “Jan, you’ve neglected to introduce your yellow rose.”
Jan straightened and slid the barest fraction of an inch closer to the young woman.
Almost protective . . . Yes, he’s interested in her. And look at the way she keeps glancing at him . . .
“Matarh, this is Vajica ca’Karina. She’s here from Jablunkov.”
Elissa bowed her head to Allesandra. “A’Hïrzg,” she said. “I’m so delighted to meet you. Your son has told us many delightful things about you.” Her voice held the accent of Sesemora, blurring the consonants ever so slightly. The voice was husky and low for a woman. Something about the young woman, though . . .
“Have we met, Vajica ca’Karina?” Allesandra asked. “Perhaps at one of my vatarh’s Solstice feasts? The shape of your face, the lines of it . . .”
“Oh, no, A’Hirzg,” the woman answered. The smile was disarming, the laugh enchanting. “I would
certainly
remember having met you, and especially your son.”
Allesandra was certain of that last statement, at least. “Then perhaps it’s a family resemblance? Would I know your parents?”
“I don’t know, A’Hirzg. I know they once entertained Hïrzg Jan, many years ago, but that was while you were still . . .” She stopped there, blushing as she recognized what she was about to say, and hurrying on. “I was named after my matarh, and my vatarh is Josef—he was a ca’Evelii before he married my matarh. Our chateau is east of Jablunkov, in the hills. A very pretty place, A’Hïrzg, though the winters can be rather long there.”
Allesandra nodded to all that, committing the names to memory for the message she would send. Jan touched Elissa’s arm as the musicians on the ballroom’s stage started to play. “Matarh, I promised Elissa a dance. . . .”
Allesandra smiled as graciously as she could. “Of course. Jan, we really must talk later . . .” but he was already leading Elissa away. Fynn had moved out into the open dancing space as well.
“He’s a fine young man, your son, and very brave.” Semini’s emerald-hued robes shifted as he gazed at her. He seemed uncertain as to whether to come closer to her or to flee. The compliment was so bald that Allesandra felt no compulsion to reply to it.
“Is your Francesca well? I notice she’s not here tonight.”
“She is indisposed, A’Hïrzg. These endless celebrations for the new Hïrzg are tiring, especially for someone with so many ailments. But she sent her regrets to the Hïrzg, and there is a meeting of the Council of Ca’ tomorrow and she takes her responsibilities as councillor very seriously. There is no one who thinks more of Brezno than Francesca. It is practically
all
she thinks about.”
His tone was blatantly scornful. Allesandra realized then that it had been Francesca who had put the Archigos on his path. It was
her
ambition driving him, not his own. Semini, she suspected, would still be a war-téni if it were not for Francesca. She wondered if Francesca, too, harbored images of Fynn laying dead, but with Francesca herself taking the throne. “And you, A’Hïrzg?” Semini asked. “Forgive me, but you seem a bit pale this evening.”
“I find that I’m a little indisposed, Archigos.”
He nodded. Under silver-flecked eyebrows, his dark gaze scanned the floor; she followed it to find Pauli laughing in a knot of older women, his hands gesturing finely as he spoke. “A family problem?” Semini asked.
“Possibly.”
He nodded, as if musing on that. “When we last spoke, A’Hïrzg, you said we were on the same side.”
“Aren’t we, Archigos?” she asked him. “Don’t we both want what’s best for Firenzcia?”
He took a long breath. “I believe we do. At least, I hope so. And the last time, you asked me to dance. You said you wanted to know how well we moved together. But you left without giving me an answer.” Another pause. Another breath. His gaze came back to her, intense and unblinking. “Did we? Did we move together well?”
She touched his arm. She felt muscles lurch under his robes, but he didn’t move away. “I seem to remember that we did,” she told him. “But perhaps a reminder would be good. For both of us.”
She led him out onto the dance floor.
She thought he moved very well indeed.
Audric ca’Dakwi
H
IS GREAT-MATARH FROWNED as he struggled to breathe on the bed. “Get
up
, boy,” she told him. “The Kraljiki can’t lie there weak and helpless. The Kraljiki must be strong; the Kraljiki must show he can lead his people.”
“But, Great-Matarh,” he told her. “It’s so hard. My chest hurts so much. . . .”
“Kraljiki?” Seaton and Marlon entered the bechamber from the door to the servants’ corridor. The two of them struggled with a heavy wheeled easel draped in gold-brocaded blue cloth.
“Ah,” Audric said. “Good.” He pointed to the painting over the fireplace. “You see, Great-Matarh? Now you may come with me wherever I go.” He supervised as his attendants took down the painting and placed it carefully on the easel, making certain it was secured to the frame of the device so it couldn’t fall. Audric watched, and thought that Marguerite looked pleased. “It must have been boring, having to stare at the same room all day and night. It would have driven me mad . . .” He looked at Seaton. “Have they come as I ordered?”
“Yes, Kraljiki,” Seaton answered. “They’re waiting for you in the Sun Throne Hall.”
“Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting. Bring the Kraljica with us.”
“And you, Kraljiki? Should we call for a chair?”
Audric shook his head. “I no longer require that,” he told them, told Marguerite. “I will walk.”
Seaton and Marlon glanced quickly at each other and bowed. Audric took as deep a breath as he could and led them from the bedchamber.
He thought perhaps he’d made a mistake by the time they’d walked nearly the length of the main wing of the palais. He was panting rapidly from the effort and could feel sweat dampening the back of his neck and beading on his forehead. He dabbed at the moisture with the lace of his sleeve as they reached the hall gardai. When they started to announce them, Audric stopped them. “A moment,” he said. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his breath.
“You can do this,”
he heard Marguerite say, and he nodded to the gardai. They opened the doors for them. “The Kraljiki Audric,” one of them intoned into the hall.
