A Magic of Dawn

Nico Morel

They’d hastily erected the podium in Temple Park, not far from the ancient temple there-the oldest (and smallest) of the temples of the Faith in Nessantico. Originally, they’d agreed that Ancel would be the speaker and that they would remain there no more than a mark of the glass-not enough time, hopefully, for the utilino nor the Garde Kralji to respond, though Nico had arrangements for distractions should they arrive. Nico himself would not speak; he would watch from behind the podium with Liana and the rest of the inner circle of the Morellis, ready to flee and vanish into the warrens of Oldtown if there was an assault by the authorities on their gathering.

But the crowd was larger than anticipated. News of the gathering had spread through word of mouth, through cryptic postings on the walls of Nessantico that only their followers would understand, but the response was greater than any of them had expected. Nico was certain that, yes, some word of the gathering would have leaked out to the Commandant’s people, but they’d watched carefully for any signs that they would be prevented from speaking. Nico was not surprised to see none: Cenzi Himself protected Nico, who was his Absolute Tongue. After his meeting with Varina, he’d gone home with his head aching and his feelings confused. He’d spent the rest of the day praying, and that night, in his dreams, Cenzi had spoken to him: clearly and without mistake. He had told Nico what must be said.

Cenzi would speak through Nico today. And Nico would obey, as any servant must. He’d written the words that Ancel would speak; Liana had already placed the scroll on the podium. What amazed Nico was that even as his followers had begun assembling the small platform, the crowd had begun to gather. The first to arrive were the Morellis of the city, those who were already believers. But the crowd continued to swell, well beyond the numbers of those who had already openly given their allegiance to him. Dotted throughout the crowd were green robes: the teni of the city, most of them of e’ status-the new teni, those who may have heard of him since he’d come to Nessantico but hadn’t yet heard him speak. Now, as the wind-horns of the temple sounded the Second Call, when many in the crowd might be attending services, they were instead here. Three hundred at least, and perhaps more.

Here. To listen to Cenzi’s word.

You must speak. They have come to hear you, to hear My words through the gift of your voice.

The realization came to him hard, like a blow to his temple. He nearly reeled from the impact of it. Liana clutched at his arm, feeling his reaction. “Nico…?”

“I’m fine,” he told her. “Cenzi has just spoken to me.”

He heard her intake of breath. “Is there danger?”

“No,” he said, almost laughing. “Quite the opposite. He wants me to speak.”

“You can’t,” Liana protested. “Everyone has said it’s too dangerous.”

“There’s no danger to me; not while I have Cenzi’s protection.” He patted her hand, then the slope of her belly. He felt the child stir underneath his hand, and he grinned. “I’ll be fine. Please, don’t worry.” She frowned, but her hand left his arm. He smiled at her and kissed her cheek, then quickly ascended the two steps to the small stage where Ancel was already unrolling the scroll. A roar from the crowd greeted him; Ancel looked up from the scroll at the sound and stared at the sea of pointing hands, turning his head abruptly.

His voice could barely be heard above the crowd’s roar. “Absolute? I thought…”

Nico gave him the sign of Cenzi. “It’ll be fine, Ancel. But I’d appreciate if you stay here with me and watch for the gardai. Cenzi. .. Cenzi wishes me to give our people His message in my own voice.”

Ancel’s eyes widened and he bowed low to Nico with the sign. “The scroll… Here it is.” He held out the paper to Nico, but Nico smiled at his friend and shook his head.

“I won’t need it. Cenzi will give me words.”

Another bow. Nico went to the podium as the crowd redoubled their noise. He lifted his hands, his eyes closed as he looked to the sky. He could feel the sun on his face, could feel the crowd’s adulation strike him like a physical blow. “For you, Cenzi,” he whispered. “For you.”

He opened his eyes, and gestured to them to be quiet. Slowly, they obeyed. “Cenzi blesses you all today,” he said, and he heard Cenzi enter his voice, heard it sound loud and booming over the park like an a’teni using the Ilmodo to amplify his Admonition, yet Nico had created no such spell. No, this was Cenzi’s presence, warping the Second World around his words so that everyone could hear him.

