well in my other duties and there was an unexpected opening.”
“Yes, trust Rance to be ever-vigilant for openings that will benefit the Hirzg,” she said. “It’s one of his better qualities, I’m sure.”
Rhianna looked puzzled, as if she sensed the subtext but didn’t quite know how to respond to it. She brought the tashta to Brie and placed it over her head as Brie lifted her arms. “Here, let me find the sleeves for you, Hirzgin. I’ll be careful of your hair…” She slid the tashta slowly down, and Brie stood to allow the folds to fall over the rest of her body, Rhianna went to her knees to tie the sash at Brie’s waist. “This is lovely cloth, Hirzgin. Such a beautiful pattern and color, and it goes so well with your coloring…”
“Rhianna,” Brie said, “you don’t need to flatter me.”
Rhianna’s face reddened. Brie saw no guile at all in her, only a genuine embarrassment. ‘Hirzgin, I didn’t mean… I was only saying what I was thinking… I’m sorry…”
Brie brought a finger to her own lips, smiling gently. “Shh. You needn’t apologize, dear. I would hope… Well, I would hope that if we’re to be together often, that we could come to trust each other.”
If anything, Rhianna’s blush deepened at that. She hesitated, seeming to search for a response. “Oh, you can trust me, Hirzgin,” she said.
“Then,” Brie said, still smiling, “if, say, the Hirzg were to say something to you that I should know about as his wife, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
The blush darkened even further, which told Brie all she wanted to know. He’s already approached her… “Why, yes, Hirzgin,” Rhianna stammered. “I would. Of course.”
“Good,” Brie told her. She touched the young woman’s cheek. So smooth, so untouched… but then her fingers found a rippled scar along Rhianna’s jawline. A knife stroke? She wondered at that, but she lifted the servant up with her hand. She sat again on the chair before her mirror and opened a jewelry box, lifting out a necklace. “Here,” she said, handing it to Rhianna. “I think this will go well with the tashta. Put it on for me, please…”
As the servant put the necklace around her throat and set the clasp, Brie watched her face, and she wondered.
Niente
The first time the Tehuantin had taken Karnor, the main city of the island Karnmor, they had entered the harbor with their ships hidden in a magical fog. This time there were far more ships in their fleet, and Niente had the nahualli call up a spell-storm as soon as they glimpsed the volcanic cone of the island rising on the horizon. The storm drove just ahead of their vanguard of warships, a blackness of pelting rain and violent lightning that shielded them from being sighted too quickly by the Holdings navy, a storm intended to entice the enemy into anchoring their vessels in the safety of the harbor.
Which, when the nahualli dispelled the storm, would suddenly no longer be so safe, for a trio of the largest of the Tehuantin warships lurked at the harbor mouth, preventing any of the Holdings ships from escaping to warn the mainland. At the same time, the majority of the fleet broke away and sailed north, then east around the curve of the island, all but one of the ships-the Yaoyotl on which Niente and Tecuhtli Citlali sailed-staying well away from the shore.
The Yaoyotl anchored just offshore on the north side of the island at dusk, several miles from Karnor, while the rest of the fleet sailed on. Niente, with Atl and several more of the nahualli, as well as a large contingent of warriors, disembarked from their ship in rowboats laden with leather packs. They climbed the flanks of Mt. Karnmor, the volcano on whose slopes the city was built.
Niente had spent days peering into the scrying bowl. He had seen this scene several times, and it felt strange to actually live it now. As they ascended in the early night, from the far side of the mountain they could see flashes of light: the nahualli aboard the ships guarding Karnor Harbor were lobbing black sand fireballs toward the enemy fleet, as if preparing for a frontal assault on the city. All of that was a feint and a diversion-to keep the Easterners’ attention on the harbor and not the mountain behind their city. If what the scrying bowl had told Niente was at all correct, the city would be destroyed, but there would be no assault on it.
The land itself would destroy the city.
