A Magic of Nightfall

Allesandra ca’Vorl

The ceremony at Brezno Temple was excruciatingly long, as was Fynn’s speech of welcome to the A’Gyula of West Magyaria: Pauli, her husband. Allesandra’s face ached from maintaining a smile throughout Fynn’s droning greetings-written, undoubtedly, by one of the palais scribes, since Fynn sometimes peered quizzically at the parchment in front of him as he stumbled over unfamiliar words. Her spine ached from the uncomfortable, straight-backed pews of the Temple. Jan, sitting between Allesandra and his vatarh, fidgeted endlessly, enough that Pauli finally leaned over to the young man and whispered something in his ear. Afterward, Jan stopped his restless shifting in the seat, but the scowl on his face was noticeable even as Allesandra and Pauli proceeded from the temple behind Fynn, Archigos Semini, and his harridan wife, with the ca’-and-cu’ of Firenzcia following them like an obedient flock of sheep.

Then came the fete at the Grand Palais of Brezno. Now it was her feet that ached, and Allesandra imagined that the whalebone stays of her fashionably-cinched tashta were going to leave permanent furrows in her waist. The ballroom was a furnace on the stifling and humid evening, more like mid-Summer than the Spring the calendar insisted it was. The Archigos had stationed e’teni around the room to keep the ceiling fans a-swirl with the energy of the Ilmodo. The movement of the fan blades seemed to intensify rather than diminish the heat, churning the air into a fetid cologne of sweat, pomades, and perfumes. The night was raucous with the music of the orchestra at the far end of the room, the sound of feet dancing on the wooden floor laid down over the tiles, and a hundred separate conversations, all reflected back at them by the dome overhead.

Allesandra wished fervently to be elsewhere, but if the discomforts bothered Pauli, he hadn’t allowed it to show. He had separated from Allesandra as soon as propriety allowed, as he always did, and was standing in a cluster of young women around Fynn. Jan was there also, at his vatarh’s side, and Allesandra noted that he was receiving nearly as much attention as the Hirzg, and certainly more than Pauli. Fynn was regaling everyone with the tale of the stag hunt, his arm cocked back as if he were sighting down a bow as he laughed, slapping Jan on the back. “… the boy is nearly as good a shot as me,” she heard Fynn say, and Jan’s face was alight with a broad grin as the young women applauded and made the appropriate compliments.

Of course, it would be Pauli who would almost certainly find comfort and release between the thighs of one of them tonight. Allesandra was certain of that; her husband no longer bothered to hide his transgressions from her. She told herself that she didn’t care.

“A’Hirzg, are you enjoying yourself?” She turned to see Archigos Semini ca’Cellibrecca standing behind her with two iced drinks in his hand-Fynn had, at great expense, brought wagonloads of glacial ice from the mountains around Lake Firenz. He proffered one to Allesandra. “Please, take it,” he said. “Francesca seems to have vanished and the ice will be gone soon in this heat.”

Allesandra took the water-beaded glass gratefully. She sipped at the cold drink, relishing the chill as the honey-sweetened juice slipped down her throat. “Thank you, Archigos. I think you may have just saved my life.”

He smiled broadly at that, his beard glistening with oil. “Would you care to walk with me, A’Hirzg? I suspect there’s a bit of a breeze over near the windows.”

She glanced at the gaggle around Fynn, at her husband and son there with him. “Certainly,” she told him. The Archigos offered his arm, and she put her hand in the crook of his elbow as they walked. He said nothing until they were well away from the Hirzg, then leaned close to her. “Your husband enjoys the attention he receives as A’Gyula. But he’s a fool to leave you unattended.” His free hand covered hers on his arm.

“I could say the same of your wife, Archigos.”

He chuckled. His hand patted hers. “The ideal spouse is both an ally and a friend,” he answered. “But that’s an ideal rarely achieved, isn’t it? That’s a shame. I’ve wondered, at times, what might have happened had the false Archigos not snatched you away. Perhaps, A’Hirzg, you and I might have ended up… allies. Or more.”

