A Conjuring of Assassins, page 32
Egerik acknowledged her with a sketchy bow. “As I said, the document simply demonstrates your willingness to commit to those sentiments you’ve just voiced—sentiments that many of my own countrymen share. But rather than pursuing the specific action you’ve agreed to in this document, a faction of most respectable Mercediarans wishes me to present a different plan. One more personally fulfilling to you all.”
Savilli sat down. The others shifted and glanced at each other. The crowlike woman murmured to the curly-locked man, Malavesi, who bit his lip and shook his head vigorously. He was very unhappy. Most of the others appeared to be intrigued. As was I. An assassination pact with none other than the Protector of Mercediare as its target. Egerik must be a brave man even to hold such a document … and clever, too, to use it for his own ends. Perhaps he was trying to save the Protector’s life!
“If anyone wishes to leave…” he said, drawing out the offer.
So was he sincere or laying some kind of trap? I couldn’t tell. The Lady’s concern swirled inside me like the floodwaters of the Venia in the Great Deluge that drowned Cantagna during my childhood.
No one left.
Egerik’s enthusiasm grew. “I take it you are willing to hear more, yes?”
The seven rattled answers all at once. Some eager. Some grudging. Some skeptical. “Aye … Yes, let’s hear it … What do you know of our grievances or ambitions? Assassination is simple; what is this different plan?”
Egerik settled to the elegant chair just beside me and leaned forward, forearms pressed to its carved arms. “Let me speak in metaphor,” he said. “Rather than cutting the mast and figurehead from the pirate ship that is Mercediare, my associates and I prefer to create a fleet of strong, swift, smaller ships that will force the pirates to see the error of their ways. With such a solid bulwark, the pirates might then see fit to accept a new captain who would lead them to honorable prosperity…”
As he continued his persuasion, the meaning of his metaphor sank in. A sworn pledge to assassinate the Protector … but now an alternative plan … shared ambitions … a new captain. Not assassination, yet still a new Protector? An overthrow, then, but perhaps not deadly, though even a lowborn woman knew of Mercediare’s bloody history.
Surely this was the stuff of history. The kind of knowledge that got eavesdroppers dead. How was it that the daughter of a swindler was allowed to witness it? Certain, anyone here could end my life with a fingersnap.
Only one answer came to mind. Ambassador Egerik, a true believer, wanted me to hear these things so I could weave them into my divination. He wished the Lady to guide his enterprise—which was exactly what she had called me to do. If I was to guide significant events, the risks would never be small.
“… your houses have robust treasuries and substantial military cohorts that we could use to outfit the first ship in our mythic fleet. Segnoré di Taglino, as Governor of the Sestorale Prison, controls an especially large and competent brigade, and Segnoré di Berlinguer over here controls barge traffic on the Venia.” Egerik waved the scroll. “In return for this group’s cooperation, I shall destroy this list and remove the most serious obstacles to your personal ambitions. In other words, this first and most important ship in the fleet would be named the Cantagna, and you seven would be its officers.”
For a moment there was silence, and then growing murmurs of appreciation and approval. But the Lady’s elation had cooled.
“Let us be clear, ambassador.” The strong bass timbre that sliced through this swell of interest belonged to the hugely fat man. His sonorous voice was as direct as his gaze. “Our signatures pledged us to fund an assassin, not to supply some sort of martyrs’ brigade to goad Mercediarans into rebellion against Protector Vizio.”
Egerik nodded seriously, yet enjoyment danced about his finely drawn lips and thin nose. His pale blue eyes gleamed. These seven powerful people sat firmly in his thrall.
“Rest easy, Segnoré di Berlinguer,” he said. “No martyrdom is required. Only my own cohorts shall be sent to the southland, not yours or Navilli’s or those of your compatriots here. But I need a safe place for my brothers and sisters in this fight to build strength out of the Protector’s sight. Training from your estimable Gardia, perhaps. Free passage of your docks and roads. Nothing you cannot easily afford.”
The crow woman wagged a finger at the ambassador. “Perhaps a Mercediaran does not realize that we are but seven of twenty-one—not even a majority of the Sestorale.”
