A Magic of Nightfall

Allesandra ca’Vorl

“ I would like to apologize for my wife, A’Hirzg. She… well, the subject of the Witch Archigos always upsets her. They have a… history together, after all. Still, she should not have been so outspoken at dinner last night, especially toward you as the host.”

Allesandra nodded to Archigos Semini. They were seated on a viewing platform high on a slope behind the Hirzg’s private estate-the palais at Stag Fall, well outside Brezno. They faced east, the platform overlooking a wide, long meadow of tall grass dotted with wildflowers. There, below them, they could see a cluster of figures and horses: Fynn, Jan, and several others. On either side of the meadow, in the tall fir forest, drums echoed from the flanks of the steep, verdant hills that formed the landscape: the sound of the beaters, herding their prey toward the meadow and the waiting Hirzg.

Behind Allesandra on the balcony, servants bustled about with drinks and food as they set a long table for dinner. Otherwise, Allesandra and the Archigos were alone; all the other favored ca’-and-cu’ who would be dining with them that evening were with the Hirzg’s party in the meadow. Allesandra had little desire to be in such close proximity with her brother for that long. She wasn’t certain why Semini had remained behind at the palais-Francesca was in the meadow with the others.

“Please believe me when I say that I took no offense, Archigos,” Allesandra told the man. “Even though I have far more sympathy for Archigos Ana, I understand how your wife might feel that way.”

She glanced at Semini and saw him smile. “Thank you,” he told her. “That’s kind of you.” He glanced carefully at the servants, then pitched his voice low enough that they couldn’t overhear. “Between the two of us, A’Hirzg, I wish that I could have convinced your vatarh to name you as his heir. That boy-” he pointed with his chin down to the gathering in the meadow, “-would be a perfectly adequate Starkkapitan for the Garde Civile, but he hasn’t the vision or intelligence to be a good Hirzg.”

“I do believe I hear the Archigos speaking treason.” Allesandra kept her gaze carefully away from him, her attention on Jan astride his horse next to Fynn. She wondered whether she could believe what ca’Cellibrecca was saying, and she wondered why he would voice it aloud to her. He had a reason for doing so, she was certain: Semini was not a man for accidental statements. But what was the reason? What did he want, and how would it benefit him?

“Did I perhaps speak what is also in your heart, A’Hirzg, even if you don’t dare say it aloud?” Semini answered in the same hoarse, low whisper. He turned toward her. “My heart is here, in this country, A’Hirzg Allesandra. I want what is best for Firenzcia. Nothing more. I have given my life in service to Cenzi, and in service to Firenzcia. I shared your vatarh’s vision of a Holdings where Brezno, not Nessantico, was the center of all things. He nearly achieved that vision. He would have accomplished that, I’m convinced, if it hadn’t been for the heretical sorcery of the Witch Archigos.”

There was hatred in his voice, genuine and heated. And also a strange satisfaction.

Vatarh would have succeeded if Ana hadn’t taken me hostage, if she hadn’t snatched me away from Vatarh and used me to end the war. As long as Allesandra remained in Nessantico, as long as her vatarh refused to pay the demanded ransom, his defeat was still incomplete. There was still hope that the results might change, and it had taken him a decade and more to lose that hope.

That’s what she’d told herself. That’s what Ana had told her. Ana had never spoken an unkind word against Hirzg Jan; she had always cast him in as sympathetic a light as she could, even when Allesandra fumed and raged against his slowness to ransom her.

Allesandra caught her breath, her hand going to her throat, to the cracked globe of Cenzi around her neck.

Ca’Cellibrecca evidently misinterpreted the thought behind the gesture. “Ah, I see we share our opinion of Ana ca’Seranta. That creature kept the Holdings from falling apart entirely under that one-legged fool Justi-and now, at last, she’s gone, praise Cenzi.” His voice softened even further as he leaned close to Allesandra. “Now would be the time for a new Hirzg to achieve what your vatarh could not… or it would be if we had a Hirzg-or Hirzgin-worthy of the task. Someone who was not Fynn. There are those in Nessantico who believe that, A’Hirzg. People you might not suspect of harboring such thoughts.”

