Read Online A Magic of Dawn by S. L. Farrell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. L. Farrell
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end of his long, elaborate mustache. “It certainly appears so, my Hïrzg. Or someone is trying to create that impression. The goltschlager ci’Braun was found with a light-colored stone over his left eye, just as with your onczio, and none of the gold had been disturbed—all of the ingots were found still there. A common murderer or thief would have taken the gold. I’m afraid all signs indicate that this was indeed a contract murder by the White Stone.”
Archigos Karrol, who had been at the palais when the news came, sniffed loudly. “There have been no White Stone murders in a decade and more. I think this is a fraud. The real White Stone is dead or retired.”
Commandant cu’Bloch turned his bland gaze to the Archigos. The Archigos, approaching his sixtieth birthday, had once been the A’Téni Karrol ca’Asano of Malacki, until Jan had discovered that then-Archigos Semini ca’Cellibrecca had betrayed Firenzcia. Archigos Karrol had been a burly man whose presence and booming voice dominated a room, though most of his earlier brawn had evaporated over the years except for the paunch he retained in front. His hair had thinned and receded to leave his skull bare; his long beard was an unrelenting white, his skin was spotted with brown age marks, and his spine curved so much that, when walking, the Archigos seemed to be eternally staring at the floor and the cane he required to support himself. Currently, he sat perched on a chair, frowning.
“That’s certainly possible, Archigos,” the Commandant answered. “But, regardless, in the last year or two I have been given three or four reports from inside the Coalition that match this one. Perhaps the White Stone tired of her retirement, or perhaps she has trained a replacement.”
“Or someone wants to profit from her reputation and is pretending to be her,” Karrol retorted.
Cu’Bloch shrugged. “That’s also possible, yes, but does it matter, either way?”
Jan lifted a hand and both men turned to him. “It’s not as if the White Stone is too old. She was only a few years older than me when she killed Hïrzg Fynn,” Jan commented. He couldn’t keep the hopefulness from his voice; he saw Karrol glance at him strangely. “She’d be in her late thirties now; no more than forty at the most. This still may be the original White Stone.”
Cu’Bloch bowed to Jan. “I have already given my offiziers a description of the way she looked at that time, my Hïrzg, though fifteen years changes a person, especially if that person wishes to change. She may look quite different now.”
Jan remembered very well how she had looked then: “Elissa ca’Karina,” she’d called herself at the time, and he had been deeply in love with her. He’d thought that it had been the same for her—he’d believed in their mutual affection so strongly that he’d asked his matarh Allesandra to open marriage negotiations with the ca’Karina family. Before the ca’Karina family had responded with the news that their daughter Elissa had died as an infant, the White Stone had killed his matarh’s brother Fynn, then newly crowned as the Hïrzg, and fled the city. He’d glimpsed her one more time: in Nessantico during the war with the Tehuantin.
There, she had saved his life, and he could never forget the last glance they had shared. He was certain he had seen his love for her reflected in her eyes.
Even though he had married since, even though he felt a deep and abiding affection for his wife and for their children, when he thought of Elissa, something still stirred within him. He still looked for her, in the mistresses he took.
Why would she come back here? Why would she return to Brezno?
He found himself torn by conflicting feelings—as he had when he’d thought of her in that first year or two after he’d taken the crown of the Hïrzg. He was repelled by what she’d done to Fynn, whom he’d loved as he might have an older brother, yet he was drawn to her by the
Archigos Karrol, who had been at the palais when the news came, sniffed loudly. “There have been no White Stone murders in a decade and more. I think this is a fraud. The real White Stone is dead or retired.”
Commandant cu’Bloch turned his bland gaze to the Archigos. The Archigos, approaching his sixtieth birthday, had once been the A’Téni Karrol ca’Asano of Malacki, until Jan had discovered that then-Archigos Semini ca’Cellibrecca had betrayed Firenzcia. Archigos Karrol had been a burly man whose presence and booming voice dominated a room, though most of his earlier brawn had evaporated over the years except for the paunch he retained in front. His hair had thinned and receded to leave his skull bare; his long beard was an unrelenting white, his skin was spotted with brown age marks, and his spine curved so much that, when walking, the Archigos seemed to be eternally staring at the floor and the cane he required to support himself. Currently, he sat perched on a chair, frowning.
“That’s certainly possible, Archigos,” the Commandant answered. “But, regardless, in the last year or two I have been given three or four reports from inside the Coalition that match this one. Perhaps the White Stone tired of her retirement, or perhaps she has trained a replacement.”
“Or someone wants to profit from her reputation and is pretending to be her,” Karrol retorted.
Cu’Bloch shrugged. “That’s also possible, yes, but does it matter, either way?”
Jan lifted a hand and both men turned to him. “It’s not as if the White Stone is too old. She was only a few years older than me when she killed Hïrzg Fynn,” Jan commented. He couldn’t keep the hopefulness from his voice; he saw Karrol glance at him strangely. “She’d be in her late thirties now; no more than forty at the most. This still may be the original White Stone.”
Cu’Bloch bowed to Jan. “I have already given my offiziers a description of the way she looked at that time, my Hïrzg, though fifteen years changes a person, especially if that person wishes to change. She may look quite different now.”
Jan remembered very well how she had looked then: “Elissa ca’Karina,” she’d called herself at the time, and he had been deeply in love with her. He’d thought that it had been the same for her—he’d believed in their mutual affection so strongly that he’d asked his matarh Allesandra to open marriage negotiations with the ca’Karina family. Before the ca’Karina family had responded with the news that their daughter Elissa had died as an infant, the White Stone had killed his matarh’s brother Fynn, then newly crowned as the Hïrzg, and fled the city. He’d glimpsed her one more time: in Nessantico during the war with the Tehuantin.
There, she had saved his life, and he could never forget the last glance they had shared. He was certain he had seen his love for her reflected in her eyes.
Even though he had married since, even though he felt a deep and abiding affection for his wife and for their children, when he thought of Elissa, something still stirred within him. He still looked for her, in the mistresses he took.
Why would she come back here? Why would she return to Brezno?
He found himself torn by conflicting feelings—as he had when he’d thought of her in that first year or two after he’d taken the crown of the Hïrzg. He was repelled by what she’d done to Fynn, whom he’d loved as he might have an older brother, yet he was drawn to her by the
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