A Magic of Nightfall

Sergei ca’Rudka

The Parley tent was arrayed in the field between the two forces: just off the Avi a’Firenzcia and about halfway between Passe a’Fiume and Nessantico. As they approached, Sergei could already see the shadowed forms of Odil ca’Mazzack and Aubri cu’Ulcai under the white fabric, along with U’Teni Petros cu’Magnaoi, there as the Archigos’ representative. The Firenzcian delegation was Sergei, A’Hirzg Allesandra, and Starkkapitan ca’Damont, accompanied by the required array of chevarittai and attendants. Since neither the Kraljica nor Archigos Kenne were present, the Hirzg and Archigos Semini, at Sergei’s suggestion, remained behind. Neither one of them had been pleased with the arrangement.

“Matarh, I should be there,” Jan had insisted. “I am the Hirzg and whatever happens there should be, must be my decision.” He had glared at Sergei, at his matarh.

“So it will be, Hirzg,” Sergei told the young man. “I promise you that. But for you to be there…” He shook his head. “You are the Hirzg, as you said. There is no peer in that tent for you; there is no peer in the tent for the Archigos either. You, Hirzg Jan, can’t be expected to parley on equal terms with Odil ca’Mazzak, who is just a member of the Council of Ca’-you would be lowering yourself to do so. I can tell you that it’s exactly what they want you to do. It would be an admission that the Hirzg of the Coalition is someone who is lesser than the Kraljica of the Holdings.”

He had looked to Allesandra and the glowering Archigos then. “You asked me to give you my knowledge, to help you. That is what I’m doing here. Appearances matter. They matter a great deal. They especially matter to those in the Kraljica’s Palais.”

In the end, with Allesandra’s support, he had won the argument. Jan, at least, had been somewhat gracious about it. The Archigos had stalked off angrily, and they had heard him complaining throughout the encampment for the next few turns of the glass.

As the Firenzcian contingent dismounted and servants took their weapons and horses and offered refreshments, the Nessanticans came forward. Sergei clasped cu’Ulcai’s arm warmly, smiling at his longtime offizier. “Aubri,” he said, “I wish we could have met again under better circumstances. I heard what happened with poor Aris…” He clasped the man on the shoulder and gave the sign of Cenzi to U’Teni cu’Magnaoi. “Petros, it’s good to see you also. How is Archigos Kenne?”

“He is well, sir, and sends his blessing to you,” the older man answered.

Sergei leaned close to the man as he hugged him. “Has Kenne received my messages?” he whispered into the older man’s ear. “Does he agree?” Sergei felt Petros’ faint nod. He also saw the appraising glances of both the delegations on him as he greeted the two men: Allesandra as well as Odil ca’Mazzak. They were both suspicious; they both had a right to be. Sergei nodded to ca’Mazzak and took his seat to the left of Allesandra.

Ca’Mazzak gestured, and pages came forward to give Allesandra, Sergei, and the starkkapitan scrolls of heavy parchment. “This is the offer of Kraljica Sigourney,” ca’Mazzak said as they scanned the words there. “Your army will be permitted to return to Firenzcia. The outlaw Sergei Rudka will be handed over to us. Reparations will be paid by Brezno to the Holdings for the destruction of crops and livestock by their army, and for the violation of the Treaty of Passe a’Fiume. If you find the terms acceptable, all that is required is the signature of the A’Hirzg as the representative of the Coalition.”

It was no more than Sergei had expected. He’d witnessed Holdings arrogance and hubris too many times before.

Starkkapitan ca’Damont gave a snicker through his nose, tossing the parchment on the table. “And how does the Kraljica intend to enforce this, Councillor?” he asked. “With the few battalions you’ve given Commandant cu’Ulcai? I’ve nothing but respect for the commandant, who is a fine offizier, but one doesn’t fight off an angry bear by threatening him with a twig.” He seemed to realize then that he’d spoken out of turn. His face reddened slightly. “My pardons, A’Hirzg. I’m a simple offizier, but these demands… ” He swept the parchment from the table to the floor; a page scurried over to pick up the scroll but didn’t return it to him.

“The Garde Civile and the chevarittai of the Holdings are not a twig, Starkkapitan,” ca’Mazzak blustered. He had puffed up like a toad, sitting erect in his chair, the wattles on his thick neck shivering. “You underestimate our ability to quickly field an army when our lands are threatened. It’s a lesson the last Hirzg Jan learned; I’m surprised that anyone from Firenzcia feels the lesson needs to be taught a second time.”

Allesandra appeared to be still reading the proposal, though Sergei could see her listening carefully to the exchange. She set the paper down in front of her and folded her hands over it. “All right,” she said. “Let’s forgo the posturing, Councillor ca’Mazzak. We all know that Nessantico is dealing with a threat to the west. We know what happened to Karnor; we’re hearing rumors that Villembouchure may have suffered the same fate-perhaps Commandant cu’Ulcai could enlighten us on that, since I expect he was there when the Holdings forces were routed? Everyone at this table knows that you haven’t sufficient forces to challenge us here. So what is it that the Kraljica really offers?”

