“Let’s define the true situation first,” Justi said finally. He could hear ca’Rudka relax alongside him; the man had tensed, ready-Justi realized-to defend him. Ca’Cellibrecca gave an obvious sigh of relief.
“Passe a’Fiume has never been taken in a siege when it has been guarded by a full complement of Garde Civile; it now has that full complement and more. You can’t besiege the city without controlling the western gates on the other side of the Clario, and your army, no matter how strong, has no easy crossing of the river anywhere close. Should you somehow manage to make the crossing and continue your aggression in Nessantico, then Archigos ca’Cellibrecca will declare your troops and your war-teni in violation of the Divolonte. The Marque of all your teni will be immediately revoked and any services performed by them will be considered empty and void. The blessings of Cenzi will be withdrawn from your troops-those who die will find themselves in the hands of the death hags. Any war-teni who are captured will suffer the fate of those who use the Ilmodo against Cenzi’s Will.”
Justi paused and glanced sharply at ca’Cellibrecca. The man looked ill. He was staring somewhere beyond ca’Vorl. “Archigos,” Justi snapped, and the man shivered, his jowls wiggling on either side of his jaw. He bowed and nodded, his gaze skittered past and around Justi’s face.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly so, Kraljiki.”
Justi blinked angrily at the slowness of the reply and its lack of fire, but he could say nothing to ca’Cellibrecca, not here where they needed to present a unified front. “I’m prepared to allow you and
your army safe passage back to Firenzcia. I will permit you to retain your title as Hirzg and your estates, but the tribute Firenzcia pays to Nessantico will be tripled for the next three years to pay for the damages you have caused. Command of the Firenzcian army garrisons will pass to Commandant ca’Rudka and offiziers to be named by me from among the Chevarittai of Nessantico. That’s what is on the table for you, Hirzg. That, or you may attempt to siege Passe a’Fiume and have your army break here.”
Ca’Vorl yawned dramatically. “A fine, blustery performance, Kraljiki, but did you look out from the walls before you came here? Did you fail to see the number of cook fires or did Chevaritt ca’Montmorte and the Garde Civile who ran screaming form Ville Colhelm fail to tell you how well and fiercely my Firenzcians fight? Is the Kusah of Namarro sending troops to come to your aid, or the Fjath of Sforzia, or the Ta’Mila of Il Trebbio? — or are those rulers sending you empty pledges of support while they tremble on their own thrones and wait to see who finally takes the Sun Throne in Nessantico? Why, I don’t see any of
Justi saw the Hirzg’s gaze linger on ca’Cellibrecca for a breath. “In the Toustour,” the Hirzg continued, “it says that Cenzi listens to all those who pray to Him and that if their prayers are true and genuine, He will answer. I know we’re both also familiar with the Divolonte.
The Archigos might recall Admonitions, where it says: ‘Kralji, be concerned with the lives of the faithful before death, for that is your role; Archigos, be concerned with the lives of the Faithful beyond death, for that is your task.’ So, I will listen to the Archigos when he talks to me about my
Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca
“Perhaps the ilmodo will tell us whose prayers Cenzi prefers.”
Ca’Vorl fixed Orlandi then with a stare that Orlandi could return only with great effort. He could feel the Kraljiki glaring at him from the side as well, and U’Teni cu’Kohnle also regarded him with an intensity that made Orlandi wonder how much the Hirzg had promised the warteni. Orlandi wanted to wipe away the beading sweat that was rising at the top of his forehead but didn’t dare. He knew that the Kraljiki was waiting for him to respond to the Hirzg’s defiance; he also knew that ca’Vorl was warning him. The Hirzg had no intention of bending to compromise here; the parley was already over. Orlandi knew it, whether Kraljiki Justi did or not.
Cenzi didn’t deign to answer in any manner that Orlandi could discern. He opened his mouth, and prayed that Cenzi would send him the words to say. “I am the Voice of Cenzi here in this world,” he said, with all the firmness he could muster. “That is and always has been the role of the Archigos.”
Ca’Vorl’s lips curled in amusement; the Kraljiki grunted. “There. You have your answer, Hirzg. .”
Justi was saying, but Orlandi wasn’t truly listening. Not anymore. All his attention was on the thoughts battering against his skull.
He had seen the army on the mountainsides and crawling along the Avi. He had looked out from the walls of Passe a’Fiume, and he had glimpsed the future. He thought of Francesca waiting in Prajnoli; he thought of the throne of the Archigos in Nessantico and how long he had coveted it and how it had become his and how he did not want to lose it, how it must be Cenzi’s Will that Orlandi become the Archigos: now and for the rest of his life. He had felt the chill of the air and smelled the foul odor of fear that rose from the sewers of Passe a’Fiume, a scent that would only grow more ripe and more pungent and more urgent if the city were closed up and surrounded.
He did not want to be here if that occurred.
He especially did not want to die here.
It had all seemed simple when he’d spoken with the Hirzg in Brezno so many months ago, when the Hirzg had broached the idea of their alliance and of deposing the Kraljica. But the Archigos had claimed a favorite in cu’Seranta and awakened from his long slumber, the Numetodo had risen, the Kraljica had been assassinated, and everything had become murky and complicated.
He should not have been sitting here on this side of the table with the Kraljiki. He should have been entering Nessantico in triumph
alongside the Hirzg. Now he wasn’t certain which side would win.
He truly didn’t know, and Cenzi wouldn’t tell him.
Orlandi lifted doleful eyes past the Hirzg to the steep hillsides beyond the tent. The Hirzg was talking again, replying to something Justi had said, but Orlandi heard none of it. As he gazed at the landscape, the clouds parted momentarily and shafts of bright sunlight sluiced over the Firenzcian encampment. Armor glinted and sparkled, the tents
gleamed, the banners waved.
Not over the city, though, Orlandi realized as he glanced over his shoulder. The city remained in shadow.
Then the clouds closed over the sun once more, and the gloom returned. Orlandi smiled.
Orlandi sat in his chair, feeling the relief and certainty fill him. He knew now what he must do. He knew. He would send word to Francesca tonight, and then he would act.
There was motion in front of him and he realized, belatedly that everyone was standing. He rose from his own chair, groaning with the effort. “I will send you my answer by tomorrow, Kraljiki,” the Hirzg was saying.
“Then I hope you come to the right decision, Hirzg. We both understand the consequences, either way.”
“Indeed.” The Hirzg gave a slight bow, his clasped hands to his forehead; his attendants bowing lower behind him, and around Orlandi there was a rustling as the Kraljiki and those around him returned the gesture. Servants and pages ran for horses and cloaks as the parties left the tent in opposite directions.
Justi said nothing until they were riding back to Passe a’Fiume. He gestured to ca’Rudka to ride alongside him, and for Orlandi’s carriage to pull abreast. “There will be war,” he said without preamble. “We can expect the Hirzg’s answer in the form of an attack.”
“I agree, Kraljiki,” ca’Rudka said.
“We’ll continue preparations inside the walls,” Justi said. “I will send messenger birds to Prajnoli to empty the garrison there. Better to make our stand here than at Nessantico. Archigos, you will prepare your declaration
