though the seal is still intact.”
“That would be improper of me, Hirzg,” Sergei said. He heard Brie clear her throat. He glanced at her; her regard was on her knitting. She seemed to feel the pressure of his gaze and spoke without looking up from her needles.
“Allesandra says that if we continue to threaten her borders, she will take action,” Brie said. “She sees the offer Jan has made as a ‘capitulation,’ not a compromise. She suggests instead that the Hirzg should dissolve his foolish Coalition and again become the ‘strong right arm’ of the Holdings.”
Sergei nearly laughed. “Do you have an ear in the Palais, Hirzgin? ‘Capitulation’ is exactly the word the Kraljica used.”
Brie set down the knitting in her lap, looking up. “I know how she thinks,” she answered. Amusement lurked in the corners of her mouth. “It’s the same way my husband thinks.”
“Brie-” Jan began to protest, and her gentle laugh silenced him.
“That’s not a criticism, my love,” she said. “I admire you; I always have. But you are your matarh’s son.” She returned to the knitting, the needles making a sound like distant swords clashing. “And that’s the problem-if one or the other of you were a poorer leader, then there would not be a Holdings or a Coalition, but only one empire.”
“That was my mistake,” Jan said. “I could have achieved that fifteen years ago. I could have taken the Sun Throne myself.” He glanced at Sergei, who had arranged his face in careful neutrality: no nod, no expression of agreement or disagreement. “But I was young and I wanted to teach my matarh a lesson. Instead, I have found myself the student.”
Again, that faint amusement slid over Brie’s mouth. “You both want the same thing-you always have. Unfortunately, you also both feel your vision of the world is the correct one.” She set the knitting down on the bench alongside her and rose, going to Jan. She took his arm, leaning into him and kissing his cheek. “I love you, my dear, and I share your vision. But I also understand how your matarh might see things.”
Jan’s arm went around her, pulling her tightly to him. Sergei rose from his chair, his knees cracking like dry twigs underfoot. He leaned on his cane and tugged his overcloak around himself. “I’ll leave the two of you to read the Kraljica’s reply and compose an answer for me, though I can guess what it might be. If you’d like, we could discuss the letter and what possibilities there might be for coming to some more equitable terms-would the two of you be willing to take supper in the embassy tonight? I’m told we have a new chef who specializes in delicacies from Navarro…”
“We’d be delighted,” Brie answered, and Jan nodded a moment later.
“Then I will see you tonight-a turn of the glass after Third Call? Good…”
He bowed to the couple, and went to the door, knocking against it with his cane. One of the hall servants opened the door for him. He wondered, as he walked down the hall to the gate where his carriage waited, how long it would be before son and matarh were again at war.
Nico Morel
They’d hastily erected the podium in Temple Park, not far from the ancient temple there-the oldest (and smallest) of the temples of the Faith in Nessantico. Originally, they’d agreed that Ancel would be the speaker and that they would remain there no more than a mark of the glass-not enough time, hopefully, for the utilino nor the Garde Kralji to respond, though Nico had arrangements for distractions should they arrive. Nico himself would not speak; he would watch from behind the podium with Liana and the rest of the inner circle of the Morellis, ready to flee and vanish into the warrens of Oldtown if there was an assault by the authorities on their gathering.
But the crowd was larger than anticipated. News of the gathering had spread through word of mouth, through cryptic postings on the walls of Nessantico that only their followers would understand, but the response was greater than any of them had expected. Nico was certain that, yes, some word of the gathering would have leaked out to the Commandant’s people, but they’d watched carefully for any signs that they would be prevented from speaking. Nico was not surprised to see none: Cenzi Himself protected Nico, who was his Absolute Tongue. After his meeting with Varina, he’d gone home with his head aching and his feelings confused. He’d spent the rest of the day praying, and that night, in his dreams, Cenzi had spoken to him: clearly and without mistake. He had told Nico what must be said.
