The city of Karnor was a smoking ruin, according to this man, with thousands dead, especially from the assault of the Westlander war-teni. Worse, the Westlander army was now on the mainland and advancing slowly up the A’Sele. The city of Villembouchure was next in their path.
“Many of the ships they came on,” the rider said, “were our own. I recognized the lines of the Marguerite from when she left Karnor Harbor to go to the Hellins a year ago, but now she flies the eagle banner of the Westlanders and they’ve painted her in garish colors. That’s why there have been no fast-ships from the Hellins; the Westlanders must have destroyed our forces there.”
“There’s no evidence of that,” Aleron ca’Gerodi snapped, glaring at the man as if daring him to contradict the statement. “None at all.”
The rider shrugged. “I saw what I saw, Councillor,” he said. “I was one of those who fled Karnor, as the city was taken and burning. I found a boat on the eastern shore of the island; I saw the sails of the Westlander fleet driving up the mouth of the A’Sele, and I saw fires on the northern shore.”
“He doesn’t lie,” a voice said as the doors to the chambers were thrown open. Kenne turned to see Sigourney being carried into the chamber on a litter. She sat propped up with pillows, her face a red-lined horror, the black dye washed from her hair so that the thick strands were now silver-gray. Her single eye glared at them; her right eye was covered with a quilted patch. “There are other riders coming into the city even as we speak here,” she said. “I have spoken to one: a man from the headlands of the coast. He says the same: the Westlander army is here in the Holdings, and they are marching up the northern shore of the A’Sele.”
“Councillor ca’Ludovici,” Kenne said, concerned. “You shouldn’t be here. Your injuries-”
“My injuries are not important,” she answered, waving a bandaged, few-fingered hand. “The herbalist has given me extract of cuore della volpe; that has taken away the worst of the pain. We have lost our Kraljiki, the traitor Regent is conspiring with Firenzcia, and the Westlanders have dared to come here. My injuries?” She spat. Kenne and the others watched the arc of the expectoration to where it landed on the stone flags. “They are nothing, ” she barked in her ragged, hoarse voice. “We can’t wait and dither here. We must act.” She paused for breath. “And the first thing we must do is name a Kralji, since Audric had not named his successor.”
Kenne knew then what had managed to cause Sigourney to ignore her injuries and leave her sickbed.
It was obvious, looking around the chamber at the other members of the Council, that the same thought had occurred to them. It was also obvious to Kenne who they would choose. Aleron was nodding, as was Odil ca’Mazzak; others were looking intently at the table, as if something had been scribbled there. It was Odil who finally spoke.
“You are Tete of the Council of Ca’, Councillor ca’Ludovici, and it was you who was closest in Kraljiki Audric’s confidence. I agree-a new Kralji must be named immediately… and I believe it should be a Kraljica.” He looked around the room. “I propose that Vajica Sigourney ca’Ludovici be named Kraljica Sigourney. She has the name, she is the closest relative here, and she has amply demonstrated that she possesses the qualities of leadership we need.”
“I agree,” Aleron said immediately, rising to his feet, and then they were all rising, and Sigourney was smiling through her pain and healing wounds and raising her hands to them in mock humility, and it was done-before Kenne could say anything. Not that they would have listened to him, he thought ruefully.
His voice was not one to which they paid attention.
Sigourney’s single-eyed gaze traveled the room and when it found Kenne, she frowned momentarily. He could see the accusation and the blame in her face, and he knew one thing more.
He would not be Archigos for long. The new Kraljica would find a way to bring him down.
Karl Vliomani
Serafina smiled at them as they came into the kitchen of their small apartment, though Karl could see a sadness, almost an envy, melded with the lifting of lips. She brushed her hair back from her head with the back of her hand, still holding the knife with which she’d been chopping vegetables. Karl could smell the stew, bubbling in the black pot over the hearth fire. “Good morning,” she told them. “It’s good to see the two of you together.”
Varina laced her arm with Karl’s and pressed against him. “It is,” she told Serafina. “Even more than I’d hoped.”
Karl smiled also, and he wondered if either of the two women could see the emotions that mixed in with his own happiness: the tiny nagging sense that he was somehow betraying Ana, even though he and Ana had never shared physical intimacy. She would have smiled at you also. She would have told you to go ahead. She would have been happy for you. That’s what he told himself, but it didn’t ease the kernel of guilt.
“I’ve been betrayed too many times and hurt too many times,” Ana had told him once, not long after he’d returned from the Isle of Paeti, after he’d found that Kaitlin no longer loved him, no longer wanted him to be part of her and his sons’ lives. “I can’t give you that part of me, Karl. It’s just not there anymore: there are too many scars and too much pain. I can be your friend, if that’s enough for you. But not more. Not more.”
“You don’t love me…” he began to reply, and she shook her head.
“I do love you,” she said, “but not in that way. If you need that, then find someone else. I would understand, Karl. I truly would. I’m sorry…” And he had found release elsewhere, in the grande horizontales that Varina had seen. But he’d somehow missed the person in front of him who was interested in him as more than friend, and who he’d also liked…
Now, Varina hugged Karl again. He leaned down, her face turned toward him. The kiss was soft and sweet, and the guilt receded again, slightly. “If you need that, then find someone else…” Perhaps one day, soon, even that whisper would be gone.
He hadn’t known he’d needed this so much, and he wished he’d realized it much sooner.
“Let me help you, Sera,” Varina said to Serafina, and her warmth left his side. “Karl, why don’t you put a pot on for tea?” He watched the two women for a moment, then took the teakettle, poured water from the pitcher into it, and hung it on the crane over the fire next to the stew. He found the mint and herbs, placed it into a linen bag and tied it off.
“I’ll go to the market and get some honey, and perhaps croissants,” Karl told them. “With Audric’s funeral procession today, I’ll bet the markets-”
He stopped.
A shadow passed the shutters of the window. He heard footsteps outside the door. Someone knocked. “Serafina? Serafina, are you there?”
He knew the voice. He remembered it.
Serafina dropped the knife she was holding. It clattered from table to floor, but she didn’t notice. She was running to the door. “Talis!”
She flung the door open; Karl saw the man standing there over Serafina’s shoulder, but then she dropped to her knees with a cry-“Nico! Oh, Nico!”-and Nico was there also, his arms hugging his matarh fiercely. They were both crying.
“Matarh! I knew you’d come here looking for me. I knew…” Nico saw the two of them at the same time. “Varina,” he said. “Oh.” He suddenly let go of his matarh. “Talis…”
“I see them,” Talis said. He was staring at Karl. “Serafina, take Nico and leave. Now.”
Serafina was looking from Talis to Karl. Talis had lifted his walking stick-and Karl realized what that meant, realized it better than he ever had. His hand came up, readying to cast his own attack. “What-” Serafina was saying.
“Just go!” Talis said. “Now!”
“No,” Serafina said. She was holding onto Nico fiercely and though she looked as if she wanted to do nothing more than follow Talis’ advice, she remained between them. “I’m not leaving until I understand what’s going on.”