“A land that has offered almost no resistance,” Zolin said. He swept his arms to the east. “This great city of theirs must know by now that we’re here, but I see no army in front of us.”
“You will. And we have no reinforcements behind us, no new warriors or nahualli to fill the gaps of the fallen. I have seen their castles and their fortifications in the scrying bowl, Tecuhtli. We had the element of surprise at Karnor; that’s gone now. They will be preparing for us.”
“And your black sand will tear down their walls and send their towers tumbling into ruin.”
“I’ve seen the fires of their smithies and the prayers of their war-teni. I have seen their armies and they were large, sprawled over the land like a steel forest. We are but a few thousands here, Tecuhtli, and they have many more. We’re now as they were in our land, far away from our resources. I doubt we will succeed here any better than they did there.”
“Is that what Axat shows you?” Zolin pointed at the bowl Niente was holding, scribed with the moon symbols of the god. “Do you see-undeniably-my defeat in the water?”
Niente shook his head.
“Good,” Zolin said. The muscles in his jaws worked, flexing the wings of the eagle. “I know you would rather we return home, Nahual. I understand that, and you’re not alone in that feeling. I hear you, all of you. We all miss home and families, myself no less than anyone. But my duty is to protect us as best I can, and this… this seems to me to best do that. I appreciate that you would not lie and tell me that the gods insist that retreat is the wise course.”
“I tell you what I see, Tecuhtli. Always. Nothing more. Nothing less. I vowed to Axat that I would follow and serve the Tecuhtli, no matter who he is or what he orders us to do.”
Zolin gave a laugh that was more a sniff. He rubbed at his scalp, as if stroking the eagle inked into his flesh. “You made that vow to Necalli, not me. Niente, if you wish to be released from it now…” A shrug. “One of the other nahualli could serve.”
The threat hung there in the humid air. Niente knew what Zolin offered: no Nahual gave up his title and lived; Niente wondered which one of the nahualli was whispering in Zolin’s ear-certainly there were a few who felt they could be Nahual. “If the Tecuhtli feels that another nahualli is better suited to serve him, then he should have him bring his spell-staff here, and we shall see which one of us Axat favors.”
Zolin chuckled, but there was an uneasiness to it that told Niente that the man was tempted. “For now, I will let you serve me, Nahual Niente. And you will see that I am right. I will come to this great city of the Easterners, and I will smash it and leave it burning, as I did Munereo and Karnor. I am a great slow spear, and I will pierce their armor, their flesh, their organs, and burrow through to stab their very heart. The people of the Holdings will understand that their god is weak and wrong. They will leave our cousins’ land and ours forever. They will pay tribute to us, for fear that a Tecuhtli will bring another army here again. That is what I will do, and that is what you will see in your scrying bowl, Nahual. You will see it.”
Niente lowered his head. “As I said, Tecuhtli, I will look and I will tell you all that Axat grants me to see, so that you may know the possible futures for the choices you make. That is all any nahualli can do.”
Zolin sniffed. He gazed confidently at Niente from eyes surrounded by the feathered wings of the eagle. “You will see it,” he said again. “That is what I tell you.”
Kenne ca’Fionta
Guilt gnawed at his stomach and made him push his plate away.
“Kenne, you need to eat.” His longtime companion and lover, Petros cu’Magnaoi, u’teni in the Faith, reached out across the white linen of the table for Kenne’s hand, cupping it in his own. “You were only a pawn in Cenzi’s plan. You couldn’t have known.”
Kenne shook his head. It’s not your fault… You couldn’t have known… That was what everyone had said to him over the last few days. Sometimes the words were spoken with a heartfelt sincerity; at other times-as when he’d gone to visit Sigourney ca’Ludovici in her bed as she recovered from her wounds-he’d thought he’d heard only a veneer of politeness draped over deep resentment.
“I sent that man to the Kraljiki, Petros. I did. No one else, and-”
“Kenne,” Petros interrupted. He was shaking his hawk-thin head, the jaw-long hair that Kenne loved so much, long ago gone white but as thick on the man’s head as his own hair was scarce, swaying with the motion. Pale blue eyes, still sharp and wise, held Kenne’s gaze and refused to let him look away. “Stop this. You can keep repeating the same words over and over again, but none of them will change what’s happened. You did what any of us might have done. This Eneas cu’Kinnear’s reputation was solid, and he said he had news from the Hellins, which the Kraljiki desperately needed. If I’d been in your place, I’d have done the same.”
“But you didn’t. He came to me.”
“He did, and you had no way to know what he was or what he would do, just as his superior offiziers didn’t know. What we must do now is make certain that the populace’s anger doesn’t spill over into a bloodbath. There are already voices at the Old Temple calling for a renewed purge of the Numetodo, and the same is coming from the Council of Ca’, too. Your voice is needed as the head of the Faith, Kenne. The voice of sanity.”
Kenne felt Petros’ fingers tighten around his own when he didn’t answer. “Kenne, my love, Cenzi gives you a test now. You know that Archigos Ana wasn’t killed by Numetodo, not the way Karl felt about her. This Eneas, and what he did to the Kraljiki… It sounds like the same thing that was done to Ana. The black dust that we found in the temple afterward; I hear that it was found all over the pieces of the Sun Throne as well…”
“I killed Audric,” Kenne muttered. “I killed his chamber servants, the supplicants who were closest. And as for poor Sigourney…” Sigourney’s face swam before him, torn and flayed by shards of the Sun Throne, her right eye bandaged (and gone, according to the healer who whispered to Kenne afterward), her right hand wrapped with the missing fingers far too visible, the covers falling ominously flat to the bed at her right knee.
This was his fault, no matter what Sigourney might have whispered to him with that ruined voice. This was more terrible than Ana’s assassination, though that had been horrible enough.
His fault.
He started to speak to Petros and could not, his voice choking. Petros’ hands tightened on his hand, lifting it and pressing it to his lips.
Someone knocked on the door. “Archigos?” The call was faint through the carved, varnished planks. Petros let his hand fall quickly and sat back in his chair.
“Enter,” Kenne said.
It was one of his o’teni staff who peered in: Sala ce’Fallin, his aide. She glanced at Petros, nodding to him and giving Kenne the sign of Cenzi. “I’m sorry to disturb your dinner, Archigos, U’Teni, but.. .”
She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “What?” Kenne asked her gently.
“There is news,” she said. “A messenger has come from the Council of Ca’; you are to go to the palais immediately.”
“What is it?” he asked. “Firenzcia?”
She shook her head. “No,” she told him. “The messenger said nothing other than it was about Karnmor…”
He expected to be told that the long-slumbering volcano that overshadowed Karnor City had awakened again. But the news was far worse.
Kenne could barely believe the words of the rider who stood before the Council in their palais chambers, but the exhaustion, the dirt and soot on his face, the horror in his eyes and in his voice… Those he could not deny.