“I am well aware of Cantagna’s governance, grand segnora. But you are not just seven individuals, but a consortium of power that has no need of any other. Years of careful observation have revealed the essential leaders amidst your one-and-twenty—as well as those who might be considered … obstacles. Together we can persuade the rest to join this happy arrangement, lest they too become obstacles. Once we’ve supped, I shall demonstrate my personal commitment to this agreement, but before that…”
He stood and offered me his hand. His entire person, body and spirit, voice and manner, changed in that moment. All his hidden glee, all dancing amusement, all pride in his audacity to bring these people into his grand design had vanished. He stood sober. Eager, yes. Greedy, even. But for the Lady’s words. This was how he had appeared yesterday, when my fingers’ blood signaled my Mistress’s intervention. This was Egerik di Sinterolla, the true believer, who had brought me to seek the Lady’s insight into his venture.
“I realize this is unusual for either a feast among friends or a gathering of unexpected allies,” he said. “You may think me childish. But I am a devout man, and when engaging in grand alliances, I do not proceed lightly—a quality prospective partners should appreciate. Thus, I beg your indulgence. Yesterday, Lady Fortune, in an entirely random circumstance, warned me of a specific danger arriving with this evening’s guests. The augury rang so true, parts of it so clearly enmeshed with my plan for this occasion, I could not ignore it. Thus before I divulge the whole of my grand design, I choose to hear a new augury in the presence of those very guests. Before us all, the Lady’s handmaiden—Mistress Viviana of the Nine Mysteries—will cast her needles asking for guidance. Lady Fortune might suggest some adjustment to our plan—or our company.”
“I think we’re all intrigued enough to indulge you, Egerik,” said Savilli, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Whether we are believers in such foolery or not. If you have a true notion of our current obstacles, then you’ll understand that Fortune’s involvement is a necessity to cure them.”
“My servants shall refill your wine and prepare the room. Then we shall begin.”
The guests shuffled and murmured.
With new-lit fire in his pale eyes, Egerik released my hand. “Take your place, Viviana.”
I knelt inside the circle of candles and sat back on my heels, breathing deep and slow to settle my mind.
My master crossed to the great windows, now showing a few scattered lights in the lengthening shadows. He rang the brass handbell from the shelf under the windows. As he returned the bell to the shelf, his hand stopped in mid-motion as if a demon sorcerer had turned him to stone. Only a moment passed until he snatched up something from between the enamelware box and the precisely arranged candle lamps and spun around to face his guests again, his hands tucked away behind his back. Only a person with my perspective—eyes fixed to him from my position near the floor—could have noticed the tremors in those hands, the lack of color in his complexion, or the quick return of discipline to mask … terror?
I quickly averted my gaze. Such a man as my master would not thank me for noticing. But my mind whirled with curiosity. What small thing sitting on a shelf could have caused him such fear?
Mella came in and poured wine. Before she could withdraw, Egerik grabbed her arm and cornered her behind his chattering guests. He showed her whatever he had snatched from the shelf, and she shook her head vigorously. Their postures were so strained, I was surprised he didn’t strike her. When he released her at last, she almost ran from the room. None of the guests noticed.
Meanwhile Cei had doused all but a few of the lamps. Beyond the window glass was moonless evening. He brought me a lit taper and white towel, and then withdrew to his place beside the outer door.
Egerik’s hard gaze followed Cei.
Curious. I’d never seen him give this beautiful servant the smallest glance.
Egerik returned to the circle of guests. “I ask for your consideration as we begin, grand segnori,” he said, as the swollen murmurs died away. His voice had risen a note, as when a string on a vielle is stretched tighter. “Mistress Viviana is not accustomed to such a large audience as she communes with the Lady Espe.”
A snort or two intruded as Egerik gave a brief description of the rite. Non-believers. There were many in the world. Many of these seven would be Academie educated, and philosophists disdained all who approached the Twins with reverence and ritual. They claimed some of us dabbled in sorcery. That was another reason for one like me to seek the protection of a powerful patron. Wealth could add legitimacy to endeavors that powerless poverty would endanger.
