He bowed and gave the sign of Cenzi to the woman, whose gaze kept moving from one of them to the other. “O’Teni, I don’t believe we’ve formally met, though I certainly know of you. It seems that you’re as much a protector of the Archigos as I am of the Kraljica.”
“The Archigos doesn’t need my protection, I’m afraid,” the o’teni replied. “He’s quite capable on his own.”
Sergei nodded. “I hope your family home has been repaired satisfactorily, O’Teni. An unfortunate accident. It was fortunate no one was seriously injured.”
The polite smile she was wearing froze on her lips. He saw ci’Vliomani glance strangely at her. “Yes, I’m sure Vatarh would agree with you, Commandant.”
“I wouldn’t trouble myself with it much, O’Teni,” Sergei said. “Mistakes will happen; the important thing is to learn from them and to not repeat them.” He glanced from her to ci’Vliomani. “Envoy, I trust you’re not here to make a mistake yourself.”
“I’m here to enjoy myself, Commandant, like everyone else. And to have a chance to glimpse the Kraljica, who invited me.”
“Ah. The Kraljica. I’m certain you know that her time is extremely limited and her schedule for the evening already made. I would hate to have to. . disengage someone who tried to approach her without her express permission.”
“You worry too much, Commandant. I’m certain that O’Teni cu’Seranta would stop me if I attempted anything that would make me look foolish.”
Sergei smiled thinly. “Yet somehow she didn’t stop you from dancing, Vajiki.”
The Numetodo put on a face of exaggerated hurt, placing his hand over his chest. “Commandant, you wound me to the quick. Why, we of the Isle of Paeti are renowned for our grace and form, as I’m sure you know. If I missed a step or two, it was because the musicians don’t know how to play properly.”
“I’m certain that’s the case,” Sergei answered. He bowed and gave the sign of Cenzi once more. “O’Teni, it was a pleasure to meet you.
Now I can understand how both the Archigos and the Kraljica were impressed by you. But if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to which I must attend.”
He bowed once more and left them. Within three steps, his hand had come up to stroke his chin under the hawk’s mask. This would bear watching. Cu’Seranta had already shown herself to be both powerful and erratic, and if the Archigos trusted her, Sergei did not, especially if-as he suspected-she were vulnerable to romance. The Numetodo wouldn’t be above using that to his own advantage. Yes. Sergei would watch. And wait.
Then, at the right time, he would stoop like a hawk and strike.
“Commandant?” One of Renard’s young aides came hurrying up to him. “The Kraljica is asking if everything is ready.”
“Is the painting in place for the presentation?” The boy nodded.
“Then, yes,” Sergei told the page. “You may tell Renard that we’re ready.”
The boy hurried away as Sergei walked unhurriedly to his post near the stairs to the inner apartments. As he reached them, the trumpets blared a fanfare.
Dhosti ca’Millac
It took far too long to disengage himself from ca’Cellibrecca.
They fenced verbally, using the same ancient, hoary arguments and the same weary answers. Dhosti suspected they both could have written down the exchange beforehand and have missed nothing of
import. Ca’Cellibrecca prattled on about the Toustour and the Divolonte and how the Faith must not tolerate dissent, and how the Archigos’ “lenience” was tearing down the foundations on which the Concenzia Faith had been built. Dhosti had stopped listening after the first few sentences, his back aching from standing so long, and ca’Cellibrecca had left with his usual imprecations and thinly veiled threats.
And now he’d come back out to find Ana dancing with ci’Vliomani.
He hoped that ca’Cellibrecca didn’t notice, but he was certain that even if the a’teni failed to see it himself, the news would come to him very quickly. Dhosti frowned and his fingers tightened on the railing of the alcove: the commandant had stopped to speak with Ana and the Numetodo.
Leaning heavily on his walking stick, Dhosti made his way down the stairs, nodding to the ca’-and-cu’ that he passed, exchanging a few words with those he knew by name and face. It took him several minutes to reach the main floor. He could see Ana and ci’Vliomani having an energetic discussion. “Come,” he said to Ana, glancing once sharply at ci’Vliomani. “We should be at the stairs for the Kraljica’s entrance.
Envoy, if you’ll pardon us. .”
Ana glanced back at ci’Vliomani as Dhosti took her arm, but she followed him. They’d just reached the stairs-the commandant nodding to them from the far side-as a fanfare rattled the walls of the room. A flock of white doves exploded from the balconies in a flurry of soft wings as pieces of shredded, bright paper fluttered down in a slow rain. The candles in the Kneeling Man went out, all at once, followed by all the teni-lights around the hall. The only spot of illumination was at the top of the main stairway. There, an apparition stood.
She seemed to be clothed entirely in light: fierce reds and oranges and shimmering bright ultramarine swirled around her in a whirlwind of color, masking all of her body but the face. And the face. . It was the Kraljica, yes, Dhosti knew, but it was the Kraljica transformed. Each strand of her white hair was a sun, and the light seemed to radiate from deep within her. Her eyes blazed.
She lifted her hands, and rays of purest yellow shot from her fingertips. The crowd cooed appreciatively, bursting into applause.
Dhosti could hear the soft murmuring of the teni hidden at the top of the stairs as they chanted, releasing the light display, but that was unheard by the crowd farther back.
Then the lights returned, the musicians began playing once again, and the Kraljica descended the stairs. Her costume glowed, softer now but difficult to look at directly-it was as if she were clothed in the flicker of sight at the edge of an eye: when Dhosti tried to capture an image, it blurred and was gone. Her hair still gleamed, but more softly now, like stars in a night sky. Her eyes glistened like those of a cat caught in firelight.
He took her hands, and they were simply the ancient hands of the Kraljica. He looked at her face, and he saw weariness and deep, eroded lines there. “Kraljica,” he said. “You were magnificent. Your entrance will be the talk of the evening. Nessantico has seen nothing like it. It was as if Vucta walked again on the earth, just as I’ve imagined Her.”
“Your teni did the work,” she told him. “Thank you for sending them to me.” Her voice quavered, so soft that he found himself leaning forward to listen. “Dhosti, I’m so very tired. Tell O’Teni Ana I would like to take her arm and lean on her, if she doesn’t mind.” Then, for a moment, her old voice returned. “Besides, Ana’s accompaniment would send a message to A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca, wouldn’t it?”
Dhosti smiled at that. “Certainly, Kraljica. Ana. .” He gestured to her to come forward. “The Kraljica’s not feeling well,” he whispered to her. “She needs your arm.”
Ana glanced at the Kraljica with concern, bowing her head to give the sign, then moved to the Kraljica’s side. “I’d be honored, Kraljica,”
she said. The young woman’s arm sparked as it contacted the eddies of light wrapping the Kraljica, and Ana grimaced. “The Ilmodo is a bit cold,” she said aloud.
“It’s damned frigid,” the Kraljica answered. “My blood has turned to ice. But come, let’s do what we must do so I can get back to my apartments. We need to move on so that Justi can be announced.” With that, the Kraljica gave the nearest onlookers a practiced smile and stepped forward into the crowd, the commandant to her left and Dhosti to her right just behind her.
“Kraljica, what a magnificent Gschnas. .”
“. . the best I’ve ever seen. .”
“. . what a wonderful tribute to your Jubilee. .”
