Vigaelia, having won office as consort of a great city, Kosord. As the honorable elders can see, breeding will tell!”
Laughter, more applause. They were enjoying this new authority.
“Our youngest sibling,” Dantio continued with tactful irrelevance, “lord Chies, is also not present.” That name provoked dark looks from the elders. “He unavoidably missed the turn-of-the-year ceremony. Consequently he is officially not yet an adult, therefore not eligible.”
Smiles. That neat way out of the Chies problem had been arranged by the Mutineer, of course, but no one was mentioning him. Again Fabia caught Berlice’s eye. Marno, wherever he was, could not know about this precipitate election. He might be menzils away or putting out fires in the next street. He had not been present during the afternoon planning session; Fabia had not seen him since the previous evening. No one had known that Stralg would die, the city riot, the Speaker stampede the election.
Dantio said, “I have one more brother to offer, my lords and ladies. Lord Orlad tonight slew the monster Stralg. He is not only the sole candidate eligible under the terms outlined by Speaker Quarina, he must be the Winner foreseen by our father. Stand up, Orlad.”
Eyes still red, cheeks still damp, Orlad rose and scowled at the elders. They sprang to their feet also, clapping and cheering. He had won the prize he had wanted more than anything, and it must taste as bitter as alum. And now he was going to win the battle for the succession by default. Fabia was not ready to make her play.
Speaker Quarina called for order. When the elders resumed their seats, she said, “Are you able and willing to serve as doge, lord Orlad?”
“I am.”
Two words he could manage. If they wanted a speech, he would flounder.
And he was very young. This was the first time the justiciar had met Orlad, and the doubt showing on her face was reflected on many of the others’. Fabia could damn his candidacy just by pointing out that he had never even seen a great city before today, let alone lived in one. Instinct warned her that she would antagonize not only Orlad but the council as well. She would seem like a mere spoiler. And yet what else could she do?…
“My lords,” the Speaker said, “you appear to have a choice of one candidate. Doge Piero has already cast his vote in favor of the Winner, and you may make up your own minds whether he had been granted foresight by the gods…” Marno’s mother was on her feet. “Councillor Spirno-Cavotti?”
“Justiciar, I do not belittle Hero Orlad’s magnificent feat in killing the evil Fist tonight, but it is common knowledge that the tide of war has been turned and the utter defeat of the ice devils is only a matter of a season or two. There is another winner the honorable elders should-”
The council erupted. “No! No!”
The loudest was little Ritormo Nucci. “Traitor!” he screamed. “You supported Stralg. Every meeting for years you voted for whatever might please him! For years you and your jackals ran with the Vigaelian pigs and now you want to put your son on the throne? You should be evicted from the council, you and all the other snakes!”
Dantio murmured, “Muddled zoology.” He had his eyes closed and should be rushed off to a warm sleeping rug.
Roars of agreement and disagreement filled the air. Half the council wanted to expel the other half and vice versa. Beside Fabia, Oliva was laughing-nasty, tight, silent laughter all for herself, not shared, perhaps not even conscious. Politics were no longer her problem. Quarina was yelling for order and not being heard.
“ELDERS!” Orlad’s superhuman roar would have silenced a thunderstorm. The hall rang with it. “Sit down!”
They sat down, but he had not helped his cause.
The Speaker smiled, thin-lipped. “Thank you, lord Orlad. It would appear, Berlice, that the council does not wish to consider your son as a candidate.”
More angry growls and murmurs indicated that some of the council did.
Berlice bounced up again. “That was not what I was going to propose! May I be heard?”
“Very well. You have the floor.”
“Elders, one child of Doge Piero has not been mentioned. May we hear from her?” Berlice sat down.
The Speaker hesitated. She had not been forewarned of this. “Unless the council objects?” Most elders were frowning, but no voice was raised. “Lady Fabia?”
Fabia lurched to her feet and faced the assembled glares as bravely as she could.
“My lords and ladies, I am Fabia Celebre, fourth child and only daughter of the late doge. I am aware that women are not elected doge.” She glanced sideways. Orlad was still on his feet and his incandescent glare showed that he had guessed what was coming.
“Continue!” Quarina snapped.
Fabia waded deeper into the crocodile pool. “How could my father have known that my brother would fight Stralg tonight, let alone win such a battle? I ask the honorable elders to consider my fiance as a candidate for the office of doge.” The only difficulty was that she did not have a fiance. “Had this meeting been held after the funeral, as we-”
Now the Speaker had guessed also, and was angry that she had been kept out of the secret. “Will you deign to tell the council the name of this fortunate betrothed, or have you yet to choose one?”
“My lords, ladies, I have the honor to be engaged to marry lord Marno Cavotti, the Mutineer, the Liberator. He is a native of this city.”
She was lying. They were not engaged. They had discussed the possibility on the journey from Veritano. They had agreed it had merit and they would think about it. They had expected to have more time. But fortune favors the swift-Marno had told her that.
Everyone tried to speak at once, and in the confusion Fabia saw salvation over by the pillars. Civilians were fleeing in terror. A bodyguard of a dozen or so Werists was opening a way through the crowd, making room for the twisted, ogreish figure of Marno Cavotti, looming head and shoulders over even the largest of them. With the fires at his back, he was a troll’s nightmare. But a very welcome sight for Fabia. At last!
Oliva screamed. “What is that?”
“The Mutineer, Mother. Marno Cavotti.”
Both Oliva and Berlice cried out in horror.
Orlad muttered, “ Trollop! So that was what you were up to in that chariot!”
“Celebre needs him, Mama. Orlad, I am truly sorry. I was going to tell you, but there was no time.”
Dantio muttered “Nicely done!” under his breath, but did not explain what he meant.
“Slut!” Orlad sat down. “You would bed down with that?”
“Mama?” Fabia said, but she was addressing the council. “Papa was in a coma for a long time. How much did he know about the war, I mean the last time he could understand the news?”
Oliva tore her gaze away from the nightmare Mutineer. “What? Oh… I see what you mean. Yes, he knew Stralg was losing. I remember how he smiled when he heard about the victory at Reggoni Bridge.”
“So he knew that Cavotti was going to be the winner? He must have known he was a native Celebrian. He knew nothing of his own children, let alone how Stralg would die here tonight.” Without a glance to see how Orlad was reacting, Fabia walked over to meet Marno. He was obviously exhausted, eyes sunk even deeper into their caverns, face and chlamys smeared with ash and blood. It was only a day since she had said goodbye to him at Montegola, and yet she had already forgotten just how huge he was. And, of course, the smell, a sort of heavy musk. It was not obnoxious. She had grown used to it in the chariot, and it was certainly male. She could live with it.
His great paws closed around her shoulders and he bent to touch his lips to hers-she had not had a proper kiss from him yet. He folded one fist around her hand, but instead of going back to face the elders, he limped on past them, toward the catafalque. She felt like a child beside him.
“What’s been happening?” he asked quietly.
“I just announced our engagement. Two speeches later and they would have elected Orlad.”
“I have been busy.” He halted within the ring of candelabra and bent his head in respect to the dead doge. “Who’s that?” he whispered. Obviously he did not mean Piero.
“Waels. Stralg killed him, but he was distracted enough by it that Orlad could take the advantage. Waels and Orlad were very close.”
