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.
Karl ca’Vliomani
“ Where are you going?” Varina asked him.
Karl had spent the the first night after Ana’s death at Mika’s house, but despite the solicitude of Mika and his wife, Karl had found their house-with their children and now the first of their grand-children always coming in or out-too full of life and energy. He’d gone back to his own suite of rooms on the South Bank. It was Varina who came there every day, badgering his servants and generally making certain that he was fed and cared for. She left him alone with his grief; she was there when he needed to talk, or when he simply wanted the feel of another person in the room. She seemed to know when he needed silence, and she allowed him to have it. For that, he was grateful.
He remembered long ago when he’d first shown Ana what the Numetodo could do. That night, it had been Varina, a raw newcomer to the group, who Ana had seen demonstrating a spell. Varina had grown much since then; she was second now to Mika within the Numetodo here in the city, and there was no one at all who rivaled her dedication to research, nor her ability with the Scath Cumhacht. He had never quite understood how it was she had remained alone all these years: she had been particularly striking in her youth: hair the color of autumn wheat; wide, expressive eyes the color of ancient, varnished oak; a wonderful, engaging smile and laugh that always made others smile with her. She was still attractive even now in middle years, even if in the last few years she had seemed to age quickly. Yet… she seemed to take all the vitality and energy she possessed and put it solely into learning the intricacies of the Scath Cumhacht and the Second World, to find all the ways to bind that power. Even within the Numetodo, she rarely seemed to speak at length to anyone but Mika or Karl. As far as Karl knew, she had no other friends or lovers outside the group. She was an enigma, even to those closest to her.
He appreciated Varina’s presence now, even if he didn’t know how to express it.
He’d brooded on Ana’s death now for a week, turning it over and over in his mind like a sick, ugly compost. Someone had wanted her dead. Ana had been the target, the assassin waiting for her to come to the High Lectern; certainly Karl had seen the other teni at the service ascend the lectern to place the readings and the scroll with the Admonition that Ana had intended to read, and they had not triggered the explosion.
The more he contemplated that, the more there seemed to be only one answer. An answer he wanted verified.
Varina was leaning against an archway of the anteroom as Karl shrugged on his cloak, her arms folded. She didn’t repeat her query, only regarded him softly, as if concerned.
“I have an appointment,” he told her. She nodded. Still silent. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “I have questions to ask.”
Another nod. “I’ll go with you,” she said. He hesitated. “I won’t interfere,” she told him. “If you’re going where I think you’re going, you may need the support. Am I right?”