Allesandra nodded to a passing covey of ca’-and-cu’ wives. She saw their speculative gazes rest on her hand laced with the Archigos’ arm. “The daughter of Archigos ca’Cellibrecca was a better choice for you, Archigos. Look at where you are now.”

She felt more than heard his snort of derision. “A cold, calculating choice on the part of my younger self, and it gave me a marriage with exactly those same qualities. But there are other alliances that can be forged outside of marriage, A’Hirzg, if one is careful. And interested.” His hand was still on hers, his fingers pressing.

“I’ve always been extremely careful about my alliances, Archigos. That’s something I learned early on.”

He nodded. They were near the dance floor now, the music masking their voices. “I understand you will be giving a fealty oath to Hirzg Fynn at the Besteigung tomorrow?”

“Ah,” she said. “You have sources close to the Hirzg.”

Under the salt-and-pepper beard, the man smiled. “Knowing what the powerful know is a survival tactic, A’Hirzg, as I’m sure you realize.” For several moments they walked along in silence around the edge of the floor. Couples swayed near them to a gavotte. “I also hear from Nessantico that the young Kraljiki is not well,” he said. Allesandra said nothing. “The rumors that have come to me say that the Council of Ca’ in Nessantico might consider the twins Sigourney ca’Ludovici or Donatien ca’Sibelli as successors should Audric die. They’re second cousins to Audric, I believe.” A breath. A smile. “As are you.”

Allesandra stared blandly back at the man. Dancers moved past them. “As is Fynn,” she answered finally.

“Yes, but you are the eldest. And you have the advantage of having lived there; you know Nessantico as your brother does not. And perhaps there are those in Nessantico who might recognize strength when they see it and desire a strong presence on the Sun Throne. Someone stronger than either Sigourney or Donatien.” He leaned close to her and lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “For that matter, there are those here who would prefer you to wear the crown that is currently on Fynn’s head.”

“You speak treason again, Archigos?” she asked, just as quietly.

“I speak truth, A’Hirzg.”

“And those here that you speak of. Would you be among those, Archigos?”

His fingers tightened on hers. “I would. Perhaps… perhaps it is possible for both the Coalition and the Faith to even become one again-under the right leaders.”

The right Archigos being yourself, of course… Allesandra watched the dancers on the floor, moving through their intricate and preordained steps. What does he really know? What does he really want? She didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know if he knew about the message she’d been sent from Nessantico, or if he’d perhaps received something similar. She didn’t know whether Semini was a potential ally or her enemy-and the Archigos could be a terrible enemy, as the skeletons of Numetodo heretics hanging in the gibbets near the Brezno Temple could attest.

The ice was gone to water in her drink. She gave the glass to a passing servant and smiled at the Archigos. “My vatarh believed that there would be one Holdings again-when he sat on the Sun Throne as Kraljiki,” she told him. “That’s what I believe also, Archigos: that a Hirzgai could also be the Kralji. And I…” She lifted the hand that had held the glass. She could see cool, glistening drops of water clinging to her fingers. “When last I checked, I was not Hirzgin.”

“No, you are not,” Semini answered. “But-”

She cut him off even as he opened his mouth again. “No, I am not,” she said. “That seems to be Cenzi’s Will. You wouldn’t intend to thwart Him, would you, Archigos?” She gave him no chance to respond. She removed her hand from his arm and gave him the sign of Cenzi. “Thank you for the drink and for the conversation, Archigos,” she said. “You’ve given me much to think about. If… if something would happen to, well, change things, I know that you and I might make excellent allies. Certainly you are a far more competent Archigos than the one the Nessantican Faith has named. Kenne never impressed me.”

She saw the pleasure in his face as she said that, and he nodded slightly. “I’m flattered, A’Hirzg.”

“No,” she told him, “it’s I who should be flattered. Now… you should find Francesca, and I must go be my husband’s wife and the A’Hirzg, and pretend not to notice when the A’Gyula slips away for the night.”