A Magic of Nightfall

Sergei ca’Rudka

Sergei wasn’t surprised that they took his sword from him. In fact, he wondered if he was to survive this meeting at all.

The room was small and overly-warm, decorated in typical Firenzcian style with dark hangings and stark paintings with martial themes, all celebrating long-dead Hirzgai. The new Hirzg Jan sat in a plush chair to one side of the hearth, but it was obvious that Allesandra, sitting to his right, was the central character here rather than the young Hirzg who stared at Sergei’s nose, his gaze trapped there. Archigos ca’Cellibrecca loomed like some ursine demigod behind the high back of the Hirzg’s chair, scowling. The gardai who had brought Sergei here were dismissed (after another, rather thorough check of Sergei’s clothing to make certain he was unarmed; they took two knives from him and missed only one small, thin blade tucked in the loose heel and sole of his boot). Faintly, Sergei could hear the musicians playing a gavotte in the hall outside, though he doubted that many at the party were still dancing. Most would be talking and gossiping, wondering what the Regent of Nessantico was doing here in Brezno.

He was certain that those in the room wondered the same thing.

“Hirzg Jan,” he said, bowing low to the young man who looked so much like his matarh. “I thank you for taking in a poor refugee, and I offer you my service in gratitude.”

“Your service, Regent ca’Rudka?” It was Allesandra who spoke. “What has happened in Nessantico, Regent, that you now offer service to those you’ve fought as an enemy?”

Sergei hadn’t seen her in nearly sixteen years; she’d left her confinement in Nessantico when she’d been only a little older than her son was now; she had matured into full womanhood in the intervening years. Sergei could still see the passionate young woman in her face, but there was a new hardness there and lines carved by experiences he could not know. Don’t assume that she’s still the same person you knew…

“Foul deeds and bad times,” he said to her, to the others. He outlined for them the events of the last few months, including his own escape from the Bastida days ago. “I doubt that Kraljiki Audric will survive long,” he finished. “I suspect that Sigourney ca’Ludovici will be Kraljica within a year, perhaps two.” He looked hard at Allesandra, whose gaze had drifted away contemplatively during his tale. “She has no better claim to the Sun Throne than others here,” he said. Allesandra gave him a faint nod; Sergei thought that Jan glanced at his matarh strangely with that.

“Where are these Numetodo you say helped you escape?” ca’Cellibrecca growled. “Did you bring the heretics here also?”

Sergei languidly glanced at the Archigos. “They declined to follow me, given the reception they expected to receive, Archigos. Brezno’s attitude toward the Numetodo has been… well demonstrated.” He smiled blandly, and ca’Cellibrecca’s mouth lifted in a sneer.

“As has Nessantico’s, and we have seen what it gained them,” ca’Cellibrecca answered. “That they would rescue you from the Bastida, Regent, would indicate that your own views are heretical, also. Have you become a Numetodo yourself?”

“My belief in Cenzi and the teachings of the Toustour remains as firm as ever, Archigos.” He gave the man the sign of Cenzi. “I’ve found that one might disagree even with friends and yet still remain friends. I’ve had many interesting discussions with Ambassador ca’Vliomani over the years, heated ones at times, but neither of us has managed to significantly change the views of the other. Nor do I think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Ambassador ca’Vliomani was my friend and acted to help me, even though our views on religion are entirely at odds. My soul has nothing to fear.” He paused, his gaze going back to Allesandra. “Friends-and allies-may be found even where least expected. Would I be wrong, A’Hirzg ca’Vorl, in saying that you came to consider Archigos Ana your friend, even though she took you from your vatarh?”

Ca’Cellibrecca hissed audibly at that, and Hirzg Jan’s eyebrows rose, but the ghost of a smile touched Allesandra’s lips. “Ah, Regent, you always fenced as well with words as you did with your blade.”

Sergei bowed again to her.

“Yes,” Allesandra continued, “I came to consider Archigos Ana, if not a friend, then as someone I could trust in the face of the uncertain fate my vatarh left to me. I was genuinely horrified to hear of her assassination-nor, knowing her and the Ambassador ca’Vliomani, did I believe what I heard of who was responsible. I have grieved and prayed for her since. And, yes, I understand what you’re saying behind that question. I’m sure Hirzg Jan would be pleased to accept your service and talk with you further regarding what you can do for the Firenzcian Coalition.”

The boy sat up suddenly in his chair at the mention of his name, glancing over to his matarh. “Yes,” he told Sergei. “I… we will.” His voice was as uncertain as the look he cast Allesandra. Then his features settled, and he sounded more adult. “Firenzcia will offer you asylum, Regent ca’Rudka, and I’m certain we can find a use for your knowledge and your skills.”

“Thank you, Hirzg Jan,” Sergei replied, and went to a knee. “That was well-spoken. I freely give you and Firenzcia the loyalty that Nessantico has scorned, and I will lend you whatever counsel and help that I can.”

The young man seemed inordinately pleased at the declaration, as if he somehow dredged it unwillingly from Sergei himself. He was young and inexperienced, Sergei realized, but he seemed intelligent enough, and had an excellent teacher in his matarh. He would learn quickly. The Archigos scowled, obviously not pleased with the decision. There would be little sympathy for Sergei there-he would need to watch ca’Cellibrecca carefully and find what advantage he could against the man.

And with Allesandra… The woman regarded him carefully. Thoughtfully. There was ambition there, and a brilliance that had been lacking in her vatarh. He could easily imagine her on the Sun Throne. He could see her making decisions that would protect the Holdings and heal the wounds Justi and now his son had carved into the city and empire he served.

Could she be the Kraljica to rival Marguerite?

He would find out. And he would act.