Turning the Storm (20 page)

“With you on our side, everything would be different,” I said. “The army is loyal to you. And the Circle fears them—for good reason. Without soldiers for protection, mages are vulnerable.
We could make this work
.”

“If I take your side,” Travan said, “the Circle and the Fedeli will cooperate in my murder.”

“You'll have to leave Cuore,” I said. “Tonight, if you're willing. I have people here who can slip you out.”

Travan hesitated. “And if I'd like to think this over?”

“You are the Emperor,” I said. “I will await
your
decision.”

Travan was silent again for a few moments. Then, “Tell me this,” he said. “Would the Lupi
truly
support me against the Circle?”

“I swear in Gèsu's name,” I said. “We would support you.”

Travan nodded. “Then I'll do it.”

∗    ∗    ∗

The tavern where I normally met with Michel would be closed for the evening's revelries, but with luck Michel would not have gone far. Travan and I tied our masks back on and made our way through town. My
head was still reeling, and I knew that both my wig and my false breasts were askew.

The streets seemed to be full of Lupi, but if my soldiers had ever gotten this drunk, I'd have tossed the lot of them into the stockade. I kept seeing familiar people in the featureless crowds. Three times, I was certain I saw Lucia. Twice, I thought I saw Felice. And once it was my mother I saw, dancing with a young man in the street that ran past the tailor's shops. I nearly cried out, but then she turned and I realized that it was a man.

When we reached the streets near the university, I feared that Travan was losing his nerve. “Just a little farther,” I whispered. “Wait here while I find Michel.”

Travan nodded and slipped into a shadowed doorway. I could drag Travan out of the city myself, but Michel and Placido could provide us with horses, which we'd need to have Travan a safe distance away by morning. I realized with dismay that my violin was still back at the enclave. Well, if I didn't have a chance to go back for it, I'd leave it. The Emperor was more important than any instrument, and besides, my old violin was with Lucia.

Michel was nowhere to be found, but I spotted—of all people—Ulisse. “Ulisse,” I hissed. He stumbled over, flask in hand, giggling at the sight of me. “Shh, this is serious,” I said. “I need to talk to Placido. Do you know where he is?” Michel would probably be close by.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ulisse said, looking vaguely around the crowd. “That's right, he's the next street over. Least he was a little while ago.”

“Thank you,” I said, and started to pull away.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me back toward him. “Don't you have a kiss for the gentleman?”

I gave Ulisse a swift kiss on the cheek. “I'll see you later, Ulisse.” Someday, Ulisse would find out who I really was. The thought made me smile.

The university reformers seemed to be celebrating Mascherata together. More than a few had jumped at the opportunity to dress as Lupi, with red-tinted masks like Quirino's. They were dancing to drum music, with some music provided by a violinist who was having trouble keeping up with the beat. The dancers had formed a circle, as if they were celebrating Mass, but they weren't dancing in unison.

Even masked, Michel was easy to recognize; no one danced like him. He had gleefully dressed as a Lupa, a wig of long dark hair held in place with red ribbons. I clasped his shoulder and he did a double-take. “El— Daniele?” he hissed.

“Yeah, it's me. Michel, you're not going to believe this, but I've got an ally who needs to get out of Cuore
tonight
, on the fastest horse we can find.”

“Why wouldn't I believe it?” Michel was much less drunk than his companions. I drew him back toward where I'd left Travan.

I glanced past Michel's shoulder, then over mine, and leaned closer to him. “The ally is Emperor Travan.”

“Tr—you're not serious!”

“I am.”

Michel's face lit. “This will change everything.”

“
Only
if we can get him safely out of Cuore
and
hide him well enough that we can keep him safe. I want to take him to the wasteland. We don't have to fear the Circle there, and the Emperor commands the army, so—”

“I don't know how you do it, Daniele,” Michel said. “A horse? That's what you said you need? For this
kind of support, I'd get you horses if I had to steal them from my grandmother.”

“Can we just get some from Placido? We'll need six horses—two for each of us—or else three horses and money to buy three more.”

Michel nodded. “Yeah. Placido's an ass but I think I can get him to do this. Stay here for a minute.”