As Egerik spoke, Mella returned with ropes of sea lavender and quickly laid them across the latches of the window shutters and over the shelf where Egerik had found whatever disturbed him so. Sea lavender … to protect against malignant spirits …
“Now, Viviana.” Egerik’s command startled me. “Take what time you need to prepare. Let me know when you are ready to begin.”
I acknowledged his command.
To seek my Lady’s voice, I lit the nine candles one by one, shoving concerns of guests and mysteries aside. I pulled the nine slim lengths of bronze from the red silk at my belt. Fingering each needle, I contemplated the Mysteries in turn: Presence, Judgment, Mysticism … all nine of them and their varied manifestations.
“The divine Espe, Lady Fortune, guides my fingers, petitioner. By her hand alone will this casting be done. Humble in the face of her will, serene in the surety of my calling, and steeped in her lore will I venture interpretation.” As I spoke the ritual words, the Lady’s serenity and confidence steadied my soul.
Eager as a beggar at palace door, Egerik knelt facing me across a bare expanse of floor sufficient for a casting. The candles pooled their light between us. Beyond their bright ring the chamber had vanished into darkness. Stillness.
All was ready. I closed my eyes and began.
27
THE DAY OF THE PRISONER TRANSFER
THE HOUR OF GATHERING
First, the invocation: “Sweet Espe, Lady Fortune, daughter of the Unseeable divinities, lay the needles I cast in patterns that speak of this man’s enterprise. Show me your truth and let my tongue provide faithful report of your guidance.”
Next, the invitation: “Petitioner, what do you ask of my Lady?”
“Insight,” said Egerik, solid and sure. “As I embark upon this great venture, pledging life and fortune to the redemption of my beloved Mercediare and a healthy future for this noble city of Cantagna, and seeking the partnership of these noble women and men, I ask for Lady Fortune’s guidance and the blessings of augury in answer to a single question.”
Though trained to refrain from personal judgment, I was pleased to hear such noble purpose. I held my needles ready. “Speak your question.”
“Does anyone in this house pose a threat to our joint enterprise?”
Closing my eyes, I twined my fingers around the needles, detecting their embossed rings and symbols as I considered my master’s request. Then, with all the will I could muster, I yielded my hands and my will to the Lady’s spirit. She filled me like a flagon of mead—heady and sharp—until I lost all sense of myself and existed in some half life that was the both of us. Then I raised the twined needles in the air between my master and me and let them slip one by one from my fingers.
They clicked pleasingly upon each other and the candlelit floor. I bent over and examined the lay, seeking first the obverse end of the Mystery of Jeopardy—the sharp bronze tip that stood for danger. That’s where his answer would lie.
The Lady’s hand could not be more clear. Every other needle centered there.
“See the placement of danger here as a foundation,” I said, showing him.
His head moved to acknowledge me.
Then I touched the intersection of Judgment and Reason. Judgment’s needle—signifying the span between rightness or wrongness—lay centered on the obverse tip of Reason—the impossibility of knowing.
“Among your guests are some who doubt,” I said. “Doubt is ever a danger to bold enterprise and must be soothed or eliminated.”
Next, I showed him where the steeply tilted needle of Relationship—indicating a most significant relationship—rested halfway between Order’s extremes of chaos and structure, while also touching the center of Presence.
“Among your guests—those present in body, as well as those held so deeply in mind that their presence hangs over this gathering, are some with whom you share a strong bond of kinship or fealty or contracted agreement. Yet this bond wavers, for it rests upon this confusion of structure and chaos.” I pointed to the opposing ends of Order’s needle. “To mitigate such a danger—the struggle for commitment between what is sworn and what is needful—requires careful steps.”
One more tangle of needles gave me pause. Unsure of whether I should report it, I glanced up at my master. Behind him the candles wavered as if caught in the breeze of a spirit’s passing. As the light danced, the notion occurred that someone had strayed between the candles and the window. A blink proved it naught but shadows and reflections.
“Have you more to report, Viviana?”
