Fires of the Faithful (8 page)

“Just a sprig,” I said.

Giorgi snipped off a piece and gave it to me. I inhaled
the scent—it was delicate and heady all at once, perfect for my plans. “Thank you,” I said.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Giorgi asked.

It occurred to me that if I wanted to ask him to teach me about the Old Way faith, as he was teaching Bella, this was the right time to ask him. We were alone; no one would overhear us. His manner was reserved but kind, and I thought that if I did ask him to teach me, he would probably agree. I knew nothing about the Old Way beliefs, and what I’d overheard Giorgi telling Bella didn’t sound terribly appealing—but there was the
music
. I knew I wanted to know more.

But I was afraid that if I asked, Giorgi would expect me to commit myself to it wholeheartedly, like Bella. And I wasn’t sure I was willing to do that. Besides, Giorgi seemed to believe that just playing the music was a terrible risk, and I suspected that if I asked him to teach me about the Old Way, he would insist that I stop playing the songs. Our subversive little ensemble may have been broken up, but I still played the music on my own. In fact, Mira had taught me the other songs she knew—a song to celebrate the return of spring, a song for safety during childbirth, and a song of praise to God. The music was part of the bond I had with Mira, and I wasn’t giving that up.

“The flower is all that I needed,” I said. “Thank you.”

I wondered, as I walked back from the garden with the jasmine clutched in one hand, if I was playing the tunes the Circle called, after all.

•  •  •

I had intended to find Mira and bring her the jasmine with the line Domenico had suggested in class: “Excuse me, signora, but I believe you dropped this.” I had imagined myself saying it in a husky, deep voice like Mira had used
when teasing me while dancing, and generally playacting the part of a lovesick nobleman. But I couldn’t find Mira, and the longer I looked the more the idea seemed stupid. Still, I had the jasmine, and after asking Giorgi for it, I couldn’t just throw it away. Finally, I went back to our room, left it on her bed, and went to practice.

It was late afternoon, almost time for dinner, when someone knocked on the door of my practice room. I answered it, expecting Bella or Giula, but Mira stood in the doorway, the jasmine in her hand. I fell back a step, not knowing what to say.

“Excuse me, signora,” Mira said. She held the jasmine sprig to her nose and inhaled the scent for a moment. “I believe you must have dropped this.”

I looked down at my feet, then back up at Mira. “Why yes,” I said. “That does look like mine.”

“I’m so glad I was able to return it to you,” Mira said. She took my hand and folded it around the flower. “It’s a lovely flower and it would have been a shame for it to get lost.”

I nodded, not certain of what to say.

“Signora, I was just going to dinner,” Mira said, and struck a gallant pose, offering me her arm. “Would you care to accompany me?”

That was easy. “I’d love to,” I said, and took her arm. And everything was all right again.

D
uring the week before Mascherata, the Midwinter festival, it was bitterly cold. None of us spent more time outside than we had to; even Bella abandoned her usual vigil for the postman. Still, as I huddled next to Mira at the midday meal, cupping my hands around my soup bowl, I was in a good mood. Mascherata, even the watered-down version celebrated by the conservatory, was a fun holiday, with music and dancing. My lesson day fell on Mascherata itself, which meant that Domenico and I would trade places and I would teach the lesson; I was trying to come up with insults to hurl at him if he decided to be a recalcitrant student who didn’t spend enough time practicing.

Then the Dean of the conservatory came out to the center of the dining hall, slamming a staff to the floor for attention. At first I assumed it was the postal delivery—then I saw the two black-clad strangers beside him and felt Mira go rigid beside me.

The Dean’s voice was strangely flat. “This is Father
Cassio and Mother Galeria, from the Sudditi Fedeli della Signora. They have honored us with a visit to observe our celebration of the Mascherata festival.”

The room went suddenly very quiet, as if a dropped wine cup had just shattered on the floor.

“There will be a special chapel service tomorrow morning, in their honor,” the Dean said. “I expect everyone to be there.”

