XXVI. Five Women (2)
Jelila Kane
Rome, Italie
I. 13 of May 1931
I arrived in Roma on a warm June morning, in the company of Isaac Jacobi. We were the two experts sent by the 4th Nome for the negotiations. Iskandar often relied upon us in this kind of delicate matters. Few magicians at the Jerusalem Nome were studying genealogy and families' history, and all the magicians from the 200th Nome, Vatican City were involved in the Italian conflict. Though I was one of the youngest members of my Nome, and was now used to field missions. Last year, I had been sent to Mexico and in Rio de Janeiro. I now had some experience in solving the House's internal conflicts. Though, neither in Brazil nor in Mexico, had I dealt with other Pantheons.
I was quite thrilled actually. Chief Lector Iskandar specially asked for my presence. This was also an opportunity unlike any other to start investigating my father's murder. The headquarters of the Italian Nome had been deserted since Voiello's death, but the magical fences were still standing. Jacobi and I joined the chief Lector in one of the empty building's private rooms.
There was some tension hanging in the air when I entered the room. Iskandar was sitting in front of a dark-haired man, with sun-tanned skin and black almond eyes, who looked kind of pissed off. The Chief Lector smiled and welcomed us:
"Jelila, dear, welcome. Is it your first time in Italy?"
I nodded. He sighed.
"I'm afraid you won't have a lot of time to get familiar with the country. I will need you right away."
He introduces me to the man on his left:
"This is Michel Desjardins, head of the 125th Nome. You are both going to Sicilia he said. There were some movement of troops towards Palermo. Several clashes were reported as well. I want you to investigate and tell me exactly what it is. You will also meet with the Sforza forces gathered there and bring them to the negotiation table.
– I thought they were still in Napoli?
– Some are. But most of their strength have moved to Palermo and the Aeolian islands.
– What about the Bellini, Chief Lector?" I dared ask.
He cast me an exhausted look.
"I shall go to Venice myself, and speak to Lucrezia. She will obey me now." He became silent for a time, apparently lost in his thoughts. Then he added:
"You will probably meet with other Pantheons as well. Be cautious. Desjardins is used to this kind of situations, trust his judgement."
The man didn't seem pleased. Iskandar carried on:
"You'll also take Berenice Koité with you. None of you are combat magicians. She'll find you on the road. Off you go now. Jacobi, a word please…"
Fucking great. I left the room alongside the French guy.
"I am…
– I know who you are, he just said.
– None of us is happy to be stuck here, so let just end this business as fast as we can.
– Agree, he sighed.
– Do you speak Italian?
– I do.
– How come you've learned…" Not asking this question.
"Let's just hurry up, would you?"
We decided to take the train to Napoli, and there, to catch the ferry for Palermo. It was much safer than a portal. Most of those had been trapped by Girolamo Sforza, a statuary magician, specialist in travelling magic, to prevent the Bellini from using them. The thought of ending up accidently burned alive wasn't really thrilling.
We went straight to the station. I let Desjardins buy the tickets. He was dressed in a grey linen stripped suit. I wore a long blue skirt with a white shirt and a large brimmed hat. We were probably an odd couple, as people gave us curious glances. That was, until I realized, that they were actually looking at me. With my dark skin and slanting eyes, I got a lot of weird looks. Not that I wasn't used to it of course.
Finally we caught the first train to Napoli. He stayed silent during most of the way, which felt nice. Actually, were both amazing at not talking. I studied him with curiosity. He was looking out the window, lost in his thoughts. My father had grown quite obsessed with him in his last years. Could be a lead. He was everything my family hated: low born, decadent, and amoral, in good terms with Russians, and had close relationships with a lot of Setian magicians. The fact that he was famous as the man who stopped Sekhmet (which was probably a fraud, considering the fact that he was a lousy combat magician) didn't help things.
According to Hannibal, he was a decent elementalist though. Not great, but better than most, especially at the French Nome. Well, this is not hard to achieve, European elementalists are the worst, except in Russia of course.
I got bored and tried to talk to him, after we reached Cassino:
"How do you manage to rule over Sarajevo? Alone?
– Got some help, he remained allusive.
