Turning the Storm (23 page)

I nodded.
I can do whatever it takes to get out of here
.

I followed her without question through a maze of corridors. No one stopped us; I wasn't sure whether this meant Mira had incinerated everyone in her path on her way in, or if she just knew the right path to take. I didn't really care. It took all my effort just to keep putting one foot in front of the other. My wounds burned with a dizzying pain, the bruises on my shins made each step hurt, and I still wasn't entirely sure I believed this was happening.

Finally, we emerged into the night. “It's almost dawn,” Mira said.

“Dawn?” I said. “I thought it was dinnertime.”

“They always leave prisoners alone for a while—it's to let you get scared, nothing to do with meals. You were arrested shortly after midnight; now it's dawn.”

Mira led me out of the enclave through the mage's gate. In the streets of Cuore, there were a few last remnants of Mascherata—an old woman still beating a drum, and a lot of drunk people slumped over in doorways. Mira led me to an inn with a light still burning in the window—not the one we'd met at before, but an even smaller and seedier place, and one much closer to the edge of the city. She slipped in the door, latching it behind us, and led me through the inn and out back to a stable, where a horse stood saddled and ready. Mira began to check the straps and buckles on the horse's gear.

“The songs say you can ride, but I never asked you if that was true,” Mira said.

“I can ride.”

“That's good, because it won't take them long to realize that you're gone,” she said. “I wish I could give you time to rest, but you need to set out right away. Everything you should need is packed on the horse.” She finished tightening the straps and stood for a moment, looking away.

“Mira,” I whispered. “Come with me.”

“I can't.” She turned back to face me, her eyes hard with resolve. “Eliana, the Circle
sent
me to free you. They deeply distrust the Fedeli's ability to drag information from you by torture, and they really only want to know one thing: the winter hideout of the Lupi. They're going to follow you. They're hoping you'll lead them there. If you don't, they think they can recapture you—or simply kill you.”

“They won't take me alive,” I said, and my voice shook. I couldn't go to Montefalco, then—or to Doratura, where many of the refugees from the camps still lived.

“Eliana,” Mira said, and took my hand. “I didn't want to tell you this unless I was sure. And I'm
not
sure; I don't think I ever will be. But I think there's a way to turn back magefire.”

I caught my breath. “
How
?”

“The songs. The Old Way songs. I don't know—” She bit her lip and looked away. “That's what I was trying to learn, at the conservatory, when I sent you to convince some of your friends to play the music with me. I thought there was a way, but I wasn't sure, and I'm
still
not sure. But I think Bella knew. I think that's why they killed her.” She shook her head. “You need to go. The Circle wants you free—for now—but the Fedeli do not. And you're running out of time.”

“I still think you should come with me.”

“If I do, the Circle will know I betrayed them. They'll know you won't lead them to the Lupi; they'll ride us down and kill us both. Alone, you might escape.”

I turned to mount the horse, and Mira caught my arm. “I think your magic is stronger than ours,” she said. “Yours is stronger.” She clasped my face and gave me a long, gentle kiss. Then she pushed me away. “Go.”

I mounted the horse; Mira threw open the stable door, and I rode into the night. Not until hours later did I realize that I'd forgotten to tell her that I had forgiven her. I hoped she knew.

∗    ∗    ∗

Your magic is stronger than ours.
Yours is stronger. Bella knew
. Mira's words rang in my ears as I rode
through the night. I didn't know yet where I was going— south, of course, but whether to Montefalco or the wasteland, I wasn't sure. At dawn, I was tempted to take a short rest, but I was afraid that if I got off the horse I wouldn't be able to get back on. I slowed to a walk and dug through the most accessible saddlebag, finding cheese and water. I drank the water—I realized suddenly that I was terribly thirsty—and ate some of the cheese. There was a knife in the saddlebag as well; I slipped it into my boot, where I could get to it easily. The Circle was behind me, tracking me like a wolf tracks a rabbit; the Fedeli undoubtedly were looking for me, too.
They won't take me alive
, I thought. I'd cut my own throat, if it came to that.

