The
Battle Begun: Sigourney ca’Ludovici
COMMANDANT ALERON CA’GERODI STOOD before Sigourney
and the rest of the Council of Ca’ in armor spattered with blood,
his helm dented by a sword strike, his face coated with mud, soot,
and gore. “I’m sorry, Kraljica, Councillors,” he said. His voice
was as exhausted as his stance. “We could not hold them . .
.”
Ca’Mazzak hissed like
a steam kettle too long over the fire. Sigourney closed her eye.
She took a long breath, full of soot and ash, and coughed. Her
lungs were full of the stench. She opened her eye again. Through
the haze of smoke, she could see the ruins of the palais, parts of
it still actively burning. She and the Council had taken refuge in
the Old Temple, which despite the shattered dome, was still largely
intact. The main nave was packed with the treasures of the palais:
paintings (including the charred one of Kraljica Marguerite),
gold-and-silver place settings, the ceremonial clothes, the staffs
and crowns worn by a hundred Kralji—they were all here, though
much—too much—had been lost in the blaze. Sigourney sat on the Sun
Throne at the entrance to the dome chamber, though if the throne
were alight, it was not apparent in the brightness of the sun
through the great hole torn in the dome. The sun mocked her,
shining bright in a cloudless sky.
One of the attendants
handed her a goblet of the cuore della
volpe to ease the coughing and the pain. She sipped at the
cool liquid, though it was brown and cloudy in the golden
cup.
“How bad is it?” she
asked.
“We managed to halt
their advance finally,” ca’Gerodi told her. “They didn’t reach the
Avi a’Parete, but they have most of the streets to the west of it
on the North Bank. They have the village of Viaux. There was a
fierce battle near the River Market and for a time they held it,
but we pushed them back. I’ve moved a battalion to protect the
Pontica Kralji, but that’s left the Nortegate area more open than I
would like.”
The councillors
muttered to themselves. “This is unacceptable,” ca’Mazzak said,
more loudly.
“Then perhaps you
should have left Commandant cu’Ulcai alive,” Sigourney told the
man. “Or would you care to take up the sword yourself?” Ca’Mazzak
grumbled and subsided. Ca’Gerodi seemed to waver on his feet, and
Sigourney motioned to one of the servants to bring a chair; the man
sank gratefully onto the cushioned seat, uncaring of the filth he
smeared on the brocade. “What are you telling me, Commandant?”
Sigourney asked him. “That tonight they will set the rest of the
city on fire, that tomorrow they will overrun us entirely? You said
that you had more than enough men. You said that—”
“I know what I said,”
he interrupted, then—as Sigourney snapped her mouth shut at his
rudeness—seemed to realize what he’d done and shook his head.
“Pardon me, Kraljica; I haven’t slept since the night before last.
But yes, that’s exactly what I fear: that tonight will bring more
of the Westlanders’ awful fire, and that when they attack tomorrow
. . .” He brought his head up, gazing at her with eyes sagging and
brown. “I will give my life to protect Nessantico, if that is what
is required.”
“Aleron . . .”
Sigourney started to push up from the Sun Throne, forgetting for a
moment her injuries, then fell back. The movement caused her to
cough again. The councillors watched her. She knew now what she
must do, and the realization burned at her, as painful as her
wounded body. “Go. Get what rest you can, and we will deal with
whatever tonight and tomorrow bring. Go on. Sleep while you can . .
.”
Ca’Gerodi rose and
saluted her. Limping, he left the room. When he’d gone, Sigourney
gestured to one of the servants. “Bring me a scribe,” she told him.
“And I will also need a rider—the best we have—to take a message
east to the Hïrzg.”
The servant’s eyes
widened momentarily, then he bowed and hurried away.
“Kraljica,” ca’Mazzak
said. “You can’t—”
“We have no choice,”
she told him, told all of them. “No choice. This is no longer about
us.”
Sigourney leaned back
against the cushioned seat of the Sun Throne; it smelled of
woodsmoke. It smelled of defeat.