– We were expecting you to fail.
– I know, he said. That's why I didn't."
Koité joined us in Caserta, and the weirdness increased. I knew Koité a bit, and she didn't like me. I think she disliked most of the Kane. Apparently she wasn't fond of Desjardins either. This is going to be such a nice trip! So much fun!
Berenice Koité was absolutely stunning. Dark black skin like Jabari's, big angry eyes, shaved head, a golden nose ring, something cat-like in her way of moving. Her last name suggested that she was from a griot Malian family, though I was pretty sure she never served in the 30th Nome of Timbuktu. I supposed she was a trained combat magician. She was dressed like a man, which was technically illegal.
According to the rumours, she was a trained god-huntress. They were few and usually only served for a century or two. Nina Menshikova was a famous one, though she was kind of retired now. She famously blasted Set back into Duat during the Boxers Revolt in 1901, after having tracked him down throughout Asia. Cesare Bellini used to serve as a god-hunter as well, which wasn't really comforting, knowing that he was roaming the country with his sons, and that we might have to confront him. The most famous of them was probably Kosso Awad, an old Chadian warrior and the head of the Ndjamena Nome.
My family wasn't really fond god-hunters, though they respected them. We were more into policing rebels and rogue magicians. I'd heard that my uncle Thomas Huysmans, Satamon's husband, used to be one of them, though he kept quiet about it. Well, to be fair, he always kept quiet around my relatives. I still hadn't visited them in Louisiana, like I intended to.
"Have you ever killed a man?" She asked me suddenly.
I hadn't. I realized she'd also been studying me. We were standing on the platform, waiting for the train to leave.
"Never had the misfortune, I said.
– And Iskandar sent you? You're a baby!"
Desjardins rolled his eyes.
"Killing is not a proof of maturity, Berenice.
– I didn't mean this. There will be some fighting. What will she do? Is she reliable at all?
– Jesus, you lectured me for hours about how mean, and fierce, and powerful the Kane were. We'll be fine.
– Save me your optimistically careless rants. Too much is at stake here.
– You are supposed to be the bodyguard, so just figure something out. Security is your concern, not mine.
– Well thank you so much for your investment and support.
– You're welcome."
He lit a cigarette. Koité hissed in return:
"Why do you always have to smoke so much?
– It calms my nerves."
To her greatest dismay, I lit a cigarette too. She rolled her eyes and went back inside.
"Also it keeps the naggers away, he added."
I chuckled. He relaxed and I thought one minute about the beauty of having a common foe. We smoke in silence, after that.
"So how do we do it? I said. How do we convince the Sforza to back to the negotiation table?
– No idea. You do the negotiation part. I have a man to hunt.
– Alright then. What about Koité?
– Koité… he began, Koité is here to watch over us. In every sense."
I thought about Hannibal. Iskandar is more concerned with his own plots and schemes than with the welfare of this house. I disagreed, but the thought that Koité was just here to report to the Chief Lector made me uncomfortable. Can't he trust us? We got back on the train and joined Berenice.
"Did they do it?" I asked the two of them. "The Bellini. Did they kill Voiello?"
I just needed the confirmation. Desjardins nodded.
"There is no way they should ever get to rule this Nome then!"
I couldn't understand why Iskandar wouldn't put them all behind bars. They had proven themselves felons.
"Careful, said Koité, don't talk like that in front of Sforza, they might understand that you support them, or worse, that the First Nome isn't impartial."
"Can't Iskandar just arrest them? We arrested lots of them in 1921.
– I don't know, said Desjardins. They have dangerous allies."
Koité sneered. "Iskandar has in mind the bigger picture. They are actually quite loyal to the House. They only stir trouble when it comes to Sforza. Also, they keep all of the other chaos magicians in line."
She reflected for a moment and added.
"Sforza and Bellini are equal in numbers. They will carry on fighting until there is a difference significant enough to allow a new head of Nome to be elected."
