His eyes widened slightly. “You want-”
“Yes,” she answered before he could finish the question.
“You took an incredible risk, Allesandra.”
“Well, I’ll admit you did rather startle me with your audacity. I almost decided to just let it happen. But large ambitions require large risks-as you obviously realize. And you owe me for the risk I took, Semini, because I made certain afterward that the assassination attempt can’t be easily traced back to you. I destroyed the evidence that could talk.”
“I had nothing to do…”
She waved at his weak protest. “Come now. Only the moon can hear us here, and we both know better. There’s still evidence against you, should I be forced to reveal it. We both know that if I were to relate to Fynn some of the conversations we’ve had, or to tell him about the missive you received from the Regent of Nessantico-” Semini’s eyes widened further at that, and Allesandra knew that her guess had been right, “-well, we know that the interrogators in the Bastida can extract a full confession from anyone. Fynn would order such an interrogation, even of the Archigos, should I insist. After all, I’m his loyal sister, who interposed herself between him and that vile Numetodo. And if you tried to tell him that I was involved, too, why, my actions and those of Jan would give the lie to that accusation, wouldn’t they?”
“What do you want?” Semini asked dully. He stepped back from her, as if her presence was a contamination. That pleased Allesandra; it meant that all the posturing was over. His fine, dark eyes flashed with the reflections of the teni-lights below them, his stance was that of a cornered bear, powerful and ready to defend itself to the death. She found she liked that.
“Actually, I don’t want anything more than what you want yourself,” she told him. “You and I are still on the same side, even though I know that you’re feeling uncertain of that. I like you, Semini. I do. I would like you to become the One Archigos. And you will be-if you do as I tell you. You made two mistakes, Semini. One was thinking that Fynn was only useful to us dead when, in fact, we want him alive. For now.”
“And the second?”
She tilted her head to the side, regarding him. “You thought that you were the one who should be making the decisions for us. I don’t expect you to make that mistake again. Back when I was a hostage in Nessantico, Archigos Ana often told how the Archigos always serves two masters: Cenzi for the Faith, and the person on the Sun Throne for the Holdings.”
She touched his arm once more. This time he did not draw back, and she laced her arm with his. “Come, let’s dance together, Archigos, since neither of our respective spouses seem to care. Let’s see how well we might move together.”
She urged him from the balcony and out again into the noise and light of the ballroom.
Eneas cu’Kinnear
“ You undoubtedly have Cenzi watching over you, O’Offizier cu’Kinnear, though the news you carry is most disturbing.” Donatien ca’Sibelli, Commandant of the Holdings forces in the Hellins and twin brother to Sigourney ca’Ludovici of the Council of Ca’, paced behind his desk as Eneas stood at attention before him. The room reflected the man: clean and sparse, with nothing to distract the eye. The desktop was polished, with a single stack of paper on it, aligned perfectly to the edge of the desk. An inkwell and pen quill were set on the other side, with a container of blotting sand forming a perfect right angle above them. The wastebasket was empty. A single, plain wooden chair had been placed before the desk. The blue-and-gold banner of Nessantico hung limply on a pole in one corner.
Ca’Sibelli, in his office at least, allowed nothing to intrude on his duty as commandant. There was no questioning ca’Sibelli’s loyalty or bravery-he had fought well against overwhelming odds in the Battle of the Fens and had been decorated and promoted by Kraljiki Justi, and his sister had served the state in her way, but Eneas had always suspected that the man’s brain was as sparsely furnished as his office.
“Sit, O’Offizier,” ca’Sibelli said, waving to the chair and taking his own seat. He plucked the top sheet from the reports and placed it in front of him as Eneas took his seat. The commandant’s forefinger moved under the text as he scanned it. “A’Offizier ca’Matin will be sorely missed. Seeing him sacrificed at the whims of the false gods those savages worship must have been horrific, and you’re extremely fortunate to have avoided the same fate, O’Offizier.”
Eneas had wondered at that himself, and the offiziers who had debriefed him since his return had often said the same, some of them with an undertone of accusation in their voices. He’d been three days in the wilderness around Lake Malik, avoiding Westlander villages and keeping his horse moving north and east. On the fourth day, starving and weak, his mount nearly exhausted, he’d glimpsed riders on a hill. They’d seen him as well and came galloping toward him. He’d waited for them, knowing that-enemy or friend-he couldn’t outrun them. Cenzi had smiled on him again: the group was a small Holdings reconnaissance patrol and not Westlander soldiers. They’d fed him, listened in astonishment to his tale, and brought him back to their outpost.
Over the next few days, as word was sent back to Munereo and the order dispatched that Eneas was to return to Munereo, he learned that barely a third of the army led by A’Offizier ca’Matin had managed to limp home after the chaotic retreat. Of his own unit, he was the lone survivor. The shock of the news had sent Eneas to his knees, praying to Cenzi for the souls of the men he’d known and commanded. Too many of them gone now. Far too many. The loss stunned him and left him reeling.
Now, Eneas simply nodded at the commandant’s comment and watched as the man continued to read, muttering to himself.
“The nahualli were with the army, then. Our intelligence was wrong.”
“Yes, sir. Though I’ve fought against them many times and I’ve never seen spells like these-fire exploding from the ground underneath us, those circles of dark sand…” Eneas swallowed hard, remembering. “One of those spells went off near me, and I don’t remember anything after that until… after the battle was already over. They thought I was dead.”
“Cenzi put His hand over you and saved you,” ca’Sibelli commented, and Eneas nodded again. He believed that. He’d been more and more certain of it over the days since he’d left the Tehuantin encampment. Cenzi had blessed him. Cenzi was saving him for a special reason-he knew this. He could feel it. At night, he seemed to hear Cenzi’s voice, telling him what He wanted Eneas to do.
Eneas would obey, as any good teni would.
“Cenzi was indeed with me, Commandant.” Eneas felt that fervently-what other answer could there be? He had expected to die, and yet Cenzi had reached out to the heathen Niente and touched the man’s heart. That was the only explanation. And despite the hunger and thirst, despite the exhaustion after he’d left the Westlanders, in some ways Eneas had never quite felt so invigorated, so full of life and alive. His very soul burned inside him. Sometimes he could feel energy tingling in his fingertips. “That’s why, Commandant, I’ve made the request to return to Nessantico. I feel that this is the task for which Cenzi has spared me.”
There was a destiny for him to fulfill. That was why he escaped the Westlanders; it had been Cenzi working within Nahual Niente. Nothing more. Certainly not the workings of their false god Axat.
Ca’Sibelli had frowned slightly with Eneas’ last comment. He ruffled his papers again. “I have prepared a report to send back to Nessantico,” ca’Sibelli continued, “and a recommendation for a commendation for you, O’Offizer cu’Kinnear. But still, we’d sorely miss your experience and your leadership here, especially with the loss of A’Offizier ca’Matin.”