A Magic of Twilight

that she ignores. Stop giving audiences and diplomatic privileges to the delegates the Numetodo sent to Nessantico from Paeti or Graubundi. Send this grotesque ‘Envoy’

ci’Vliomani away, or better yet, toss him in the Bastida. The Numetodo threaten our society and all that we believe, and their presence will tear the Holdings and the Concenzia Faith apart. The Numetodo are a pes-tilence. One doesn’t rid oneself of a swarm of rats by inviting them into your house. You capture them and you eliminate them.”

The man’s words sent a shudder through Dhosti’s contorted body.

“You sound so certain of yourself, Orlandi.”

“I am. As you should be. I pray to Cenzi every day for His guidance. And I’m not alone, Archigos. Talk to A’Teni ca’Xana of Malacki, A’Teni ca’Miccord of Kishkoros, A’Teni ca’Seiffel of Karnmor. Do you want me to keep going, Dhosti? You know I can.”

This is my fault. Dhosti sighed. I was sleeping here too long, and I’ve let this poison fester until it may be too late to stop it. Cenzi, forgive me. I was a poor servant to You. “Then you must do what you must do, Orlandi.

Summon a Council of Examination against me if you can get the votes of enough of the a’teni. That’s also in the Divolonte.”

Orlandi rose from his chair. Again he clasped hands over his staff and lifted it toward the throne. “I’ve done what I needed to do, Archigos. I’ve given you my warning, and I hope you can reflect on it, pray to Cenzi for guidance, and change. I see you leading the Faith to the very precipice, and it’s not only my inclination but my solemn duty to do all and everything I can to change that course.”

“I consider myself adequately warned, A’Teni.”

“Good.” Ca’Cellibrecca began to turn to leave, then hesitated.

“We’ve never been friends, Archigos. Neither one of us would pretend that. But I want you to understand that I only want what is best for Concenzia. That’s my sole concern.”

“As it’s mine,” Dhosti answered.

A nod. Heavily, ca’Cellibrecca made his way to the door and tapped on it with the head of his staff. Kenne opened the doors, glancing sympathetically toward Dhosti as the a’teni passed him. “Can I get you anything, Archigos?”

Dhosti shook his head and Kenne closed the doors again.

“Cenzi sent me. He sent me to punish you. .” He could feel the crush-ing weight of the demon on his chest and he could not take a breath.

“I don’t care. Take me,” he said aloud to Cenzi, to the demon, but the weight was already lifting and he could breathe again.

“Tell me that I’m right,” he said to the air. “Is that too much to ask?”

But there was no answer.

Ana cu’Seranta

“Matarh! I’m so glad you’ve come.”

Abini-her eyes wide as she looked all around her-entered the reception room of Ana’s apartment behind Watha, who nodded to Ana and shut the door again. Ana took her matarh’s hand, led her to the soft brocade of the couch before the fire, and sat beside her. “You’re looking so well, the way I remember you. I’ve missed you so much, Matarh. Do you remember? — while you were sick, I used to come to see you every morning before I had to go to the Old Temple for classes. We prayed together, and I’d talk to you. Do you remember that at all?”

Abini was shaking her head, either in answer to Ana or because of what she saw around her. “Ana, this is all yours. .?”

“Yes,” Ana told her. “The Archigos gave this apartment to me. And it’s yours as well, Matarh, if you ever want to stay here with me.”

That brought Abini’s gaze back to Ana with a quick, sharp movement of her head. “Why?” she asked. “Why would I want to stay here, Ana? Is that why-” She closed her mouth abruptly.

Ana sighed, taking her matarh’s hands again. “What happened yesterday with Vatarh was a mistake, Matarh. I let myself get too angry, and I shouldn’t have.”

“How could you possibly become so angry with your vatarh that you

would use the Ilmodo against him?”

Ana shook her head. She had spent the night restlessly, unable to sleep, wondering what she should say to her matarh. In the end, after much reflection and prayer, she had decided to say nothing. Perhaps Vatarh will change now that Matarh’s well again. Maybe he will be the person I used to love. Perhaps he was right and we should both forget what happened.

The decision still didn’t feel right; it left a burning in her stomach, but to confess. .

Ana took a long breath. “We argued, Matarh. Why doesn’t matter.

Let’s not talk about it. Let’s enjoy our time together, now that we can once again.” Ana rose quickly from the couch, not wanting her matarh to see what was in her face. “I’ll ask Sunna to brew some tea, and she makes wonderful sweet biscuits.”

“Not talk about it? You nearly destroyed our-my-house, Ana, and the gossip from the neighbors-” She stopped again, putting her hands to her lips, and Ana sank down beside her again.

“Matarh, you’ve been sick so long. I was terribly afraid that I was going to lose you.” So much so that I made certain I wouldn’t, even against the rules of the Faith. But that was something she couldn’t say, either.

“Please. You’re better now, and that’s what’s important. We have so much to talk about. Have you started going out yet? I’m certain that I could get you an invitation to the Gschnas: at the Grande Palais, Matarh. Would you like that? The Gschnas at the Palais itself, instead of some old hall filled with ci’ and ce’.”

“Why were you arguing with your vatarh?” Abini persisted. “I heard you, all the way in the garden.”

“Matarh. .” I don’t want to say it. I don’t know how to even begin.

“Tell me.”

Ana looked at her matarh’s face, saw the suspicion in it. She could feel her lower lip trembling, could feel the tears burning in her eyes. Her matarh’s features swam before her, and she wiped angrily at the betrayal of her eyes. “Please, Matarh. .”

“Tell me,” she repeated.

And so she did. Slowly. Haltingly. Feeling the shame and the guilt and the pain all over again. Her matarh sat there, listening, her head shaking more with each word until Abini finally spread her hands wide apart angrily and rose from the couch. “No!” her matarh shouted, the word echoing in the room. “You’re making this up. You’re lying. Your vatarh wouldn’t do that, Ana. Not Tomas. I don’t believe it and I won’t hear it. I won’t. It’s. . it’s evil. Tomas is a good man and he’s done all he could to provide for us, even with everything that Cenzi gave us to bear. How can you be so cruel to make those accusations-do you know the sacrifices Tomas made to get you accepted as an acolyte, to pay for all your instruction so you could wear those green robes and live in this luxury? Where is your gratitude, child? Oh, why did Cenzi bring me back to this. .?”

She began to sob, uncontrollably, and Ana, crying in sympathy and her own pain, went to her, trying to take her matarh in her arms and accomplish with an embrace what she could not do with words. But Abini recoiled, pushing her away with an inarticulate cry and a wild, angry gaze. She ran from the room as Sunna opened the door. The servant watched Abini rush past her and down the hall toward the outer doors.

“O’Teni?”

Ana forced herself to speak through the tears that choked her throat. “Go with her,” she said to Sunna. “Make certain she gets home safely.”

Jan ca’Vorl

“Will he die quickly, Vatarh?” Allesandra asked.

“I don’t know, Allesandra. Probably.”