That's what my father had said when he persuaded us to ally ourselves to them. For a Kane, he wasn't so adamant about slaying Setians. According to my mother, he used to persecute them, we all did, but something in his youth made him change his mind about the whole "opposing chaos magicians" stuff. But lowborn rogues? This was good game for him. I shot a glance at Desjardins. He was still serving in the Fourteenth Nome when my father's death happened. During the last century, my family had taken care of most of Champollion's runts. As I just said, we were good at silencing Rogue magicians. The Fourteenth, according to the events of the late century, was lame at it.
When we arrived in Napoli, Koité left us in at the train station. She had some business to attend to:
"I have to meet someone first, then send a message to the Chief Lector. You go and buy tickets for the ferry."
We didn't ask her any questions. We were all used to working for the Chief Lector and knew questions were not welcome. It was better that we all ignored our personal side missions. Napoli was a beautiful city. I was admiring the view while waiting for Desjardins to buy tickets when someone called me:
"Che ci fai qui ragazza?"
I turned around, a man was standing in front of me, tall, in a form. He stroke my cheek with his gloved finger. I straightened. I hated being touched. Especially without my permission. The man was a tall militiaman. Might be a Roman, I tensed.
"Questo è piuttosto un uccello esotico che hai qui."
He addressed someone behind me. Desjardins had just joined us.
"Non voglio problemi, signore." He said and put a hand on my shoulder.
"No?
– Lei è mia moglie.
– Più probabilmente la tua puttana, non è vero, signore?"
I straitened. My Italian was basic, but still I understood the world "puttana". My hand reached my wand in the Duat and I prepared myself. His grip on me tightened as a warning. If it's a fight you want, I'll give you one. This place was really beginning to piss me off.
"Di dove sei, straniero?
– Francia. Viene dalle colonie. Dahomey."
They stayed silent for a minute, eyes locked, then, finally, the man shrugged and let go.
"Nazione decadente, he muttered. Fortunatamente, le cose stanno cambiando qui."
His hand let go of me. I took a deep breath. Humiliation was still burning my cheeks.
"I thought he was a Roman.
– Same, he answered.
– It would almost make the anti-fascist pagan league look nice, I joked.
– It certainly does, he muttered. Come, we still have to negotiate safe travel with harbour's nymphs."
White people at the Per Ankh weren't like most mortals. After all, they had to work under Iskandar's command for millennia. Of course, there were still a lot of tensions, but nothing comparable to this. For our life spans, colonization was a recent phenomenon. I had spent so much time with magicians, I had almost forgotten how wicked it was outside. I then remembered how my relatives used to deal with it.
"Couldn't you mind-manipulate them? I asked.
– No, he said. I have no idea how you do that."
That was stupid of me to ask. This kind of charm speak was the appanage of ancient bloodlines.
"You never heard about it?
– I do, I even saw people do it. I always assumed it had something to do with animal-charming magic. You just substitute the human to the animal. It must be extremely difficult, even on untrained common people.
– It is, I said."
My uncle was an expert at it. I wasn't, though I promised myself to try again. Koité found us.
"Something happened?
– Nothing unusual, I shrugged.
– Bartolomeo Sforza is dead." She announced.
I hid a smile. I never liked the man. He decided to join the Hogan. He didn't took part in the fight, though, he was already ailing. Desjardins asked:
"Is Azzio Sforza in charge then?
– Yes. We'll find him in Palermo."
I cursed. Azzio was a bloodthirsty maniac. And a close friend of Voiello. Our chances to bring him to the negotiation table were much tinier.
II. 14 of May 1931
Trouble found us as soon as we set foot on Sicilian soil. Azzio and the other Sforza were at the Palazzo Mirto. We headed there. Koité and Desjardins started a fight in French on the road, and for once I wasn't exactly fluent, which was a blessing, because I was getting fed up. I only caught some words like "Nome", "Celts" or "Iskandar". Funny, usually I am bust-up specialist. After my last family party, my uncle and I had two other major fights. After one of them, he wanted to use his authority as head of house to kick me out of the family, until Satamon and Sohan managed to convince him otherwise.
I looked around nervously. Palermo was magnificent sure, but its narrow stone streets were making me paranoid. I felt as though someone was watching me. It wasn't an impression. The shock was so brutal that it threw me on the ground. What has just happened?
