A Magic of Dawn by Farrell S. L

Author:Farrell, S. L. [Farrell, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2011-04-05T06:00:00+00:00

Jan ca’Ostheim

WHEN JAN READ SERGEI THE CONTENTS of the missive from his matarh, the Silvernose didn’t seem startled at all, which told Jan that Sergei already suspected what it said.

“Morel thinks that he has divine guidance,” Sergei said, rubbing—as he too often did—at the metallic nose glued to his ravaged, wrinkled face. “When one truly believes that Cénzi has set you on a course, you have no limitations. It’s a lesson many of the Kralji have had to learn. Now it’s Allesandra’s turn.”

They were gathered at the table in the dining “room” of the palais tents. Hïrzgin Brie was there, as was Starkkapitän ca’Damont and Archigos Karrol, who had come down from Brezno. Jan had invited Ambassador ca’Rudka to join them, not only because of the communique from Nessantico, but also because he enjoyed watching Sergei annoy both the starkkapitän and the Archigos.

“You speak like a Numetodo,” Archigos Karrol said to the man, but Sergei shook his head slowly, his jowls wobbling with the motion.

“I believe in Cénzi, Archigos, as firmly as do you,” the Ambassador said, and Jan thought he heard a strange sadness in the man’s voice, almost a regret. “I know that I will go to Him when I die, and the soul shredders will weigh me before Him. I believe.” Then he seemed to shiver, and his gaze wandered away from the Archigos and found Jan’s. “It’s not faith that’s the problem, Hïrzg Jan, only blind fanaticism. Morel insists that there is only one true path, and that’s his. Therefore, all the rest of us are wrong. The greater problem is that you have too many téni within the Faith who agree with Morel rather than you.”

Archigos Karrol spluttered at that. He lifted his bent head against the resistance of his curved spine. His long, white beard waggled; his brown-spotted fist banged at the table, rattling crockery. “I am the authority within the Faith, not this damned Morel. He’s already doomed himself by using the Ilmodo against my direct orders. His hands and tongue are forfeit for that, and his life is mine for the death of poor A’Téni ca’Paim.”

Jan heard Sergei sniff, saw his eyes, now enveloped in tired folds of skin, widen slightly. “Yes, we in Nessantico saw how well the war-téni obeyed A’Téni ca’Paim, whose authority derives from yours, Archigos. I wonder, if you order the war-téni of Firenczia to move against Morel, will you get the same obedience?”

The Archigos’ bald skull was pale against the angry flush of his face. He scowled, turning his head sidewise to glare at Sergei. “My war-téni will do as I tell them to do,” he said. Spittle flew with the comment; he didn’t seem to notice. He looked over to Jan. “Hïrzg, Hïrzgin, I find that my appetite has left me, and I need to speak with the téni here to give them the news about A’Téni ca’Paim and arrange for services in her memory. If you’ll forgive me . . .”

Without waiting for an answer, he gave the sign of Cénzi and pushed away from the table.

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