I shook off my distraction. “Nothing else in this casting speaks to a specific threat to this enterprise by anyone in this house.”
Egerik examined my face as if to penetrate my very thoughts. Understanding smoothed the crease in his brow. “Well done. We shall explore your mistress’s deeper advisements later. Snuff the candles and return to your place.”
Cei’s white tunic ghosted through the room, lighting lamps. Lost in my Lady’s work, I had almost forgotten about the men and women in the half circle of chairs. The curly-locked young man squirmed uneasily, the crow-woman sneered in disdain, others gazed, fascinated, at Egerik and me.
As I gathered my needles, blew out the candles, and returned to the lowly footstool, Egerik jumped to his feet with the lightness of a youth. “Do you see why this woman inspires me to draw her under my wing? This group I’ve gathered is ordained by Lady Fortune, bringing no danger to our enterprise, save the most natural. Doubt is to be expected, thus I ask that any of you overly troubled by doubt to consider my offer to be excused without prejudice.”
He extended his hand to the twin bronze outer doors, where Cei waited—hands at his back, elbows wide, eyes down.
“As to uncertain commitment among the oathsworn”—Egerik sobered for the moment—“that is my own trial of conscience. My sworn fealty to Protector Vizio vies with my duty to Mercediare, my ancestral home. I would guess this conflict is reflected in everyone here to some extent. Partnerships, childhood friendships, vows you’ve sworn or inherited vie with your concerns for your own beloved Cantagna. Thus the divination guides me for the evening. I promise that by this gathering’s end, your conflicts shall be resolved and all uncertainty dismissed. If not, we shall call on Viviana again, and you may voice your own questions.”
With a jerk that attracted everyone’s notice, Segnoré di Malavesi of the long curls brushed the broad-shouldered woman’s hand from his arm and rose. “My late father signed this document you wave in our faces, Ambassador di Sinterolla. But as segnoré of House Malavesi, I cannot support it. Who would not prefer Mercediare to be less threatening to our interests? But I cannot be a part of what you offer in exchange for opening our purses and barracks to your plots. To perdition with your tyrant Mistress’s threats. I do not commit my house to dangerous enterprises in response to extortion. I take my leave and encourage the rest of you to the same.”
Though none cheered his words, two others nodded and frowned.
“Vitalo, wait,” drawled the other youngish man of the group, who rose and joined Malavesi. Though his nose was pinched between protruding eyes, his legs were especially long and elegant. “Ambassador, I wish to speak to your diviner. Is that permitted? I’ve wide experience with fortunetellers—from back alleys to courtly houses. I’ve developed a nose for frauds.”
“Certainly, Segnoré di Secchi. Here, Viviana…”
Heart pounding, I rose and joined the two segnori. What did he know of the Lady’s devotions? The powerful so often lived by whim. What if he named me a fraud?
My master remained close by, arms folded across his chest as if watching children at play. The other guests quieted, listening.
“Mistress Viviana.” Secchi’s bow was no more than a twitch. Every one of his fingers was ringed with bands of small gemstones. One of those sparkling fingers lifted my chin.
“You serve Lady Fortune, Mistress?” he said, drawing his narrow lips into a pout. “You feel her power within you? Perhaps in your purse, a little heavier for this refined performance? Or is it your family benefits most—a husband or auntie or father who encourages your grand mockery so as to curry favors with this Mercediaran?” A tweak of his jeweled finger set my sapphire earring dancing. “Perhaps it is Lady Greed you serve.”
Though a believer himself, Egerik made no move to defend me or my Lady from these insults. I must do it myself—but within his rules. So I turned to him and raised my brows in question.
Pleasure graced his pale eyes. “Answer the gentleman, Viviana. Truthfully.”
I returned my attention to the smirking Secchi. “I am a true servant of divine Espe,” I said proudly. “Years of study and preparation have led me to this day, though even when her presence fills my spirit, I am laid bare by astonishment at the blessing of it. My father, the only person in the world who truly cares for me, tried to prevent me heeding her call, fearing the hardships and insults that face one committed to the divine. But I would not forsake my calling, even for him, even for fear of these weighty matters I cannot comprehend. Your slights, grand segnoré, are no more than I deserve for presuming to this life. But I would not recommend that anyone, even one so high-placed as you, insult my Lady mistress.”