Sergei had suggested this direct tack to Allesandra, but the stab at Aubri cu’Ulcai had been the A’Hirzg’s own contribution. The look on Aubri’s’ face was enough to confirm that her guess had been correct, and Sergei felt an upwelling of sympathy for his friend.

Ca’Mazzak looked as if he’d swallowed unripened fruit. He glanced at Petros, who seemed to be examining the fields past the edge of the tent, then at Aubri. “The Kraljica is prepared to offer a compromise,” he said finally. “Let the Hirzg and A’Hirzg return to Brezno with their Garde Brezno. However, Starkkapitan ca’Damont and the remainder of the army will remain behind to aid in the defense of Nessantico against the Westlanders, for which the treasury of Nessantico is willing to bear the expenses. As for the former Regent…” Ca’Mazzak glared at Sergei. “Kraljica Sigourney still demands his return to face the charges against him, no matter what agreement we reach here.”

Allesandra stood at that; a moment later, Sergei, ca’Damont, and the rest of the Firenzcian contingent followed. “Then we’re done here,” Allesandra said. “Regent ca’Rudka is an adviser to the crown of Firenzcia, and we consider him to be the current rightful ruler of Nessantico until a legitimate Kralji is named. If Regent ca’Rudka wishes to return to Nessantico on his own to pursue his claims, he may do so. Otherwise, he is under the protection of the Hirzg, no matter what the person you have named Kraljica wishes.” She bowed to ca’Mazzak and gestured. Sergei smiled broadly at the man. They turned to go.

“Wait!” It was Petros who called to them. Allesandra stopped.

“U’Teni?” she asked, but ca’Mazzak was already spluttering.

“ I am in charge of this delegation,” he said to Petros. “You will speak when I give you permission, U’Teni cu’Magnaoi.”

“Cenzi is in charge of my conscience,” Petros told the councillor. “Not you, nor Kraljica Sigourney. And I will speak. A’Hirzg, Nessantico is in desperate circumstances. Commandant cu’Ulcai would tell you-if he were permitted to speak-how easily the Westlanders took the cities, towns, and villages they have ravaged. Nessantico desperately requires all the allies it can muster now. Archigos Kenne is prepared to negotiate separately from the Kraljica, if he must, to achieve this.”

“What!” ca’Mazzak sputtered. He was on his feet now as well, pounding on the table. “No, no, no. We are done here. U’Teni cu’Magnaoi, you will be transported back to the city to answer for this. Commandant cu’Ulcai, order your gardai to-”

Sergei slapped the table immediately in front of ca’Mazzak, and the man’s mouth shut with an audible snap. “You’re nothing but the Kraljica’s yelping lapdog, Councillor,” Sergei told the man, leaning close to him. “Sit down.”

Ca’Mazzak glared back and turned to Aubri. “Commandant, you have your orders. You will take the u’teni into custody immediately.”

Aubri didn’t move, didn’t respond. Sergei could feel the tension rising in the tent. He saw hands sliding carefully toward hidden weapons-he had his own blades, too, one in his boot, another under the blouse of his bashta, and his ears sang with the hum of his own fear. He hadn’t been able to contact Aubri beforehand, and if Aubri decided that his loyalty to the Sun Throne was more than his old loyalty for Sergei, then… Well, then Sergei didn’t know what might happen here.

“Commandant cu’Ulcai, this is treason,” ca’Mazack growled. “I will have your head for this if you don’t do as ordered.”

Aubri said nothing; his contemplative gaze still on Sergei. The chevarittai, of both sides, tensed, ready to move. Sergei placed himself between Allesandra and the table. “I suggest you sit down, Councillor,” Sergei told ca’Mazzak. “Let U’Teni cu’Magnaoi finish outlining his offer.”

For several breaths, ca’Mazzak didn’t stir. His gaze moved slowly around the tent, and Sergei knew he was assessing who in the tent would follow him and who would not. Evidently, he wasn’t pleased with the result. Slowly, ca’Mazzak lowered himself to his chair again. He stared at his hands.

“Good,” Sergei said. For a moment, the ringing in his ears diminished. “Petros, what has Archigos Kenne to offer Firenzcia?”

