A Magic of Dawn

Brie ca’Ostheim

The drums beat cadence as the army approached the city. The a’offiziers, following orders relayed from Stakkapitan ca’Damont, steered the army toward the fields north of the Avi a’Firenzcia and didn’t enter the city itself. The citizenry of the villages just outside the gates cheered the advancing battalions and the silver-and-black banners that waved above them. And they especially cheered the Hirzgin who accompanied them.

Brie waved back to them, smiling the smile she’d perfected over the years for state affairs, a mask behind which she could hide her own uncertainty and fears, a cheerful gesture to the crowds detached from any true awareness. On the nearest of the fields where the army was to encamp, a tent had been erected, flying both the banners of Nessantico and Firenzcia, blue and gold mingling with black and silver. As Brie’s carriage approached, the flaps of the tent opened and a crowned figure appeared flanked by Garde Brezno in the uniform of the Holdings, and Brie saw Sergei ca’Rudka standing just behind the crowned figure. Brie recognized the woman immediately from the paintings she’d seen of her: Allesandra. The Kraljica strode forward with her arms wide, her own smile nearly as wide. Sergei limped after her. “Where is my marriage-daughter?” Allesandra said as she approached Brie’s carriage. “Where is the Hirzgin?”

Soldiers hurried forward to open the doors of her carriage and place a step below for her. Brie took the offered hand and stepped out into the sun, blinking and keeping her own smile fastened to her face. She allowed Allesandra to fold her in her embrace, kissing her on one cheek, then the other. Allesandra smelled of rose and pomegranate; her grip was surprisingly strong and surprisingly genuine. “This moment should have come years ago,” she whispered in Brie’s ear. “I apologize for that; it was my fault. I have wanted to know you and your children for so long…”

Her voice trailed off. Brie held Allesandra’s hands. She gazed at the older woman’s eyes, at the folds that cushioned them, at the powder dusting the skin and the blue shadows under her painted and plucked brows. She could see Jan in the shape of those eyes and in the lines of her face; she could see a reflection of Elissa, Kriege, Caelor, and Eria as well. Even that voice, taken down in pitch…

“I’ve wanted this moment myself,” Brie told her. “For longer than you might imagine, Kraljica. We have so much to talk about.” She knew that Jan would scold her for saying what she said next, but she didn’t care. She had looked into Allesandra’s face and she had seen no monster there. ‘I want my children to know their great-matarh-as she is, not as Jan has portrayed her.”

Brie saw pain pass over Allesandra’s face at that. “I believe it’s Venerable Carin in the Toustour who advises us that the distress of truth is always preferable to the balm of lies,” Allesandra answered. “Still, there are times when I think we all prefer the lies. I’m certain that Jan, in his mind, spoke what he believed to be the truth about me. I’m afraid I’ve not always been a good matarh to him, and I have done things-”

Brie hurried to cut off whatever admission Allesandra intended to make, squeezing Allesandra’s hands. “You have done, I’m sure, what was necessary for you to do as Kraljica. I believe that Venerable Carin is also the one who admonishes us that the past can’t be changed, only the present. Let’s grasp this moment, Kraljica, you and I, and make the present good.”

Allesandra smiled again. “I hope my son appreciates the wife and counselor he has in you,” she said.

Brie only returned the smile, perfect and practiced. “He appreciates me as much as he is able,” she answered, “and as little as he can get away with.”

Allesandra laughed. “Isn’t that the way of things?” she exclaimed. She hugged Brie again, then took her hand. She raised it in the air, turning to the soldiers and chevarittai around them. “This is Hirzgin Brie,” she proclaimed, “and I welcome her to Nessantico as my marriage-daughter, and as the wife of the next Kraljiki and the matarh to his heirs.”

Cheers erupted from the ranks around them, and Brie bowed and waved to the assembly. She wondered if they would still be cheering in a few days. “Are you hungry?” Allesandra asked. “I have dinner waiting for us in the tent…”

Brie let Allesandra escort her to the tent. As she passed Sergei, she stopped and gave the man the sign of Cenzi. “Hirzgin,” the Silvernose said. “It’s good to see you again.” He leaned closer to her then, his voice a harsh, bare whisper. “And I have things to tell you as well.”