Savilli sat down. The others shifted and glanced at each other. The crowlike woman murmured to the curly-locked man, Malavesi, who bit his lip and shook his head vigorously. He was very unhappy. Most of the others appeared to be intrigued. As was I. An assassination pact with none other than the Protector of Mercediare as its target. Egerik must be a brave man even to hold such a document … and clever, too, to use it for his own ends. Perhaps he was trying to save the Protector’s life!
“If anyone wishes to leave…” he said, drawing out the offer.
So was he sincere or laying some kind of trap? I couldn’t tell. The Lady’s concern swirled inside me like the floodwaters of the Venia in the Great Deluge that drowned Cantagna during my childhood.
No one left.
Egerik’s enthusiasm grew. “I take it you are willing to hear more, yes?”
The seven rattled answers all at once. Some eager. Some grudging. Some skeptical. “Aye … Yes, let’s hear it … What do you know of our grievances or ambitions? Assassination is simple; what is this different plan?”
Egerik settled to the elegant chair just beside me and leaned forward, forearms pressed to its carved arms. “Let me speak in metaphor,” he said. “Rather than cutting the mast and figurehead from the pirate ship that is Mercediare, my associates and I prefer to create a fleet of strong, swift, smaller ships that will force the pirates to see the error of their ways. With such a solid bulwark, the pirates might then see fit to accept a new captain who would lead them to honorable prosperity…”
As he continued his persuasion, the meaning of his metaphor sank in. A sworn pledge to assassinate the Protector … but now an alternative plan … shared ambitions … a new captain. Not assassination, yet still a new Protector? An overthrow, then, but perhaps not deadly, though even a lowborn woman knew of Mercediare’s bloody history.
Surely this was the stuff of history. The kind of knowledge that got eavesdroppers dead. How was it that the daughter of a swindler was allowed to witness it? Certain, anyone here could end my life with a fingersnap.
Only one answer came to mind. Ambassador Egerik, a true believer, wanted me to hear these things so I could weave them into my divination. He wished the Lady to guide his enterprise—which was exactly what she had called me to do. If I was to guide significant events, the risks would never be small.
“… your houses have robust treasuries and substantial military cohorts that we could use to outfit the first ship in our mythic fleet. Segnoré di Taglino, as Governor of the Sestorale Prison, controls an especially large and competent brigade, and Segnoré di Berlinguer over here controls barge traffic on the Venia.” Egerik waved the scroll. “In return for this group’s cooperation, I shall destroy this list and remove the most serious obstacles to your personal ambitions. In other words, this first and most important ship in the fleet would be named the Cantagna, and you seven would be its officers.”
For a moment there was silence, and then growing murmurs of appreciation and approval. But the Lady’s elation had cooled.
“Let us be clear, ambassador.” The strong bass timbre that sliced through this swell of interest belonged to the hugely fat man. His sonorous voice was as direct as his gaze. “Our signatures pledged us to fund an assassin, not to supply some sort of martyrs’ brigade to goad Mercediarans into rebellion against Protector Vizio.”
Egerik nodded seriously, yet enjoyment danced about his finely drawn lips and thin nose. His pale blue eyes gleamed. These seven powerful people sat firmly in his thrall.
“Rest easy, Segnoré di Berlinguer,” he said. “No martyrdom is required. Only my own cohorts shall be sent to the southland, not yours or Navilli’s or those of your compatriots here. But I need a safe place for my brothers and sisters in this fight to build strength out of the Protector’s sight. Training from your estimable Gardia, perhaps. Free passage of your docks and roads. Nothing you cannot easily afford.”
The crow woman wagged a finger at the ambassador. “Perhaps a Mercediaran does not realize that we are but seven of twenty-one—not even a majority of the Sestorale.”
