“That’s kind of you to say, Commandant,” Eneas answered. It was not like him to protest in the face of orders, but Cenzi was a higher authority. “But reports are dry things, and those in Nessantico, especially the Regent and the Kraljiki, need to know how dire our circumstances are here. I think… I believe I would be well-suited to take the message back. I can talk directly to those in Nessantico about how things are here. They can hear from my lips what has happened. I can convince them; Cenzi tells me that I can.”
You will go to your leader. You will talk to him, and you will give him a message for us… He thought, for a moment, that he heard that sentence in a great, deep voice within his head. Eneas was too startled to speak immediately. “Commandant,” Eneas continued, “I do understand that my place is here with the troops, especially with the Westlanders threatening to advance on Munereo herself. I will return here, as soon as I possibly can, but I can give your report so much more impact. I promise you that. I would suggest that you go yourself, but your expertise and leadership are critical to our victory against the Westlanders.”
Ca’Sibelli waved his hand. The movement stirred the top papers on the desk, and he stopped to align them again. He sighed. “I suppose one offizier more or less isn’t going to make a difference-or, rather, I believe you when you say you can make far more difference speaking to the Kraljiki and the Council of Ca’ than by bearing a sword here. Perhaps you’re right about Cenzi’s Will. All right, O’Offizier cu’Kinnear: you will leave tomorrow morning at first light on the Stormcloud. E’Offizier cu’Montgomeri has my report for you to deliver; you may pick it up as you leave. I will expect you back here with Stormcloud ’s return.”
Ca’Sibelli stood, and Eneas scrambled to his feet to salute. “You already know that A’Offizier ca’Matin had recommended you for the title of Chevaritt,” the commandant told him as he returned the salute. “I have signed off on that recommendation; it will also be on the Stormcloud for the Kraljiki to sign. I suspect that there are great things in store for you, O’Offizier. Great things.”
Eneas nodded. He suspected that also. Cenzi would make certain of it.
Audric ca’Dakwi
The wind-horns of the temple droned First Call, their mournful, discordant notes shredding the last vestiges of sleep.
Audric allowed Seaton and Marlon to help him from his bed. Even with their assistance, Audric was out of breath by the time he was standing on his feet in his bedclothes. His domestiques de chambre held him, their hands on him as they stripped his night shift from him, then began to dress him for the morning’s audience. Swaying slightly in their hands, panting, he glanced at Marguerite’s portrait. She smiled grimly at him.
“You’re weak physically because you’re weak politically,” the Kraljica told him. “Cenzi has sent your illness to you as a sign. You’re swaddled in iron shackles that you can’t even see, Audric: heavy and confining and weighing you down, and it’s that burden that sickens you. The Regent has placed them around you, Audric. He steals power from you; he steals your health. When you break free of the Regent’s shackles, when you are Kraljiki in fact as well as in title, your sickness will also fall from you.”
“I know, Great-Matarh,” he told her. It was an effort just to lift his head. The corners of the room were as dark as if night still cloaked them; he could only see the painting. “I look forward… to that day.” For a moment, Marlon and Seaton stopped in their attentions, startled at his reply.
“Soon,” she crooned to him. “Whatever you do, it must be soon. The Regent intends to weaken you until you die, Audric. He poisons you with his words, with his advice of caution, with the power he’s stolen from you. He wants it all for himself, and he is killing you to have it. You must act.”
“That’s what I’m doing today, Great-Matarh,” he told her.
“Kraljiki?” Seaton asked, and Audric glanced angrily at him.
“You do not interrupt when I am in conversation with your betters,” he spat, the words broken by gasps for air. “Do so again and you will be dismissed from my service, and flogged for your insolence besides. Do you understand?”
He saw Seaton glance at Marlon, then give Audric a quick, low bow. “My apologies, Kraljiki. I… I was wrong.”
Audric sniffed. Marguerite smiled at him, nodding in the frame of her picture. “Hurry yourselves,” he told the two. “Today will be a busy one.”
A half turn of the glass later, he was dressed and breaking his fast at the table on the balcony of his bedchamber, overlooking the formal gardens of the palais. He heard the knock on the outer door, and the hall servant talking to Marlon. “Kraljiki,” Marlon said a few moments later as Audric sipped mint tea, savoring the smell of the herb. “Your guests are awaiting you in the outer chamber.”
“Excellent.” He set the cup down and waved away Marlon and Seaton as they hurried to assist. “Leave me. I’m fine,” he told them. As he walked past the portrait of Marguerite, he nodded to her, then went to the door to the reception chamber. Marlon moved to open the door for him, and Audric held up his hand, waiting to gather his breath again, waiting until he could breathe without gasping. He nodded finally, and Marlon opened the door.
He watched them rise quickly to their feet as he entered, bowing: Sigourney ca’Ludovici, Aleron ca’Gerodi, and Odil ca’Mazzak-all members of the Council of Ca’, the three most influential among the seven. Sigourney was the keystone, he knew: she carried the ca’Ludovici name as had Kraljica Marguerite. Thin and active, her long, fine-featured face animated, she was approaching her fourth decade, her hair a false coal-black shining white at its roots-and with her twin brother commanding the forces in the Hellins, she had the voice of the military behind her as well. Odil, a hale sixty, had sat on the Council of Ca’ for the longest time of all of them. His body had the lean, shriveled appearance of smoked meat and he walked with a careful shuffle supported by a cane, but his mind remained sharp and keen. At barely thirty, Aleron was one of the younger members of the Council, but he was charismatic, charming, carrying his weight well enough to still be considered handsome-and he had married well into the ancient ca’Gerodi family.
“Please, be seated,” Audric told them. He took his own seat near the hearth, on the other side of which his great-matarah’s portrait hung. He could imagine her, the back of her head to them as she listened. “I’ve asked you here today because I value your counsel, and I would like your opinions.” He paused, for breath as well as effect. “I won’t waste your time. I wish to have Regent ca’Rudka removed from his position and to have the full powers of the government granted to me.”
He saw Odil sit back visibly in his chair, and Sigourney and Aleron exchange carefully-masked glances. “Kraljiki,” Aleron began, then stopped to run his tongue over his thick lips. “What you ask.. . well, you are only two years from reaching your legal majority. I know it seems a long time to someone of your age, but two years…”
“I’m perfectly aware of that, Councillor ca’Gerodi,” Audric said scornfully, his voice interrupted by occasional coughs and pauses for breath. “You were there when Maister ci’Blaylock tested me on the lineage of the Kralji. I know my history, perhaps better than any of you. I would mention Kraljiki Carin…”
“Yes, Kraljiki.” It was Odil who spoke. “There is an admitted precedent in Carin, but Carin…”
“ ‘But Carin?’ ” Audric repeated as the man stopped. Odil inhaled deeply as he sat forward in his chair.
“Kraljiki Carin was precocious in nearly every way,” Odil continued. He looked down at his fingers, folded in his lap, speaking more to them than to Audric. “With the Kraljiki’s pardon, the history of Nessantico is my avocation, and I would say that there were extenuating circumstances with Carin’s extraordinary ascension. At twelve, he was thrust into command of the Garde Civile against the forces of Namarro when his vatarh was killed-and he demonstrated extraordinary skills in that battle. The histories all say that he had the ability to recall everything that he ever heard. He also had Cenzi’s Gift, and could use the Ilmodo nearly as well as a war-teni. And Carin’s health-” with that, Odil finally looked directly at Audric, “-was excellent.”