Turning the Storm by Naomi Kritzer Page A

dead.”
    “No,” I said. “She's alive—or so the rumors said.” I glanced at Ulisse and bit my lip to conceal my amusement. “I don't think you'd like her, though. You know, she used to be a musician, at the Verdiano rural conservatory.”
    “That's
right
,” Ulisse said. “Did you ever meet her?”
    “No,” I said, “but I met somebody who knew her, and trust me, she's not what you're picturing.”
    We finished our drinks not long after that and headed back toward the enclave. Valentino, flushed with wine and irritated with Quirino for harping on Sura, started in on Silvia, some ex-lover of Quirino's.
    “Why shouldn't I sleep with a mage?” Quirino said.“Maybe if you slept with mages you'd get into less trouble.”
    “Excuse me,” Valentino said, “but maybe
I'd
like to have children someday.”
    “I'd like to have children someday, too,” Quirino said. “Just not nine months from when I was sleeping with Silvia.”
    “You had a mage as a lover?” I asked, trying to clarify the situation. “What was
that
like?”
    Quirino snorted, looking me over—probably wondering if I'd slept with any of the girls back at the conservatory. I blushed, against my will, and he relented. “About like any other girl, I guess. Silvia's very beautiful.”
    “So what happened? You decided you wanted to have children?”
    Quirino shook his head. “You know how they take mages young, even younger than musicians? They teach them to think a certain way, you know, and if you don't go along with them, they make you sorry. Silvia used to talk about that, a bit.” He paused.
    “So what happened?” I asked.
    “Well, one of the things they teach mages to think is that they're better than anyone else. And
that
lesson she'd learned.” Quirino gave me a rueful smile. “But,” and he turned back to Valentino, “she was
not
someone who was going to get me into trouble.”
    Once we were back at the enclave, Valentino wandered off—to look for Sura, no doubt—and Quirino drew me into one of the smaller gardens. “I don't trust Valentino to keep his mouth shut,” he said, “and I don't trust Ulisse not to share things with Valentino. But you can trust me, and the fountain should coverour conversation.” We sat down on the marble edge. “You know a lot about the rebels,” he said, “and a lot about their leader. Have you met them? Her?”
    “No.”
    “You can trust me,” Quirino said. “I don't know how to convince you, but—I want to know more. Anything you can tell me.”
    Well, I couldn't play it safe forever.
    “Not their leader,” I said, “but a party of scouts—at least, that's what I thought they were.” I'd thought this story out, on my trip up the river. “The roads in Verdia are dangerous right now. I was traveling alone, which was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking except that when I first started at the conservatory, before the war with Vesuvia, it would have been safe. I was set upon by bandits, and a group of four men and one woman came to my rescue.”
    “Lupi,” Quirino said.
    I nodded. “I thought so, though I'm not absolutely sure. It wasn't like they had writing on their foreheads saying ‘hey there, folks, we're rebel soldiers,’ or anything.”
    Quirino laughed hesitantly. “No sashes?”
    “No, of course not. This was just a handful—but they carried crossbows, and they looked like they'd been armed from the bodies of fallen soldiers …”
    “They must have been Lupi,” Quirino said. “What did you think of them?”
    “They were courteous,” I said. “They took care of me until I could join a larger group to travel with. When they realized I was a musician, of course, they taught me all those songs; that's why I knew them.”
    Quirino nodded. “Do you know any of the other, you know, secret music?”
    “Old Way music?” I whispered, despite the cover of the fountain. “Don't all musicians?” I smiled at him wryly. “I knew without being told not to play those