Turning the Storm (16 page)

“I bet Signora Clara was trying to decide if you'd warm her bed nicely,” Valentino said. “You know, she isn't married.”

“I can't believe I'm her type,” I said.
Could I use the Emperor's interest in me, somehow? If I hadn't been imagining things
?

“You should give it a try,” Valentino said. “You'll never know if you don't.”

“I don't think I want wine tossed in my face,” I said. “I don't have many sets of clothes.”

“Nothing worthwhile is ever accomplished without risk,” Valentino said grandly. “Just think—Signora Clara as your lover!”

You know what you have to do
, Giovanni's voice echoed Valentino's in my mind.
You just need the courage
.

It was too late to go to the university district. I bid Valentino good night, and went into my own room. I
went to drop my cloak onto my bed, and smelled something unexpected: a scent both delicate and heady. I looked down to see a sprig of winter jasmine on my pillow. And next to it, a carved wooden whistle, no bigger than my finger.

No
, I thought.
Not possible
.

“I had to come see you,” a voice said behind me, and I turned.

It was Mira.

D
iscovered. I was discovered
. My first impulse was to bolt back out the door, but if Mira intended to have me arrested, she would undoubtedly have guards outside. Drawing my knife would do me no good, either; I vividly remembered what Mira had done to the crossbow bolt shot at me, and I was certain she could annihilate a knife, or a person, just as easily.

Shaking, I turned away from her, and dropped the bar into place on my door. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“You think I've betrayed you,” she said. She summoned witchlight with a flick of her wrist, illuminating her face with the white glow like moonlight. “You think I've set guards on you. I have not,
Daniele
.” She spoke my alias with a slight emphasis. “Had I wanted to betray you, I would have done it last night, instead of leaving roses on your windowsill. Or this afternoon, when I left the flower beside you at the fountain.”

That was you
? I was silent.

“I should have stayed away. But when I knew you were so close—I had to see you.”

I could not meet her eyes. I couldn't approach her. I turned my face to the wall and let myself sink to the floor by the door. “How did you get in?” I asked, finally. “Our rooms are supposed to be private.”

“I bribed one of the servants.”

“So all the servants will know that a musician had a visit from a mage.”

“They'll think I'm your lover. It's not as uncommon as you'd think.”

“Quirino had a lover who was a mage,” I said.

“Silvia. I know her. She's close to my age.”

I still couldn't look at Mira's face, so I studied the witchlight in her hand. It gave off a soft glow, dimmer than my own witchlight. Mira was doubtless skilled enough to adjust the illumination, to provide a moonlight glow or the sharp brightness of the sun, as she wished. After those many months seeing her avoid magery like poison, it seemed wrong to see her with witchlight—even knowing the truth. Even having the truth staring me in the face.

She knelt beside me on the floor. “Please talk to me,” she begged.

“I don't know what to say to you.” Mira tried to touch my hand and I pulled back, still unwilling to look her in the face. “You—” My throat closed, and I had to stop for a moment and fight for steady breath. “When you destroyed the Lupi, you killed the ten-year-old boy who had brought the message that Felice had betrayed us. He was standing in front of me. I saw him burn to death in the magefire.”

“Eliana.” Mira whispered my name so softly I could barely hear her. “I volunteered for the mission to destroy
the Lupi. I called in favors, I pulled strings. Because the Lupi were going down in flames, whether I was there or not. And if I were the focus, the mage directing the power, I could protect
you
and as many of the other Lupi as I could.”

I said nothing, and after a moment Mira went on.

“How many survived that night? I heard a rumor that said about half, is that accurate?”

I bent my head in a grudging nod.

“Had I not been there that night, please believe that I am not exaggerating when I say that at
least
nine in every ten Lupi would have died. I couldn't protect all of you. I protected as many as I could—and the people I knew were especially close to you, like Lucia and Giovanni.” Her hand closed over mine too fast for me to draw away. “I love you. I spared you as much as I dared.”

“If you love me,” I whispered, “then why did you leave me?”

