Free Irenicon by Aidan Harte Page A

extraordinarily aggressive boy. He decided it was best to agree. “Undoubtedly. I just meant that we nobles are in it together since the engineers took over, if you follow.”
    “You’re preposterous. If circumstances change, the best Families change with them; the best always rise.”
    Valerius thought of his year in Rasenna as a career step; for Marcus it was an extended holiday, full of rough camaraderie and daily drama. What did the nobility’s irrelevance matter? That race had been run and lost before he’d even been born.
    “I suppose there’s no point asking if you know who this engineer is.”
    Marcus was relieved to change the subject. “I heard he’s here to build a bridge,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.
    “Bah, everyone knows that! I’ll write to Father. One thing’s certain: he can’t be any good.”
    “But he is a captain. Must have done something to earn that rank.”
    “And something worse to be sent here.”
    “What’s wrong with Rasenna? I like Rasenna.”
    “It’s a fine place to learn fighting. But for an engineer, it’s relegation. Punishment. For incompetence, insubordination, who knows what.” He suddenly looked over his shoulder. Gaetano had succeeded in making Sofia laugh. She never acted that way—like a girl—with the boys of Workshop Bardini, certainly not with him. When Valerius turned back, he saw Marcus had begun polishing that ridiculous glass contraption again.
    He smiled his cherub’s smile. “I’ve never seen eyepieces up close before,” he said in a friendly way.
    As evening drew on and torches were lit around the Chamber, faces already angry took on a demonic hue and the milling whisperers threw monstrous shadows.
    Fearing he would blunder, Giovanni had made a note of what he needed to say—and for a horrible moment he thought he’d lost it. He found it and looked down at the swimming text in despair. Then, with his heart hammering in his chest, he looked up and began to speak. “Men of Rasenna, thank you for this audience. I am Captain Giovanni of the Engineers’ Guild. My task is to bridge the Irenicon.”
    He waited for the whispers to subside, then went on. “I will complete my survey this week and then provide details of the material and men I need. Based on a cursory examination, I shall confirm to Concord that the allocated time is sufficient. Concordian machines make it possible to build a bridge by summer’s end, but Rasenna’s men will make it happen. I propose taking an equal number from north and south. I leave my initial notes, with approximate costs and quantities, for the Signoria to study.” He felt that he was speaking too loudly but carried on. “Concord expects your cooperation. My task is to bridge the Irenicon—it is your task too. Thank you.”
    He folded his note slowly before looking back up into the impassive faces of the cynical and prematurely old men, and he remembered Pedro’s first question this morning: Was it a request or an order?
    He cleared his throat. “More than just cooperation, I ask your support. I say this bridge is for all Rasenna knowing that you have reason to doubt me. Until today, you have only seen Natural Philosophy’s destructive power. I pray you, see today as I do—a new beginning for Rasenna and Concord, an opportunity to heal our discord.”
    The faces were still hostile but now were looking toward their respective leaders.
    “Thank you, uh, again,” he finished.
    Quintus Morello stood. “Thank you, Captain. This is indeed a new era. As gonfaloniere, I pray your example inspires Rasenna to put aside our own divisions. May the Virgin grant success!”
    The applause surprised and embarrassed Giovanni. He bowed to the assembly, gave the mace and estimates to the notary, and, blushing furiously, went toward the door.
    In the outer chamber, Sofia was watching the Concordians play their game of status. The games she’d played with Gaetano had been more innocent yet more dangerous. She