A Magic of Twilight

And why did you give me your body, when you were already married?

He toyed with the thought of asking her that, just for the enjoyment of watching her reaction. Instead, he pressed his lips together as if in thought. “That may be,” he said, “but I confess that after Ana’s minis-trations I feel better than I have for the last few years. I can understand why Matarh thought she would be a good match for me.”

As he’d known it would, that banished the smile from her painted

lips. The tiny lines around the corners of her eyes deepened as her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed together. Then she seemed to realize the transparency of her emotions and ran her hand down his chest and past his waist. She caressed him as she snuggled close to him in the bed. “I’m the better match for you, Justi,” she said coquettishly. “I could prove that again, if you’d like.”

“I’m certain you could,” he told her, kissing her. He began to move on top of her, but a bell rang quietly in the outer room and both of them sighed.

“Don’t go,” she whispered to him, tightening her arms about him.

“Renard knows not to interrupt me without good reason,” he told her. “This can wait.” Reluctantly, he rolled from bed and donned a dressing gown and slippers. He went into the outer room, closing the door behind him. He sat in the chair nearest the fire and poured himself wine from the flagon on the side table. He took a long sip. “Enter,” he called.

The door opened and Renard hurried in. “My apologies for the intrusion, Kraljiki,” he said, “but you asked me to come to you if there were news from Firenzcia. One of the message birds came a half-turn ago. This was attached to its leg.” Renard held out a roll of paper to Justi.

The message was one of the phrases which Justi, Renard, and Sergei had agreed upon. There is bright sun in Firenzcia. “Then there’s no threat from the Hirzg’s army,” Justi said. He found that the news was almost disappointing.

“Except that there was an additional verification word that commandant ca’Rudka had told them to attach to the message. That word is missing. And the commandant had O’Offizier ce’Kalti write out all the phrases before he left so he could compare them to the writing on any messages we received. According to the Commandant, this is not written in O’Offizier ce’Kalti’s hand.”

“Perhaps ce’Kalti suffered an accident, or had the bird handler write out the message.”

“Or perhaps this is not a genuine message, or someone other than ce’Kalti was responsible for it and intends to deceive us.”

“Ahh. .” Justi leaned back, staring at the parchment again. “Interesting, isn’t it, that A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca strongly urged us not to send the Garde Civile into Firenzcia. He said he was convinced that the Hirzg would not be so foolish as to bring his army within a day’s march of the border.”

He heard the click of the bedroom door and saw Francesca pad barefoot into the room, clad in another of his gowns.

“Vatarh knows the Hirzg better than anyone in Nessantico,” she said. “Brezno is his charge, after all, and he and the Hirzg talked often.

I think that Vatarh’s opinion is well worth attention. Always.” Renard acted as if her presence were entirely expected, responding to her as if she were dressed in a vajica’s finery rather than wrapped in one of Justi’s robes.

“The a’teni’s opinion is indeed valued, Vajica ca’Cellibrecca,” he answered, though Justi noticed that he kept his gaze on the parchment in Justi’s hand rather than on Francesca. “But the Hirzg is famous for his rash decisions. Look at what he did in the war with Tennshah-without the Hirzg’s provocation, the war might have ended with the Kraljica’s negotiations at Jablunkov.”

“The Hirzg has cooperated with my vatarh in the past,” Francesca persisted. “He listens to Vatarh, almost as if he were the Archigos.” She placed herself behind Justi’s chair. Her hand rested on his shoulder, possessively.

“Indeed, Vajica,” Renard said. His gaze found her now. “The Kraljica was very familiar with the relationship between the Hirzg and your vatarh. And its consequences.”

Justi felt Francesca’s grip tighten angrily on his shoulder. Justi pushed himself up from the chair before she could speak. “I will want to speak with Commandant ca’Rudka in a turn of the glass, Renard. Please make sure that he’s here.” He fingered the scroll once more. “And thank you for bringing this to my attention so quickly.” Renard bowed low to Justi, then gave a far more abbreviated bow to Francesca. He strode quickly to the doors and out.

“That man is unbearably insolent,” Francesca hissed before the doors had fully closed. “He was the Kraljica’s servant, not yours. You should have rid yourself of him.”

“He was indispensable to my matarh and, for the moment, to me,”

Justi told her. “So I would prefer that you avoid making an enemy of Renard, my dear. He would make a very bad enemy, I think; he has been here long enough to know where all the skeletons are buried and who put them there. It would do you well to remember that.”

He watched her struggle to put away her anger, drinking the rest of the wine. He dropped the parchment to the table. “I pray that your vatarh is right about the Hirzg. If he isn’t, then I will be looking to him to support me against the Hirzg and against his country.”

“My vatarh would support his marriage-son unconditionally. And his marriage-son would give me what I ask for. Also unconditionally.”

“You are extraordinarily unsubtle, Francesca.”

“Am I?” she asked. She smiled. She opened her robe and allowed it to cascade from her shoulders to the floor. Her fingers brushed the fleece between her legs. “Do you really think so?”

He laughed. “Most charmingly so,” he said, and went to her.

Sergei ca’Rudka

The Kraljiki’s decision troubled Sergei, but the man was

adamant. “By the way, Commandant,” the Kraljiki had said, almost as an afterthought toward the end of their meeting. “I think we need to demonstrate to the Holdings, and to Firenzcia, just how seriously we will take threats to our security. The Numetodo must confess their part in the assassination of Kraljica Marguerite. Those now in the Bastida, even if they’re not directly involved, must be given the appropriate punishment according to the Divolonte to prevent them from misusing the Ilmodo ever again.

The leaders, beginning with Envoy ci’Vliomani, will be prepared for public execution. Tomorrow.” A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca, seated at the table with Sergei and the Kraljiki, had nodded his agreement, and it was obvious that no argument Sergei could make would change this order.

Sergei wondered why it was A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca and not the Archigos who had been invited to the meeting. He also knew enough not to ask.

“I will do whatever the Kraljiki orders,” Sergei had replied, rubbing the polished metal of his nose, “but it’s my duty as commandant to remind the Kraljiki that the Numetodo are no threat to anyone while they are in the Bastida. It would seem far more important that our attention stays on the very real threat of the Hirzg.”

But the Kraljiki, with ca’Cellibrecca nodding vigorously beside him, had insisted that there was no threat from Firenzcia, and it was obvious that the Kraljiki had already made his decision. Sergei’s objections had gone nowhere. Sergei knew it was also the duty of the Commandant of the Garde Kralji, once the decision was made, to carry out the orders without hesitation or second thought.

He would do so. But he would talk to ci’Vliomani first, so the man knew what he faced and could prepare himself. He strode through the gates of the Bastida, saluted the gardai there, glanced up at the baleful head of the dragon, and went to Capitaine ci’Doulor’s office.

“Capitaine, I’ve come to meet with the prisoner ci’Vliomani.”

Sergei stopped in mid-sentence. Capitaine ci’Doulor blanched with Sergei’s statement. His hand clutched at a sheet of paper on his desk, crumpling it and tipping the inkwell set on its corner. The man didn’t seem to notice the