A Magic of Nightfall

Nico Morel

Nico only took two steps down the turn before he stopped. He could heard Talis arguing with the strange man, and he crept back toward them, putting his back to the wall of the house at the corner and listening.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s your accusation,” Talis told the man, and Nico wondered who he was talking about.

Evidently the man was just as puzzled, for he answered “I spoke of no murder.”

“Nor did I,” Talis said. “ But then I don’t think it murder to kill your enemy in wartime.”

War? Nico had time to wonder before the world exploded. He was never quite certain what happened in the next several breaths, or how he could ever describe it to someone. Though it was daylight, there was a stroke of light that seemed as bright in the shadows of the lane as a thunderstorm throbbing in the blackness of night. He was certain that Talis was dead, except that he heard Talis laugh even as Nico pushed away from the house to run to help his vatarh, the croissants still clutched heedlessly in his hand.

Then Talis was grabbing him by the shoulder-“By all the Moitidi, Nico…”-and pulled him running down the lane with him, ducking into a narrow alleyway between two of the houses, and then along a back lane between the backs of buildings, twisting and turning until Nico was out of breath and confused, and finally stopping, panting.

Talis put his hands on his knees, his breath fast as he glared at Nico. “Damn it, Nico, I told you to leave,” he said. “When we get home

…”

Nico fought not to cry at Talis’ harsh tone. “I wanted to hear,” he said. “I thought… I thought there would be magic.”

Talis cocked his head slightly, though his too-dark eyes still glittered angrily. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I could feel it, all around, like when I get cold all of a sudden and I get ghost bumps.” Nico rubbed at his forearm, showing Talis.

“You felt it?” Talis asked, and now his voice didn’t seem quite so upset. Nico nodded furiously. Talis stood up. He glanced all around them, as if trying to see if the man had followed them.

“Was he really Ambassador ca’Vliomani, the Numetodo?” Nico asked Talis. “Matarh says she saw him once, near the Archigos’ Temple on South Bank. She said that the Numetodo shouldn’t be allowed here. She said that the Archigos should be stronger against them.”

Talis scowled. “Maybe your matarh’s more right than she knows,” Talis answered. He sighed, and suddenly hugged Nico to him. “Come on,” he said. “We need to hurry home now. While there’s still time.”

Nico ate supper alone in the bedroom, while Talis and his matarh talked in the main room. Nico nibbled on the croissants and sipped at the ground-apple stew his matarh had made while he listened to their muffled voices. Most of the time he couldn’t make out the words, but when they got loud, he could understand them. “… told you I expected this. The signs… just not so soon…”

“… want us to leave now? Tonight? Are you insane, Talis?”

“… you stay you’ll be in danger… go to your sister…”

“… so it was you? You lied to me…”

Nico lifted his head at that. He wondered whether his matarh was talking about the woman the Ambassador had accused Talis of killing.

There was more mumbling, then an exasperated huff from his matarh as she flung the door open, glared once at Nico without seeming to see him, then started gathering pots and utensils and stuffing them loudly into the cloth bags she used when she went to the market, muttering to herself. Talis, in the doorway between the rooms, watched her for a moment and gestured to Nico. He followed Talis into the room, watching as the man shut the door behind them.

“Matarh’s really angry,” Nico said as he sat on the bed

Talis nodded ruefully. “She is that,” he said. “And for good reason. Nico, the two of you need to leave the city. Tonight. You’ll be staying with your tantzia in Ville Paisli, which isn’t far from Nessantico.”

“Are you going with us?”

Talis shook his head. “No. Nico, after what happened, the Garde Kralji is going to be looking for me-the Ambassador is a friend of the Regent, and he’ll have them looking for me. He probably knows my first name and maybe yours, he knows what we look like, and he knows about where we live. We have a few turns of the glass before he can alert anyone, but I’m certain that Oldtown won’t be safe for the two of you soon. So you’re going to have to help your matarh gather up what you can and leave.”

“But the Garde Kralji…” Nico sputtered. “Did you do something wrong, Talis?”

“Wrong? No,” Talis told him. “I’ll explain it all to you when I can, Nico. For now you’re going to have to trust me. Do you trust me, Son?”

Nico nodded uncertainly. He wasn’t certain of anything at the moment. “Good,” Talis said. “I’m going to leave now and arrange for a cart to take you two out of the city-you remember the man I talked to at the Market? Uly? He can help me make those arrangements. When I get back, you and your matarh will need to be ready to leave, so make sure you have everything of yours you want, and help your matarh gather up her things.”

Nico’s mouth tasted sour, and the food he’d eaten burned in his stomach. From the kitchen, he could hear his matarh still packing things. “But if you stay, won’t they find you?”

“I have ways to hide myself if I’m alone, Nico, and I have things I need to do that I can only do here. Also…” Talis paused and tousled Nico’s head. Nico grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it again. “What happened earlier has to be a secret, too, Nico-like the rest. If you tell people what you saw, well, you’d be putting your matarh in danger, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“It was magic, wasn’t it?”

Talis nodded. “Yes, it was. And Nico, I think that you…” He stopped, shaking his head.

“What, Talis?”

“Nothing, Nico. Nothing.” Talis was reaching under the bed as he talked, pulling out the leather bag that held the strange metal bowl and putting his clothing and other things into it. “Now, why don’t you start gathering your things? Put them all in one place, and you and your matarh can decide what you’ll take and what you’ll leave here. Go on, now.”

Talis was already looking away, opening the chest at the foot of the bed and pulling out a linen nightshirt. Nico watched him. “Are you a teni?” he asked Talis.

Talis straightened, the linen half in the bag. “No,” he said, and the way Talis said it, not quite looking at him and drawing out the syllable, told Nico that it was a lie, or the kind of evasion of the truth that Nico sometimes used when his matarh asked him if he’d done something he shouldn’t have. “Now go on, boy. Hurry!”

Nico shivered. He left, wondering if he would ever see these rooms again.