Turning the Storm (38 page)

After a moment's hesitation—Lucia, at least, was my friend—I pressed my ear against the wall, straining to overhear their conversation.

They exchanged mutual pleasantries for a few minutes over tea, then Clara got down to business. “I'm afraid I need to ask you some questions about Eliana,” Clara said. “I realize that she's a good friend of yours, but your first duty, as I'm sure you're aware, is to God, and your second is to Emperor Travan.”

“Oh, of course,” Lucia said so implacably that I shivered. “I'm happy to help you however I can.”

Clara paused for a moment—surprised by Lucia's willingness to cooperate, perhaps—and then asked, “What can you tell me about Eliana's feelings toward the mage who called herself Mira?”

“Nothing at all,” Lucia said, her voice distinct and perfectly courteous. “I'm terribly sorry.”

There was a sharp clink as Clara set down her tea. “Excuse me, Priestess Lucia. I'm sure you know a great deal about the subject.”

“Perhaps. But as you mentioned, my first duty is to God. As Eliana's spiritual counselor, all our conversations on that subject are privileged. It says in The Journey—”

“I don't need you to quote The Journey to me,”

Clara said, her voice sharp. “Perhaps you can enlighten me as to Eliana's feelings toward Emperor Travan.”

“Again, anything Eliana has told me about this subject is under God's seal. I would, however, point out that Eliana
did
put him in power.”

“The Imperial Army and the Lupi put him in power,” Clara said.

“Perhaps you should ask the Emperor who he credits—or blames.” I could hear the hint of a smile in Lucia's voice.

“While serving the Lupi in Cuore, did Eliana meet with Mira at all?” Clara asked.

“Oh, my goodness, you must realize that I wasn't there. But Michel was. Have you asked Michel?”

“I have.” Clara's voice was stony. “He refused to talk to me. Why do you suppose that was?”

“I couldn't imagine,” Lucia said.

“How did Eliana escape after her arrest by the Fedeli?” Clara asked. “Is it true that Mira was the one who freed her?”

“Again, I wasn't there,” Lucia said. “I think you'd better ask Eliana that question.”

“Rest assured,” Clara said, and I could hear a rustle as she stood up. “I will do that.”

I expected a knock on my own door next, but instead she knocked on Giovanni's. His room was on the other side of mine, and I went to listen without hesitation. He swung his door open at the first knock. “Oh, good afternoon, Priestess Clara,” he said. “Please come in.”

Again, I listened to slightly strained pleasantries. Clara made herself comfortable and Giovanni poured wine. Giovanni broached the subject first. “I'm quite sure I know why you're here,” he said, “And I'm very
glad you came to me, because I can straighten all of this out.”

“Really. Well, I must say, I'm delighted to hear it,” Clara said.

“Eliana did help someone escape during the fall of Cuore, but it wasn't a mage, nor was it a priestess. It was a musician who panicked under fire, a friend of hers from the conservatory.”

“Really.” Clara set down her cup with a faint click. “Why didn't Eliana simply tell me this when I first began investigating?”

“Eliana is quite loyal to her friends,” Giovanni said. “The musician who fled would be deeply shamed if her cowardice were known. Eliana has a great deal of confidence in your honor and fairness; she knew that you would investigate the rumor, find nothing, and close your investigation, her friend's honor intact.”

“What was the name of this friend?”

“I'd really rather not say,” Giovanni said.

“I'm afraid I must insist.”

“Well …” Giovanni hesitated for a moment. “Giula,” he said finally. “It was a young lady named Giula.”

“Perhaps,” Clara said, “she saved two people during the battle.”

Giovanni laughed out loud, an easy, casual laugh. “You think she smuggled out the musician, then ran back into the burning enclave, found a mage, and smuggled her out, too? I spent much of the battle at her side, and take my word for it, she didn't have that kind of time.”

“But she saved Giula out of friendship. Mira was a friend too, wasn't she?”

“Once she was,” Giovanni said. “Eliana knew her at
the conservatory. But she never forgave her for leaving— or for destroying the Lupi.”