With an angry shout, Koité was already throwing herself into battle. She slashed a dark silhouette with a Khopesh. Everything was moving too fast. I stood up. Desjardins immediately grabbed me by the neck and threw me to the ground again, which allowed me to avoid a fiery snake. Koité was fighting two people at the same time. I stood up again. A man, wearing a black shirt was facing me. Ha-di I yelled. Nothing happened. I blinked. I said it again and watched my hieroglyph glowing weakly and disappearing in the air. What saved me was that he was actually looking at Desjardins, as if he knew him. This one threw a knife at him before he could move. Back shirt avoided it and tackled him against the wall. I was about to help, when someone began to sing.
One man was standing a little behind. Golden signs were circling around him as he sang and sang, and my limbs went all feeble and weak. Act, I said. My eyelids started to close on their own. I blinked. Black shirt had a bad wound on the side of his head. Apparently Desjardins had decided that the singer was a bigger threat and was moving towards him. I heard another singing. Berenice was trying to oppose the song magic. At last, Desjardins cut the man's throat. Koité fell on the ground, all bloodied, clutching her side. Black shirt was nowhere to be seen.
We dragged Koité to the Palazzo Mirto. Livia Sforza helped us inside. She was an experimented sunu magician and immediately started tending to Berenice's wounds. Desjardins was speaking to her brother Horatio in the meantime. I felt quite useless. I couldn't understand why my spells hadn't work on them.
"Our magic doesn't work well on them, explained Koité later. But you're a Kane, couldn't you just fight them back with a weapon?"
Well, neither my father, nor my uncle, nor my grandfather would ever let me wield a sword.
"I'm a woman, I said.
– What a pathetic excuse!" she answered angrily.
Koité was perhaps the most amazing fighter I'd ever seen. I left the room, ashamed. Desjardins smiled gently at me.
"You're a scientist, not a fighter. They are worse things than not being able to wield a khopesh, he told me.
– Oh, shut up!
– Shutting up, he agreed."
He went back inside Koité's room. He joined me later in the evening with a plate of fish and vegetables. I was sitting in the courtyard, still angry at myself.
"Eat." He told me.
I thanked him. We ate in silence.
"Do you know anything about Celts? I asked him.
– My old master was liaising with them, I would often follow him to Brittany or Bibracte. I never fought them, though. Just shared some ale.
– Who was he? Your master?
– Well, his name was Erwan Le Bihan.
– Never heard of him. Just an insignificant elementalist I suppose."
I hoped I'd make him angry, and I almost did. But he restrained himself and shrugged:
"He is a good friend, and a brave man. He saved my life during war, carrying a message behind the lines. Doing magic is extraordinary by itself. Some people can kill more people than others using it, and so? Doesn't make them more useful or respectable.
– No, it just makes the others weaker, I snarled.
– It's not necessarily a bad thing, weakness.
– Yes it is. Weak means you'll let people do horrible things to you and your people."
I was a Kane woman, and gods, I hated being this weak.
"Weakness is unbearable, I added.
– You can't control things though. Some may happen anyway: war, grief, pain."
He'd spoken with the calm confidence. Nothing we do will really keep the evil at bay, I realized. I tried to protest, though I somehow agreed with him.
"We should be able to escape it, build ourselves a world where everything lasts forever. Magic can do that"
I was dreaming aloud now.
"You've read too much Plato, he smiled."
Oh I did. My secret sin: Greek philosophers. I'd read them all in secret when I was thirteen, after my grand-father declared it was garbage. Greeks were a dangerous bunch, their ideas went against most of our traditional values, like obedience and faith.
"This is not Plato's world. His world is elsewhere. Somewhere green plane trees grow and people talk of art and poetry drinking wine under arbours.
– A plane tree?
– It's in the Phaedrus.
– I had almost forgotten you were an elementalist, I laughed. Who reads philosophy looking for trees species?"
Actually, now I had no trouble imagining him as a peaceful guy, growing flowers in his garden and brewing his ale. There was some kind of contradiction with his reputation. He reminded of my mom, which felt extremely strange, considering that he was, well Desjardins. But she too loved her plants and her poetry books, and looking at the rain out the window for hours.
