Orlandi ca’Cellibrecca
“Perhaps the ilmodo will tell us whose prayers Cenzi prefers.”
Ca’Vorl fixed Orlandi then with a stare that Orlandi could return only with great effort. He could feel the Kraljiki glaring at him from the side as well, and U’Teni cu’Kohnle also regarded him with an intensity that made Orlandi wonder how much the Hirzg had promised the warteni. Orlandi wanted to wipe away the beading sweat that was rising at the top of his forehead but didn’t dare. He knew that the Kraljiki was waiting for him to respond to the Hirzg’s defiance; he also knew that ca’Vorl was warning him. The Hirzg had no intention of bending to compromise here; the parley was already over. Orlandi knew it, whether Kraljiki Justi did or not.
He is telling you that you have to choose. You must make your decision.
Cenzi, what must I do?
Cenzi didn’t deign to answer in any manner that Orlandi could discern. He opened his mouth, and prayed that Cenzi would send him the words to say. “I am the Voice of Cenzi here in this world,” he said, with all the firmness he could muster. “That is and always has been the role of the Archigos.”
Ca’Vorl’s lips curled in amusement; the Kraljiki grunted. “There. You have your answer, Hirzg. .”
Justi was saying, but Orlandi wasn’t truly listening. Not anymore. All his attention was on the thoughts battering against his skull.
He had seen the army on the mountainsides and crawling along the Avi. He had looked out from the walls of Passe a’Fiume, and he had glimpsed the future. He thought of Francesca waiting in Prajnoli; he thought of the throne of the Archigos in Nessantico and how long he had coveted it and how it had become his and how he did not want to lose it, how it must be Cenzi’s Will that Orlandi become the Archigos: now and for the rest of his life. He had felt the chill of the air and smelled the foul odor of fear that rose from the sewers of Passe a’Fiume, a scent that would only grow more ripe and more pungent and more urgent if the city were closed up and surrounded.
He did not want to be here if that occurred.
He especially did not want to die here.
It’s the dwarf’s fault. He brought in that woman cu’Seranta who nearly destroyed my plans for Francesca, then he died before I could bring him to trial and show everyone just how far from Cenzi’s design he had taken Concenzia. Even in death he cheats me…
It had all seemed simple when he’d spoken with the Hirzg in Brezno so many months ago, when the Hirzg had broached the idea of their alliance and of deposing the Kraljica. But the Archigos had claimed a favorite in cu’Seranta and awakened from his long slumber, the Numetodo had risen, the Kraljica had been assassinated, and everything had become murky and complicated.
He should not have been sitting here on this side of the table with the Kraljiki. He should have been entering Nessantico in triumph
alongside the Hirzg. Now he wasn’t certain which side would win.
He truly didn’t know, and Cenzi wouldn’t tell him.
Orlandi lifted doleful eyes past the Hirzg to the steep hillsides beyond the tent. The Hirzg was talking again, replying to something Justi had said, but Orlandi heard none of it. As he gazed at the landscape, the clouds parted momentarily and shafts of bright sunlight sluiced over the Firenzcian encampment. Armor glinted and sparkled, the tents
gleamed, the banners waved.
Not over the city, though, Orlandi realized as he glanced over his shoulder. The city remained in shadow.
Then the clouds closed over the sun once more, and the gloom returned. Orlandi smiled.
Thank you, Cenzi.
Orlandi sat in his chair, feeling the relief and certainty fill him. He knew now what he must do. He knew. He would send word to Francesca tonight, and then he would act.
There was motion in front of him and he realized, belatedly that everyone was standing. He rose from his own chair, groaning with the effort. “I will send you my answer by tomorrow, Kraljiki,” the Hirzg was saying.
“Then I hope you come to the right decision, Hirzg. We both understand the consequences, either way.”
“Indeed.” The Hirzg gave a slight bow, his clasped hands to his forehead; his attendants bowing lower behind him, and around Orlandi there was a rustling as the Kraljiki and those around him returned the gesture. Servants and pages ran for horses and cloaks as the parties left the tent in opposite directions.
Justi said nothing until they were riding back to Passe a’Fiume. He gestured to ca’Rudka to ride alongside him, and for Orlandi’s carriage to pull abreast. “There will be war,” he said without preamble. “We can expect the Hirzg’s answer in the form of an attack.”
“I agree, Kraljiki,” ca’Rudka said.
“We’ll continue preparations inside the walls,” Justi said. “I will send messenger birds to Prajnoli to empty the garrison there. Better to make our stand here than at Nessantico. Archigos, you will prepare your declaration against the Hirzg, his war-teni, and those who fight with him.”
Orlandi smiled and bowed his head from the carriage. The satisfaction continued to flow through him; nothing the Kraljiki said could upset him. “As you wish, Kraljiki.”
“Good. The Hirzg has overreached, and he will pay for his ambition. He has built his house, now let him live in it.” Justi glanced over his shoulder at the Hirzg’s entourage, moving up the Avi toward their encampment. The hillsides were sullen with the gray clouds overhead, but Orlandi didn’t care.
He had seen the sun there. He had been given his answer.
Sergei ca’Rudka
“They can’t truly siege the town until they have all western gates blocked. That means the Hirzg either has a hidden force approaching us from Montbataille Pass-which wouldn’t surprise me-or he intends to have at least two battalions ford the Clario north or south of the town. My bet would be south, since the river’s less wild there, but we can’t rule out a northern crossing. We’ll need forces here and here, and possibly here as well.”
“Commandant?”
Sergei glanced up from the maps of Passe a’Fiume and the surrounding area to see his aide ce’Falla at the door. Ca’Montmorte and the other offiziers and chevarittai in the room continued to stare down at the maps. “Did you fetch the Archigos for me, Aris?” he asked, his index finger still pressed to the yellow parchment. “I was beginning to wonder. We really need his input on the war-teni.”
“I can’t find the Archigos, Commandant,” ce’Falla said. “I don’t think. .” He stopped. Swallowed. “I don’t think he’s inside the town walls. None of the e’teni in his retinue know where he is, and his u’teni are gone as well, and there are reports that the temple gate in the outer wall was found unlocked.”
Sergei suddenly felt as if he’d swallowed a live coal. “Get others searching,” he called to the others. “We need to know what’s happened.”
A turn of the glass later, it was apparent that ca’Cellibrecca had fled Passe a’Fiume, and Sergei reluctantly informed the Kraljiki. “The Archigos is probably with Hirzg ca’Vorl now,” Sergei said to the Kraljiki, who stared out into the night from a window, his thoughts unguessable.
The Kraljiki had taken residence in the villa of Passe a’Fiume’s Comte; from the tower that rose well above most of the buildings of the town, Sergei could glimpse the fires on the mountainside beyond the Kraljiki.