With that, he leaned away again, smiling at her, and waving her into the tent in Allesandra’s wake.

“You’re certain the girl was Rhianna?”

“Rochelle is her real name; at least that’s what she claims. But yes, it was the same young woman. I’m certain of it.”

“And she also claims to be the daughter of the White Stone and Jan?”

Sergei nodded silently. Brie sat back in her chair, shaking her head but not knowing how to respond. She wanted to protest, wanted to cry, wanted to scream in rage.

This explains so much. He’s still in love with her, after all these years.

Allesandra had returned to the city; Sergei remained behind after their dinner, telling Allesandra that he would escort Brie to the palais himself as soon as she was ready. The table that had held the dinner still lay between them, though the servants had cleared it of everything but a flagon of wine and some bread and cheese. Brie leaned forward and tipped the flagon into her goblet, watching the wine splash into the bottom. She leaned back again and sipped.

“I think it’s quite possible she’s telling the truth,” Sergei continued. “I’m fairly certain of it, in fact. I know that’s not what you wish to hear, Hirzgin, but we have to acknowledge that-given the history we both know-it’s plausible.”

“But not certain.”

He smiled under the silver nose. “No, not certain. I have people out making inquiries and checking some of the references she gave to me, but it will be a long time before I hear from them given the current situation, and who knows if they will ever uncover enough to prove things one way or the other.” He shrugged. “Regardless, that is what Rochelle believes, true or not.”

“And she’s here.”

“She is.”

Brie pondered that. Did she and Jan plan this? Or is it just coincidence? “Does Jan know? Does Allesandra?”

Sergei shook his head. “Allesandra definitely doesn’t, nor have I spoken to Jan. I wanted to tell you first. But they also need to be told.” Sergei took in a long breath through his metal nose; the sound whistled slightly. “The girl is dangerous, Hirzgin. She has taken the mantle of the White Stone to herself. She says that it was she who killed Rance-hired by a man whose daughter you’d sent away for some reason.”

“Oh.” The statement was like a blow to the stomach. Brie set down the wine. Her hand went to her throat. “By Cenzi, no… Mavel cu’Kella-she was with child. Jan’s child. I had to remove her from the court and send her away. It must have been her vatarh. He had been petitioning to be a chevaritt, but after that…” She looked at Sergei, distraught. “ I caused Rance’s death,” she said. “It was because of me.”

“It was because of the girl’s vatarh,” Sergei answered. “Not you. You’re not responsible for his actions.”

“And Rhianna, or Rochelle… She was in the palais all that time, taking care of me and my children, and Jan…” She went silent. Sergei said nothing. She could feel him watching her. The woman in my nightmare. Could that have been Rochelle? “I feel sick,” she told Sergei. “That girl, Jan’s daughter, half sister to my own children…”

“She’s a bastarda. She has no real claim to the throne.”

“I know. There have been enough of those,” she answered with a wry, self-deprecating twist of her lips. “Still, she was the first, and Jan…” She stopped, looked at Sergei. “I’m told you once met the woman who was the White Stone.”

“No,” Sergei answered. “I didn’t. But I came to Brezno not long after she, well, after she assassinated Hirzg Fynn. From what I remember, Rochelle must look much as her matarh did at the time.”

Brie felt her heart pounding hard in her chest. She felt the wine and her dinner churning in her stomach. Again, the realization rose up inside her: Jan still loves this Elissa, has never stopped loving her. “Elissa,” Brie said. “That’s what the White Stone called herself then. I didn’t know the history when Jan wanted to name our daughter. I just thought it was a name he liked…” She gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t find out for another year or more, when it was too late to change. I’ve never quite forgiven him for that.”

“Do you want me to tell Allesandra and Jan about Rochelle?”

Brie shivered with a sudden chill. “You may inform Allesandra. But I’d like to be the one to tell Jan. I’d like to see his face when he learns.”

Sergei inclined his head. He rose from his chair. “Then I’ll leave the Hirzg to you,” he said. “I’ll get our carriage ready, Hirzgin. The Kraljica will be wondering what happened to us.”

“Yes,” Brie said. “Do that. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Sergei bowed and left the room. Brie poured herself another goblet of wine. She sat there for several breaths, just staring at the red liquid shimmering against the golden surface. I want to see his face. ..

She wondered how she could tell him.