"We don't all have the luxury to just sit and watch the world crash and burn around. We've got work to do. And this day, I wasn't great at it, I added bitterly.
– You failed one combat because you had never met a druid before and now you are blaming yourself for everything in the world. It's a bit extreme, isn't it? You're like Koité, hard on yourself, and then on everyone around.
– You talk like a woman, I hissed.
– Oh, was that an insult? Coming from whom?"
I blushed and went back to my fish.
"I was raised by women. Made me less stupid. Not as much as I would like, though.
– Why are you even trying to comfort me? I asked.
– I don't know, you look like shit right now, you know?"
Fuck, he doesn't just sound like a woman, he really sounds like my mother. This is getting weird.
"Cheer up, Jelila. We've won the day.
– You are talking? The eternal brooding, angry-looking taciturn man?
– Just because I don't jump crazily around, expressing my hyperbolic joy and satisfaction like you Yankees do, doesn't mean I'm not happy. There is such thing called cultural differences. Also, people are different. You really don't get me, don't you?
– You are blasé, not excited by anything.
– Excited?"
He looked confused.
"Tu n'es pas excité."
I remembered some French. He looked puzzled for a second, then had a wild grin.
"Je suis excité means: I'm horny in French.
– Oh gods!"
I started laughing, and he started laughing too, and soon enough, tears were dripping all over my face again. I breathed freely.
"Don't get wrong ideas, you are still a moron, and I hate you, I muttered.
– I wouldn't dare." he promised.
He asked me, after a moment:
"What do you study in Jerusalem?
– Genetics. How exactly your bloodline impacts your magical abilities.
– Nice. Care to explain what is the matter, with all of your great houses?"
He snatched a smile out of me.
"I'm still looking for the cretinism gene. I soon as I'll find it, I'll call you, I promised."
I gave him a side glance.
"I would study you though.
– Nah, thanks, he declined.
– Sure? I said. You're an interesting case. Not as bad as you should be.
– I do not have to be anything.
– You don't believe in blood magic.
– I don't get the fuss around it. The world is larger than that.
– Sure he is. He is also larger than what you think of it.
– Well, sometimes it just seems… vain.
– You know why it looks so absurd? All those careful calculations and alliances between houses? It's all because it had once a certain meaning. Blood wasn't pointless, it was offered, against hosting.
– Oh, here we come again. The past is the past. We already have enough problems fighting among ourselves. Just imagine, what would have happened if some Sforza was hosting Sobek, and some Bellini got possessed by Set?
– Says the man who counts Champollion among his kin. You come from a rogue family, that's worst.
– Are you blaming me for the faults of my ancestors? I'm not responsible for them.
– Of course you are. If the good stays, so does the evil. Faults are transmitted from father to son.
– This is bullshit Jelila, and you know that.
– See, that's why you will never be a great house, you have no sense of blood and legacy.
– It's fine, I don't want to have any part in it.
– Can't have the benefits of magic and refuse the disadvantages.
– Blood magic is not everything.
– No, not if you want to just run away to the country side, to raise goats and grow vegetables, you muddy lowborn. That the most you can claim. And don't ever try to comfort me again." I jumped on my feet and left.
III. 15 of May 1931
After the dinner, I headed back to my room at the Palazzo. I was furious. Not only had I just spent an hour listening to Azzio's rambling about Bellini and Celts, I had to endure all his remarks about how incompetent my family had become. Koité and Desjardins had left the palace much earlier. At least, when the French guy was here, he kept distracting Azzio from me with his mere presence. Why did Iskandar send me? I'm a Kane, he will never take me seriously. The negotiations so far were a disaster. Azzio had made it very clear that he had no intend in dealing with us:
"Is this all Iskandar has got for us? Iskandar's lowborn pet, the little Kane hoe, and the infamous griot girl?"
At first I raised my voice, which earned me some angry shouting from Koité.
"Jelila, what exactly are you doing? – Haven't you heard him? – You're supposed to negotiate. – To have a negotiation, first, you must have mutual respect. – Yeah, fuck this ass, agreed Desjardins."