“Not even after Mira freed her from the Fedeli?”

“If it was Mira who did it, she did it on the orders of the Circle.”

“So she wouldn't have saved Mira out of sentiment?”

“Eliana is not a sentimental person.”

“Interesting.” There was a pause; I thought Clara had probably picked up her cup again. “You see, I have an eyewitness—a servant from the enclave—prepared to swear that he saw Eliana smuggling the mage Miriamne, also known as Mira, out of Cuore.”

“Impossible. As I said, it was Giula.”

“Giula can ride a horse?”

“Obviously, if that was how she got out of the city.”

“Was Giula the sort of friend with whom Eliana might exchange a passionate kiss?”

“They were old friends.”

“Just as Mira was an old friend.” The cup clicked down again and I heard a rustle as Clara stood up. “But of course, Eliana is not a sentimental person. If she did smuggle Mira out of the city, you have made it clear that in your opinion, it would
not
have been a gesture of friendship. Thus, the theory that the purpose of saving the mage was to create her own Circle— Oh, don't shake your head at me, Generale Giovanni, and leave your sword where it is. I will overlook your blasphemy in considering a physical attack on a Priestess of God, given your fondness for Generale Eliana. Thank you, Generale. You've been
most
helpful.”

The door clicked shut. There was no knock on my own door. Through the wall, I heard a glass shatter against the floor.

The snare was closing around me. I decided to go to the Emperor—to confess to him that I
had
freed Mira, but not to challenge his power. I had done it because I loved Mira and knew that we could trust her. Surely, I thought as I paced the floors of my room, Travan will understand. Surely he has loved the wrong person— and surely, he will understand that for those like us, sometimes there is no
right
person.

The corridor outside my room was empty, and I hurried down the stairs and through the courtyard to Travan's quarters. But I was met at the door by Michel. “He won't see you,” Michel said.

I stared at Michel; for a moment, I couldn't quite believe what I'd heard. “Why?” I asked, finally.

Michel shook his head. He didn't answer right away, and I realized after a moment that he was almost in tears. “I don't know,” he said.

“Does he believe—the stories that Clara has been telling?”

“I don't know,” Michel said again.

“You have to let me in,” I said.

Michel shook his head. “I can't,” he said. “Please, just go. I can't let you in.”

Clara was waiting when I returned to my room, with Placido and three Servi—witnesses.

“Eliana,” Clara said, and her face was grave with a hint of triumph. “We need to ask you about Mira.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” I said.

“Then you will be charged with treason,” Clara said. “Don't you at least want to defend yourself?”

I pulled myself up as straight as I could stand. “Mira saved my life twice,” I said. “She saved me from the Circle; when they came to take her back, they used me as a hostage against her. And she saved me from the
Fedeli. Mira was the first person I knew who dared to speak against the Circle—who dared suggest that I could have a future that didn't require me to play the tunes they called. Mira was one of the Lupi, even if she didn't wear a red sash.”

“One of the Lupi?” Clara said. “Mira was one of the mages sent to
destroy
the Lupi, was she not?”

“Mira volunteered for that mission to protect as many of us as she could,” I said.

“So she told you.”

“Mira saved my life,” I said again. “When she saved me from the Fedeli, she saved us all—including Placido, since I knew he led the university reformers. I couldn't have held out against the Fedele torturer forever. Mira was the person who told me about the power of the Redentori dances against magefire.” I stepped forward. “Mira renounced magery once. I knew she could renounce it again.”

“That doesn't matter,” Clara said. “What you knew— or you
thought
you knew. Mira was a mage—condemned by God.” Her fingers touched the jeweled cross she wore.

I felt my face go hot and cold, and in a single furious gesture, I yanked the cross from the chain around Clara's neck and threw it to her feet. “How dare you decide for God whether Mira is condemned?” I demanded. “What have you risked for your faith? What have
you
sacrificed? You don't love God. You love your position, your comfort, your power. If God condemns anyone, it's
you
.”

A faint smile flickered on Clara's lips. “On my authority as the head of the Servi,” she said, “I place you under arrest, Eliana, on suspicion of treason.” She glanced at the cross on the floor; one of her assistants quickly picked it up. “And blasphemy.”