“I am well aware of Cantagna’s governance, grand segnora. But you are not just seven individuals, but a consortium of power that has no need of any other. Years of careful observation have revealed the essential leaders amidst your one-and-twenty—as well as those who might be considered … obstacles. Together we can persuade the rest to join this happy arrangement, lest they too become obstacles. Once we’ve supped, I shall demonstrate my personal commitment to this agreement, but before that…”
He stood and offered me his hand. His entire person, body and spirit, voice and manner, changed in that moment. All his hidden glee, all dancing amusement, all pride in his audacity to bring these people into his grand design had vanished. He stood sober. Eager, yes. Greedy, even. But for the Lady’s words. This was how he had appeared yesterday, when my fingers’ blood signaled my Mistress’s intervention. This was Egerik di Sinterolla, the true believer, who had brought me to seek the Lady’s insight into his venture.
“I realize this is unusual for either a feast among friends or a gathering of unexpected allies,” he said. “You may think me childish. But I am a devout man, and when engaging in grand alliances, I do not proceed lightly—a quality prospective partners should appreciate. Thus, I beg your indulgence. Yesterday, Lady Fortune, in an entirely random circumstance, warned me of a specific danger arriving with this evening’s guests. The augury rang so true, parts of it so clearly enmeshed with my plan for this occasion, I could not ignore it. Thus before I divulge the whole of my grand design, I choose to hear a new augury in the presence of those very guests. Before us all, the Lady’s handmaiden—Mistress Viviana of the Nine Mysteries—will cast her needles asking for guidance. Lady Fortune might suggest some adjustment to our plan—or our company.”
“I think we’re all intrigued enough to indulge you, Egerik,” said Savilli, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Whether we are believers in such foolery or not. If you have a true notion of our current obstacles, then you’ll understand that Fortune’s involvement is a necessity to cure them.”
“My servants shall refill your wine and prepare the room. Then we shall begin.”
The guests shuffled and murmured.
With new-lit fire in his pale eyes, Egerik released my hand. “Take your place, Viviana.”
I knelt inside the circle of candles and sat back on my heels, breathing deep and slow to settle my mind.
My master crossed to the great windows, now showing a few scattered lights in the lengthening shadows. He rang the brass handbell from the shelf under the windows. As he returned the bell to the shelf, his hand stopped in mid-motion as if a demon sorcerer had turned him to stone. Only a moment passed until he snatched up something from between the enamelware box and the precisely arranged candle lamps and spun around to face his guests again, his hands tucked away behind his back. Only a person with my perspective—eyes fixed to him from my position near the floor—could have noticed the tremors in those hands, the lack of color in his complexion, or the quick return of discipline to mask … terror?
I quickly averted my gaze. Such a man as my master would not thank me for noticing. But my mind whirled with curiosity. What small thing sitting on a shelf could have caused him such fear?
Mella came in and poured wine. Before she could withdraw, Egerik grabbed her arm and cornered her behind his chattering guests. He showed her whatever he had snatched from the shelf, and she shook her head vigorously. Their postures were so strained, I was surprised he didn’t strike her. When he released her at last, she almost ran from the room. None of the guests noticed.
Meanwhile Cei had doused all but a few of the lamps. Beyond the window glass was moonless evening. He brought me a lit taper and white towel, and then withdrew to his place beside the outer door.
Egerik’s hard gaze followed Cei.
Curious. I’d never seen him give this beautiful servant the smallest glance.
Egerik returned to the circle of guests. “I ask for your consideration as we begin, grand segnori,” he said, as the swollen murmurs died away. His voice had risen a note, as when a string on a vielle is stretched tighter. “Mistress Viviana is not accustomed to such a large audience as she communes with the Lady Espe.”
A snort or two intruded as Egerik gave a brief description of the rite. Non-believers. There were many in the world. Many of these seven would be Academie educated, and philosophists disdained all who approached the Twins with reverence and ritual. They claimed some of us dabbled in sorcery. That was another reason for one like me to seek the protection of a powerful patron. Wealth could add legitimacy to endeavors that powerless poverty would endanger.