Desjardins had remained allusive as to where he was headed. He'd said that he had to "hunt someone", though I had no idea who this person was. Koité had gone with him. I was to wait for Iskandar's other agent, who had all the information about Bellini's troops in Sicilia.
I wondered where Desdemona was though. She was the one who described me Azzio as a cruel and ambitious man. He merrily trampled her claim on her father's succession. Well, my own uncle did the same, but he's not that of a psychopath right?
The curtain moved in my room. Before I could scream, a man stepped out of the shadows. I instantly recognised him. When he moved towards me, I slapped him on his face. He calmly stroke his cheek.
"Guess I deserved that, he said.
– Oh, do you?"
I slapped him again. It felt good.
"Do you have any idea of what you've done?
– Saved you from a miserable and loveless marriage?
– You humiliated me, I yelled. In front of the whole house. You… you exposed us. You fucked up any possibility of an alliance between our families, you weakened us, and they, took advantage of that. I saw my house burn! I watched my uncles get murdered.
– Your uncles died because your father and his own father started a war against the Hogan. They died for your grandfather's ambition. Making me their murderer is not only unfair, it's stupid. Truth is, you would like me to be the bad guy in this story, makes you forget that maybe you were the bad guys all along.
– Shut up. How dare you even…"
I grabbed the first thing I saw, some kind of shitty vase and threw it on him. Sadly I missed.
"You are a liar! You told me that day, told me that you wanted to watch them run. Maybe our houses were already full of wood and oil, but you were laughing with delight when you lit a match."
I'd said it all in a breath. There was so much that I had dreamed to tell him, for so long.
"Maybe I was, he almost laughed.
– You're a fucking Setian. Like the rest of those fuckers, out there in Venice. You like chaos.
– Aye. And you like breaking things."
I threw another vase at him. It blew up on the floor. Now I'd ran out of them, which was a shame.
"Please, believe me Jelila, a house that crashes and burns, because somewhere in the world a little magician like me shared a kiss with a stranger, is not a house that deserves to be saved.
– Easy for you to say so. You seduced me!
– We were going to get married, of course I tried to please you. Is it really my fault if it worked?
– You make it all about me! Stop pretending it was a generous gesture, when it was only about yourself, since the very beginning. I was just a side casualty."
His face relaxed and lightened up with a sad smile. He sighed.
"You are right, I wronged you. For this I ask forgiveness."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Are you feeling alright Bellini?
– Why is it every time I try to be nice people do not seem to believe me?
– Oh that's a good question! Why do you think so? You and your lowborn pet…
– Don't call him that."
His eyes had a murderous gleam, and I knew instantly I had gone too far.
"Listen carefully, he's off limits, understand?"
I nodded silently. He was standing dangerously close to me. I knew he had knives somewhere. He stood there in silence, and suddenly a smile flowered on his lips. He let go of me, instantly returning to his usual merry-joking-murderous state.
"I suppose we have an agreement then. Let us go, now!
– What? No, what kind of agreement… wait!"
I yelled and ran after him. He was already leaving the building, moving fast.
"What are you talking about?
– Come on we're late. Talking with you is always a pleasure, but we should still stay a bit professional. We have to meet with our insider. We'll get all the details, and then you can go and negotiate with the new Sforza heiress.
– Wait, what?
– Yes, you know Desdemona I presume? She told me herself, well, alluded to it."
Can't believe it had to be him. He lead me to some kind of shitty restaurant, were we found his cousin Esme, alongside a tall, handsome man, who obviously wasn't an Egyptian. Another Celt. Off with them. It's really my day. A few minutes later, Giacomo was already insulting him, and I just wanted to bang my head on the table. It was all too surrealist. As if it wasn't enough, I learned that we were on the verge of a massacre.
Finally, Esme Sabbia and the other druid left us. I turned to Giacomo. He stood up, went to pay, and left. I followed him outside.
"So what now?
– You will negotiate with Desdemona. She has to take the lead of her house. And I…" he had some sort of wild grin. "I will kill Azzio.
– Wait… If the Sforza find out it's you, a Bellini, or Iskandar, then we won't…"
I paused.
"Who will be blamed?