Cassio stepped forward. His hair was black, and he smiled too easily. “We are looking forward to celebrating the Lord’s Victory with you,” he said, and if I hadn’t known what he was, I might almost have liked him. “The Fedeli are making a special trip through Verdia this winter, to pray for the Lady to restore the land. People often greet us with fear, but I hope that you will all soon learn better. As the Lady has told us, ‘Innocence doesn’t need to hide.’ We are the servants of the Lady, here to teach and to encourage. The Lady’s faithful children have nothing to fear from us.”

Cassio and Galeria swept out of the room, the Dean in their wake; there was a sudden hushed burst of conversation, but I didn’t dare say anything. Bella was as white as the winter sky and Giula looked as if she were about to throw up. I gulped down my soup, wondering as I did it if anyone would tell the Fedeli that I was the first to leave the dining hall after they left, as if I had some secret I needed to discuss—but there was no help for it. “Meet in my room,” I whispered. “As soon as you can get there.”

Mira joined me first. She wrapped herself up in her cloak and sat down on her bed. “Have you ever encountered the Fedeli before?” she asked me.

“No. They usually leave Verdia alone. I’ve heard stories about them, of course, but that’s all.” The moral of the stories was always the same: stay on their good side, and if
you can’t, stay out of their way. “You have, though, haven’t you?”

“They’re all over, in Cuore. Like cockroaches, but with black silk robes.”

I smothered my giggle in my cloak. “Be careful, they might hear you.”

“They’re not in the dorm,” Mira said. “They’re in the Dean’s study right now, sitting by a warm fire and drinking hot wine.”

“Are you afraid of them?” I asked.

Mira was silent for a long time. “Of course I’m afraid,” she said. “If the Fedeli find out that I recruited students and taught them an Old Way song—
that’s
what they’re here to find, Eliana. I could be executed. Of course I’m afraid.”

There was a knock at the door—Flavia. She came in and sat down, and Mira fell silent. Flavia tapped her hand lightly against the edge of my bed, drumming out a rhythm as she waited. She gave me a wry smile when she saw me watching. “I’m afraid I’ll tap out an Old Way song without even realizing it,” she said. “I could be betrayed by my own hands.”

“Be careful,” Mira said. “Don’t think they wouldn’t notice.”

Bella arrived next, then Giula, and finally Celia. The room was very crowded, with so many people. I sat beside Mira; Flavia and Bella sat on my bed. Giula and Celia pulled out our work-stools to sit on.

“We have to turn ourselves in,” Celia said as soon as the door was closed. “They’ll go easy on us if we confess, if we’re penitent.”

I looked at Mira. “What will they do if we all turn ourselves in?”

“If you seemed sorry, and did whatever penance they
assigned, you would almost certainly be pardoned,” Mira said.

“What about you?” I asked.

“It’s hard to say. Since I was the instigator, they would probably go harder on me. They would assume that I had been a member of a secret Redentore group before coming here. They would want names.” Mira was next to me, and I could feel the shudder that went through her body. “If I was cooperative, they might choose to show me mercy.”

“What are Redentori?” Flavia asked.

“It’s what the people who practice the Old Way call themselves,” Mira said. She shook her head. “If you think it’s best to turn yourselves in, do it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll run.”

“In winter?” Flavia said. “In weather like this? Even if they don’t catch you, you’ll freeze to death.”

“And if you run, they’ll know you have something to hide,” I said.

“I’ll be all right,” Mira said. She had stopped shaking, and I found myself certain that she was right, that she could run and survive—
but I’d never see you again
, I thought, and found myself desperate to think of another way.

“Then are we agreed?” Celia said. “We turn ourselves in?”

“No,” I snapped. “We aren’t.”

Bella hadn’t said a word, and I turned to her. “What do you think, Bella?”

Very deliberately, Bella said, “I’m not saying anything that
she
can use to curry favor with the Fedeli.” She jerked her head toward Celia. “But I’m not turning myself in. The Fedeli would not find me as repentant as I imagine they would require. And while dying for your faith is an honor, it’s an honor that I would rather forgo.”

“Are you saying I’d turn you in to the Fedeli to make
myself
look
good?” Celia said. Her cheeks flushed as red as if she’d been slapped.

Bella didn’t answer.

Celia’s lips tightened. “If that’s what you think of me, why did you even get me into this?”

