A Magic of Twilight

Karl decided to ignore that. “If the A’Kralj worries you, then why not kill him? You know where he is and from what I’ve seen, you’d have no problem getting to him. Get rid of the man.”

“Death doesn’t kill beliefs,” Mahri said. “It only gives those beliefs more strength. A philosophy is not a person-if it’s a truly vital way of thinking, the death of its founder only feeds its growth. That’s the mistake ca’Cellibrecca and Hirzg Jan would make. It would be a shame if the Numetodo did the same.”

“Then what kills a belief, if not the death of those who believe?”

Mahri didn’t answer. Under the shadowed cowl, the man’s single eye stared back at Karl. “Ah, that is the question, isn’t it?”

Gschnas

Ana cu’Seranta

“Have you a costume yet for the Gschnas, Ana?” Kenne asked.

Ana shrugged. She glanced past Kenne, seated at his paper-strewn desk, to the open door of the Archigos’ reception room, where she could see Archigos Dhosti and three of the a’teni: Joca ca’Sevini of Chivasso, Alain ca’Fountaine of Belcanto, and Colin ca’Cille of An Uaimth. Also in the room was a tall and rather handsome man she didn’t recognize.

All five of them were in the midst of what appeared to be an energetic discussion. “Beida and Watha tell me that they have something put together for me, but they won’t show it to me yet. What about you?”

Kenne shook his head. “Not going. The Archigos has me working here tomorrow evening.” He tapped the nearest pile of paper. “Going through reports from Firenzcia.”

Ana felt a guilty blush creep up her neck from the high collar of her green robes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d known, I’d have told the Archigos to have you accompany him instead of me.”

Kenne chuckled at that. “Do you think you’re not going to be working? Believe me, you will be, and far more visibly than me. No, I’m quite content with my lot, Ana. Besides, you’re the new celebrity and he has to show you off.”

Her blush heightened and Kenne laughed again. “And before you go apologizing for that, too,” he continued, “let me tell you that I’m not even slightly jealous. I’m happy where I am, where I can pass along any difficult problems to the Archigos or the a’teni.” He must have noticed her gaze drifting, for he glanced over his own shoulder to the open door.

“Envoy Karl ci’Vliomani is with them,” he said.

That made Ana’s eyebrows rise. “The Numetodo?”

Kenne nodded. “For a heretic, he’s on the attractive side, don’t you think? He speaks very well also. I’ve always found the Paeti accent enchanting.” Ana’s eyebrows lifted even higher on her forehead, and Kenne grinned at her. “I’m just telling you what I’m thinking. I’ll wager you’ll feel the same way.”

Ana decided not to answer, but she continued to stare at the man.

“Why is he here?”

“The Archigos asked to see him. I think the Archigos wanted to allay fears that what happened in Brezno would be repeated here. He wanted the envoy to know that not all the a’teni have the same opinion as A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca. Ah, here they come.”

The group was moving toward the door. Ana caught a hint of the envoy’s speech, colored-as Kenne had intimated-with a strong accent and a pleasing, sonorous baritone. The man had a voice any teni at the High Lectern would envy. “. . pleased to have been able to speak to you, Archigos, A’Teni. I would appreciate it, too, Archigos, if you could speak to the Kraljica on my behalf. I would be most grateful for the chance to meet with her and directly address any concerns she might have.”

“Perhaps after the Jubilee is over, Envoy,” the Archigos answered.

The envoy smiled-he had a pleasant smile, one that seemed genuine and guileless. Lines creased around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, well-worn and telling Ana that the expression was one comfortable and familiar for him. She found herself staring at his features, imagining what he might be thinking, trying to visualize him performing the forbidden Numetodo magic or denying the existence of Cenzi. This was the enemy, yet it was far easier to have imagined heretical thoughts being reflected in a twisted, ugly visage, not this. Not this. “Ah, yes,” the envoy said, and his green eyes sparkled in the teni-light from Kenne’s desk lamp. “The Kraljica should have her much-deserved celebration first. After the Jubilee, then-and I’m in your debt, Archigos. I can see myself out. . ”

With that, he turned to go. His gaze swept momentarily to Ana with the movement, and he smiled and nodded faintly to her before he began to walk away.

“Ah, Ana,” Archigos Dhosti said. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to introduce you formally to A’Tenis ca’Sevini, ca’Fountaine, and ca’Cille.”

Ana tore her gaze from the envoy, walking briskly down the corridor away from Kenne’s desk. Kenne was smiling at her; she ignored him. “Certainly, Archigos,” she said.

“Look!” Ana pointed and laughed with delight.

Outside the Grande Palais, the shrubbery had been placed upside down, their greenery half-buried in the earth and bare roots curling like gnarled fingers toward the cloudless night sky. Teni-lighted globes were set inside the nest of roots, surrounded by colored glass so that mul-ticolored root-shadows crisscrossed the grounds. The grass had been painted a white that gleamed eerily, as if the moonlight illuminating the city had been poured out on the land, while the fountains set between the wings of the Grande Palais bubbled water that was jet black and opaque. Ornate, brightly-colored birds from the jungles of Namarro and South Hellin, their wings clipped and bound, strutted and preened over the skeletal grass while several well-groomed and jeweled-collared dogs, looking rather startled and uncertain of their fate, were suspended by ebon strings from cables strung between the palace roofs, so it appeared that they were treading air.

It was the festival of Gschnas, when reality was set topsy-turvy and nothing was as it seemed to be.

The Archigos nodded and grinned at Ana’s excitement. “This is the Kraljica’s favorite celebration,” he said. He was seated across from her, but instead of the usual green robes of the teni, he wore the shrouds of a corpse, and his face was hidden behind a porcelain skull mask. The eyes behind the open sockets of the face startled Ana every time she glimpsed them in the dim carriage.

Ana, with the help of Beida and Watha, was dressed as a young male chevaritt, her breasts bound tightly (and rather uncomfortably, she had to admit) under a frilled bashta decorated with medallions, a wooden sword girt to a wide leather belt, and leather boots that reached her knees. Her hair was pulled severely back and braided like one of the Garde Civile, and a floppy cap with a long feather teetered jauntily on her head. “You look quite the handsome creature,” Beida had said, stepping back after they were finished dressing her. “Why, you may have to fend off some of the ca’-and-cu’ women who are looking for a husband.” She’d giggled at the thought.

The carriage stopped, and a footman-dressed, Ana recognized with a start, in the very outfit that the A’Kralj Justi had worn for his official portrait, and with a golden crown encircling his head-opened the door for them. Ana peered around at the fantasy landscape, at the dark fountains and bright grass, at the spidery cracks and fissures that had been painted in the walls of the palais, so that it appeared the building had been shaken and broken in an earthquake and the Grande Palais was a ruin in a lost land.

As she stepped from the carriage, Ana heard sudden discordant and strange music, and saw a trio next to the main doors. The dulcimer player was striking her instrument with the hammer held in her bare feet while she reclined on the ground; the tambour player had set his drum on a stand in front of him and was bouncing three metal balls onto the stretched goatskin while juggling them-and keeping surprisingly good time, Ana had to admit. The man with the sacbut seemed to be playing with the mouthpiece of his device lodged in his nether regions; Ana decided she didn’t want to know how he was producing a sound. She grimaced at the distressing blat of his instrument.

“They’re not very good,” Ana said to the Archigos. His skull face peered up at her.

“The marvel,” he said, “is that they can play at all, isn’t it?” She heard muffled laughter behind his mask.