A Magic of Twilight

strategy.”

Jan extended his hand with the insignia toward the man, who finally sheathed his sword and took it. “You may leave us, Starkkapitan,”

Jan told him as the man stared at the eagle in his hand. “You’ve much more to do before the end of this day.” Ca’Linnett glanced at the body of ca’Staunton. “You should look at him,” Jan said. “Look well. Memo-rize what you see.”

“My Hirzg?”

“You may think that you did this, but you didn’t. This was ca’Staunton’s fate, no matter whose hand held the sword. This is what happens to those who can’t meet my expectations, Starkkapitan. I trust you don’t think me reckless and foolish.”

Ca’Linnett swallowed visibly again. He saluted. “Good,” Jan told him. “I’m glad we understand each other. Until this evening, then, Starkkapitan. Oh, and if you would send someone in to remove the carcass. .”

Another salute, and ca’Linnett fled. Jan went to Allesandra and gathered her in his arms. Together, they looked down at the body. “Your desk is ruined, Vatarh,” Allesandra said. Splashes of brown-red crusted the surface of Great-Vatarh Jan’s painted face and dripped thickly from the desk front.

“It will clean up,” he told her.

Ana cu’Seranta

Ana cried silently in the darkness, her face to the wall. At least she hoped she was silent. She didn’t know where Mahri was-he’d left the apartment for the streets a few turns before and not returned, but Karl was curled up in a nest of blankets on the other side of the room, and she didn’t want to wake him.

Not silent enough. . She realized she could no longer hear Karl’s soft snoring even as she heard his footsteps behind her, then felt the movement of the straw-stuffed mattress on which she lay. “Ana. .”

Karl’s hand touched her shoulder with his whisper. “I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened to you.”

Ana wiped furtively at her eyes, grateful for the gloom. She did not trust herself to speak. She remained huddled there, silent, as if she could stopper up her grief for the past and her fears for her future by sheer force of will. She heard him speak a spell-word and a soft light blossomed, no more than a candle’s worth. She could see her shadow on the wall in its steady light.

“I thought I heard you,” Karl said. “I thought. .” She felt him shift his weight. The hand moved from her shoulder to stroke her hair. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

She shook her head. The light vanished, and she felt the warmth of him along her back as he lay down next to her. “You should know that your coming to me in the Bastida was what kept me alive and sane,” he said. “I was afraid that I was going to die there, afraid that I’d never see you or Nessantico or the Isle of Paeti again. Never smell the ocean or feel a soft shower from a passing cloud while the sun still was shining on the meadow. Never feel the power of the Scath Cumhacht in me again. .” He stopped. His hand slid down her arm until he found her hand. He laced his fingers in hers. “But I could always remember you, long after you left. Ana, I don’t know what you did to keep me alive and safe, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I will always be in your debt.”

She could not hold back the sobs anymore. The emotions rose within her, racking her until her shoulders heaved. His fingers tightened around hers. After a moment, she returned the pressure, and that calmed her somewhat. Karl released her hand to put his arms around her and cradle her into himself. He let her cry, saying nothing, just letting the grief and shame flow from her. His head snuggled into her neck; she felt his lips against her there, kissing her once softly.

“You’re safe for now,” he whispered. “That’s all that matters.”

She shook her head. “No,” she told him. “The Archigos. .

Kenne. .” She inhaled, the sound breaking. “What have I done to my matarh? What will happen to her now? It would be better if I’d died with the Archigos.”

“No,” he said fiercely into her ear. “You can’t say that. I won’t let you.”

She turned in his arms so that she faced him. He was a shadow against the darker background of the room. “I lay with him,” she said, the confession rushing out unbidden. “With the Kraljiki. That was the bargain I made for you, Karl. Even the Archigos pushed me toward the Kraljiki, saying he thought it’s what I should do. The Kraljiki said he would keep you safe if I’d be his lover. He said that. .” She had to stop.

“He said that he might marry me, said that the Archigos’ favorite would make a good match.” She laughed once, bitterly. Karl said nothing. His hands had stopped moving. “That wasn’t really a lie, I suppose. Not really, now that ca’Cellibrecca will be the Archigos.”

“Francesca. .” The word was a breath and a knife.

“Yes. Francesca.”

His hand found her cheek. “He used you, Ana. He and Francesca both. They played you and used you until they got what they wanted.”

“I was using him in return,” she answered. “That makes me no better.” She took a breath, and it was empty of the sadness. “I’d like you to go,” she said to him. “Leave me alone.”

“Ana. .” He put his arm around her, started to draw her to him.

She wanted to let it happen. She wanted to lose her thoughts in heat and his taste and smell, but afterward. . She didn’t know what either one of them would feel afterward, and she couldn’t face another loss.

She put her hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“No,” she said, and the single word stopped him. For a breath, the tableau held. She could feel his breath so close to her lips before he rolled away from her and off the bed. In the darkness, she heard him walk across the room to the pile of blankets that served as his own bed.

She forced herself not to cry again. She prayed to Cenzi instead, and wondered if He could hear her, or if He would listen.

When Ana awoke the next morning, Mahri had returned. He was seated near the hearth, and a pot boiled on the crane over the fire. The fragrant, sharp smell of mint filled the room. Karl snored in his corner.

“Tea?” Mahri asked. Ana nodded, then winced as he reached out and swiveled the crane away from the fire; the crane had to be burning hot to the touch, but Mahri didn’t seem to react to the heat.

He plucked the pot from the crane and poured liquid into two cracked-lipped mugs, stirring a dollop of honey from a jar into each.

Ana padded over to him, still wrapped in her blanket, and he handed her one of the mugs. The man’s terrible, scarred face regarded her, his remaining eye staring. She dropped her gaze away quickly, blowing at the steaming liquid and taking a sip. The sweetness burned its way down her throat and the heat of the mug made her put it down on the edge of the table where Mahri sat, near the room’s single window. “It’s good,” she said. “Thank you.”

“There are rumors all over the city,” Mahri said as if he hadn’t heard her. His own mug sat untouched on the rickety, scratched tabletop.

The shutters of the window were open, and she could hear people moving on the street outside and see the early morning light. First Call sounded, the wind-horns of Temple Park loudest of them. Ana closed her eyes and went to one knee, reciting the First Call prayers silently to herself, her lips moving with the familiar, comforting words.

“You believe? Still? After all this?”

Mahri’s question brought her head up again. Ana nodded as she rose. “I do believe,” she told him. “Again, after I thought I’d lost belief.

And you, Mahri? Do you pray to anyone, or do you believe in no gods at all like Karl?”

“I believe that there are many ways to use the X’in Ka, which you call the Ilmodo. For us, like you, we call on our gods-but it would seem that the Numetodo have shown both of us another way.” He might have smiled; with the disfigured face, it was difficult to tell. “Even my people have things to learn, things you or the Numetodo can teach us.

But I do believe, yes. Where I come from, we worship Axat, who lives in the moon, and Sakal, whose home is the sun. Your Cenzi we don’t know at all.”