That reminded me of Bella—Mira's statement, “Bella knew,” and the dream I'd had in my cell. Bella had been murdered by the Fedeli. Not tortured, not burned, but simply murdered. I hadn't realized at the time just how strange this was, but now, after playing for Rosalba as she painstakingly transcribed confessions—now, I realized, the Fedeli did
not
normally kill people so quickly. They wanted a detailed confession, not merely a declaration of heretical faith. They wanted names, histories, repentance. Why, then, would they cut Bella's throat and let her choke to death on her blood in front of us?
Bella knew
. What was it they'd killed her to hide?

I thought back to that night. We had been dancing and dancing, to the drums and to Bella's trumpet. I'd felt a strange warmth, and then suddenly Cassio snatched the trumpet out of Bella's hands. And then she declared her faith, and they killed her.

I'd felt a strange warmth—like drinking hot wine, or playing the Old Way music. We weren't playing Old Way music—but we were dancing. I'd caught a glimpse
of the power that night, just as I'd caught a glimpse of it while playing the Redentori songs with Mira and the others. I hadn't
really
known that power until the night that I played for the funeral in Ravenna, but maybe Bella had.
Bella knew
. Bella had realized something, and the Fedeli were willing to sacrifice the information they could drag out of her to ensure that whatever she had just found died with her, on the stones of the conservatory piazza.

Your magic is stronger than ours
. Could I really do magic with the Redentore music? The idea seemed ludicrous. I thought about the surge of power Mira sent through me at our first meeting here, the sensation of light that flared the witchlight in my hand like tinder flaring into flame.
More, I want more
. I pushed the thought away, thinking about the power that I touched in the Mass, that I sent into the earth, that I used to stop the riot. That's what they killed Bella to hide. That's what we could use to defeat the Circle.

I rode through the day without stopping except to buy a fresh horse with the coins Mira had packed in my bag.
Your magic is stronger than ours
. I thought I had a way. I told myself that I
knew
I had a way, and prayed that I was right.

As I rode into the village encampment at high noon the next day, I heard the perimeter guards shout. “Who goes?” Then—“
Eliana
?” The voice was incredulous, delighted.

“It's me,” I said. “And company's coming. Round everyone up and get them to the center of the village.”

Lucia, Isabella, and Giovanni came running as I rode into the center of the village.

“Eliana!” Isabella shouted.

“What's wrong?” Lucia asked.

“I've been followed,” I said.

“And you led them here?” Giovanni demanded.

“Listen to me,” I said. “First of all, I need my violin. Then bring everyone to the village piazza. Hurry. I'm an hour ahead of them, at most.” I turned to Lucia. “Do they know the Dance that Turned the Storm?”

“Yes,” Lucia said. “But we haven't danced it recently.”

“Teach it again. Isabella, gather all the children and the injured into the piazza. Shelter won't protect them from magefire—they need to be close to us. Giovanni, I'll need something to stand on, and so will some archers—they'll be shooting from
inside
the dance circle.”

“You're mad,” Giovanni said.

“No, I'm not,” I said. “It's possible that I'm
wrong
, but I'm not mad.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“Just hope I'm right,” I said. “Because it's too late for anything else.”

The preparations were completed in minutes. I stood at the center of the circle, on a kitchen table that had been dragged outside, my violin in my hand. The village children sat under it, the older ones trying to reassure the younger ones. A dozen archers stood on benches, looking a little confused. Everyone else stood in a circle around us, hands clasped. Giovanni glared at me from the bench where he stood with a crossbow; Lucia's eyes were closed, her face peaceful. Then I could see distant dust kicked up by swift horses; they were coming.

I played the opening notes to the dance on my violin.

“
Rachamin Arkah
,” Lucia sang. “Rachamin Arkah. Rachamin Gèsu. Rachamin Gèsu.” The dance began to
move around me like a vast wheel.
Side-together-side skip. Front-together-front skip. Side-together-side skip. Back-together-back skip
.

God
,
I thought. I'm trusting you
.
This had
better work.

My pursuers rode into the village. There were a dozen of them—eight guards, four mages. They hadn't brought along any soldiers, just members of the Circle Guard. The mages dismounted almost casually, clasping their hands and closing their eyes.