Mira pulled her hand back. “You couldn't understand.”

I jerked away from her, leaping to my feet and whirling to face her. “To hell with you. I may not be a mage, but that does not make me your inferior in the eyes of— in the eyes of anyone who counts.” The words spilled out of me like wine from a cut wineskin; with effort, I forced my voice back to a whisper. “Do you know what I understand? The Circle killed my family, destroyed Verdia, enslaved me and thousands of others while mouthing loyalty to the Lady, and slaughtered my army. And
you
are one of them.”

Mira had bowed her head at my onslaught. When I had finished, she said, “You're here to spy, aren't you?”

“Do you
really
think I'm going to discuss that with you?”

“No.”

“I think you should leave now,” I whispered. “You shouldn't have come.” I unbarred my door and stepped back.

Mira's head was still bowed, and she kept her face turned away from me as she picked up her cloak and threw it around her shoulders. She didn't say good-bye.

My head was spinning. It was far too late for a casual visit to Michel, but I needed his counsel. Should I run now? It was true that Mira could have turned me in if she'd intended to. But would she turn me in now, after I threw all my anger and hatred into her face? I shook my head as I picked up my own cloak.
She wouldn't. Mira wouldn't betray me
. I needed to talk to Michel. I pulled up my hood and went back out into the night.

As I made my way through the silent midnight streets, I was reminded of the previous night, when I'd trailed the Redentore to his clandestine meeting. What if Mira were following me now? Perhaps she
had
betrayed me. Maybe the Circle Council had told her to come to me and see if I'd be willing to resume our friendship, with the idea of winning information from me willingly. I was fool enough to fall for Felice, after all. What if someone was following me now to see who I met with, to catch Michel with me in the same snare?

I paused for a moment to listen for a footfall. And heard one, softly, a short distance behind me; then no more, as if the follower had frozen when I stopped.

I
was
being followed. I whirled and ran back the way I'd come, drawing my knife. A cloaked figure had
pressed itself into a doorway, hiding in the shadow. I grabbed the cloak and threw back the hood, and found myself face-to-face with Mira again.

“You followed me,” I said.

“It's not safe to talk in the enclave. I wanted to find you outside.”

“Then why did you approach me in the enclave in the first place?”

“I was
hoping
that you'd agree to leave with me once you saw who was there.” Mira's gray eyes were rimmed with red, but her voice was steady now. “But even if you do hate me—I had to hear you say my name one more time. My true name.” She swallowed. “Say my name, Eliana, that's all I ask. I swear on all that's holy, I'll kiss crossed twigs if you like, I won't bother you again.”

I licked my lips and looked down. “Mir—” My throat closed. I thought of Vitale, dying before my eyes—of Rafi and Camilla and all the others who'd died. But Mira stood before me, and when I looked into her face, though I could not forgive her, I couldn't sustain my rage, either.

“Let's go for a walk,” I said.

Cuore was never completely quiet; even late at night, there were people coming home from taverns, or out on other errands. Mira steered us through streets of closed shops and warehouses; the homes of the merchants, above the stores, were mostly dark and quiet, though we could see the glow of witchlight or the flicker of a candle in a few of them. I found myself thinking of the conservatory, in the hours before dawn, the night after Bella's murder. When Mira was ill the second time. My hand strayed to the eagle medallion,
which hung where Bella's cross should have been. At any rate, no footsteps followed us; for all practical purposes, we were alone. We could talk freely.

“What do you think would have happened if we'd jumped the wall that day?” Mira asked.

I didn't need to ask which day she meant. “Well, I'd probably have wanted to go home to visit my family,” I said. My throat tightened. I let out my breath; when I spoke again, my voice was calm, flat. “That's where I went after you left.”

“I heard a song about that.”

I forced out a sharp little laugh. “Lia makes it sound more heroic than it was—swearing vengeance on their graves and all that. Really, I gathered up what I could find, and buried it. I played the funeral song. That's all. No vows, no vengeance. Not then, anyway.” I turned my head to look at Mira's face. “Do you happen to know which mages did it?”