As Egerik spoke, Mella returned with ropes of sea lavender and quickly laid them across the latches of the window shutters and over the shelf where Egerik had found whatever disturbed him so. Sea lavender … to protect against malignant spirits …
“Now, Viviana.” Egerik’s command startled me. “Take what time you need to prepare. Let me know when you are ready to begin.”
I acknowledged his command.
To seek my Lady’s voice, I lit the nine candles one by one, shoving concerns of guests and mysteries aside. I pulled the nine slim lengths of bronze from the red silk at my belt. Fingering each needle, I contemplated the Mysteries in turn: Presence, Judgment, Mysticism … all nine of them and their varied manifestations.
“The divine Espe, Lady Fortune, guides my fingers, petitioner. By her hand alone will this casting be done. Humble in the face of her will, serene in the surety of my calling, and steeped in her lore will I venture interpretation.” As I spoke the ritual words, the Lady’s serenity and confidence steadied my soul.
Eager as a beggar at palace door, Egerik knelt facing me across a bare expanse of floor sufficient for a casting. The candles pooled their light between us. Beyond their bright ring the chamber had vanished into darkness. Stillness.
All was ready. I closed my eyes and began.
27
THE DAY OF THE PRISONER TRANSFER
THE HOUR OF GATHERING
First, the invocation: “Sweet Espe, Lady Fortune, daughter of the Unseeable divinities, lay the needles I cast in patterns that speak of this man’s enterprise. Show me your truth and let my tongue provide faithful report of your guidance.”
Next, the invitation: “Petitioner, what do you ask of my Lady?”
“Insight,” said Egerik, solid and sure. “As I embark upon this great venture, pledging life and fortune to the redemption of my beloved Mercediare and a healthy future for this noble city of Cantagna, and seeking the partnership of these noble women and men, I ask for Lady Fortune’s guidance and the blessings of augury in answer to a single question.”
Though trained to refrain from personal judgment, I was pleased to hear such noble purpose. I held my needles ready. “Speak your question.”
“Does anyone in this house pose a threat to our joint enterprise?”
Closing my eyes, I twined my fingers around the needles, detecting their embossed rings and symbols as I considered my master’s request. Then, with all the will I could muster, I yielded my hands and my will to the Lady’s spirit. She filled me like a flagon of mead—heady and sharp—until I lost all sense of myself and existed in some half life that was the both of us. Then I raised the twined needles in the air between my master and me and let them slip one by one from my fingers.
They clicked pleasingly upon each other and the candlelit floor. I bent over and examined the lay, seeking first the obverse end of the Mystery of Jeopardy—the sharp bronze tip that stood for danger. That’s where his answer would lie.
The Lady’s hand could not be more clear. Every other needle centered there.
“See the placement of danger here as a foundation,” I said, showing him.
His head moved to acknowledge me.
Then I touched the intersection of Judgment and Reason. Judgment’s needle—signifying the span between rightness or wrongness—lay centered on the obverse tip of Reason—the impossibility of knowing.
“Among your guests are some who doubt,” I said. “Doubt is ever a danger to bold enterprise and must be soothed or eliminated.”
Next, I showed him where the steeply tilted needle of Relationship—indicating a most significant relationship—rested halfway between Order’s extremes of chaos and structure, while also touching the center of Presence.
“Among your guests—those present in body, as well as those held so deeply in mind that their presence hangs over this gathering, are some with whom you share a strong bond of kinship or fealty or contracted agreement. Yet this bond wavers, for it rests upon this confusion of structure and chaos.” I pointed to the opposing ends of Order’s needle. “To mitigate such a danger—the struggle for commitment between what is sworn and what is needful—requires careful steps.”
One more tangle of needles gave me pause. Unsure of whether I should report it, I glanced up at my master. Behind him the candles wavered as if caught in the breeze of a spirit’s passing. As the light danced, the notion occurred that someone had strayed between the candles and the window. A blink proved it naught but shadows and reflections.
“Have you more to report, Viviana?”
I shook off my distraction. “Nothing else in this casting speaks to a specific threat to this enterprise by anyone in this house.”
Egerik examined my face as if to penetrate my very thoughts. Understanding smoothed the crease in his brow. “Well done. We shall explore your mistress’s deeper advisements later. Snuff the candles and return to your place.”