The clamor of the beaters was coming closer in the valley beneath them. The riders were stirring restlessly, and Allesandra saw Fynn signal to Jan to nock his bow. “What are you saying to me, Archigos?” she asked, watching the tableau beneath them.

“I am saying that you are currently the A’Hirzg, but we both know that’s a temporary situation. But if Fynn were…” He hesitated. The drums crashed loudly below, and now they could hear a thrashing under the shade of the trees to the right. “… somehow no longer the Hirzg, then you would become Hirzgin.” Another pause. “As you should have been.”

The drums and shouting grew louder, and suddenly a stag emerged from the tree line several dozen strides from the Hirzg’s party. The beast was magnificent, with antlers the span of a person’s arms and shoulders easily a tall man’s height or more. The pelt was a stunning reddish brown with a flash of white under the throat. The stag cantered out from the brush, then caught the scent of the hunting party. Allesandra felt herself holding her breath, looking at the gorgeous creature; alongside her, she heard Semini mutter: “By Cenzi, look at that gorgeous beast!”

The stag stopped, glaring at the riders momentarily before taking an enormous leap and bounding away from them toward the far end of the meadow. At the same moment, they saw an arrow speed away from Fynn’s bow, the twang of the bowstring following belatedly to their ears. The stag went down with its rear legs in a tangle, the arrow embedded in its hindquarters. Then it pushed itself up once more and began running.

Jan had kicked his horse into motion with Fynn’s shot, and now he raced after the wounded stag, controlling to his horse with his legs alone as he drew back the string of his bow. At full speed, he loosed his own arrow with the stag only a few bare strides from reaching the cover of the forest once more.

The stag shuddered, the arrow plunging deep in the left side of its chest. It ran a few more steps, nearly to the woods. It seemed to be gathering itself-it leaped, but its front legs snagged on the log it was trying to vault, and it went down.

The stag lay on its side, its legs thrashing at the brush and tearing clods of grassy earth from the ground with its antlers. Fynn galloped up to where Jan had pulled up his horse. Allesandra saw him slap Jan once on the shoulder, then Fynn put another arrow to his bow.

With Fynn’s shot, the stag went still. A distant cheer echoed from the hunting party.

“Your son’s physique may be slight, but he’s an excellent horseman and a better archer. That was impressive-to shoot like that while in full pursuit.”

Allesandra smiled. For a moment, he almost looked like his great-vatarh, riding that way… Below, Fynn and Jan had dismounted to go to the downed stag. “Moving archery is a skill taught to the Magyarian cavalry-and Jan’s had excellent teachers.”

“He’s had excellent instruction in politics, as well. He waited for the Hirzg to give the killing blow. I assume you’ve been his teacher in that.”

“He knows what he should do, even if he sometimes ignores my advice,” Allesandra said. “Generally because I’m the one who gave it,” she added.

“Children of his age feel they must rebel against their parents. It’s natural, and I wouldn’t be too concerned with it, A’Hirzg. He’ll learn. And one day, if he were the A’Hirzg rather than just another ca’ somewhere in the line of succession to be Gyula of West Magyaria. ..” He let his voice trail off.

Allesandra turned to him finally. He towered over her like a green-clad bear. His dark eyes were on hers. Yes, he has eyes in which you could lose yourself. “You continue to give me these little intimations and hints, Archigos,” she said quietly. “Do you have more than that to offer, or are you trying to goad me into revealing myself? That won’t happen.”

Ca’Cellibrecca nodded slowly and leaned down to her. His mouth was close enough to her ear that she felt his warm breath. It made her shiver. “I have an offer, A’Hirzg. If this is something that interests you, I do indeed,” he whispered. Then he stood and applauded toward the meadow. “The cooks will have some fine venison steaks,” he said loudly, “and there will be new antlers to adorn the palais. We should go down and meet the brave hunters, A’Hirzg. What do you say?”

He offered her his arm.

She rose, and took it.