A quarter turn of the glass later, they left the room, with Varina walking pale-faced but steady.
It was raining, it was cold, it was dark, and Nico was miserable.
Nico stayed close to Varina as they hurried across the Avi a’Parete under the seeming glare of the famous teni-lamps of the city. The Regent was with Nico, and Varina and Karl; the other Numetodo-the one named Mika- had left them, going another way through the city. Nico had seen a squadron of Garde Kralji hurrying down the Avi toward Nortegate, splashing through the puddles on the cobbled roadway; the Regent made them pause in the shadow of a building-rain dripping hard on them from clogged gutters above-until the gardai had vanished around the curve of the Avi, then he led them at a run into the warren of houses on the north side of the Avi. There, they quickly abandoned the main streets for side streets and alleys, staying away from the few people out in the weather and occasionally sliding into alleyways as they heard others approaching. Once, a trio of utilino passed them, and they pressed their backs to the cold, damp stones of the nearest building, holding their breaths as the utilino, obviously searching the faces of the passersby, moved on. They kept moving north: as the houses were farther apart, now separated by fields and pastures; as the lights of the city became only a glow on the clouds above them; as the cobbled streets gave way to muddy, rutted roadways and finally to a narrow, sloppy lane. By the time they stopped, Nico felt as if he’d been running all night. His feet and legs hurt, and he was panting from the effort of keeping up with the adults. Varina collapsed to the ground as soon as they stopped.
“We’ll rest here for a few minutes,” the Regent said. “If anyone’s coming, we should see them long before they’ll notice us.” They were well away from any of the farmhouses, and the rain had subsided to an erratic drizzle. Nico stood next to Varina as she leaned again the stone wall bordering the lane and closed her eyes, clutching her injured arm with her good one.
“The forest is a mile or so up the road; we should reach it in half a turn of the glass,” the Regent continued. “We should probably get off the road; if I were the commandant, I’d be sending riders out along toward all the villages, looking for us.”
“Then where?” Karl asked.
The Regent shook water from his graying hair; droplets beaded on his silver nose. “Firenzcia,” he grunted.
Karl gave a laugh that seemed more cough. “You’re joking, Sergei. That’s going from the chopping block into the pot. Firenzcia? Archigos ca’Cellibrecca is nothing more than a younger image of his marriage-vatarh; they’d love to have the Ambassador of the Numetodo to torture and hang in a gibbet for everyone to see. Firenzcia? That might be fine for you, but Varina and I have a better chance of survival trying to swim the Strettosei to Paeti. We might as well just surrender to the Garde Kralji now.”
Varina’s eyes had opened, and Nico saw that she was watching the discussion. The Regent sniffed. “Firenzcia is the Kralji’s enemy. Now, so are we. I know Allesandra from her time here; so do you. With Fynn assassinated, she’ll be the Hirzg; she’ll take us in.”
“Unless the Numetodo are being conveniently blamed for Hirzg Fynn’s murder,” the Ambassador said, and Varina nodded vigorously.
“Where else would you go?” the Regent asked them.
“To one of the northern countries, where they’re more sympathetic to the Numetodo. Maybe Il Trebbio.”
“That’s still in the Holdings, and Audric will have sent word to them to capture us if we’re seen.”
“And Firenzcia won’t do the same?” Varina interjected.
“We could take ship from Chivasso to Paeti, or keep going north out of the Holdings into Boail,” the Ambassador said.
“And what are our chances of making that long trek without being noticed?” The Regent sniffed again.
Nico listened to them argue, pulling his cloak tightly around him. He didn’t want to go to Firenczia or Il Trebbio or Paeti or any of those places. He liked Varina and he was sorry that she was hurt, but he wanted to be with his matarh or Talis. The adults weren’t paying attention to him; they were too intent on their discussion.
Slowly, Nico pulled himself up until he was sitting on the stone wall. He turned, his legs dangling over the far side. No one noticed him; no one said anything to him. He let himself drop into the high, tall grass of the field. He could still hear them arguing, and he began scurrying quickly away on the far side of the stone wall-back toward Nessantico. Back toward the only home he knew.
When he could barely hear the voices, he started to run: into the night, into the rain, toward the city-glow in the distance.
Varina ci’Pallo
“ Where else would you go?” the Regent said, and she heard Karl scoff.
“To one of the northern countries, where they’re more sympathetic to the Numetodo. Maybe Il Trebbio.”
Sergei sounded like a teacher instructing a slow student. “That’s still in the Holdings, and Audric will have sent word to them to capture us if we’re seen.”
Varina, half-listening to the argument, stirred. She interrupted them with her eyes half-open. “And Firenzcia won’t do the same?” she snapped back at Sergei.
“We could take ship from Chivasso to Paeti, or keep going north out of the Holdings into Boail,” Karl added- she was glad to hear him support her.
“And what are our chances of making that long trek without being noticed?” The Regent’s voice was nearly mocking.
The argument only sapped what little strength she had left. Let Karl deal with him-Karl won’t go to Firenzcia. He won’t… As the argument continued, her attention returned to the weariness of her body and the throbbing, insistent pain in her arm that stabbed her every time she moved. Varina leaned her head back against the stone wall running alongside the road, not caring that the ground underneath her was soaked and cold, closing her eyes as the two continued their argument, feeling the occasional cold splash from the persistent clouds on her face. The rumble of the two men’s voices, wordless, was like distant thunder in her head. She was shivering and miserable.
She wondered whether or not death might actually be an improvement.
She didn’t know when she thought to look to her right, back toward where the city’s glow painted the low, scudding clouds. At the same moment, she realized that the faint warmth that had been there was gone.
“Nico?” She sat up, stifling the scream that wanted to tear from her throat with the movement. Then, louder: “Nico?”
Karl and Sergei turned from their discussion. “Varina?” Karl began, then he cursed. “ Merde! The boy’s gone.” He looked over the stone wall, and Varina-getting slowly to her feet-looked that way also. The meadow grass showed the dark, trampled path from the boy’s feet, arrowing back toward the city until she lost the trail in the murk.
“I’ll go after him. He can’t be far.” Varina started to scramble over the low wall in pursuit, grimacing as the motion pulled at her wounded arm. But she felt Karl’s hand on her good arm, holding her back.
“No,” he said. “You can’t. He’s heading back into the city and he’ll get there before you catch up to him. You can’t go there. They’re not looking for a boy, but they are looking for you.”
Varina was frantic. She pulled at Karl’s grasp but was too weak to break away from him. Sergei watched, impassive, from the road. “He’ll be all alone there. I can’t leave him like that. I promised.”
“He was alone when you found him. The boy’s nothing if not resourceful.” Karl pointed with his chin back to the city-glow on the clouds. “He thinks his matarh or Talis will find him if he stays there. He might be right. Let him go, Varina. Let him go. We have other issues to worry about.”
Varina sagged. She sat on the stone wall looking at the trail of Nico’s retreat. Karl released her arm, and she cradled her wounded limb with it. The rain had begun again; the drizzle masked her tears. “It’s my fault,” she said. “My fault. I should have been watching him. I promised I’d take him somewhere safe. I promised him-”
“Varina.” She turned to Karl. He shook his head. “This is my fault,” he told her. “You’re hurt; you needed the rest. I should have been watching him. Not you. It’s my fault.”
She wished she could believe him. She sniffed. She turned her head away, back to the fading trail. Already, the grass in the meadow was lifting, hiding Nico’s retreat.
