A Magic of Nightfall

Audric ca’Dakwi

The wind-horns of the temple droned First Call, their mournful, discordant notes shredding the last vestiges of sleep.

Audric allowed Seaton and Marlon to help him from his bed. Even with their assistance, Audric was out of breath by the time he was standing on his feet in his bedclothes. His domestiques de chambre held him, their hands on him as they stripped his night shift from him, then began to dress him for the morning’s audience. Swaying slightly in their hands, panting, he glanced at Marguerite’s portrait. She smiled grimly at him.

“You’re weak physically because you’re weak politically,” the Kraljica told him. “Cenzi has sent your illness to you as a sign. You’re swaddled in iron shackles that you can’t even see, Audric: heavy and confining and weighing you down, and it’s that burden that sickens you. The Regent has placed them around you, Audric. He steals power from you; he steals your health. When you break free of the Regent’s shackles, when you are Kraljiki in fact as well as in title, your sickness will also fall from you.”

“I know, Great-Matarh,” he told her. It was an effort just to lift his head. The corners of the room were as dark as if night still cloaked them; he could only see the painting. “I look forward… to that day.” For a moment, Marlon and Seaton stopped in their attentions, startled at his reply.

“Soon,” she crooned to him. “Whatever you do, it must be soon. The Regent intends to weaken you until you die, Audric. He poisons you with his words, with his advice of caution, with the power he’s stolen from you. He wants it all for himself, and he is killing you to have it. You must act.”

“That’s what I’m doing today, Great-Matarh,” he told her.

“Kraljiki?” Seaton asked, and Audric glanced angrily at him.

“You do not interrupt when I am in conversation with your betters,” he spat, the words broken by gasps for air. “Do so again and you will be dismissed from my service, and flogged for your insolence besides. Do you understand?”

He saw Seaton glance at Marlon, then give Audric a quick, low bow. “My apologies, Kraljiki. I… I was wrong.”

Audric sniffed. Marguerite smiled at him, nodding in the frame of her picture. “Hurry yourselves,” he told the two. “Today will be a busy one.”

A half turn of the glass later, he was dressed and breaking his fast at the table on the balcony of his bedchamber, overlooking the formal gardens of the palais. He heard the knock on the outer door, and the hall servant talking to Marlon. “Kraljiki,” Marlon said a few moments later as Audric sipped mint tea, savoring the smell of the herb. “Your guests are awaiting you in the outer chamber.”

“Excellent.” He set the cup down and waved away Marlon and Seaton as they hurried to assist. “Leave me. I’m fine,” he told them. As he walked past the portrait of Marguerite, he nodded to her, then went to the door to the reception chamber. Marlon moved to open the door for him, and Audric held up his hand, waiting to gather his breath again, waiting until he could breathe without gasping. He nodded finally, and Marlon opened the door.

He watched them rise quickly to their feet as he entered, bowing: Sigourney ca’Ludovici, Aleron ca’Gerodi, and Odil ca’Mazzak-all members of the Council of Ca’, the three most influential among the seven. Sigourney was the keystone, he knew: she carried the ca’Ludovici name as had Kraljica Marguerite. Thin and active, her long, fine-featured face animated, she was approaching her fourth decade, her hair a false coal-black shining white at its roots-and with her twin brother commanding the forces in the Hellins, she had the voice of the military behind her as well. Odil, a hale sixty, had sat on the Council of Ca’ for the longest time of all of them. His body had the lean, shriveled appearance of smoked meat and he walked with a careful shuffle supported by a cane, but his mind remained sharp and keen. At barely thirty, Aleron was one of the younger members of the Council, but he was charismatic, charming, carrying his weight well enough to still be considered handsome-and he had married well into the ancient ca’Gerodi family.

“Please, be seated,” Audric told them. He took his own seat near the hearth, on the other side of which his great-matarah’s portrait hung. He could imagine her, the back of her head to them as she listened. “I’ve asked you here today because I value your counsel, and I would like your opinions.” He paused, for breath as well as effect. “I won’t waste your time. I wish to have Regent ca’Rudka removed from his position and to have the full powers of the government granted to me.”

He saw Odil sit back visibly in his chair, and Sigourney and Aleron exchange carefully-masked glances. “Kraljiki,” Aleron began, then stopped to run his tongue over his thick lips. “What you ask.. . well, you are only two years from reaching your legal majority. I know it seems a long time to someone of your age, but two years…”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, Councillor ca’Gerodi,” Audric said scornfully, his voice interrupted by occasional coughs and pauses for breath. “You were there when Maister ci’Blaylock tested me on the lineage of the Kralji. I know my history, perhaps better than any of you. I would mention Kraljiki Carin…”

“Yes, Kraljiki.” It was Odil who spoke. “There is an admitted precedent in Carin, but Carin…”

“ ‘But Carin?’ ” Audric repeated as the man stopped. Odil inhaled deeply as he sat forward in his chair.

