A Magic of Dawn

Allesandra ca’Vorl

Allesandra had commandeered a balcony that overlooked the plaza. The Old Temple loomed across the way, though it was difficult to see much in the driving rain and the gloom of the storm. Erik stood behind her and at her shoulder, and his solicitude nagged at her.

“Really, Allesandra, you should move back from the window. Those are war-teni inside the Old Temple, and you’ve no idea what they can do, especially if they notice that the Kraljica is watching.”

“I know exactly what war-teni are capable of,” she told him tartly. “Probably better than you, Erik. And I don’t appreciate you talking to me as if I were a child.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, but there seemed to be no apology in his voice at all. “I’m just concerned for your safety, my love.”

“And I’m concerned for the safety of my people,” she answered. “The Garde Kralji isn’t the Garde Civile. Their job is to police Nessantico-they’ve never faced war-teni before, they haven’t faced an armed insurrection in a century and a half, and their Commandant is a prisoner in the place they’re about to assault.”

“That’s why I suggested that you place me in charge of them,” Erik said. “They need a strong hand guiding them.”

So I’m not a strong hand, in your estimation? “You’ve never commanded an organized force either,” she reminded him. Truly, the man was becoming tiresome. She was beginning to wonder what she’d seen in him. “I’m the symbol of Nessantico. I rule the Holdings. They deserve to see that I am here, with them. I’d appreciate it if-” She stopped, peering into the rain. “Ah, Varina’s returning… And there’s the signal from A’Offizier ci’Santiago-Morel has refused to negotiate.” Allesandra sighed. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that somehow Varina would be able to negotiate the removal of the Morellis from the temple-she couldn’t see this ending well, no matter how it was resolved. Yet she had no choice. She especially had no choice if Jan were bringing the Firenzcian army here-she had to end this now or she would appear to be extraordinarily weak.

Talbot had placed two flags on the balcony on which she stood: one a deep blood-red, the other a pale green. Both dripped rain from sodden folds. Allesandra plucked the green flag from its holder and let it fall on the stones of balcony. As if in response, a red star rose from below, arcing high above the plaza. It lingered there for a moment, lending a bloody hue to the gloomy afternoon and hissing audibly in the rain.

A breath later, triple arcs of flame shot out from nearly directly below the balcony-from the Numetodo. The flames guttered and spat, trailing a noxious smoke, and arrowed away to slam into the front portico of the Old Temple. There were terrible explosions as they hit their target, flashes of white that shook the entire plaza. Allesandra could feel the balcony shudder under her feet. A moment later, a wave of heated air rushed past Allesandra, lifting her hair. Through the rain and the smoke, it was difficult to tell what had happened, but now the gardai of the Garde Kralji were rushing toward the Old Temple from all around the plaza, shouting as they ran. She could see ci’Santiago leading them-whatever she might think of the man’s competence, he was at least brave.

The gardai were only a quarter of the way across the plaza when the response came from the Old Temple. A dozen fireballs shot from the smoke surrounding the main entrance and from the windows of the buildings attached to the temple. Allesandra heard the Numetodo call out their release words, and all but two of the fireballs from the war-teni sputtered and failed. But those two careened down into the mass of onrushing gardai. Shrill screams rent the storm as they exploded. For a moment, there was chaos in the plaza, the gardai pausing. She could hear ci’Santiago shouting orders as the Numetodo sent their own spells shooting forward toward the Old Temple. The gardai surged forward once more, but choking, acrid smoke was now obscuring the temple plaza, making it difficult to see. Allesandra leaned forward, her hands grasping the rails.

Almost too late, she saw a globe of fire rushing out of the smoke toward her. She recoiled, throwing herself backward into the room. The fireball crashed against the side of the building, billowing out in a great gout of flame a little below and to the right of the balcony where she’d been standing. The building shook, knocking Erik from his feet. The chandelier in the room swayed madly, the cut-glass ornaments clashing and falling. Chunks of plaster and lathework cascaded down from the ceiling, and two long, gaping cracks snaked from floor to ceiling of the outside wall. Part of the balcony on which she’d been standing fell away.

She could smell sulfur, and smoke was billowing up from outside. “Allesandra!” Erik was shouting, pulling her to her feet as she coughed in the fetid, choking air, and the gardai who had been in the corridor outside came rushing in, surrounding her with drawn swords. “We have to leave!’

“Wait!” She staggered to the opening of the balcony, looking out through the shattered doors. The plaza was all a confusion; she could see nothing, though there were flames and explosions around the Old Temple. On the floor below, flames were crawling up the outside of their building.

“Filthy bastardos!” Erik was shouting gesturing toward the Old Temple. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

She stared at him. He grimaced and subsided. “All right,” she told Erik and the gardai. “I’ve done all I can here. Let’s go.”