A Magic of Dawn

Varina ca’Pallo

“… And if what he’s saying is true, then I worry about the Holdings in general.” Talbot shook his head as he, the mage Johannes, and Varina walked along the Avi a’Parete. They were walking from the Numetodo House on the South Bank-near what was still called the Archigos’ Temple, even though no Archigos had resided there since the unfortunate Kennis-toward one of the fashionable restaurants near the Pontica a’Brezi Veste. The street had been cleaned vigorously, but Varina could still see ash drifts along the gutters, and the cobblestones had a vaguely gray appearance.

Johannes was shaking his head. “I don’t know of any magic that could cause a volcano to spontaneously erupt, and if they can do that, then…” He seemed to shudder. He pulled his cloak tighter around him. He glanced at Varina, bushy white eyebrows like thunderheads over his dark, hidden eyes. “You know the Tehuantin capabilities better than any of us,” he said. “You’re being awfully quiet, A’Morce, and that’s making me uneasy.”

Varina favored him with a wan smile. “I don’t have better information than either of you,” she said. “Maybe it was simply coincidence, or maybe the man’s mistaken about what he saw.”

Talbot shook his head. “Not all of it. We’ve had other fast-riders coming in who have also seen the Tehuantin fleet. They’re definitely out there and heading toward the A’Sele by all indications. I thought I should tell you, A’Morce, since anything that happens could end up affecting the Numetodo also. The general populace will know in a day or two-this can’t be kept silent…”

His voice trailed off. Varina, who had been walking with her head down-as she nearly always did now, since her balance was sometimes as unstable as someone two decades older-glanced up. They had passed the long northward turn of the Avi, passing a short segment of the original city wall of Nessantico as they approached the Bastida. To their left, several small streets led off to the poorer area of South Bank. A knot of several young men had come out from one of the lanes onto the Avi, directly in front of them. They spread out in a ragged line, blocking their path even though there was more than ample room in the Avi.

“Move aside,” Talbot said to the nearest of them. “Unless you want more trouble than you can handle. You don’t know who you’re accosting.”

“Oh?” the man replied. “It’s nearly Third Call, Vajiki. Shouldn’t you be on your way to Temple? But no, I would have remembered seeing the Kraljica’s aide at Temple, or the dead Ambassador’s wife, or this owl-faced trained monkey you have with you.” He laughed at that, the others joining in. Varina felt her stomach muscles contract at the sound: this was deliberate. They knew who they were confronting.

“Don’t make a mistake here,” Varina said to them, looking from one to another, trying to see in any of their faces reluctance or fear. She saw neither. She glanced around for an utilino, for a garda, for anyone who might help, but the eyes of the other people strolling the Avi seemed to be elsewhere. If anyone noticed the confrontation, they ignored it. She had to wonder if that, too, was deliberate.

“Mistake?” the same young man said. He had pox scars mottling his cheeks, and he was missing one of his front teeth. “There’s no mistake. Nico Morel said there would be a sign-and the sign came, as he said it would. But you don’t believe in Cenzi and His signs, do you? You don’t believe that Cenzi speaks through the Absolute One.”

“This isn’t a discussion to have here, Vajiki,” Varina told him. “I would love to discuss it with Nico in person. Tell him that. Tell him that I will meet with him whenever and wherever he wants. But for now-let us pass.”

The pox-cratered man chuckled, the sound echoed by his companions. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think it’s time that the Numetodo were given a lesson.”

As the Morelli spoke, Varina saw his companions sliding around to surround them. “Don’t do this,” Varina said. “We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

In answer, the pock-faced man brought a cudgel from under his cloak. Raising his hand, he struck at Varina. The stick caught her on the side of the head, knocking her to the pavement before she could even bring her hands up to protect herself. She managed to get her hands up before she hit the cobblestones; the stones scraped and bloodied her palms, but still the impact knocked the breath from her. She felt something (a foot?) strike her side, and she felt more than saw the flash of a spell as Johannes shouted a release word. Talbot was casting a spell also, and so were others. She could taste the ash that her fall had kicked up. Blood was running into Varina’s eyes (had she cut her forehead also, or had the cudgel done that?) She tried to push herself up. Everything was confused, and her head was pounding so hard she could barely remember the release words for the spells that she-like most Numetodo-had prepared for defense. Something had dug hard into her side when she’d gone down: the sparkwheel she carried under her cloak. Blinking away the blood, caught in the tumult of the scuffle, she grabbed for it.

Another spell flashed and Varina smelled the ozone of the discharge as someone-one of the Morellis?-screamed in response. There were more spells going off; at least one of the Morellis must have been teni-trained, she realized. Somewhere distantly, someone was shouting and she heard the shrill of an utilino’s whistle.

Her own breath was the loudest thing in the world.

She had the sparkwheel out now. She cocked the hammer and rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. She saw the pocked-cheek man to her left, his cudgel up and about to come down on Johannes.

“No!” she shouted, and at the same time, her finger convulsed on the trigger.

The report was shrill, the sound echoing from the remnants of the city wall and rebounding, fainter, from the buildings up the Avi; the sparkwheel’s recoil tore her hand up and back, and at the same time, the pocked-face man grunted and fell, the cudgel flying from his hand as an invisible spear seemed to rip flesh, bone, and blood from his face. “Back away!” Varina shouted from her knees to those closest to her. Blinking, she brandished the now-useless sparkwheel, which was trailing smoke and the strange, astringent odor of black sand.

The command was unnecessary. With the weapon’s firing and the sudden, violent death of their leader, the others dropped their weapons and fled. Varina felt Talbot’s arms under her, lifting her up. There were people coming toward them, among them an utilino. “Can you stand, A’Morce? Johannes, she’s been hurt…”

“I’m fine,” she told them. She wiped at the blood again. There were three people laying on the Avi. One of them was groaning and struggling; the other two were eerily still. There was no doubt as to the fate of the pock-cheeked man. Varina turned her gaze quickly away from him. She was still holding the sparkwheel. Talbot noticed it; standing close to her so that the utilino and the others coming toward them could not see, he put it back under her cloak. “Better not to let anyone know,” he whispered. “Let them think we used magic.”

She was too confused, too hurt to argue. Her head was throbbing, and she kept wanting to look at the mangled face of the man she’d killed. “Talbot…” she said, but the world was lurching around her, and she could not stand.

That was the last she remembered for a time.