A Magic of Twilight

He withdrew his hand, suddenly, and she felt chill air on her skin.

“So-what is the news from the Archigos?”

Ana couldn’t answer immediately. She took a breath, pretended to sip her wine while she absorbed what Justi was saying. “The Archigos. . He received a letter, Kraljiki, from your cousin the Hirzgin.

She believes that Hirzg Jan intends to bring his army into Nessantico.

She believes that he and A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca are conspiring to take the Sun Throne from you.”

Justi’s eyes did widen at that. “I can believe that the Hirzg would be foolish enough-Jan ca’Vorl’s a half- barbarian and not known for the subtlety of his strategy. I’d enjoy seeing him rot in the Bastida. But it’s more difficult to think that ca’Cellibrecca is willing to be part of such an alliance when the cost of failure is so high. The Archigos genuinely believes this to be true?”

Ana shrugged. “He knows that the Hirzgin believes it to be true.”

“Then I will have to make my own investigation. And quickly. The Hirzg and ca’Cellibrecca both overstep themselves if they think I’m so easily cowed.” He nodded, as if to himself. He said nothing for a few moments, scowling. Then, abruptly, he smiled again. “In any event, that news means that A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca won’t have a decision from me this afternoon. In fact, I will make him wait quite a bit longer while I set some things in motion. I’m sorry that the a’teni has seen fit to interrupt our luncheon, Ana. I would make it up to you: if you would come by tonight for a late supper, in my private chambers? If you would do that, then I’ll make ca’Cellibrecca wait some days for his answer on the Numetodo.”

She knew what he asked; she knew what he threatened. “He will try to trap you, Ana,” the Archigos had said. “You have to remember this: there are no decisions without consequences, and the more critical the decision, the harsher those consequences will be. In the circles in which the Kraljiki operates, there are also no rewards that come without payment. In that, it is like our use of the Ilmodo: the spells give us power, but we must always pay for them.” She could feel the bars enclosing her. For a moment, the memory of Vatarh’s face looming over her rose in her mind, and she shivered. The hand that the Kraljiki had held was fisted on the damask.

The smell of the food before her made her ill.

He was waiting for her answer, a single eyebrow lifted, his prominent chin thrust forward. “I have services with the Archigos at Third Call, Kraljiki. .”

He would not let her finish. He pounced, like a cat on a mouse skulking along a wall. “Then I will expect you immediately afterward.”

It was not a question. “I will have a carriage waiting at the Archigos’

Temple for you.”

She nodded. The fist in her stomach clenched tighter.

“Good.” He gestured to the servants against the wall. “I have to leave you, Ana-your news demands attention. Please, take your time and finish your lunch, Ana. Leisurely, and with the knowledge that A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca will be fuming more with every bite, thinking about the two of us together-that will add a lovely spice to the dishes, don’t you think?”

Mahri

The rain had sent the residents of Nessantico scurrying from doorway to doorway while scowling at the sky, and left the streets devoid of all traffic but the occasional hire-carriage with a miserable driver hunched over in his oilcloth greatcoat. However, the weather bothered Mahri very little. The cold drizzle soaked the dark rags that swaddled his scarred body, but the moisture felt soothing on his ravaged flesh. He walked unhurriedly along the banks of the River A’Sele near the Bastida, and paused as he approached the Avi a’Parete and the Pontica a’Brezi Veste. He could see the tower where Karl ci’Vliomani was held rising glumly above the walls girdling the prison, walls that had once been part of the ancient city wall that Nessantico had long outgrown. Mahri had chosen this spot carefully, where he could see the tower easily and yet there would be few passersby to interfere or notice him; the rain would only help.

He slumped down on the wet grassy slope of the riverbank. He could smell the water-the foul scent of filth, human sewage, and rotting fish. He grimaced and tried to put the odor out of his mind. He pulled an oiled paper scroll from a pocket of his robe and placed it on his lap. He stared at the tower and began to chant, his hands and fingers dancing an intricate gavotte before him.

He closed his eyes.

He felt himself drifting as he if were no longer attached to his body, though he could sense the mental cord that tied him to the body, stretching as he floated away and growing more taut and resistant with distance. The sensation was disconcerting, and for a moment nausea threatened to send him tumbling back into his body, but he forced his awareness to continue flowing outward. He could see the tower coming closer; he rose above the crumbling top of the wall and up, up to the open balcony where he’d seen the Numetodo and into the darkness

beyond. The connection to his body was nearly at its extreme distance; he had to fight mentally to stay, to not go tumbling backward toward his abandoned body. He could see a form seated at the crude table in the center of the cell, his head enclosed in a strange contraption, his hands chained tightly together: the envoy. He was staring directly at Mahri, his eyes wide as if he were staring at a ghost-which, Mahri knew, was somewhat the case. Mahri had seen others do this spell before; he’d seen the translucent outline of the person that resulted: incorporeal, untouchable, spectral. And fragile. Mahri knew he had little time.

Ci’Vliomani grunted something that the mouthpiece forced between his lips rendered unintelligible; Mahri lifted a finger to lips in warning.

He forced himself to slide forward to the door against the growing resistance of his body, feeling the chill of the metal as he passed through it entirely. Beyond, a garda snored, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Mahri spoke a word and gestured; the man slumped to the floor, the snoring intensifying. Mahri let his body pull him backward into the cell, forcing his awareness to stop within the cell once again, though he could feel himself desperately yearning to return.

“I don’t have time, Envoy ci’Vliomani,” he said. He could hear his voice as if he were speaking through a long tube, whispering and hollow. “They intend to kill you as an example to all Numetodo. I offer you escape, but you must trust me, and we must act now. Are you willing?”

For a moment, ci’Vliomani did nothing and Mahri prepared to let himself drop back into his own body once more. Then the man gave the barest of nods, and Mahri struggled keep his awareness in the cell. He no longer dared to move; if he did, the connection would break and he would go tumbling back. Yes. This is the way I saw it in the vision-bowl. . “You can read?” he asked the man, who nodded again.

“Good. Then we must hurry. Come here. Step into the space where I’m standing. .”

Too slowly for Mahri’s comfort, ci’Vliomani stood and shuffled over toward him. He hesitated as he stood in front of Mahri, and Mahri

thought that the man would change his mind. Then he took the final step, and Mahri’s awareness doubled.

. . What is this? What are you doing to me?

. . Trust me. .

Mahri spoke the final word of the spell, and the world shifted. His viewpoint swung around; he was no longer looking through his own eyes, but ci’Vliomani’s. He heard a wail and a cry, and a shimmering ghost fled from the room, a streak of fog blown by the winds of an unseen tornado.

The specter’s scream faded into the night. .

Karl ci’Vliomani

He was sitting on a grassy bank of the A’Sele with the rain pelting down on him. For a moment, that was enough, because there was no strength in him. He was utterly exhausted, as drained as if he had used the Scath Cumhacht too much and must pay the steep price. Slowly, as if from a deep dream-fog, he allowed himself to come back to life.

Everything was wrong. Everything.

He could not see well. His vision was strangely flat; only his right eye seemed to be working. A strange odor