She turned in his arms, lifting her face to him. They kissed, and she felt the soft bristle of his beard on her cheeks and the thrust of his tongue into her mouth, his hands slipping lower to cup her buttocks and press her against him. She let herself fall into that kiss, closing her eyes and just allowing herself to feel, to notice how the heat moved through her like a slow, relentless tide. She broke off reluctantly, her breath nearly a sob, turning again to relax against his body. She stared out into the light, at the lovers stealing secret moments in the garden below. “Semini-” she began…
… But a welling of noise from inside the hall pushed her away from him, guiltily. They could hear shouting, and even as Allesandra-worriedly-turned, she heard one of the o’teni speaking too loudly: “… let me get the Archigos for you…”
Commandant cu’Gottering pushed open the balcony doors and strode out into the night with a trio of o’teni trailing ineffectively behind. “A’Hirzg, Archigos,” he said. Whatever thoughts he might have had on seeing the two of them close together and alone on the balcony were carefully hidden. “Your presence is required in the hall.”
“What’s the matter, Commandant?” Allesandra asked. “I heard shouting. Is Jan…”
“The Hirzg is fine,” he told her. “There is news, and a… guest. Please-” He gestured to the door; Allesandra and Semini followed him back into the brilliance of the palais and to the balcony stairs. Allesandra could see a quartet of Garde Hirzg around Jan as the ca’-and-cu’ gaped, and with them a travel-worn man. Halfway down the stairs, the man turned, and in the light, she saw the gleam of metal on his face: a nose formed of bright silver. And the face…
Allesandra felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew him. She knew him very well, and that he was here in Brezno seemed impossible.
Eneas cu’Kinnear
Nessantico…
Eneas very nearly wept when he saw her spires and golden domes again, when he glimpsed the pearly strand of the Avi a’Parete glowing in the night, when he heard the wind-horns of the Archigos’ Temple plaintively announcing the Calls to prayer. The great city, the greatest of all cities: she was a sight that, many times during his service in the Hellins, he had doubted he would ever be permitted to see again.
And he would not have had the pleasure had Cenzi not blessed him with His favor. Of that, Eneas was certain-no, he would have died in the Hellins. Should have died there. He had stopped the carriage on Bentspine Hill, outside the city along the Avi a’Sutegate, and stepped out, gesturing to the driver to go on. As the carriage rattled away down the hill toward Sutegate and the familiar landmarks, Eneas went to a knee, clasped hands to forehead, and gave a prayer of thanksgiving to Cenzi.
There is still a task left for you to do, he heard Cenzi reply, as Eneas gazed down at the wonderfully-familiar landscape before him, at the River A’Sele glittering as it embraced the Isle a’Kralji, the four arcing bridges over its waters. Then you will have truly repaid Me, and I will take you fully into My embrace…
Eneas smiled and rose, and walked slowly down to the city he loved.
By that evening, he had given Commandant ca’Sibelli’s papers and his own verbal report to the office of the Garde Civile, though the e’offizier there had seemed distracted and on edge. “Is there news from the Hellins?” Eneas asked. “More recent than what I’ve told you?”
The e’offizier shook his head. “Yours is the latest report we’ve heard, O’Offizer.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Between the two of us, I know that Commandant cu’Ulcai is very concerned-he’s expected a messenger fast-ship from the Hellins for the last few weeks and it hasn’t come. As for events here in the city, well…” The man told him about the Regent’s escape, how the Numetodo had been a part of it, and the execution of Commandant cu’Falla of the Garde Kralji as punishment. He leaned forward to whisper to Eneas. “Go to the Pontica a’Brezi Veste and you’ll see his body swaying in its gibbet as food for the crows. Between you and me, that has Commandant cu’Ulcai worried, since both he and cu’Falla were proteges of the Regent and appointed by his hand. The Kraljiki Audric, may Cenzi bless him, may not trust those who have the whiff of loyalty to the old Regent. We can hope that Kraljiki Audric will turn out to be as strong and wise as his great-matarh, but…” The e’offizier shrugged, and leaned back in his chair. “Only Cenzi knows.”
“Indeed,” Eneas answered. “Only Cenzi knows. That is only the truth.”
The offizier stamped his papers, informing Eneas that Commandant cu’Ulcai’s schedule was full this day but that he might call for Eneas to give his report in person, and that he was released from other duties for the next week. He was given a room and a key, and Eneas put his pack there, placing it carefully away from the fire in the hearth and the window where the sun’s heat might find it.
Then, he walked down the Avi a’Parete to the square where the Archigos’ Temple sat, pigeons dotting the flagstones and flying overhead in military-precise squadrons to settle again where someone may have dropped food. Eneas walked slowly, savoring the sights and odors of the city, the taste of the air rich in his mouth. The city wrapped its presence around him like a matarh, embracing him wholly in its perfumed miasma, and he nearly sobbed with the sheer relief of it. People were streaming into the square from the Avi, and he realized that it was nearly Second Call just as the wind-horns began to sound from the great golden domes. Eneas joined the people streaming into the temple. Some of them recognized the uniform he wore, with the red sash of the Hellins prominent across it, and they nodded to him with a smile and gestured to him to enter the line. “Thank you for your service, Offizier,” they told him. “We appreciate all that you’re doing over there.” Eneas smiled back to them as he passed the great bronze doors with the tangled bodies of the Moitidi streaming forth from the riven chest of Cenzi, and entered the cool, incense-scented dimness of the temple.
He sat close to the quire, just below the High Lectern, leaning his head back to gaze upward to the distant, ribbed roof. Through the colored glass high above him, brilliant light stabbed the twilight. He could hear the chanting of the acolytes in their alcove as the wind-horns quieted and the procession of the teni entered the quire from the rear entrance. He stood with the rest of the congregation, smiling with pleasure as he realized that it was the Archigos himself who would be giving the Admonition and Blessing today: Cenzi had indeed rewarded him. When Eneas had left Nessantico, so long ago, it had been Archigos Ana who had given the departing battalion their Blessing, here in this very space.
Now it would be her successor who would bless him again, when he had a new, greater task to take on.
Eneas listened patiently to the Archigos’ Admonition. The Admonition, strangely to Eneas, was filled with a call for tolerance, as Archigos Kenne plucked verse after verse from the Toustour that spoke of respect for diverse views; he cautioned those in the temple not to rush to judgment. “Sometimes, the truth is hidden even from those who are closest. Let Cenzi judge others, not us.” That, at least, was advice Eneas could follow, with Cenzi’s voice guiding him.
After the ceremony, Eneas went up to the rail with the other supplicants. Archigos Kenne moved slowly down the line, stopping to talk with each of them. To Eneas’ eyes, the elderly teni looked weary and tired. His voice was a rasping husk, telling Eneas that he (or one of the other teni) had enhanced it with the Ilmodo so that it sounded strong and confident as he gave his Admonition. Eneas bowed his head and gave the sign of Cenzi as the Archigos, with the scent of incense clinging to his robes, shuffled before him. “Ah, an offizier of the Garde Civile,” the Archigos said. “And with the sash of the Westlands, no less. We owe you our gratitude for your service, O’Offizier. How long did you serve there?”