Allesandra ca’Vörl
“IT IS WITH MUCH PLEASURE and gratitude that I award
you the Star of the Chevarittai. You may be young in years,
Chevaritt Jan ca’Vörl, but I know of no one more deserving of the
title.”
The applause welled
out from those in attendance in the antechamber of the ballroom of
Brezno Palais. Jan beamed as Fynn—wearing the golden band of the
Hïrzg in his hair and the signet ring on his finger—pinned the
gilded star on the red shoulder sash of his bashta, then handed him
a gift that had belonged to Allesandra’s vatarh and Jan’s namesake:
a sword of dark Firenzcian steel, hardened in fire and cold water
and honed to a razor’s edge. Allesandra watched as Jan cupped his
hand around the inlaid hilt of the weapon and placed it in the
scabbard. Fynn tied the weapon to Jan’s belt, then clutched his
nephew to him as the applause rose. Standing next to the two,
Allesandra heard the words that Fynn whispered into Jan’s
ear.
“That was a truly
brave act, Nephew, though I was in no real danger. I would have
certainly ducked out of the way of the fool’s spell.”
To Allesandra, the
true fool was Fynn. His boasting was bad enough, and he’d ignored
Allesandra’s part in having saved his life. It was as if she hadn’t
been there at all, as if Jan had noticed the assassin all on his
own.
She told herself that
she didn’t care, that it simply met the low expectations she had of
her brother, but the thought didn’t convince.
The door to the
ballroom opened a moment later, and Fynn gestured. “Come, let us
all enjoy this celebration,” he said to the ca’-and-cu’ and the
gathered chevarittai. Fynn put his arm around Jan, and together
they entered the ballroom as the musicians began to play and dozens
of chanting e’téni lit the lamps of the room all at once. Pauli
offered Allesandra his arm; she took it—duty
and appearance—and they followed next. Behind them, Archigos
Semini and Francesca entered.
Allesandra could feel
Semini’s gaze on her back.
Following the
assassination attempt, there had been a purge of anyone in Brezno
suspected of being Numetodo. That, certainly, was also expected.
There was another, somewhat less brutal purge within the staff of
the new Hïrzg—confirming what Fynn had told Allesandra about how he
would treat anyone who opposed him. Every servant, everyone below
cu’ rank employed by the palais was questioned by the Commandant of
the Garde Hïrzg. A half dozen staff members, suspected of Numetodo
leanings, were taken to the Bastida to be interrogated more fully.
The palais maister who had hired the would-be assassin was found
guilty of negligence. His position was taken away, his family was
humbled to ce’, and the maister himself lost his hands as
punishment. The assassin’s family was rounded up; no one had seen
them since they entered the Bastida. A Numetodo said to have aided
the assassin was flayed, drawn, and quartered in Brezno Square, the
executioner keeping him carefully alive as long as possible, his
screams echoing among the buildings as the crowd watched and
shouted insults and gibes toward the man. The assassin’s body, so
unfortunately killed during the attack, was gibbeted and displayed
in an iron cage swinging on a chain from Falwin’s sword. The gardai
around the palais were doubled, with soldiers from the Garde
Firenzcia brought in to supplement them. Rumors flitted through the
city as quickly and numerous as sparrows.
Two ca’ had been
killed in the attack by the errant spell; their funerals were
elaborate and well-attended. Six more of the spectators on the dais
had been burned and injured in the attack, four of them seriously;
it was said that the coffers of the Hïrzg compensated them well
enough to keep their families silent and satisfied.
Allesandra could
still feel tension in the air, even during this celebration. The
servants kept their heads judiciously down, and if anyone noticed
the gardai lining the walls carefully watching the festivities or
the remarkable number of téni in attendance, no one remarked on it.
It was better to smile and stay silent.
Pauli danced with
Allesandra once—the barest spousal requirement. As soon as the
dance was over, he excused himself. She knew she would glimpse him
only across the room henceforth, and soon she’d find him missing
entirely to return to his own, separate, chambers in the visitor’s
wing of the palais sometime early in the morning. Jan danced with
her also, but his attentions were demanded by Fynn and by the
crowds of sycophants around the Hïrzg. The young women, especially,
seemed to find Jan’s presence quite pleasant. Allesandra decided
that she would need to pay careful attention to Jan for the rest of
the their stay in Brezno as she watched one of the young and
unmarried ca’ women take her son’s arm and lead him onto the
floor.
“You surprised me,
A’Hïrzg.” Semini’s voice came from behind her. “I didn’t realize
you had such deep love for your brother as to put yourself between
him and an assassin, even if the Hïrzg seems to have conveniently
forgotten that you did so.”
Allesandra glanced
around them to be certain no one was within easy earshot, and then
turned to the Archigos, leaning in toward him with a whisper. “And
I was surprised that the Archigos would hire a
Numetodo.”
His smile might have
twitched slightly, his eyes might have narrowed. “I would
never do that, A’Hïrzg.”
