Ascendant's Rite (The Moontide Quartet) (61 page)

‘You need to go barefoot more often, Staria,’ she called teasingly; her own feet were deeply tanned.

‘I don’t go barefoot outside for just anyone, Elena,’ Staria replied with crotchety amusement.

‘Oh, I do it all the time,’ she replied. ‘I’ll always be a country girl.’

Staria raised an eyebrow at that, then introduced her party: Leopollo, an impossibly gorgeous young man wearing a waistcoat over a bare upper torso and Keshi pantaloons, as if this was a Pallacian pantomime. The other man had a shaven skull and a black goatee: Capolio, her spiritus contact. The young woman with the burly frame and pugnacious face was Kordea, Staria’s adopted daughter; she was the only one exuding any hostility.

Elena began her introductions. ‘Staria, this is Cera Nesti, the Queen-Regent of Javon.’

Cera was clad in violet beneath a black bekira-shroud. ‘We met in Brochena,’ she said to Staria; ‘at the Beggars’ Court.’ Her eyes trailed coldly over Leopollo.

Elena recalled belatedly that there had been bad blood over an incident in Cera’s ‘Beggars’ Court’; while she empathised with Cera’s point of view, this meeting couldn’t be allowed to descend into wrangling over the past. ‘This is Comte Piero Inveglio,’ she said quickly. ‘He is also a regent, and represents the interests of many nobles, as well as having decades of experience in public affairs.’

‘Please, I feel old just hearing about me,’ Inveglio said modestly.

‘And this is Kazim Makani. He’s mine,’ Elena added drily.

Leopollo purred appreciatively, but Staria’s eyes narrowed and she went still. ‘He’s a Souldrinker!’

‘El es un
Diablo
?’ Leopollo gave a startled yelp.

‘Yes. And still mine,’ Elena replied. ‘Is that a problem?’

Staria looked genuinely shocked, but after a moment she said, ‘Clearly it isn’t to you, Elena.’

‘No, it’s not. You’re seeing his aura. Now look at mine.’

Staria’s group engaged gnostic sight and peered at her intently, then as one they gasped. She knew what they were seeing: tendrils of gnostic light joining the two of them, so many it was as if they were almost the same being.

‘Yes,’ Elena confirmed, ‘you are seeing right: to put it simply, we share my gnostic energies. Kazim hasn’t needed to kill to replenish his powers since first we found love.’ She let them digest that revelation, then said, ‘Shall we continue?’ She pointed to blankets that had been spread across the ground. ‘I’m sorry, but we’ll have to sit cross-legged. Our skiff wasn’t big enough to bring chairs and tables.’

‘It’ll help keep the negotiations brief,’ Inveglio remarked with a grimace.

‘Si,’ Staria chuckled, ‘I have no more padding on my arse than you do, Comte Inveglio.’

They sat, all of them looking wary, then Elena and Staria quietly set wards down the middle, enough to weaken any surprise attack and alert all present of any gnostic movements; a sensible precaution for both sides, although she didn’t detect any ill-will here.

‘So,’ Staria Canestos began, ‘let me state my interest in talking to you plainly, so there are no misunderstandings. Likely Elena will have told you all about my legion, but if not . . .’ She looked at Cera Nesti frankly. ‘You know, but perhaps the Comte doesn’t: many of my legion are frocio: homosexuals. My father recognised during a recruitment crisis that there are many of them, but they were being driven out of other legions. He let it tacitly be known that any such men wouldn’t be punished in his legion, that their desires would be treated as normal. The response was overwhelming: he was flooded with recruits seeking to escape persecution, men and women both, enough that he soon commanded two legions, not one. It was a condition of inheriting his legion that I continue that legacy.’ She looked at each of Elena’s party. ‘I see you all know this already? Good. It will make our discussions more straightforward.’

‘Knowing is not approving,’ Piero Inveglio replied. If the deeply conservative Sollan couldn’t be persuaded to hear Staria out, there was no sense in taking the idea back to the full Regency Council. That was why Elena wanted him here.

‘Of course,’ Capolio put in, ‘but something disapproved of can still be tolerated, under law and in the breach.’

‘Our laws are a blend of Amteh and Sollan, and statutes devised by our Rimoni ancestors,’ Cera said. ‘Of course, I was recently stoned to death for contravening those very laws,’ she added drily. ‘Miraculously, I survived.’

Staria chuckled. ‘A miracle indeed. But my people live every day with that threat. They all know that capture in battle will bring them a fate worse than death.’

‘Why are you in Javon, Staria?’ Elena broke in.

