dozen green-robed a’teni of the Archigos’ Council followed them-the highest of the teni, elderly men and women blinking at the assault of daylight after the dimness within the temple’s basilica. Then, finally, came the Archigos’ open carriage, wrought in the shape of Cenzi’s fractured globe, the blue of the seas a pure lapis lazuli, the green and gold of the continents a matrix of emeralds and gold, the crack that rent the world bright with tiny blood-red rubies. A teni chanted alongside each of the four wheels of the carriage and the wheels turned in response, while the green-robed Archigos himself stood atop the globe, pressing his own clasped hands to forehead as if he were no more than any of the people in the crowd. Four acolytes in white robes carried long poles, over which was draped an awning of gold-and-green silk, sheltering the Archigos from the elements.
Archigos Dhosti ca’Millac, despite his standing as head of the Con-cenzia Faith, hardly cut a magnificent figure. The dwarf was old-nearly as old as the Kraljica herself. His liver-spotted scalp was bordered by a short hedge of white hair just above the ears and low around the back of his skull. His already-shrunken stature was further diminished by the bowing of his spine, which forced his chin down onto his chest, and the arms which emerged from the short, wide sleeves of his stately robes were thin, wobbling with loose, wrinkled skin. Yet the eyes were alert and bright, and the mouth smiled.
Ana smiled in return, just seeing him; she had never been this close to the Archigos before, not even in the Temple during ceremonies. It was probably just coincidence, but he seemed to notice her as well, nodding once in her direction before turning back to the crowds. He lifted his hands, his voice-no doubt strengthened by his mastery of the Ilmodo-beginning to call the traditional blessing of Cenzi on the throngs.
Ana heard the disturbance before she saw it: another voice striving against that of the Archigos. Turning her head from the Archigos toward the crowd, she caught a glimpse of someone standing in the midst of the kneeling throngs. The gardai saw the man at the same moment and began to move toward him, but they were already too late. The stranger-she saw a ruddy complexion and hair the color of summer straw-moved his hands in a pushing motion and the gardai between him and the Archigos went down as if struck by an invisible fist, as well as those in a circle around him.
The acolyte next to Ana sucked in his breath; the teni in the driv-er’s seat of her carriage grunted in alarm. The crowd was shouting now:
“A Numetodo. .! The Archigos. .!” Ana couldn’t hear the magic-chanting of the man, but his mouth still moved and a blue-white, sputtering glow had swallowed his right hand. Ana had seen similar effects, had performed them imperfectly herself, for that matter. She knew the set of words that could conjure up the heat of the air, could concentrate it into a ball-but the Numetodo performed the spell faster than any teni, with just a few words. .
The gardai the man had struck down were starting to stagger up, but she knew none of them could reach him quickly enough to prevent the attack. Ana knew that the Archigos had seen the disturbance as well, but when she glanced at him he was still smiling, his hands still raised in blessing even though he’d stopped speaking. Otherwise, he had not reacted.
The Numetodo-he had to be one of that shadowy group; who else would dare to do something like this? — swung his arm in a throwing motion and the spitting glare in his hand arced toward the Archigos.
Ana, almost without realizing, had begun whispering a chant herself, and as the glow hissed in the air toward the Archigos-who still smiled-she cupped her hands before her and brought them together.
The ball of blue fire fizzled, sputtered, and vanished long before it reached the Archigos. The Numetodo, standing stupefied in the plaza as his attack failed, went down under a rush of the Garde Kralji. She saw his capture as she staggered with the release of her spell and the inevitable weariness surged over her. For a moment, there was darkness at the edges of her vision and she thought she might faint entirely away, but the shadow passed, leaving her with only an immense fatigue.
The disturbance was over almost as quickly as it had begun, the Garde Kralji re-forming their line as the attacker was hustled away from the plaza into one of the nearest buildings with his hands bound and his mouth gagged, as the Archigos-who seemed entirely unshaken and unperturbed by the incident-raised his voice over the noise of the crowd to finish the blessing. He gestured to the Garde Kralji, making obvious his intention to continue the procession, and the gardai formed an opening in the crowd for the Archigos to pass through in his carriage.
The Archigos looked at Ana and gestured to her.
For a breath, she thought she’d been mistaken, until the teni-driver spoke in a harsh, awed whisper. “Go
She went to one knee alongside the globe and bowed her head, giving the Archigos the sign of Cenzi.
“Get up, Vajica. Please,” she heard the Archigos say, his voice amused. “And come up here with me. I’d like to speak with my new protector.” She heard a few of the a’teni behind her snicker at that, and her face reddened. But the Archigos was extending a stubby arm toward her and one of the carriage-teni had opened a door in Cenzi’s globe for her, revealing a set of short stairs that led to the platform on which the Archigos stood under his canopy of silk. She climbed up to him, going to a knee again as she reached the platform. Kneeling, she was as tall as the Archigos. She took the hand he extended to her and touched her lips to his palm. She felt him lifting her up and she rose.
“Can you stand?” he whispered to her.
“For a bit,” she answered.
“Then you should sit.” He pulled down a seat built into the compartment of the carriage. “It’s just as well, after all. Otherwise, you’d have to stand there,” he told her, and she noticed that the platform to the Archigos’ left was several inches lower. “Appearances,” he told her with a gentle smile, and she gratefully sank down onto the hard wooden seat, her head no longer higher than his. “I see that you’ve learned how to reverse an incantation as well as to create one, Vajica cu’Seranta.
Strange, I didn’t think that was something that was generally taught to acolytes. Nor, I think, does U’Teni cu’Dosteau know of counter-spells that can be cast quite so quickly.”
Ana felt her cheeks flush again, but the fatigue made her response slow. “Archigos, I-”
He waved off her protest with a gentle laugh. “I was never in any real danger. The Numetodo haven’t the faith to truly use the Ilmodo.
His attack would never have reached me, even if you’d done nothing, not with the a’teni here. And I have my own defenses if they’d failed.”
His grin tempered what might have been a rebuke.
“I’m sorry for my presumption,” she told him. “I should have realized. .”
“There’s no need to apologize, Vajica. You’ve only shown me that what I was told about you was correct. Now, ride with me so we can talk-no matter what happens, it’s important that the schedule isn’t interrupted, after all. It’s all about appearances.”
“
“I know what you thought,” Archigos ca’Millac answered. “You were wrong.”
Mahri
He lurked at the fringes of the crowd, as he always did.
Watching, as he always did.
Even in the warmth of the sun, Mahri wrapped himself in several layers, his clothing rent with great tears and the hems all tattered, the patterns on the cloth smeared with filth and blackened where they
dragged the ground. His hood was up, so that his scarred and ravaged face could only be glimpsed: the
