objection, too: why doesn’t this great cataclysm show up in any of our histories? Stenonis says that the world is untold millions of years old, and these risings and fallings took place long before any people were there to witness them.”
She was already shaking her head. “That’s not possible. Archigos Pellin I studied the Toustour, and he determined that Vucta created the world between ten and twelve thousand years ago. Are you telling me you believe this Stenonis and not the Toustour, which is the sacred word of Cenzi?”
Karl shrugged. “I think there’s an elegance to Stenonis’ theory. I believe much of what we attribute to Cenzi and Vucta and the Moitidi may have more. .
“Like the Ilmodo?” she asked. “Or whatever it is you call it.”
He nodded. “The Scath Cumhacht. I could show you,” he said. “If your mind isn’t sealed shut with what the teni have taught you.”
“I think I’ll decline your invitation, Envoy,” she answered. “I’m not easily duped by the tricks of street magicians. My faith is stronger than that.” She moved away from him, with a backward glance, going to the marble railing that separated the alcove from the main hall. She looked down at the lines of dancers, knotting and unknotting in the intricate patterns of the Cooper’s Dance. When she looked up he was leaning against the rail beside her, and he looked more at her than at the dancers. The corners of her lips were turned up unconsciously, her eyes were wide, and she leaned forward as she stared.
“Would you care to dance, O’Teni?” he asked.
“With a Numetodo?” She glanced at him, but the smile widened.
“What would they say?”
“They would say that you’d chosen a particularly ungraceful partner, but one who at least attacks the movements with energy and enthusiasm. They would say, ‘She must be taking pity on him. .’ ”
Now she did laugh. “Surely it’s not as bad as that?”
“Oh, it’s far, far worse,” he said, and extended his arm to her. “May I demonstrate?”
He thought she’d take his arm, but instead she stepped back. “I’m still not certain of your intentions, Envoy.” He could see the uncertainty still in her face, and he suspected that it was more than his intentions that worried her. She glanced around, as if looking for the Archigos.
“In my country, they say that there is truth in music, that no one can lie while they’re dancing. Ask me your questions out on the floor, and I must tell the truth in response. Think of the information you could bring to the Archigos as a result.”
That brought a faint smile to her lips. “I don’t think the Archigos would care to see one of his o’teni dancing with the Numetodo Envoy.”
“But the Kraljica herself sent me an invitation to this Gschnas. Are you saying she made a mistake?” The young woman shook her head.
As she started to speak, Karl brought his finger to his lips. “No, I won’t listen to any more arguments. Here’s the bargain. I’ll tell the Archigos you were attempting to convert me, and that as a result I now find myself sorely tempted to abandon my heretical ways. That should earn you the Archigos’ gratitude.”
“I’m certain achieving your conversion wouldn’t be that easy.”
“How will you know unless you try, O’Teni? Or is that answer also in the Toustour?”
She looked around again, but the Archigos was nowhere to be seen.
She laughed, if a bit nervously, and laced her arm in his. They went down the steps toward the dancers.
Sergei ca’Rudka
To one side of the hall, a massive apple tree seemed to be growing from the wall, with sparkling juice flowing freely from the ripe apples on its branches into a small rocky pool below. Attendants dressed as squirrels handed out mugs which the attendees could fill from the tree. Sergei shook his head as he was offered a mug, and brushed his hands against the overhanging leaves-the stiff silk was amazingly realistic, and he wondered how long it had taken to sew the thousands of them on the false tree. He glanced up at a large knot in the bole of the tree and nodded: there, he knew, behind a mesh of black fabric, a pair of eyes were carefully watching the Gschnas for any signs of trouble. So far, the evening had been without incident, but with the Kraljica and the A’Kralj about to make their entrance, Sergei preferred to scan the hall himself.
He wore a hawk’s head mask that concealed his silver nose, but otherwise his athletic figure was dressed only in simple black, and though all real weapons were forbidden in the hall, he wore his own sword at his side.
He moved easily through the crowds, who tended to part before him in any case, with a glance at the fierce hawk’s beak and the glittering eyes behind it. He nodded to the ca’-and-cu’ who guessed at his identity with a tight smile under the mask, but he didn’t linger for conversation.
He saw the Archigos and A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca in conversation in one of the private alcoves and moved on. He saw other, more intimate trysts in the shadows of the hall and passed them by also. He had nearly made a circuit of the entire ball when he stopped.
There was something wrong about the man: the manner in which he regarded the crowd; the frayed edges of the jester’s costume that he wore; the fact that his cape didn’t seem to move as freely as it should; the predatory gesture of rubbing his fingertips together as he started to move toward a knot of people in conversation near the kneeling glass statue holding the musicians. Sergei watched the man seem to acciden-tally bump against one of the men there, and apologize profusely before moving away again.
Sergei sidled up behind the jester. “I’m impressed,” he said.
The man turned, startled. He looked as if he were about to run, but Sergei waggled a forefinger in front of the man’s face. The jester stared at it, as if transfixed. “You’ve a very smooth touch,” he told the man
“Chevaritt ca’Nephri never noticed, but I did.”
“What. .” The man stopped, licked his lips. His body was tensed, as if he were about to bolt. “What are you talking about, Vajiki?”
“I’m talking about Chevaritt ca’Nephri’s purse that is now in there,”
Sergei said, pointing to the man’s cape. “And I wouldn’t try to run. Look around you-do you see the three men in hawk masks approaching us?”
The man’s gaze flickered over the crowd, his mouth open. “Yes, I see that you do. If you go quietly, it will be better for you. If you were to make a scene and disturb the revelry, well, I would be very. . irritated. And I would make certain that my irritation was assuaged back in the Bastida.”
The man’s shoulders sagged. “Vajiki, please. . All I wanted was to get a little money for my family. To buy some food. The children. .”
“I’m certain your motives were pure,” Sergei told him softly, almost sympathetically. “But the law is also clear. Take him,” he said to the guards who had come up alongside. “Chevaritt ca’Nephri’s purse is in the lining of his cape-please make certain it’s immediately returned to him-the chevaritt is a good friend of the A’Kralj, after all. You’ll find other purses there as well; hold them until you can locate the owners.”
With that, Sergei turned as the man was escorted quietly from the hall. He allowed himself a small smile as he regarded the hall once again. The orchestra was playing the Cooper’s Dance, one of his favorite of Darkmavis’ songs, and he watched the dancers for a bit. A couple, late onto the floor, caught his eye. One of them was dressed as a fashionable young man but was obviously a woman; the other, dressed as a teni. . his gait, his bearing were familiar. Sergei strolled slowly toward them down one side of the dance floor, watching. The attention they were paying to each other was a more subtle and sensual dance than the one to which they moved. He sniffed once through his silver nose in quiet amusement, realizing who was wearing the teni’s robes.
The man certainly was brazen. He admired that in an enemy.
When the dance ended and the two paused at the edge of the floor, he came up to them.
“Have you been tending to your plant, Envoy?” he asked the teni.
“Has it bloomed for you yet?”
He’d expected more of a reaction, but the man only smiled. “Commandant. As you can see, I’ve discovered a flower all on my own.” He indicated the woman next to him. “O’Teni Ana cu’Seranta, this is
Commandant Sergei ca’Rudka, whose name I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“You flatter me, Envoy ci’Vliomani,” Sergei said, smiling politely.