“You can rot in hell, Clara,” I said. “To be accused by you of blasphemy is the highest honor I can imagine.”

∗    ∗    ∗

Because of my stature—and perhaps because Giovanni threatened to kill anyone who tried it—I was not imprisoned in the dungeon, but placed under house arrest and confined to my room. Wary of giving me a public forum for more outbursts, Clara decided that my trial would be closed. I would not be invited. Neither would Lucia and Giovanni.

“We have to get you out of here,” Giovanni said.

“How?” I said.

“There are Lupi still in Cuore,” Giovanni said. “We could break you out. Then run—head north, far enough away that it's more trouble than it's worth to come after you. I have family in Varena; my father owns ships. We could get you across the ocean if we had to.”

“Along with the Lupi?” I said. “All the Lupi who'd helped break me out?”

“Sure,” Giovanni said, though I suspected he wasn't as confident of that as he wanted me to think.

“And everyone else that Placido and Clara would go after? You know this isn't just about me, Giovanni. If I run, it will be taken as proof of what Clara claims— proof that I saved a remnant of the Circle to help me make my own bid for power. What would be the logical thing to do then? Purge Cuore of every person loyal to me, from Valentino and Quirino to the young women who dress like me.” I looked at Giovanni in the candlelight. “Can you tell me this wouldn't happen?”

Giovanni was silent.

“It would happen,” Lucia said.

Giovanni's head snapped up to glare at Lucia. “You aren't helping,” he said.

“I don't think Eliana would want us to lie to her,” Lucia said.

“No,” I said. “I wouldn't.”

Giovanni picked up a wineglass, took a swallow, then hurled the glass in frustration at the fireplace. It smashed against the stones, and Lucia closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her forehead, blocking him out. “Eliana, Clara wants you dead,” Giovanni said. “And she thinks she can get away with it. She's
sure
she can get away with it, or she wouldn't have let it go this far.”

“Why is Travan allowing this?” Lucia said. “Eliana, do you have any idea?”

I shook my head. “He wouldn't see me,” I said. “I tried to go talk to him, but Michel turned me away.”

“Then you have to run,” Giovanni said. But after what Lucia had said, I couldn't do it. No matter what the price.

Lucia and Giovanni spent the night of my trial in my room. As dusk turned to darkness, Giovanni napped in a chair, and Lucia, at my insistence, took the bed. I took the cushions in the window seat for myself—not that I expected to sleep. Very late, as I stared into the wispy light of the candle, there was a very soft tap at the door. I opened it: Michel. “Can I come in?” he whispered.

I stood back to let him through and quietly poured us each a glass of wine. He sat down across from me, in the window seat. Giovanni stirred, then went back to sleep.

“Has Travan agreed to see me?” I asked.

“No,” Michel said. His shoulders were slumped; his head was bowed. “And he won't.”

“Why?” I asked. “Is he that angry about this?”

Michel shook his head and covered his face with his hands. “I came tonight because I thought you at least deserved to know why Travan has turned his back on you,” he said. His voice was muffled.

I waited.

Michel dropped his hands to the table, but didn't raise his face. “Travan doesn't really like Clara or Placido any more than you do,” he said. “He accepted them as allies early on because it was necessary; now, they've got far too much influence. But, he can't just throw them out of power; he needs people to turn against them.” He swallowed. “Travan is hoping that Clara will order you executed. Once you're dead, he's going to pretend it all happened without his knowledge or consent. He'll use this to disband the Servi, because clearly they can't be trusted with power. He's hoping to use this to take down both Clara and Placido.”

I shook my head, unwilling to believe. “Did he tell you this?”

Michel shook his head, then nodded. “Sort of.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Very sure.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Michel, will you carry a note to him for me? If you don't think he'll read it now—” I broke off. If Clara meant to have me executed, it could happen as soon as the next morning. With effort, I finished: “—give it to him after I'm dead.” Michel nodded, and I moved to the table, getting out a sheet of paper, ink, and a pen.