‘Because Gurvon Gyle promised us a place where we could live free,’ Leopollo blurted. ‘
These
lands.’

‘Our lands,’ Cera and Piero said in unison.

‘We’re not welcome anywhere,’ Kordea said in a surly voice. ‘Wherever we go, someone will try and “cleanse” us. Javon seems as good a place as any.’ She set her jaw defiantly.

Staria raised her hand placatingly. ‘As my children say, we wanted a place where we could be ourselves. Javon sounded good, at least the way Gurvon described it. But it doesn’t look so good now.’

‘There’s a lot of empty land in this world,’ Piero Inveglio noted. ‘Even in Estellayne, I warrant.’

‘That’s true in principle, but oddly enough, any viable bit of soil is immediately claimed by someone with an army and a holy book,’ Staria replied. ‘Anyway, we’re soldiers, not farmers – we can protect land, but we wouldn’t have a clue how to till it.’

‘Javon belongs to the Javonesi,’ Cera said carefully. ‘Like any people, it is down to us to decide who dwells in our lands.’ She raised her hand. ‘And before you protest that Piero and I are Rimoni and therefore also settlers, yes, of course that is so, but we were both born in Javon, and most Rimoni alive today in Javon were as well. Many, like myself, are of mixed blood: we
belong
here. My point is,’ she went on, jabbing her finger fearlessly at the magi facing her, ‘that we claim the right to approve settlers. For now, you don’t have that approval.’

‘We’re not easy to chase away,’ Leopollo boasted. Kordea nodded in agreement.

‘Neither are we,’ Cera replied steadily. ‘Hans Frikter would attest to that.’

‘You talk big, for someone with no gnosis,’ Kordea sniffed.

‘And you talk too much for someone with nothing to say,’ Cera flashed back.

‘Peace!’ Staria snapped at Kordea. ‘The Queen-Regent is right: don’t speak unless you’ve something constructive to say.’ The young woman lowered her eyes sulkily, glowering at Cera.

Elena suppressed a smile, remembering when she’d been much the same.

‘How is Hansi?’ Staria asked Elena.

‘He’s alive – Chained, but well enough treated. His wounds are healing, but he’s lost a hand.’

‘The sword hand or the drinking hand?’

‘Drinking.’

‘Oh dear – that’s serious.’ She winked at Elena, visibly seeking to reduce the growing tension.

Elena played along. ‘Ah, don’t worry about Hansi; he’s become ambidextrous – he’s drinking us out of beer with his sword hand alone.’

Staria smiled, then turned back to Cera. ‘May I go on? I was speaking of why I requested this meeting. Three things have happened recently that have caused me grave disquiet. The first was your stoning, Queen-Regent. Though we now know it was a ruse, I didn’t like that Gurvon Gyle had the leading clergy eating out of his hand enough for them to assemble a vicious and bloodthirsty mob with the intention of stoning to death a woman most of the people of this country clearly revere – and for the very crime my people commit every night they can manage. That disturbs me greatly.’

Elena could only agree. Cera, sitting beside her, flinched visibly at the memory, and Piero Inveglio looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘The Sollan faith doesn’t condemn people to death for such crimes,’ Piero replied defensively.

Staria gave him a withering look. ‘The Sollan are no less cruel to frocio, Comte: solitary imprisonment in a convent or a monastery for the rest of one’s life is death of a different kind, would you not agree? Which is better, a quick death or a slow one? We don’t differentiate between religions: all the gods condemn my children.’

‘It breaks our hearts,’ Capolio added. ‘I’m a devout worshipper of Kore, like most Estellani, but because of our . . .
difference
 . . . we’re forbidden to worship.’

‘But you choose to do these things,’ Piero argued. ‘You could choose not to.’

Elena saw Cera frown, but Staria’s party all curled their lips.

‘“Choose”?’ Capolio shook his head. ‘With respect, Comte, I tell you this: we would love to be “normal”, but our minds and bodies are not, and it was Kore himself who made me this way! In the same way you are stirred by a pretty woman, I’m stirred by a handsome man – it’s been that way all my life. I can’t change. I don’t know how to.’

Inveglio still looked sceptical. ‘I’ve heard the arguments, Magister, but I’m not convinced. Both Kore and Sollan teachngs say the pleasures of lovemaking are the reward for accepting the responsibility of bringing new life into the world. To take that pleasure without even the intention of accepting the divine task it entails? That is wrong. It is like theft.’