Cei’s white tunic ghosted through the room, lighting lamps. Lost in my Lady’s work, I had almost forgotten about the men and women in the half circle of chairs. The curly-locked young man squirmed uneasily, the crow-woman sneered in disdain, others gazed, fascinated, at Egerik and me.
As I gathered my needles, blew out the candles, and returned to the lowly footstool, Egerik jumped to his feet with the lightness of a youth. “Do you see why this woman inspires me to draw her under my wing? This group I’ve gathered is ordained by Lady Fortune, bringing no danger to our enterprise, save the most natural. Doubt is to be expected, thus I ask that any of you overly troubled by doubt to consider my offer to be excused without prejudice.”
He extended his hand to the twin bronze outer doors, where Cei waited—hands at his back, elbows wide, eyes down.
“As to uncertain commitment among the oathsworn”—Egerik sobered for the moment—“that is my own trial of conscience. My sworn fealty to Protector Vizio vies with my duty to Mercediare, my ancestral home. I would guess this conflict is reflected in everyone here to some extent. Partnerships, childhood friendships, vows you’ve sworn or inherited vie with your concerns for your own beloved Cantagna. Thus the divination guides me for the evening. I promise that by this gathering’s end, your conflicts shall be resolved and all uncertainty dismissed. If not, we shall call on Viviana again, and you may voice your own questions.”
With a jerk that attracted everyone’s notice, Segnoré di Malavesi of the long curls brushed the broad-shouldered woman’s hand from his arm and rose. “My late father signed this document you wave in our faces, Ambassador di Sinterolla. But as segnoré of House Malavesi, I cannot support it. Who would not prefer Mercediare to be less threatening to our interests? But I cannot be a part of what you offer in exchange for opening our purses and barracks to your plots. To perdition with your tyrant Mistress’s threats. I do not commit my house to dangerous enterprises in response to extortion. I take my leave and encourage the rest of you to the same.”
Though none cheered his words, two others nodded and frowned.
“Vitalo, wait,” drawled the other youngish man of the group, who rose and joined Malavesi. Though his nose was pinched between protruding eyes, his legs were especially long and elegant. “Ambassador, I wish to speak to your diviner. Is that permitted? I’ve wide experience with fortunetellers—from back alleys to courtly houses. I’ve developed a nose for frauds.”
“Certainly, Segnoré di Secchi. Here, Viviana…”
Heart pounding, I rose and joined the two segnori. What did he know of the Lady’s devotions? The powerful so often lived by whim. What if he named me a fraud?
My master remained close by, arms folded across his chest as if watching children at play. The other guests quieted, listening.
“Mistress Viviana.” Secchi’s bow was no more than a twitch. Every one of his fingers was ringed with bands of small gemstones. One of those sparkling fingers lifted my chin.
“You serve Lady Fortune, Mistress?” he said, drawing his narrow lips into a pout. “You feel her power within you? Perhaps in your purse, a little heavier for this refined performance? Or is it your family benefits most—a husband or auntie or father who encourages your grand mockery so as to curry favors with this Mercediaran?” A tweak of his jeweled finger set my sapphire earring dancing. “Perhaps it is Lady Greed you serve.”
Though a believer himself, Egerik made no move to defend me or my Lady from these insults. I must do it myself—but within his rules. So I turned to him and raised my brows in question.
Pleasure graced his pale eyes. “Answer the gentleman, Viviana. Truthfully.”
I returned my attention to the smirking Secchi. “I am a true servant of divine Espe,” I said proudly. “Years of study and preparation have led me to this day, though even when her presence fills my spirit, I am laid bare by astonishment at the blessing of it. My father, the only person in the world who truly cares for me, tried to prevent me heeding her call, fearing the hardships and insults that face one committed to the divine. But I would not forsake my calling, even for him, even for fear of these weighty matters I cannot comprehend. Your slights, grand segnoré, are no more than I deserve for presuming to this life. But I would not recommend that anyone, even one so high-placed as you, insult my Lady mistress.”