– Well the Celts and the Greeks. Not Judicaël's Celts of course. The one that are a part of the Free Pagan State. D'Aubigné's death warrant has been signed long ago. All Pantheons agreed to hunt him down. Even Orsini. He speaks for Olympus, and they want his head.
– A scapegoat.
– Aye, it's the only way."
I had a sour taste in my mouth. More killing. Our blood is drying up. How far will this go?
"Why do you look so happy?
– Well, for once, I love my job.
– Sweet Ra."
I thought about it for a second.
"He's decent. And nice. How did he ended with a psychotic shitbag like you?
– I told you to keep it professional, dear.
– Yeah, we are totally too highly qualified professionals, in an absolutely neutral relationship. So how would you describe your job?
– Garbage manager.
– Gar… I'm done. I'm done with you Bellini.
– Well, I'll tell you when I'm done. With my task I mean. Desdemona will be around in the afternoon I think, she's still in the Aeolian Islands.
– At least someone sensible to talk to."
IV. 17 of May 1931
"How are they taking it?
– Horatio is still reluctant. But he will fall in line, just like the rest of them."
Desdemona took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, enjoying the cold breeze.
"The assault is this evening.
– The assault will never take place. I'm ready to negotiate. Lucrezia wrote me."
She was just as beautiful as ever, in her emerald dress, her skin like porcelain, her braided hair hidden under a capelin. She looked like a doll.
"Funny no? A Bellini working for my ascent. I'd told him he would come to this."
Not a doll, a marble sculpture.
"I talked to Orsini as well. I think I can restore the peace.
– You are really trying to help your Nome, I realized.
– Maybe I wasn't lying all along. I am not blind to the Sforza's wrong doing. I am sick of seeing us fighting amongst ourselves like dogs.
– I misjudged you, I apologised. I thought you were just a frantic power-hungry woman."
She smiled. I was intrigued. She was missing her usual scorn this evening. I couldn't stop staring. She looked different, more powerful. She already looked like the Sem priest she was preparing herself to become.
"I can't really blame you. Not after our little display here. Some of us Sforza are chaos mages, but of a different kind. We were priests of Sobek, and Sobek is family. It's protection. It's the flowing waters of the Nile River, and the bountiful harvest growing high and golden. It's rage and claws against the outsiders.
– Outsiders, I echoed her. How will we deal with the Celts?
– I will chase form this land this so-called pagan state. The rest of them shall remain silent. What is separate should remain separate. I heard some of them attacked you?
– They want us to stay divided.
– Silent and stagnant you mean. As for the Romans, I might have an idea."
She reflected a second and suddenly added:
"There's something more that I want, Jelila. There is one thing I can't get from Giacomo: Gian's body. It's about you too. Without it, everything we do here is meaningless.
– Why won't he tell you?
– He says he doesn't know. Which might be true. And he's not the best person to investigate either.
– I think I know, who I can ask, I said. Will it be enough? Will Sforza negotiate?"
She just nodded. Then stared at me, with her venom-like eyes:
"What about you Jelila? I'm glad they sent you. Are you with me?"
Sacrifices must be made. This is the price for power. You know that Jelila. You know what she's doing with Hannibal. You know what's coming.
"I'm not afraid." I said, though I felt a lump in my throat.
"Really dear? Necromancy is no light thing.
– I want the truth, I said. Now more than ever.
– And your Nome?
– I will not challenge my uncle, but I won't bow to him either. And I will help Hannibal and you Desdemona, not because it's in my interest, but because I believe it's the right thing to do. Enough with the clever plans, and this wicked game of passion and interests!"
Enough with the shame of the plotting and hiding, and lurking in the shadows. It's time to be noble again! And Jabari was right all along, about downfall and decadence, and our own abasement. He got the diagnosis right, but he is also wrong with the problem's solution.
V. Conclusion: 7 of July 1931
After two months of travels, negotiations, failed necromancy I headed back home, to the Twenty-First. The house was quiet. All of my cousins, Jabari's boys and the Tlacaelel kids, were sitting at the table on the terrace, studying. Inaya and Izel wrote essays, Marwa and Julius were working on some calculus, and Amos learning sacred drawings. Even little Noam was busy reproducing some hieroglyphs on a blank page. They all stopped working when the saw me. I took a look at Julius' work.