“I have prayed, my people,” he said, “and I have listened, and I have heard Cenzi’s Voice.” His last phrase was a roar that lashed the audience and seemed to sway the very trees of the park, and the people roared back at him wordlessly. “The time is coming, He has told me, when we must make a choice, when we must decide if we follow His path or that of weak humans. The time is coming-and it is coming soon, my friends, very soon-when we must show Him that we have heard His words and that we will obey them. The words are there for us. We hear them in the Toustour and the Divolonte. We have heard them read in the Admonitions in the temples. We have heard them in prophets and through the teni, but…” He paused momentarily, closing his eyes and lifting his face again. “The end times approach us. They come slowly, unstoppable. The teni of the Faith no longer hear Cenzi’s words. Oh, they say them, but they don’t hear them, they don’t feel t hem. The words of the Toustour and the Divolonte should strike you like the very fist of Cenzi. They tear at your soul and rebuild it anew, if you let them. I tell you: this is what we need now. We need to open ourselves to Cenzi and let Him make us into his spear!”

The words were fire in his mouth. The heat of them blasted the people before him, and they again shouted their affirmation. “Tell us, Absolute One!” someone shouted, and they all took up the chant. “Tell us! Tell us!”

Nico listened to them for several breaths, his chest heaving from the effort of speaking. He lifted his hands finally and they went silent again. In the hush, in the quiet, he began to speak, and though his voice was but a whisper, they could all hear him. He could hear his voice rebounding from the temple walls on the far side of the park.

“Cenzi has told me that we can no longer tolerate the heretics among us. We can no longer even tolerate those who wear the green robes but who fail to hear Him when He speaks. The Archigos and his a’teni speak with false tongues. We can no longer tolerate those whom this world has blessed with power and money but who do not see that those blessings derive from Cenzi, not themselves. He has told me this: He will give us a sign. He will bring fire and destruction. He will bring death and darkness. He will demonstrate to us our folly so that we may all see it, and when He does…”

Another pause. He enunciated each of the next words clearly. Slowly. Each in its own breath. “We. Must. Respond.”

They shouted, they applauded, they raised their hands. But Nico, looking over them, could see at the rear of the crowd Garde Kralji in their uniforms, squadrons of them pouring into Temple Park. “The sign is coming!” he shouted. “We will know it soon! I promise you this because He has promised it to me. But, look-” he pointed then to the Garde Kralji, “-there are those who want to prevent you from hearing my words. They would stop me from speaking Truth, because Truth is their enemy. Look!”

The crowd turned. They saw the Garde Kralji and they shouted. As the gardai pressed forward, trying to reach the stage, the crowd pushed back. The gardai, armed with batons, responded. Some of the crowd went down under the assault. One of the e’teni in the crowd unleashed a spell: a blast of fire that went howling into the ranks of the gardai.

Suddenly, it was chaos-many in the crowd pushing through the new gap in the gardai’s ranks. Batons rose and fell, and there was now open fighting in the park. Utilino whistles shrilled, and the Ilmodo was now being wielded against the crowd. A controlled blast of wind hit near the front of the stage, sending the closest onlookers sprawling onto the dirt and grass of the park, as well as blowing Nico backward into Ancel. “Absolute!” Ancel shouted above the din of the fray. “We must leave! Now!”

Nico stared outward. There was nothing he could do here, and Cenzi was silent in his head. “They don’t listen to me,” he said. “This is unnecessary. The Faithful should not be fighting each other.”

More gardai were coming into the park, some of these in the uniform of the Garde Civile, and armed with swords and spears rather than batons. He saw bloodied heads. Nico started toward the front of the stage, but Ancel took his arm. Liana had clambered on stage now, along with several others of his inner circle, and they were all around him. “You will see!” Nico shouted toward the crowd, but his voice was only his voice now, and if they heard, they paid him little attention. He was exhausted, as tired as if he’d been using the Ilmodo. He sagged in the hands of his people and they hurried him to the rear of the stage and down the steps. “We’re done here,” Ancel told them. “Now we must protect the Absolute One and get him away. Quickly.”

Nico took Liana’s hand as his followers closed ranks around him, and they fled into the depths of Temple Park toward the maze of the Oldtown streets.