“Keep your voices down,” I hissed. “Look. We’re all on the same side. Celia, it’s clear that your plan won’t work—if we go to the Fedeli, it’s entirely possible that Mira and Bella will die. I’m sure you aren’t willing to sacrifice their lives for your own, any more than they’d be willing to let you die to save themselves.”

Celia shook her head.

“Outside of this room, does anyone know we have something to hide?” I asked.

“Giorgi,” Bella said.

“Well,
he
isn’t going to go to the Fedeli and turn us in, is he?” I asked. Bella shook her head. “Then we’re safe as long as we all stand together. The six of us
have
to be able to trust each other.” I crossed my index fingers and held them up. “I swear—”

“Wait,” Mira said. She clasped her hand over mine, and I could feel her shaking again. “The Fedeli will use torture if they suspect that you know something you’re not telling them. Don’t swear an oath that you won’t be able to keep.”

Outside, someone was running down the hallway. It was probably just someone late for a lesson, but the anxious sound of the footfalls made my heart leap into my throat. My own hands shaking, I crossed my fingers again. “I swear that I will not go to the Fedeli to save myself,” I said. “I will not offer to name names, and I will do everything in my power to avoid betraying you.” I kissed my crossed fingers, then added, “I make no promises about what I might say under torture.”

Flavia crossed her fingers and made the same oath; so did Mira. Her hands and voice shaking, Giula did the same. We looked at Bella; Bella looked at Celia.

“I’m not taking an Old Way oath,” Celia said. “That’s a sin in itself.”

“Swear by the Lady, then,” Bella said.

“Take any oath you like,” I said. “Anything we can trust.”

“I’ll give you my word,” Celia said, and tossed her curls back. “I’ll give you my word that I won’t go to the Fedeli to betray you. If that’s not good enough for you—well, keeping this a secret wasn’t
my
idea.” She shoved the stool back under my table, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

We were silent for a moment. Then Bella said, “I’ll give you my oath, now that she’s gone.” From under her robe, she took out a carved wood cross. “I will not betray my faith, nor will I betray any of you,” she said, and kissed the cross. “God will give me the strength I need. She would give you the same strength, too, if you asked and believed.”

“You shouldn’t be wearing that,” I said. “The Fedeli could see it. If they decided to search you—”

“I am in God’s hands,” Bella said, and deliberately tucked the cross back under her robe.

Lady’s tits
, I thought. Given half an excuse, Celia might betray us; given a moment’s bad luck, Bella might betray herself. Flight was looking more and more appealing, but if anyone vanished abruptly, her friends would be investigated and questioned—guaranteeing Bella’s discovery as a secret follower of the Old Way.

Flavia was watching my face, and she gave me a wry smile. “It looks like we’re all in God’s hands,” she said. “Whether we want to be or not.”

That night, Mira and I lay side by side for warmth. “Were you accused of heresy, in Cuore?” I asked her. “Could the Fedeli recognize you?”

“No, I wasn’t accused of heresy. I didn’t have the courage to take these sorts of risks in Cuore,” Mira said. “And I don’t recognize Cassio or Galeria, so I think it’s safe to assume that they don’t recognize me. Cuore is a big city.”

I closed my eyes, though I didn’t feel like sleeping.

“Giorgi was right,” Mira said. “I put all of you in danger, and I should have known better.”

“No,” I said.

“I didn’t think that the Fedeli would ever come here—to the province of war and famine, desperation and starvation. The Fedeli like the comforts of Cuore. I thought that here, if nowhere else, would be a safe place to play that music.”

I slipped my arms around Mira, cradling her like a cat, but she refused to be comforted.

“You haven’t ever seen someone die from fire, have you?” Mira asked after a little while.

“No,” I said.

“I have,” Mira said. She was quiet again, then added, “It’s a terrible way to die. People scream until the smoke chokes them. Flesh doesn’t burn easily—it takes a lot of wood. There’s a square in Cuore where the Fedeli execute unrepentant heretics; it smells like cooked rotten meat. I wandered there by accident once, and I had nightmares for weeks.”

“Don’t think about it,” I said, stroking Mira’s hair. Mira smelled a little like smoke, because of her candles, but it was a delicate smoke, not like the smell of greasy meat that came from the kitchen on festival days. “Everything will be all right.”

Mira nodded wordlessly.