“Kraljiki Carin was precocious in nearly every way,” Odil continued. He looked down at his fingers, folded in his lap, speaking more to them than to Audric. “With the Kraljiki’s pardon, the history of Nessantico is my avocation, and I would say that there were extenuating circumstances with Carin’s extraordinary ascension. At twelve, he was thrust into command of the Garde Civile against the forces of Namarro when his vatarh was killed-and he demonstrated extraordinary skills in that battle. The histories all say that he had the ability to recall everything that he ever heard. He also had Cenzi’s Gift, and could use the Ilmodo nearly as well as a war-teni. And Carin’s health-” with that, Odil finally looked directly at Audric, “-was excellent.”

“And Carin’s Regent was himself the one who went to the Council of Ca’ to request that the Kraljiki be given full power early,” Sigourney added quietly as Audric felt the heat of blood on his cheeks. “Perhaps if Regent ca’Rudka came to us with such a recommendation…”

“Ca’Rudka is the problem!” Audric shouted. Gently… He heard his great-matarh’s voice in his head. Look at their faces, Audric. You frighten them with your power and you must be careful. Use your head. Play them. You want them to listen, you want them to do your bidding. You must sound like an adult, not a petulant child. You must sound reasonable. Make them believe it’s in their best interests to do what you ask. Tell them. Tell them all the things we’ve talked about…

Audric nodded. He coughed, taking a breath and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his bashta, lifting his other hand to the councillors. “I apologize, Councillors,” he said finally. “Please understand that my… umm, vehemence comes solely from my deep concern for Nessantico and my worry about the Holdings-and I know you all worry with me.” He glanced at Sigourney. “Councillor ca’Ludovici, Regent ca’Rudka will never come to you. Never. The truth is that he intends to remain in power, no matter what my age might be.”

“That is a troubling accusation, Kraljiki, to be certain,” Sigourney responded. “Do you have proof of this?”

“Like Kraljiki Carin,” he answered with a nod to Odil, “I remember what is said in my presence. The Regent has hinted at this to me, and I’ve heard him whispering to Archigos Kenne when they thought I was asleep or too ill to pay attention. Proof? I have nothing but what I’ve heard, but I have heard it. There are curious facts as well. Regent ca’Rudka, after all, was the Commandant of the Garde Civile in my vatarh’s time, and also head of the Garde Kralji before that. The Regent’s handpicked men still provide the security for Nessantico: Commandant cu’Falla with the Garde Kralji and Commandant cu’Ulcai with the Garde Civile. Yet, somehow, not only couldn’t they prevent the assassination of our beloved Archigos Ana, they both claim that they didn’t even know of any plot against her.”

“What do you mean, Kraljiki?” Aleron asked. “Are you saying that Regent ca’Rudka…?” He stopped. A pudgy forefinger stroked his bearded chin.

“You all know the rumors regarding Archigos Ana-that she sometimes used the Ilmodo to heal, even though the Divolonte speaks against such practices,” Audric told them. “I know those practices to be true, because the Archigos helped me, many times, in just that way. Yes, Councillor ca’Ludovici, I see you nod. I know everyone suspected this. With Archigos Ana dead, why, someone might have believed that I, too, would soon die as well-and that the Council of Ca’, in gratitude for long service and given that the direct line of Kraljica Marguerite currently had no issue, might just name the current Regent as Kraljiki in title as well as fact. If ca’Rudka waited to act much longer, why, there’s the danger that I might marry and have children who could claim the title.”

He could see them thinking about his accusations, especially his cousin Sigourney ca’Ludovici. Trying to still the coughing, he hurried into the rest. Yes, you have their attention now, he heard his great-matarh say, her voice pleased.

“This has further come to a head because of the continued bad news from the Hellins,” Audric hurried to continue. “Councillor ca’Ludovici, your brother is struggling mightily with the puny resources we’ve given him. Commandant ca’Sibelli is a fine warrior, unmatched, but still we are being humiliated by the Westlanders: we, Nessantico, the Holdings, the greatest power in the world. These people are little more than savages, yet they are stealing from us the land that the blood of our soldiers sanctified. I have told the Regent that I will not tolerate this. I have told the Regent that I wish to have additional troops and war-teni sent to the Hellins to help your brother put down this rebellion. Let me ask each of you, has Regent ca’Rudka spoken to any of you of this?” He saw their heads shake silently. “I thought not. He is content to let the Hellins fall-he has told me as much. He is content to have the great sacrifice of our gardai be wasted. Were I Kraljiki now, I would order the immediate arrest of ca’Rudka. I would put him in the Bastida and have him give us his confession, as he’s made others confess over the decades. But if you won’t do that, then I suggest you simply ask him. Not about the death of the Archigos or his intentions for me, but about the Hellins-ask the Regent about our situation there and what he feels our best course might be. Ask him how it is that he knew nothing of the plot against Archigos Ana. Listen carefully to his answers. And when you realize that I tell you the truth about this, you should understand that I’m telling you the truth of the rest as well.”

He stood. He could feel his body trembling from the effort, the exhaustion threatening to take him. He seemed to see the three as if through some smoke-stained glass, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed under the watchful eyes of Marguerite. He had to end this. Quickly. “For now, we’re done here,” he said. “Talk to ca’Rudka. And after you do, think of what I’ve said to you.”

He bowed to them, then-with as slow and dignified a pace as he could muster-he walked across the room to the door of his bedroom. Marlon opened the door for him.

He managed to wait until it closed behind him to fall into the arms of Seaton.