“Information,” Petros answered. “We have proof that Archigos Semini was involved in the assassination of Archigos Ana. We can give you names to verify that.” Behind him, Sergei heard Allesandra suck in her breath at the accusation. He wondered at that-she sounded more alarmed than surprised. “Because Kraljiki Audric was killed in the same manner,” Petros continued, “we have to suspect that the false Archigos was also involved in that. If Hirzg Jan is prepared to try Archigos Semini for Archigos Ana’s death before his own court, we will supply him the evidence we have. In return, the Faith of Nessantico will work with the Faith of Brezno to repair our rift; Archigos Kenne will call for a Concordance of all a’teni to elect a single Archigos to rule the Faith, and he will also step down voluntarily if he is not elected-though any Archigos must take the Archigos’ Temple in Nessantico, not Brezno. Likewise, the Faith is prepared to acknowledge Allesandra ca’Vorl’s claim to the Sun Throne. Archigos Kenne will support her before the Council of Ca’ against Kraljica Sigourney.”

“No!” Ca’Mazzak hurtled to his feet again, spittle flying from his mouth with the explosion of the word. “Archigos Kenne will be thrown into the Bastida for this, and the teni who support him purged-”

“And if that happens,” Petros answered calmly, “then Archigos Kenne will order the war-teni to remain in their temples rather than answer the Kraljica’s call. How will the Garde Civile and the chevarittai fare against the Westlanders without the war-teni, Councillor? How will they stand against the army of the Hirzg?”

Again, ca’Mazzak sank back into his seat. He shivered as if with a fever, stroking his doubled chin. Sweat beaded at his hairline, and under his arms, the fabric of his bashta had turned dark.

Allesandra touched Sergei’s shoulder, and he stood aside. She was smiling grimly. The A’Hirzg gave the sign of Cenzi to Petros. “You offer all this for the trial of Archigos Semini?”

Petros nodded to her. “We trust the Hirzg’s court to be fair and impartial. And there is one more thing: all prosecution of the Numetodo must stop. Immediately. The Numetodo are innocent of any of this. Ambassador Karl ca’Vliomani must be restored to his previous position.”

Sergei could feel the negotiations hanging on the balance point of Allesandra’s answer to that last point. She was fingering the cracked globe of Cenzi hung around her neck. His own life hung there also, as well as that of Petros and Aubri. If he had guessed wrongly…

“I will talk to my son,” Allesandra answered. “I will relay to him everything that has been said here.” Sergei thought for a moment that this was the entirety of her answer, that he had lost. But Allesandra took a long, shivering breath. “I will suggest that the Hirzg accept the Archigos’ offer,” she said. “Councillor ca’Mazzak, Commandant, U’Teni-we’ll return to the parley tent in three turns of the glass to give you our answer.”

“If Archigos Kenne has evidence, I will weigh it,” Allesandra had said to Sergei on the way back. “And if Archigos Semini is responsible for Ana ca’Seranta’s death, then…” She had pressed her lips together grimly. “Then I am inclined to convince my son to accept the Archigos’ offer.”

Somehow, she seemed to have done exactly that, though Sergei had not been present for that discussion, though everyone in the camp had heard the occasional raised voices in the Hirzg’s tent, and Sergei had especially noted that Starkkapitan ca’Damont had gardai stationed around the Archigos’ tent.

He wondered what was happening in the other encampment. Everything there hung on the loyalties of the Garde Civile and the teni-and Sergei wasn’t certain how that would play out. He prayed to Cenzi, hoping that He was listening.

Three turns of the glass later, Sergei, Allesandra, and the others rode out again toward the parley tent.

When he’d been Commandant of the Garde Kralji, decades ago, Sergei had occasionally felt a shiver when he’d approached the Bastida a’Drago: a quivering of the spine almost like fear that told him when something was amiss in the complex beyond the dragon’s grinning skull.

He felt that shiver now as their small party approached the parley tent. It was, first of all, curious that there were no servants moving about, that the chairs on the Nessantican side of the table were empty. But what held him, what made his stomach churn and boil, was the realization that there was something on the table itself-two somethings, two rounded objects masked in the shadow underneath the linen flapping in the breeze. He was afraid he knew what sat there.

“Hold a moment, A’Hirzg,” he told Allesandra. “Please. Wait here.”

Sergei nudged his horse forward alone, gesturing to Starkkapitan ca’Damont to accompany him. He squinted, trying to force his aging eyes to make out what it was sitting there. As he approached, he could hear a faint buzzing sound that grew slowly louder: the whine of insects.

He knew then, and the bile rose in his throat. He pulled his horse up, let himself down from the saddle, and walked into the shade of the tent.

On the table were two heads, sticky, clotted blood pooled underneath them, a carpet of flies crawling over the open eyes and in the gaping mouths.

Sergei went to his knees, making the sign of Cenzi toward the gruesome sight. “Aubri,” he said. “Petros. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

Shakily, he rode to his feet again, going back to the horse. He rode silently back to the others. Allesandra’s eyes questioned him; she knew also. He could see it in the way her hand lifted to her mouth before he ever spoke.

“Councillor ca’Mazzak has left us his own answer,” he said. “It seems he doesn’t care what ours might have been.”