Audric heard the rustling as the seven people inside came to their feet, their heads bowed as he entered: Sigourney ca’Ludovici, Aleron ca’Gerodi, Odil ca’Mazzak . . . all the appointed members of the Council. He could also see them desperately trying to glance up to see what was making such a racket as Seaton and Marlon wheeled in Marguerite’s portrait behind him. “Kraljiki,” Sigourney said, lifting from her bow as he stopped in front of her. “It’s good to see you doing so well.”
Her gaze slipped past him to the painting, and he saw her struggle to keep the puzzlement from her face.
“The reports of my illness have been exaggerated by those who wish to do me harm,” he told her. “I
am
well, thank you, Councillor.” He nodded to the others in the room. For a moment, he was frightened, like a child among a forest of adults, but then he heard Marguerite’s voice in his ear, whispering to him:
“You are superior to them, boy. You are their Kraljiki; behave as if you expect their obedience and you will get it. Act as if you are still a child and they will treat you that way.”
With a nod to his attendants, Audric strode to the Sun Throne, forcing down the cough that threatened to double him over. He sat, and the Throne bloomed into light around him, the crystal facets gleaming. The e-téni stationed around the room relaxed as the glow surrounded him. Audric closed his eyes briefly as the easel was moved to sit at his right hand. His great-matarh could see them now, all of them.
They were staring at him, at Marguerite.
“See the greed on their faces. They all want to sit where you’re sitting, Audric. Especially Sigourney; she wants it most of all. You can use that to get them to agree. . . .”
“I won’t keep you long here,” he told the Council. “We are all busy people, and I am looking strongly at ways to bring Nessantico back to prominence against our enemies to both West and East. That is, I am certain, what each of us want. I vow to you now; I will reunite the Holdings.”
The speech nearly exhausted him, and he could not keep away the cough that followed, smothering it in a lace handkerchief. “The Council of Ca’ isn’t all present, Kraljiki,” Sigourney said. “We are missing Regent ca’Rudka.”
“I was aware of that,” Audric told her. “He is missing for good reason: the Regent was not invited.”
“Ah?” Sigourney breathed questioningly as the others murmured.
“See the eagerness—especially with Cousin Sigourney? They are all thinking about where they would stand if the Regent fell, and calculating their chances. . . .”
“Yes,” Audric said before any of them could voice an objection. “I called this meeting to discuss the Regent. I won’t waste your time with diversions and small talk. For the good of Nessantico, I am asking for two rulings from the Council of Ca’. One, that Regent ca’Rudka be immediately imprisoned in the Bastida a’Drago for treason—” the uproar nearly drowned out the rest, “—and that I be elevated to rule as Kraljiki in truth as well as title.” The clamor of the Council redoubled at that statement. Audric sat back and listened, letting them argue among themselves.
“Yes, use the opportunity to rest, and to listen. . . .”
He did that. He watched them; he especially watched Sigourney. Yes, she kept glancing over to him as she spoke to the other councillors. He could see her weighing him, judging him. “This is what I desire,” Audric said at last, when the hubbub had died somewhat, “and it is what my great-matarh desires as well.” He gestured to the portrait, and was gratified to see her smile in return. They stared, all of them, their gazes moving from him to the painting and back again. “The Regent is a traitor to the Sun Throne. Ca’Rudka wishes to sit here where I am sitting now, and he is plotting to do so even at the expense of our success in the Hellins and against the Coalition.”
Aleron cleared his throat noisily, glancing at Sigourney. “Councillor ca’Ludovici has mentioned to all of us here your concerns, Kraljiki, and I wish to assure you that we take them seriously,” he said. “But proof of these accusations . . .”
“Your proof will come when ca’Rudka is interrogated, Vajiki ca’Gerodi,” Audric said, and the stress of speaking loudly enough to interrupt the man sent him into a spasm of coughing. They watched him, silent, as he regained control. “
Don’t worry. This works to your advantage, Audric. They’re all thinking that with the Regent gone, and you ill, that perhaps the Sun Throne will be quickly vacant, and one of them might take it. Sigourney, Odil, and Aleron had all heard the outlines of what you’re asking already, so they know what you’ll say. Look at Sigourney—see how eagerly she regards you? See how she’s assessing you for weakness. She has ambition . . . use it!”
Audric glanced over gratefully at his great-matarh, inclining his head to her as he wiped his mouth.
“I am convinced,” Audric told them, “that Regent ca’Rudka was responsible for Archigos Ana’s assassination, that he intends to abandon the Hellins despite the tremendous sacrifice of our gardai, and that he is conspiring with those in the Firenzcian Coalition against me, perhaps intending to place Hïrzg Fynn here on the Sun Throne if he cannot sit there himself.”
“Those are serious accusations, Kraljiki,” Odil ca’Mazzak said. “Why isn’t Regent ca’Rudka here to answer them?”
“To
deny
them, you mean?” Audric laughed, and Marguerite’s amusement rose twined with his own. “That’s what he would do. You’re right, Cousin: these are serious accusations, and I don’t make them lightly. It’s also why I believe that the Regent must be removed from his position. Let those in the Bastida rip the truth from him.” He paused. They watched him as he smiled at his great-matarh. “Let me rule as the new
Spada Terribile
as my great-matarh did, and bring Nessantico to new heights.”
“
See? They look at you with new eyes, my great-son. They no longer hear a child, but a man . . .”
They did watch him carefully, appraisingly. He sat up in the chair, holding their gazes regally as he imagined his great-matarh had, looking at the shadow of himself the gleam of the throne cast on the walls and ceiling. “I know,” he told her.
“You know what, Kraljiki?” Sigourney asked him, and he shook himself, his hands tightening on the cold arms of the Sun Throne.

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