I leaned against the rough stone wall of a shop as Michel vanished back into the dancing crowds. My legs were aching, I realized, from too much dancing. What time was it? How many hours till dawn? Probably quite a few.

Michel was coming back with Placido at his side. Placido was dressed in a black velvet tunic with a flame-red velvet sash. Instead of a simple white mask, he wore a stylized mask made to look like the face of a wolf. It was probably the most impressive costume I'd seen all night, but I found myself suppressing a laugh. If this was how he imagined the Lupi, how did he imagine Eliana? Michel caught my eye as he led Placido toward me. “Daniele, I've told him that you're our contact.”

Placido's beady eyes glared at me from behind his mask.

“Have you told him what I need?” I asked Michel.

“Yes,” Michel said. “He says he's willing to provide horses, but he wanted to meet you.”

I turned back to Placido. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, signore,” I said.

“I'd like to see your face, if I may,” Placido said.

I took off my mask. He stared at me a moment longer.

“And your face, signore?” I said.

Grudgingly, Placido untied his elaborate mask and
took it off. His face was flushed red from wine and dancing.

“Since you're leaving so soon,” Placido said, “would you be so kind as to inform me your real name? I may find myself needing to seek out your assistance myself, sooner or later.”

“Ask for Daniele, if you need our help,” I said.

Placido gripped my arm, shaking his head. “That's not good enough.” His face was close to mine, and I could smell his dank breath, and feel the faint spray of his spit on my forehead. “If you wish any further assistance from us, you will tell me exactly who you are.”

Michel had reached for his knife, and I shook my head at him. There was no point in alienating Placido, and my identity hardly mattered at this point; I was leaving Cuore as soon as we got horses. And I didn't think Placido was a spy. “I am Eliana,” I said.

Placido's grasp sagged, then tightened again. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe it or not; your choice,” I said. “It's true. Now,” I jerked my arm free and straightened up, “go get our damn horses before someone comes to investigate.”

Placido flinched back slightly, and his eyes narrowed. With careful precision, he tied his mask back on. “Six horses will be waiting for you at the southern edge of Cuore in one hour,” he said, and walked away.

“Can we trust that?” I asked Michel.

Michel hesitated, then nodded. “Whatever else you can say about Placido, he's on our side. Even if he really doesn't believe you, he won't screw this up for us.”

“Come on, then,” I said. “Let's get Travan.”

To my relief, Travan still waited where I'd left him.
He was masked, so it was hard to guess his expression, but his eyes seemed relieved to see me again. “Is everything arranged?” he asked.

I nodded. “Horses will be waiting. We'll take you to where the Lupi are wintering, then down to the wasteland, where the mages can't attack us. Let's head for the edge of the city; it will take us close to an hour just to walk there.”

“Your violin?” Michel asked me.

I shook my head. “Leave it. It's too risky to go back in.” I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice, so that just Michel and Travan could hear me. “Where
are
the Lupi wintering?”

“Lucia and Giovanni are in Montefalco,” Michel said. “It was destroyed during the war, but it's not actually in the wasteland. It'll be a little out of our way to go there, but not too much.”

“Maybe we should just go straight to the wasteland, and then I can double back,” I said.

“That might be a good idea,” Michel said. “So long as one of us has coin enough to buy food. There isn't going to be any down in the wasteland.”

The streets were less crowded now; wine and exhaustion had claimed many of the dancers. The costumes changed as we made our way through town. In the university district, we were surrounded by drunken, velvet-clad Lupi. Beyond that, we found ourselves in a crowd of beggars clothed in scraps of red and purple. Then came a mass of Maledori; there were masks of hook-beaked birds and strange hybrids of dog and cat.

“Daniele!”

Michel and Travan fell back a step; from the corner of my eye, I could see Michel draw Travan into the shadows of a doorway, but I didn't dare look. The person
who'd called to me wore ragged red robes and a mask with swirls of color painted on it. I wouldn't have known her by sight, but I recognized her voice: “Rosalba?”

“What are you doing here?”

There was only one answer to that. “Looking for a good party,” I said.

Rosalba laughed, a light crystal tinkle. “You've found one!”

From behind the mask, I could see her eyes start to stray past my shoulder.
Oh no
, I thought. If she recognized me, she could recognize the Emperor. I dodged in front of her and clasped her shoulders to keep her still. “Actually—to tell the truth—I was looking for you.”