“Keep dancing!” Lucia shouted. “Don't look at them. Look at Eliana.
Keep dancing
.”

The mage in the center—the focus—raised his hands to the sky.

I gathered the fear and faith and motion of the dancers, feeling the power running through my body like blood, like Mira's magery.
Stronger than ours
. A calm came over me as I saw the fires coming down on us.
Back
, I thought, and focused the dance-energy out.

Red clouds of magefire rolled around us, breaking like water at a dam. The fire rippled toward the houses around the piazza; the clay walls melted like butter as the houses were consumed by the flames. One of the houses had brilliant red flowers out front; for a moment the flames and flowers merged, then only the fire was left.

But the magefire shimmered along the edge of our circle like a candle dancing along the edge of a glass.

Lucia's eyes flew open and I realized that she hadn't really believed this would work.

The clouds dissipated, leaving the burning houses; I could see the faces of the mages, eyes wide with disbelief. I took a step toward them. Perhaps I could extend the protection beyond the edge of the circle.
Out
,
I thought.
Go
. Another cloud of magefire came down, but this one broke at the edge of the piazza. The dancers moved faster and faster, their realization that this was working filling them with energy and flooding me with power.

The mages were frightened now. One started to break out of the line and was jerked forward again by his fellows.

“Shoot them!” I shouted. The archers jumped; they'd been staring dumbfounded at the magefire. Giovanni stood beside me and raised his crossbow. As the focusmage raised his arms again, Giovanni loosed a bolt and the mage fell, clutching at the bolt in his throat, crawling desperately away from us.

“No,” I heard one of the other mages cry. “This can't be happening. This is impossible!”

“Come on!” Giovanni shouted to the other archers. “Don't just stand there gaping! You are soldiers! You are wolves!”

The archers raised their shaking bows and fired a volley of bolts. Another mage fell, clutching at a bolt in his gut; one of their guardsmen cried out as he took a bolt in the arm. The two remaining mages dropped to the ground, still clasping hands. “Kill the dancers,” one of them shouted to their guards. “Break their circle, and we'll take them out with fire.”

The eight guardsmen charged toward the square. Giovanni rolled under Lucia and Isabella's clasped hands, drawing his sword as he rose. He kicked one guardsman in the gut as he caught the sword of another against his own. “Fire again!” he shouted. “Kill the mages; we can deal with the guards when we're done!”

One of the guards stabbed a dancer in the back with
his sword; as she fell, the people on either side of her clasped hands to continue. That was too much for the rest of the archers, though, and they dropped their crossbows and followed Giovanni's example rather than his orders, ducking out of the circle and drawing swords. One archer fired one more bolt toward the mages, but I saw the bolt sizzle and vanish in the air, like the bolt that had been fired at me at the conservatory. Unfortunately for me, with the archers out of the circle, I'd lost my bodyguards. I jumped down off the kitchen table, pretty sure that I could work the Redentore magic without being able to see outside the circle.

The Circle guardsmen were excellent swordsmen, but they were outnumbered three to two, and Giovanni looked like he thought he could fight two of the guardsmen all by himself. Watching from inside the circle of dancers, I realized that the guardsmen had trained much more with their crossbows than in close-quarters fighting; the Circle didn't usually want them too close to their opponents as it made it impossible to use magefire without killing the guardsmen as well. Normally when someone attacked at close range, it was a single, desperate person; no real threat to eight guards.

Beyond the piazza, I saw a movement. “The mages,” I shouted. “They're running away!” Giovanni kicked away the guard he was fighting and tore after them. I tried to extend the power of the dance to where the mages were, but it hardly mattered; he tackled one mage and threw him to the ground, cutting his throat, while one of the other Lupi stabbed his sword through the other.

The piazza was suddenly very quiet, and I realized that we'd killed the mages and all of their guards.
Rachamin Arkah
, the dancers sang.
Rachamin Gèsu
. I
ended the dance and looked around at the faces of the Lupi. Some people were too stunned to react; others had smiles of wild delight. Lucia's eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. Beyond her, Giovanni turned toward me, thumped his chest with his fist, and held it out in salute.