Karrol will still be suitably outraged at the use of the temple to honor a Numetodo.”
Sergei lifted an aching shoulder. “Oh, he’ll pretend to be so. He has to. But he also realizes that without Karl and Varina’s help, the Tehuantin might still be feasting in the ruins of Nessantico or conceivably walking the streets of Brezno. Karrol doesn’t like the Numetodo beliefs—I don’t either—but he understands that they’ve made themselves useful occasionally.”
“Hmm.” Allesandra put her hand atop his. Once, years ago, Sergei had thought that Allesandra might have even been attracted to him despite the differences in their age. That would have been a horrible and awkward situation, and he’d been pleased that she had never moved to take their relationship beyond friendship. Now he wondered whether she’d found another infatuation with ca’Vikej. “I do worry about the Morellis, Sergei,” Allesandra said. “We’re taking precautions, but . . . All the reports indicate that Nico Morel is somewhere here in the city, and his attitude toward the Numetodo is quite clear.”
“Clear and entirely unreasonable,” Sergei spat. “Karl and Varina were nothing except kind to him as a boy, and now he’s turned on them because what they believe isn’t what he believes. I assume you’ve alerted Commandant cu’Ingres.”
“I have, and I’ve suggested to the Commandant that he should step up the attempts to find Morel and hold the young man in the Bastida until after the funeral.”
The Bastida. That brought images of dark stone and . . . other things. Sergei stirred uneasily in his seat. “That’s sensible. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last Day of Atonement. Allesandra, despite Varina’s objections, I think you’re going to need to move against our self-proclaimed prophet and his Morellis soon. Varina may feel that he’s redeemable, but Nico Morel is too charismatic and dangerous, and too many people are beginning to listen to him. The problem is that Archigos Karrol is half in sympathy with the boy—the Faith won’t do more than slap him on the wrist. If Archigos Karrol or Hïrzg Jan can see a way to use the Morellis against you, they will. At best, he’s an unnecessary distraction at the moment; you don’t want him to become more.”
Allesandra nodded but said nothing. Her hand had gone back to her own lap. “Ambassador ca’Schisler of Brezno will attend the funeral,” Sergei said. “I spoke with him before I came here. I was a little worried that the Coalition wouldn’t be represented, and that would have been a terrible insult to Karl’s memory.”
Another nod. She was staring out toward the garden again.
“What are you thinking, Kraljica?” he asked. “Your mind is a thousand miles away.”
That garnered him the hint of a smile. “We’ve done awful things in our time, Sergei—things that at the time we felt we had to do, but awful. I once even . . .” She stopped. A muscle twitched along her jawline as she closed her mouth. The years were beginning to take their toll on Allesandra as well, Sergei thought, especially in the last few years. There were deep wrinkles there, and around her eyes, and her hair was liberally salted with gray. “I suppose we can hardly blame others for being willing to commit violence for their own cause.”
“Blame them, no,” Sergei answered. “But stop them if they threaten Nessantico? Imprison them or execute them if necessary to deal with them? Yes. And without any regrets.”
“You say that so easily.”
“I believe it.”
“I envy you your convictions, then.” She seemed to shiver in the morning chill, pulling the thin cloak she wore over her tashta tighter around her shoulders. “I wanted this so much, Sergei. I wanted to be Kraljica. I imagined myself as the new Marguerite, and the Sun Throne ablaze with its former glory and more.”
Sergei stirred—for the last few years, since the debacle with Stor ca’Vikej and West
Sergei lifted an aching shoulder. “Oh, he’ll pretend to be so. He has to. But he also realizes that without Karl and Varina’s help, the Tehuantin might still be feasting in the ruins of Nessantico or conceivably walking the streets of Brezno. Karrol doesn’t like the Numetodo beliefs—I don’t either—but he understands that they’ve made themselves useful occasionally.”
“Hmm.” Allesandra put her hand atop his. Once, years ago, Sergei had thought that Allesandra might have even been attracted to him despite the differences in their age. That would have been a horrible and awkward situation, and he’d been pleased that she had never moved to take their relationship beyond friendship. Now he wondered whether she’d found another infatuation with ca’Vikej. “I do worry about the Morellis, Sergei,” Allesandra said. “We’re taking precautions, but . . . All the reports indicate that Nico Morel is somewhere here in the city, and his attitude toward the Numetodo is quite clear.”
“Clear and entirely unreasonable,” Sergei spat. “Karl and Varina were nothing except kind to him as a boy, and now he’s turned on them because what they believe isn’t what he believes. I assume you’ve alerted Commandant cu’Ingres.”
“I have, and I’ve suggested to the Commandant that he should step up the attempts to find Morel and hold the young man in the Bastida until after the funeral.”
The Bastida. That brought images of dark stone and . . . other things. Sergei stirred uneasily in his seat. “That’s sensible. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last Day of Atonement. Allesandra, despite Varina’s objections, I think you’re going to need to move against our self-proclaimed prophet and his Morellis soon. Varina may feel that he’s redeemable, but Nico Morel is too charismatic and dangerous, and too many people are beginning to listen to him. The problem is that Archigos Karrol is half in sympathy with the boy—the Faith won’t do more than slap him on the wrist. If Archigos Karrol or Hïrzg Jan can see a way to use the Morellis against you, they will. At best, he’s an unnecessary distraction at the moment; you don’t want him to become more.”
Allesandra nodded but said nothing. Her hand had gone back to her own lap. “Ambassador ca’Schisler of Brezno will attend the funeral,” Sergei said. “I spoke with him before I came here. I was a little worried that the Coalition wouldn’t be represented, and that would have been a terrible insult to Karl’s memory.”
Another nod. She was staring out toward the garden again.
“What are you thinking, Kraljica?” he asked. “Your mind is a thousand miles away.”
That garnered him the hint of a smile. “We’ve done awful things in our time, Sergei—things that at the time we felt we had to do, but awful. I once even . . .” She stopped. A muscle twitched along her jawline as she closed her mouth. The years were beginning to take their toll on Allesandra as well, Sergei thought, especially in the last few years. There were deep wrinkles there, and around her eyes, and her hair was liberally salted with gray. “I suppose we can hardly blame others for being willing to commit violence for their own cause.”
“Blame them, no,” Sergei answered. “But stop them if they threaten Nessantico? Imprison them or execute them if necessary to deal with them? Yes. And without any regrets.”
“You say that so easily.”
“I believe it.”
“I envy you your convictions, then.” She seemed to shiver in the morning chill, pulling the thin cloak she wore over her tashta tighter around her shoulders. “I wanted this so much, Sergei. I wanted to be Kraljica. I imagined myself as the new Marguerite, and the Sun Throne ablaze with its former glory and more.”
Sergei stirred—for the last few years, since the debacle with Stor ca’Vikej and West
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