Cenzi would speak through Nico today. And Nico would obey, as any servant must. He’d written the words that Ancel would speak; Liana had already placed the scroll on the podium. What amazed Nico was that even as his followers had begun assembling the small platform, the crowd had begun to gather. The first to arrive were the Morellis of the city, those who were already believers. But the crowd continued to swell, well beyond the numbers of those who had already openly given their allegiance to him. Dotted throughout the crowd were green robes: the teni of the city, most of them of e’ status-the new teni, those who may have heard of him since he’d come to Nessantico but hadn’t yet heard him speak. Now, as the wind-horns of the temple sounded the Second Call, when many in the crowd might be attending services, they were instead here. Three hundred at least, and perhaps more.
Here. To listen to Cenzi’s word.
You must speak. They have come to hear you, to hear My words through the gift of your voice.
The realization came to him hard, like a blow to his temple. He nearly reeled from the impact of it. Liana clutched at his arm, feeling his reaction. “Nico…?”
“I’m fine,” he told her. “Cenzi has just spoken to me.”
He heard her intake of breath. “Is there danger?”
“No,” he said, almost laughing. “Quite the opposite. He wants me to speak.”
“You can’t,” Liana protested. “Everyone has said it’s too dangerous.”
“There’s no danger to me; not while I have Cenzi’s protection.” He patted her hand, then the slope of her belly. He felt the child stir underneath his hand, and he grinned. “I’ll be fine. Please, don’t worry.” She frowned, but her hand left his arm. He smiled at her and kissed her cheek, then quickly ascended the two steps to the small stage where Ancel was already unrolling the scroll. A roar from the crowd greeted him; Ancel looked up from the scroll at the sound and stared at the sea of pointing hands, turning his head abruptly.
His voice could barely be heard above the crowd’s roar. “Absolute? I thought…”
Nico gave him the sign of Cenzi. “It’ll be fine, Ancel. But I’d appreciate if you stay here with me and watch for the gardai. Cenzi. .. Cenzi wishes me to give our people His message in my own voice.”
Ancel’s eyes widened and he bowed low to Nico with the sign. “The scroll… Here it is.” He held out the paper to Nico, but Nico smiled at his friend and shook his head.
“I won’t need it. Cenzi will give me words.”
Another bow. Nico went to the podium as the crowd redoubled their noise. He lifted his hands, his eyes closed as he looked to the sky. He could feel the sun on his face, could feel the crowd’s adulation strike him like a physical blow. “For you, Cenzi,” he whispered. “For you.”
He opened his eyes, and gestured to them to be quiet. Slowly, they obeyed. “Cenzi blesses you all today,” he said, and he heard Cenzi enter his voice, heard it sound loud and booming over the park like an a’teni using the Ilmodo to amplify his Admonition, yet Nico had created no such spell. No, this was Cenzi’s presence, warping the Second World around his words so that everyone could hear him.
“I have prayed, my people,” he said, “and I have listened, and I have heard Cenzi’s Voice.” His last phrase was a roar that lashed the audience and seemed to sway the very trees of the park, and the people roared back at him wordlessly. “The time is coming, He has told me, when we must make a choice, when we must decide if we follow His path or that of weak humans. The time is coming-and it is coming soon, my friends, very soon-when we must show Him that we have heard His words and that we will obey them. The words are there for us. We hear them in the Toustour and the Divolonte. We have heard them read in the Admonitions in the temples. We have heard them in prophets and through the teni, but…” He paused momentarily, closing his eyes and lifting his face again. “The end times approach us. They come slowly, unstoppable. The teni of the Faith no longer hear Cenzi’s words. Oh, they say them, but they don’t hear them, they don’t feel t hem. The words of the Toustour and the Divolonte should strike you like the very fist of Cenzi. They tear at your soul and rebuild it anew, if you let them. I tell you: this is what we need now. We need to open ourselves to Cenzi and let Him make us into his spear!”