Capolio’s face darkened. ‘I have heard those bigoted arguments, Comte! I say—’

‘Enough, Capolio,’ Staria interjected. ‘We’re not here to debate these matters. Hearts aren’t changed by words.’ She looked intently at Cera. ‘I spoke of three things that have disturbed me: the stoning was one. The second was, of course, the battle last week at Forensa. Gurvon brought us here with the promise of easy victories, but your people have shown their teeth. I have heard the reports: a whole city fighting as one, and magi of the Ordo Costruo aiding them. Mine is a mercenary company. We fight for winners, because only winners can pay us. Despise that if you will, but the defeated make poor debtors.’

‘The Nesti have never hired mercenaries,’ Piero told her in a disdainful voice. ‘We’ve always known your worth on the battlefield.’

‘You fight us, you’ll learn our worth,’ Kordea growled back.

Staria’s eyes flashed impatiently. ‘Kordea,
contribute
, or remain silent.’

‘But—’

‘Or go and sit in the skiff.’

The young woman pressed her lips firmly together, glaring.

Elena met Staria’s eyes.

Staria replied, then the wards flared at their gnosis use and as one they both cried, ‘Sorry!’

‘Don’t do that,’ Kazim grumbled. ‘I thought I needed to kill someone.’

‘Think you’re good enough, Diablo?’ Leopollo enquired.

‘Easily,’ Kazim replied, his weight shifting subtly.

Why do young men always do this?
Elena shifted her gaze to Kordea.
And certain young women.
‘I wish we hadn’t brought the children,’ she said to Staria. ‘They’re spoiling our picnic.’

Kazim threw her a wounded look, and she winked.

Staria grinned crookedly. ‘I rather think yours is more than a child, hmm?’

Elena brought them back to the question at hand. ‘So, Forensa made you think twice. Good! But what’s your third concern about Gurvon? I can think of
thousands
.’

‘The Harkun. My children have been stationed at the Rift Forts for months now. We’ve seen the Harkun up close, and whatever the rights and wrongs of their plight, letting them onto the upper plateau is sheer folly. But Gyle now wants me to abandon the Rift Forts and march to join his army.’

Inveglio looked sick. ‘But the Harkun will run amok – we’d have to send men . . .’ His voiced tailed off.

‘Which is exactly what he wants,’ Cera concluded. ‘He knows that we’d either have to abandon the Forts and let the Harkun come, or divide our forces to man them, and either move would be disastrous for us.’ She gazed steadily at Staria. ‘Gyle is stringing you along, Senora Canestos. You know this, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You’re reconsidering your loyalties, but you want to know two things:
can
the Nesti win, and will we
tolerate
your differences afterwards? Those are the essential questions, are they not?’

Staria glanced at Elena. ‘Maybe I should have adopted this one.’

Leopollo and Kordea pulled identical pouts.

‘The answer to the first question is: yes, we can win, with or without you.’ Cera’s voice was firm and assured, which impressed Elena. You had to make statements like that with complete certainty.

She’s so good at this now. Urte really is her stage.

‘As for the second point,’ Cera said, ‘I remember a case in the Beggars’ Court of Brochena, last year.’ She jabbed a finger at Leopollo. ‘I remember
you
. A young woman allowed her family to sacrifice her to protect her brother, whom
you
had seduced. There was nothing I could do about it, and you did nothing to prevent it.’

The young man hung his head. ‘That was . . . unfortunate. It wasn’t meant to happen that way.’ He looked to his mother for support. ‘What could I do? It shouldn’t even be a crime!’

‘But it is,’ Cera said tersely. ‘You used your protected status to prey on him, then he blamed the girl. You destroyed that family thoughtlessly with your lustful whim, and yet you demand the right to be protected.’ She glared at Leopollo until he squirmed and looked away. She turned back to Staria. ‘There’s a middle ground, Senora Canestos. If we’re to work together, we need to find it.’

‘Fair enough – but I swear, for every one case like that you trot out, I’ll throw ten straight back at you!’

‘Then we’ll both deal with it, when we can. If we’re to tolerate your people, be tolerable! I’m not saying I don’t sympathise, but most of my subjects are uneducated and conservative, and I must heed them. The equality you seek isn’t possible here, but something approaching it might be.’

Comte Inveglio looked increasingly uncomfortable. ‘This matter has not been discussed in Council,’ he reminded Cera.

‘I know, Piero. All I’m saying to Senora Canestos is that I’m willing to contemplate matters that others might not, such as the thought that frocio are born, not made. I’m also willing to contemplate that perhaps love between two of the same gender, provided they are old enough to understand what they are doing, isn’t wrong. But I’m fully aware that neither civil nor religious laws agree.’