A Magic of Twilight

“That will do,” Jan said, and pulled the man back up. The Archigos’

hair was disheveled and blood stained his robes where the glass had sliced through the cloth into the flesh underneath. “I would advise you to attend to your cow matters, Archigos. We will be leaving Passe a’Fiume in the morning.”

Mahri

The leather pouch on his belt felt heavy against Mahri’s thigh, a glass ball the size of a child’s fist nestled within it. Placing the X’in Ka inside the ball had cost him an entire night’s sleep, but doubts still plagued him.

The signs aren’t clear enough. They never are when they concern her. .

The wind-horns on the Temple of Cenzi sounded, echoed by the horns on all the temples as well as the bells of the Kraljiki’s Palais.

With the clamor, the new Archigos appeared in the traditional middle tower window to wave to the throngs of the faithful. . though the throngs were far fewer than those which usually greeted a new Archigos. Nessantico’s population had been decimated: most men were away with the army swelling beyond the eastern gates, and many citizens had decided that visiting relatives in towns to the west would be an excellent idea. The temple square was full and cheers rose toward the new Archigos, but the crowd didn’t overflow out into the Avi

a’Parete, the cheers were less than deafening and more rehearsed than authentic. The heralds had already announced that, due to the current crisis, Archigos Ana the First would forgo the traditional procession around the city; after a few minutes and a blessing called out over the onlookers in a thin, nervous voice, the crowd dispersed quickly except for the ca’-and-cu’ who filed into the Archigos’ Temple to witness Ana’s initial service.

As the citizenry walked away toward home and businesses, the air was alive with gossip, and Mahri caught snatches of it as they passed him.

“. . told me that she’s already agreed to marry the Kraljiki. She might as well be one of the grandes horizontals . .”

“. . seems that when the Kraljiki’s wishes aren’t followed he’ll just create his own Concenzcia. .”

“. . that the Numetodo will be welcome in the city. From what I hear, ci’Vliomani’s title of envoy has been restored. .”

Mahri smiled grimly. He touched the glass ball once more and wrapped his cloak around him. Sheltered against one of the buildings across the square, he invoked a quick spell, and the air shimmered around him as if he were enclosed in water. He walked across the courtyard and into the temple, knowing that casual eyes would only see a heat-shimmer if they glanced at him. Inside the temple, he found a dark niche to one side of the nave. There, he settled in to watch as Ana and a retinue of a’ and u’teni went through the rituals of the High Worship.

He listened to Ana’s fledgling Admonition from the High Lectern. Her Admonition was largely a tribute to Archigos Dhosti’s memory and a plea for tolerance.

“. . remember that Archigos Dhosti realized that there are more things in the world than we can imagine, and that even Nessantico must change. With Kraljica Marguerite, we were lulled by peace for too long a time, and we woke to find that there were movements afoot that we had not seen because we didn’t want to see them. We were afraid. We can no longer be afraid; we can no longer close our eyes and pretend that all is as we wish it to be. We must embrace those who can help us, because without their help, we cannot survive. My. .” Mahri heard the pause, saw the almost-amused grimace that accompanied the hesitation. “. . predecessor as Archigos had a fondness for quoting the Divolonte. I tell you that I hold those laws in no less regard than he.

Let me quote: ‘As child grows to adult, so must the Divolonte grow.’ We have no choice but to accept such change now. The Concenzia Faith

is emerging from a long, quiet childhood; from the sheltering arms of its parents into a world that is dangerous and uncomfortable. We are Nessantico. We are the Holdings, and we are great and we are vast, but there are those who would destroy our greatness with their petty, narrow concerns. I tell you this: to contend with the rest of the world, we must also be willing to learn from it.”

There was silence in the temple when she finished speaking, then came a susurrus of whispers among the ca’-and-cu’ gathered there. He saw them lean toward each other with faces grim and frowning; he could see the mouthed word “Numetodo” on their lips even if he could not hear it. If Ana had hoped to convince the ca’-and-cu’, she’d not succeeded, not if their posture was any indication. Even the Kraljiki, in attendance in the royal alcove to the left of the High Lectern, seemed uncomfortable with her words, and none of the a’teni on the dais with her were smiling. Karl was in attendance also, in a rear alcove of the temple with people who Mahri knew to be among the remaining local Numetodo. They were also grim, watching the reaction.

The rest of the service went quickly. When Ana gave the Blessing of Cenzi to the attendants, they left the temple quickly while Ana and the a’teni went to the vestry at the rear of the building.

Mahri, in his niche, sighed and closed his eyes. His hand touched the glass ball in its pouch. She would want this now. He knew it. He hurried toward the vestry, stopping in the shadows at the edge of the nave. Several of the e’ and o’teni attendants waited there for their superiors to emerge, talking softly among themselves. Ana and the other a’teni of the Conclave were inside the closed doors.

He could feel the X’in Ka swirling about him, and he let down the barriers of his mind to bring it in. He spoke softly so that the teni would not hear him; his hands swayed and turned and cupped the air. This spell was long and complicated, and it would utterly exhaust him later.

It would also cost him a few years of his life. But again it was necessary, as it had been necessary in the past.

He knew the sacrifices that were demanded of him. He’d agreed to them long, long ago.

The world shifted around him. The very air hushed. The sound of the e’ and o’teni’s voices became low and almost unheard. He moved, and it was as if he were pushing his body through sand. Each step was a labor, and it seemed to take him days to reach the vestry doors a dozen strides away and slide past the living statues of the teni. It took nearly all his strength to push one of the doors open and shut it again.

Around him, Ana and the a’teni were frozen, caught in the midst of removing their gilded outer vestments from the service. The crown of the Archigos lay on the seat of the chair next to Ana; she was still leaning over, her hands open as if she had just laid down the golden band.

He went up to her and put his finger along the side of her neck. He took her presence in his mind, holding it. He felt her lurch into motion, heard her gasp.

“It’s just my finger,” Mahri said in his broken, raspy voice. “It might as easily have been a knife.”

Ana straightened, taking a stumbling step back from him. She glanced quickly around the vestry, seeing the others snared in midmotion. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together. “You betrayed me, Mahri. You gave me to the Kraljiki.”

“Yes,” he answered calmly. “I gave you to the Kraljiki. And look at where you are now.”

“You didn’t know that would happen.”

“It was by far the most likely scenario. Tell me, Ana, if I had advised you and Karl to surrender yourselves to the Kraljiki, would you have done it? You don’t have to answer; I already know. And so do you.”

She started to protest, but he spoke over her. The X’in Ka burned inside him as he held them both in the spell, searing him from the inside; he wanted to scream with the pain. He could almost feel the new scars rippling his already-savaged face. He had to release her, quickly, or the fire would begin to consume her as well. “Not much time,” he said. “I came to give you this.” He untied the pouch from his belt and handed it to her. It seemed heavier than before as he placed it in her palm. “Inside the ball is this very spell,” he told her, gesturing at the unmoving people around them. “It takes you outside the constraints of time. Say my name when you hold the ball in your hand, and the spell will release.”

“Why?” The single word hung there as she looked at the pouch, as she glanced at the glittering orb inside, shimmering with soft orange light.

“You will need it. Think, Ana: it could have been a knife at your throat and not my finger. I give you the same power-to hold time still and do whatever it is you need to do. I’ll tell you this, also, a saying we have in the Westlands: a snake without its head cannot strike you.”

She shook her head, but Mahri closed his eyes and released her from the spell. She froze in mid-protest, and he walked laboriously to the door, as rapidly as he could in the gelid air. As soon as he was out of the temple, he