She stopped in the street and turned to face me. “No.”

“You say that with a lot of certainty.”

“I could have found out. When I first heard the songs, and realized they were about you, it would have been easy enough to ask around. I didn't. Because I didn't want to know. I have to see these people every day. And once I knew—” Her face was pale; her gray eyes, hard. “I'd have killed them. All of them. As comforting as it would have been to take vengeance on your family's killers, I guess I thought I was more use to you alive. I guess my willful ignorance is another thing you can hate me for.”

I shrugged and we started walking again. I wanted to hate her for it, but my anger had spilled and spent itself, at least for now. I tried to imagine waking every
morning at the conservatory knowing that some of the other girl musicians had done unspeakable things, and fearing to ask who, lest I find out it was Bella, Celia, Flavia, or Giula.
I'd have left
, I thought.

“If we'd jumped the wall that day, I suppose that after we buried my family we'd have gone down to Ravenna together,” I said. “The survivors of the fight were all taken there; I went because I hoped someone in my family might still be alive.” I shook my head. “I didn't find anyone I knew, but I found some of the reformers from the university. They were trying to lead a breakout, but they weren't going about it very well, so I took over.”

“Good for you,” Mira said. “I've encountered Placido, and I don't much like him.”

I bit my lip and looked at her. She arched an eyebrow and for an instant I saw a flash of the smile I remembered from the conservatory. “Oh yes, I know who leads the reformers. It's not a very well-kept secret. I think the Circle and Fedeli leave him in place because he's more damaging to his cause than helpful. If they had him executed, someone competent might take over.”

“Teleso made that mistake,” I said. “The commander of the refugee camp. He executed the two leaders, and that gave me the opening I needed. If you'd been there with me, it's hard to say what would have happened. Teleso underestimated me; then he decided to court Guila, and she kept him distracted. If you and I had both gone to Ravenna, we might have died together, like Jesca and Beneto.”

“Maybe.”

“Don't think your magery could have gotten us out of it, either. You can't do magery in the wasteland.”

“I know.”

“A friend of mine at Ravenna told me the real cause
of the war with Vesuvia,” I said. “She told me that all it was
really
over was the perfume trade.”

Mira's hands clenched. “Be careful of phrases like ‘all it was really over,’” she said. “I, myself, fought because my family's village could have been the next victim of a raid from Vesuvia. Those raids really happened, and if they meant nothing to the mages of the Council— well, they meant something to many of the mages. And the soldiers.”

I bit my lip, suddenly outraged by her flash of anger. “Thank you so much for your
protection
, Miriamne. The Circle protected us from the Vesuviani like the Fedeli at the conservatory protected us from the Maledori.”

“We didn't know.” Mira's eyes were wide and angry. “How could we have known what would happen? No one knew until it was too late.”

“And then you covered it up.”

“Not me.”

“The Circle did it, and you're one of them.”

Mira's eyes were bright with fury, but she bit down on whatever she had meant to say, and fell silent. I suddenly found myself remembering our fight at the conservatory, that day that I'd reminisced about the kind mage who'd tested my aptitude for magery, then given me apples even though I'd failed. Today, here, Mira and I were separated by a rift that couldn't be bridged by a sprig of winter jasmine.

We reached the river after a few more minutes of silent walking, and sat down on a slab of stone at the water's edge. The winter rains had raised the river's level; dark water lapped against the wall built to keep it from flooding Cuore. There was debris in the river, but thanks to the rainwater, the smell was tolerable. “What are you thinking about?” Mira asked.

“I'm thinking about the nice mage with the apples,” I said, knowing that she would know what I meant. “I suppose you had a test like that, too.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “But I was older than you were, because my parents had not sent for him. It was a neighbor who sent a message, and the mage came to our house with an escort, two guardsmen, to ensure that my parents behaved themselves. He took me for a walk, and he was kind—very kind! He knew that my parents might have warned me to fail the test on purpose.