"Wrong." I just said.
Julius grumbled. I looked at Marwa's.
"Also terrible" I commented. "What's up with geometry and you two?
– Izel won't help us, complained Marwa."
Izel was smart, but in spite of her teacher's encouragement she stuck to the usual sunu path, healing magic. All of the Tlacaelel girls were a bit old-fashioned. Then, so were aunt Zaïna and Jabari.
"Good thing she won't. Figure it out."
I grabbed Amos and moved him on the bench to make myself a place.
"You do realize you can't just draw figures the way you like? They are some rules you need to follow.
– I like it this way, he muttered."
I sighed and ran my hand through his hair.
"Your papyrus is a disaster. And you Noam, your Hieroglyphs should be on a straight line.
– Where were you this time? Interrupted Julius.
– Italy.
– Whoa. That's cool.
– Where did you learn words like that? In Cairo?"
I stood and left before I could distract them even further.
"Alright imps, keep working!
– I told you to be more serious, sneered Inaya, but you never listen."
Alma met me outside on the terrace. She was beautiful as ever, wearing a simple white dress, golden earrings, and a light white veil on top of her black curls.
"Summer time, she excused them. I'm sure they'd prefer to play outside. How are things in Italy?
– Better, but still chaotic. Iskandar is now concerned about something else actually. There might be a new campaign of extermination of Setian magicians. It's true that they aren't really helping us with their frantic. Is your husband home?
– In his study. Will you stay a bit?
– I just came to meet with my uncle. Then I'll go."
I went upstairs to meet Jabari.
"I've heard you've been quite busy." He greeted me continuing to write.
"Negotiating peace treaties can qualify as busy, I'm sure, I just said. Who are you writing to? Woolworth building.
– Empire State Building now.
– What?
– They've moved."
Oh. I thought. I looked out of the window. Jabari quietly finished his letter, and put down his pen.
"I'm sure, the Sforza succession sets a precedent now, he noticed.
– I did not support Desdemona because she's a woman, but because she was in love with a Bellini once.
– How so?
– Doesn't matter. She's moderate. She can and will unite the 8th Nome. Italy is of too much importance to be left in Isfet's claws." I looked him in his eyes.
"Some Celts attacked us. They were ready to do anything to weaken the Nome. They didn't want the negotiations to succeed. Outsiders are mingling with our internal politics, trying to weaken and divide our House, Uncle! This is matter of honor and security! So I will not press my claim against you. Who would I be if I tried to weaken our family in these troubled times?"
Jabari's jaw almost dropped from surprise, but I wasn't finished yet:
"But this comes at a price. You will not try to marry me off. I will be the only judge in this kind of matters. In everything else, I will be a loyal member of this family.
– You are proud Jelila.
– Just like my father.
– But you are smarter than him.
– That's kind of you to say so."
A faint smile dangled on his lips, the kind he gave me when I was still a child missing her father. I kissed him and left.
I was going to pay a visit to Satamon in Louisiana. I wanted to have a conversation with Thomas. I had learned one thing in Italy: I would never make the same mistake. Was I going to lower myself to the ranks of the Bellini, or the Sforza? Was I going to squabble with my own blood over some crumb of American soil when the world was ahead, bright, rich, and wide? You can keep the Twenty First Nome, uncle. Who wants to share the territory with the Greeks anyway? I'll get myself my own Nome, and it won't be some little mansion on a warehouse.
Translation :
Che ci fai qui ragazza? - What are you doing here, young lady?
Questo è piuttosto un uccello esotico che hai qui - It's a pretty exotic bird that you have here.
Non voglio problemi, signore - I don't want any trouble sir.
Lei è mia moglie - She is my wife
Più probabilmente la tua puttana, non è vero, signore? - More likely your whore, isn't it, sir?
Di dove sei, straniero? -Where are you from, stranger?
Francia. Viene dalle colonie. Dahomey. – France. She's from the colonies. Dahomey.
Nazione decadente. Fortunatamente, le cose stanno cambiando qui. - Decadent nation. Fortunately, things are changing here.