And because Nico truly believed in the Divolonte, because he was a faithful teni, he obeyed. He had not used the Ilmodo for three years now, though he had been the best of them: the most talented, the strongest with the power. Even Archigos Karrol would have admitted that. Yet Nico took no pride in his prowess: it was Cenzi who had made him that way, Cenzi who had made him the Absolute. Not Nico himself.
The Faith had cast him out unfairly. They cast him out because they were jealous of him. They cast him out because they were afraid. They cast him out because he spoke the true, pure words of Cenzi and they felt it even as they denied it. They cast him out because they heard the power in his voice, and they saw how easily he gathered followers to him.
All the a’teni, even Archigos Karrol in Brezno, now allowed the Numetodo to spew their poison. They were not like Archigos Semini, who had set the bodies of Numetodo heretics swinging in their gibbets in Brezno Square. No, the current Archigos and his a’teni might complain about the godlessness and false beliefs of the Numetodo, but they permitted them to mock Cenzi with their own magics. The teni adulterated the Faith’s own magic by using Numetodo techniques themselves. They tolerated members of the Numetodo serving on the Council of Ca’ and whispering into the Kraljica’s ears. They listened to the nonsense the Numetodo spat out, about how all things in the world could be explained without resorting to Vucta or Cenzi or even the Moitidi. The Numetodo claimed that logic always trumped faith, and
…
The
Faith
Said
Nothing.
The Numetodo infuriated Nico. Neither they nor the people of Nessantico herself saw how the sack of Nessantico by the Tehuantin-themselves heathens and heretics who worshiped false gods-had been Cenzi’s great punishment, a dire warning to them of what must happen when people turned their backs to Him.
Nico would show them. He would lead them along the correct path. They would hear his voice and heed him.
That was what Cenzi demanded of him. That was what he would do.
“Nico, where are you?” Liana was looking up at him with eyes the color of well-steeped tea-that was not like Rochelle either, who had pupils of the palest blue. Nico started, torn from his reverie. “Is He speaking to you?”
He shook his head down at her. “Not yet,” he told her. “But I know He’s close. I can feel His strength.” He hugged her and leaned down to kiss her mouth, which yielded softly under his pressure. He felt the flicker of her tongue against his and a tightness under his bashta.
“Then let me comfort you for now,” Liana whispered to him as they broke the embrace. “For a turn of the glass only…”
He touched her belly. “Should we…?”
She laughed up at him. “I’m pregnant, my love, not made of glass. I won’t break.” She took his hand, and Nico allowed her to lead him over to the bed.
There, for a time, he lost himself in earthly passion and heat.
Brie ca’Ostheim
Brie raised her eyebrow toward Rance ci’Lawli, her husband’s aide and thus the person responsible for the smooth running of Brezno Palais. “She’s the one, then?” she asked, pointing with her chin to the other room-a drawing rooms in the lower, public levels of Brezno Palais. Several of the court ladies were there, but one was seated on the floor with Elissa, Brie’s oldest child, the two of them working on an embroidery piece.
Rance nodded. He towered over Brie as he towered over most people: Rance was long and thin, as if Cenzi had taken a normal person and stretched him out. He was also extraordinarily ugly, with pocked skin, sunken eyes, and the pallor of boiled rags. His teeth seemed too big for his mouth. Yet he possessed a keen mind, seemed to remember everything and everybody, and Brie would have trusted him with her life as she trusted him now. “That’s Mavel cu’Kella,” he whispered. It sounded like the grumbling of a distant storm.
“I suspected as much; I noticed Jan paying a lot of attention to her at the ball last month. And you’re certain of her… condition?”
A nod. “Yes, Hirzgin. I have my sources, and I trust them. There’s already some whispers among the staff, and when she starts obviously showing… Well, we can’t have that.”
“Does Jan know?”
Rance shook his elongated head. “No, Hirzgin. I came to you first. After all…”
“Yes,” Brie sighed. “It’s not the first time.” She stared at Mavel through the sheer fabric of the curtain between the rooms. The woman was younger than Brie by a good ten years, dark-haired as most of Jan’s mistresses tended to be, and Brie envied the trim shape of her, though she imagined that she could see the slight swell of her belly under the sash of her tashta. After four children, Brie struggled to keep her own figure. Her breasts sagged from years of feeding hungry infants, her hips were wide and her stomach was crisscrossed with stretch marks. She was still holding much of the weight she’d gained with Eria, her youngest from almost three years ago. Mavel had the litheness that Brie had once possessed herself.
She wouldn’t keep that long. Not now.
“The cu’Kella family has some land holdings in Miscoli. She could stay with her relatives there during her confinement,” Rance said. “I’ve had dealings with her vatarh; he was supposed to be on the list to be named chevaritt, but now…” He shook his head. “That will have to wait. We’ll see if one of the minor Miscoli families might have a younger son they need to marry off, who would be willing to call the child his own. I’ll make the usual offer for the girl’s silence, and draw up the contracts for her vatarh to sign.”
Brie nodded. “Thank you, Rance. As always.”
He gave her an awkward half-bow. “It’s my pleasure to serve you, Hirzgin. Send Vajica cu’Kella to my office, and I’ll talk with her. She’ll be gone by this evening. I’ll give the staff some convenient reason for her absence to counter the gossip.” He bowed again and left her. Brie took a breath before the curtain then entered the drawing room. The women there rose as one, curtsying to her as she approached, while Elissa grinned widely and ran to her. Mavel rose slowly, and Brie thought she saw a hesitation in her curtsy, and a cautious jealousy in her eyes. The young woman’s hand stayed on her stomach.
Brie crouched down to hug Elissa and gather her up in her arms, kissing her. “Are you enjoying yourself, my darling?” she asked Elissa, brushing back the stray strands of gold-brown hair that had escaped her braids.
“Oh, yes, Matarh,” Ellisa said. “Mavel and I have been embroidering a scene from Stag Fall. Would you like to see?”
“Certainly.” Brie kissed Elissa’s forehead and put her down on the floor. She glanced at Mavel, who dropped her gaze to the rug, with its black-and-silver patterns. “But I was just talking to Rance, and he has asked that Vajica cu’Kella come to his office. Some family news.” That brought the girl’s head up again, and now her eyes were large and apprehensive. “I’m sure you’ll excuse her,” Brie said to Elissa.
There was a moment of silence. Brie could see the other ladies of the court glancing at each other. Then Mavel curtsied again, hurriedly. “Thank you, Hirzgin,” she said. “I’ll go immediately.” She gathered up her sewing, and left the room, brushing past Brie with the scent of almonds and flowers.
“Well, then,” Brie said to Elissa. “Let’s see that embroidery.. .” She smiled as she let Elissa take her hand, and the other women of the court smiled in return. Brie wondered, behind the smiles and idle talk, what they were really thinking.
But that, of course, she would never know.
Allesandra ca’Vorl
Allesandra attended the Third Call Service at the Old Temple, as was her usual pattern while in the city. The