I could see her smile even from behind the mask. “Really?” She ducked her head a little shyly. “I was rather hoping you were.”

“You know—” I could hear Michel's breathing behind me, quick and frightened. “I'm kind of tired. Were you thinking of heading back to the enclave anytime soon?”

Rosalba's hand found mine. “I'll walk back with you now, if that's where you're headed.”

When Rosalba turned away, I spared one quick glance back at Michel and Travan. “
Go
,” I mouthed at Michel.

Michel gave me the tiniest of salutes and nodded. Michel would make it work; I could trust him. If I couldn't catch up with them, I'd come up with something. Besides, this would give me the opportunity to get the violin.

The enclave was dark and quiet. Rosalba held my arm close to her as we ducked in through the gate; the guard gave only a cursory glance at our medallions. I'd hoped Rosalba might head off to her own quarters once
we were back, but she followed me back to my room. “Could you give me just a moment?” I asked when we reached the door. “This is not the world's most comfortable costume.”

“I'll wait out here,” Rosalba said. “Just open the door when you're ready.”

I closed the door and hesitated for a moment. Barring the door would be suspicious; why would I distrust Rosalba? But if she opened the door while I was unclothed—I slipped the bar into place, but very, very quietly. The bindings over my breasts were secure, so I pulled on a tunic and hose, quickly splashed the paint off my face, and checked my appearance in the mirror. Then I opened the door.

Rosalba had taken off her mask, and she held it by the string. The ragged red robe she wore was luminous in the witchlight that glowed in her hand. She smiled, a little shyly, as she came in and sat down.

I put the kettle over the fire and poked the fire up a bit. “I'll make us some tea,” I said.

“Thank you,” Rosalba said.

We waited silently for the water to heat. Rosalba tucked her legs up against her on the chair, studying me gravely as I stared at the kettle. I glanced at her after a few minutes, to see if she was still staring at me. She was, but lowered her eyes quickly. Finally the water was ready. I made the tea and poured a cup for each of us, sitting down on the other chair. “Did you have a good time tonight?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Rosalba said. Then she shrugged. “Mascherata isn't my favorite holiday. I'm not really one for crowds.”

“Me either,” I said. “It's probably because we grew up in the country.”

“That could be it,” Rosalba said. She sipped her tea, and looked at me over the rim. “How did you celebrate Mascherata at the conservatory?”

Unbidden, the image of the Fedele priest cutting Bella's throat rose before my eyes. I turned away from Rosalba to poke at the fire, hoping that she hadn't seen my face. The Fedeli had come to the Verdiano Rural Conservatory last Midwinter—not to the conservatory in Pluma, where Rosalba thought I was from. “It's different,” I said, when I thought I had control over my voice again. “We had a chapel service, and we all made masks, but boys and girls were kept separate. There wasn't a lot of wine. They wanted us to behave ourselves.”

Rosalba nodded. “At the seminary, they kept a pretty tight lid on us even at Midwinter,” she said.

Rosalba fell silent again, and I decided I was content to let the conversation lag. As long as I wasn't talking, I wasn't going to make any stupid mistakes.

Rosalba spoke again after a few minutes. “I heard a rumor the other day that I might get reassigned.”

“To what sort of job?” I asked. “Can you talk about it?”

Rosalba shook her head. “No. But, it would mean leaving the enclave. And it would be
much
more interesting than transcribing confessions.”

“Great!” I said, flashing her a bright smile. “That's what you were hoping for, right?”

Rosalba nodded. “I'll finally be doing what I felt I was called to do,” she said. “But—” She sighed. “I'll miss you, Daniele.”

“Oh—I'll miss you, too, Mother Rosalba. But I know—well, not that you didn't
like
transcribing. But there are so many people who could do it. And you—”

Rosalba smiled into my eyes. “Daniele, you know, I think you're the only person in Cuore who understands me.”

“That can't be true,” I said.

Rosalba leaned over and took my hand. Her fingers were surprisingly cold, as if she was nervous about something, and she stroked my hand gently. “I'm so glad you came looking for me tonight,” she said. Then she leaned forward and kissed me.