“There’s no need for
false modesty, Semini,” she told him. “I thought the idea
brilliant, when the irony struck me.”
“I don’t know what
you’re talking about, A’Hïrzg,” he answered stiffly.
“Ah, but you do,” she
said. “And you’re now in my debt, Archigos. After all, the assassin
wasn’t able to answer any embarrassing questions afterward, was he?
That was my doing—for you, Archigos,
though my brother was terribly disappointed that there was no one
to torture afterward. Come, you want to know why I did it, don’t
you? Let’s take some air, Archigos, where we can be seen but not
heard.”
Allesandra led him to
one of the open balcony entrances. The balcony was empty. She stood
directly across from the doors, where anyone looking out would see
them. The music wafted out past them and into the night; they could
see the dancers, among them the Hïrzg and Jan. Allesandra turned to
look at the grounds, alight with hundreds of téni-lights; a few
couples were strolling there. “It almost reminds me of Nessantico
and the Avi . . .” She turned from the railing. “Almost. I realize
that I know very little about your personal life, Archigos. Have
you ever been to Nessantico?”
Semini nodded his
head. He was watching her as a wary dog might watch another. “I was
ordained here in Brezno by Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca, my
marriage-vatarh, but as a young o’téni I traveled with him to
Nessantico several times when he was A’téni of
Brezno.”
“Then you undoubtedly
understand why Nessantico was always the center of the Holdings.
There’s a grandeur and history there that one can’t feel anywhere
else. You can understand why—some day when the Holdings are unified
again—Nessantico will become the center of the known world once
again. I’m certain of that.” She touched his arm; she could feel
him draw back. “I want to thank you, Semini. You gave me the
perfect opportunity to demonstrate to Fynn just how loyal I was to
him—despite the way Vatarh disposed of me as heir, despite Fynn’s
paranoia and suspicions toward me, despite all the arguments and
quarrels we’ve had. He’ll never suspect again that I or Jan would
conspire against him.”
Even in the dimness
of the balcony, lit only by téni-lamps set on either end of the
railings, she could see color darken his face. His hands made fists
at his sides, and he looked away from her. He said
nothing.
“Kraljiki Audric
won’t live long, from what I’m told,” she continued. “I’ve
discovered that I really don’t want to be the Hïrzgin, Semini. But
when the day arrives that the Holdings become one again—let us say,
under a Kraljica—it will need a strong Hïrzg to be the Holdings’
sword, the role Firenzcia has always played. Now, my son will make
a grand Hïrzg one day, don’t you think? A wonderful
leader.”
His eyes widened
slightly. “You want—”
“Yes,” she answered
before he could finish the question.
“You took an
incredible risk, Allesandra.”
“Well, I’ll admit you
did rather startle me with your audacity. I almost decided to just
let it happen. But large ambitions require large risks—as you
obviously realize. And you owe me for the risk I took, Semini,
because I made certain afterward that the assassination attempt
can’t be easily traced back to you. I destroyed the evidence that
could talk.”
“I had nothing to do
. . .”
She waved at his weak
protest. “Come now. Only the moon can hear us here, and we both
know better. There’s still evidence
against you, should I be forced to reveal it. We both know that if
I were to relate to Fynn some of the conversations we’ve had, or to
tell him about the missive you received from the Regent of
Nessantico—” Semini’s eyes widened further at that, and Allesandra
knew that her guess had been right, “—well, we know that the
interrogators in the Bastida can extract a full confession from
anyone. Fynn would order such an interrogation, even of the
Archigos, should I insist. After all, I’m his loyal sister, who
interposed herself between him and that vile Numetodo. And if you
tried to tell him that I was involved,
too, why, my actions and those of Jan would give the lie to that
accusation, wouldn’t they?”
“What do you want?”
Semini asked dully. He stepped back from her, as if her presence
was a contamination. That pleased Allesandra; it meant that all the
posturing was over. His fine, dark eyes flashed with the
reflections of the téni-lights below them, his stance was that of a
cornered bear, powerful and ready to defend itself to the death.
She found she liked that.
“Actually, I don’t
want anything more than what you want yourself,” she told him. “You
and I are still on the same side, even though I know that you’re
feeling uncertain of that. I like you, Semini. I do. I would like
you to become the One Archigos. And you will be—if you do as I tell you. You made two
mistakes, Semini. One was thinking that Fynn was only useful to us
dead when, in fact, we want him alive.
For now.”
“And the
second?”
She tilted her head
to the side, regarding him. “You thought that you were the one who
should be making the decisions for us. I don’t expect you to make
that mistake again. Back when I was a hostage in Nessantico,
Archigos Ana often told how the Archigos always serves two masters:
Cénzi for the Faith, and the person on the Sun Throne for the
Holdings.”
She touched his arm
once more. This time he did not draw back, and she laced her arm
with his. “Come, let’s dance together, Archigos, since neither of
our respective spouses seem to care. Let’s see how well we might
move together.”
She urged him from
the balcony and out again into the noise and light of the
ballroom.