Niente comforted himself with the thought that the descent would be far easier than the climb. He was exhausted quickly during the ascent, even though he himself carried nothing but his spell-staff, while the others bore the leather packs. His legs and his hips ached, and his sandals were torn and frayed. The rocks left long scratches on his legs and arms from his occasional missteps, the blood now scabbed and dark. It was an effort simply to put one foot in front of the other, and he was wishing that Axat had never shown him this path. His son stayed close to him, helping him occasionally, but he tried not to rely on Atl-it was not good for the Nahual to show weakness. If the other nahualli sensed that he was vulnerable, one of them might challenge him for the title, and he could not risk that now or everything he had gambled would be lost.
He forced himself to keep moving, to stifle the groans that threatened to escape his lips.
“We’re almost there,” Niente said to Atl finally, exertion breaking the words into separate breaths. “Just there, around the shoulder of the mountain.” Where Niente pointed, a plume of smoke marred the moonlit sky. He knew what he would see there, when they rounded the ridge to the southern side of the mountain: a steaming, hissing fumarole belching its sulfuric, yellow breath from the earth. There were several such vents in this area, well above and directly overlooking the city-and that was their destination.
“Good.” Even Atl seemed out of breath. He looked back down the slope, at the line of nahualli and tattooed warriors following them. In the far distance, glimmering in the moon-shimmered water, the Yaoyotl awaited their return, sails for the moment furled. “The Tecuhtli didn’t seem entirely happy with you,” Atl commented.
“Tecuhtli Citlali would rather we assaulted the city,” Niente answered. “Like all warriors, he prefers the clash of steel, the smell of blood, and the cries of those who fall before him. What we’re doing seems unfair to him.” Niente paused, resting a moment and allowing himself to lean against Atl. “I promised him that Axat has shown me that there will be ample opportunity to display his skills as warrior.”
They could not only see the flashes of light from the black sand bombardment of the Holdings ships; they could hear, strangely disconnected and belated, the thunder of their explosions. Niente climbed around and over a rock shelf, and he could see the lights of Karnor well below them, spreading along several shelves from the lower slopes to the water.
There were no Holdings troops here guarding the city, as Axat had promised in Her visions. In the distance, the shimmering waters of the harbor were lit by the fires of burning ships. As Niente watched, another fireball arced from the harbor’s mouth toward the cluster of Holdings warships there, and exploded in their midst. The sound came to them a full two breaths later, a low rumble that he could almost feel in his chest.
“Hurry!” he told the others, who were coming around the ledge. They stood on a slight incline where Mt. Karnmor seemed to swell outward, a landscape dominated by steam-holes that hissed and burbled. Niente, with Atl’s help, directed the nahualli to place spell-staffs, that had been made just for this purpose and prepared with potent earth-shaping spells, in a large circle around the area of the vents. The packs filled with black sand, carried by the warriors, were set in a single large pile: a man high and two men across. Atl, alongside him, shook his head. “So much black sand,” he said. “We could bring down the Teocalli Axat with that.”
“With this,” Niente said, “we will bring down their entire city.”
“I hope you’re right, Taat. If this fails…”
“It won’t fail. Axat has promised it. I saw it.”
“I know. But I’ve been looking in the water, as you’ve shown me, and I saw nothing of this.”
Niente clapped his son on the shoulders. “Axat’s visions come slowly and in Her own time,” he told the young man. “Be patient. She’ll speak to you soon enough. You’ll know it when it happens; Her voice is harsh and painful to hear.” And I pray to Her that when the time comes, you won’t see what I’ve seen. You won’t see what I’m doing. That, he did not say.
Atl nodded. Niente, grunting with the effort, wedged the spell-staff he’d carried in the wall of black sand, the knob carefully facing the east. Niente looked over the landscape. He nodded-yes, this was what he had seen.
“We’re done here,” he called out to Atl and the others. His voice shook with weariness. “It’s time to return to the ships.”
