The Guns of Ivrea Page 12

  ON THE ROOF of the tower, Strykar felt his foot nearly go through the weakening timber hatch and he pulled it up before it crashed downwards. Several bill heads and glaives were chewing the trap door to splinters like the claws and beak of some monstrous beast. He saw the last two of his surviving men bar one go over the parapet.

  “Now, you!” he said to man next to him.

  “We have to jump to the rope together, captain,” he replied. “They might hesitate to decide who to strike first when they come through.”

  Strykar laughed. “Are you thinking like a Palestrian now? Very well, sheath your blade. And be quick or be dead.”

  The soldier nodded. Strykar nodded back as he slid his sword into his scabbard. They leapt from the hatch and scrambled for the parapet. The soldier had mounted the wall and he now reached to pull up Strykar who cried out as he strained to raise himself. The mutineers came through the hatchway, pausing only a moment, but then seeing the two men on the wall, bounded forward, pole arms forward to impale or push the rondelieri, Strykar’s companion grabbed the rope and swung over the side. Styrkar did the same as a glaive struck the stone next to his arm while a sword blow knocked his sallet askew. He slid, feet dangling, but the weight of his harness was proving too much for his grip. He was no more than a few feet down when he looked up and saw a young pirate on the wall—no more than a beardless boy. He crouched and looked down at Strykar. He watched the lad stand on the parapet, single-edged falchion in his hand. Strykar felt his grip slip again, and he kicked to try and get his legs around the rope. The boy was smiling down at him. Smiling as he raised his blade and brought it down with a ringing clang upon the rope.

  Strykar felt himself tumble, blue sky filling his vision as his stomach came up into his mouth. And then an explosion of light and agony. And then nothingness.

  Twelve

  “I WILL MISS you, sister.”

  Lucinda smiled and stroked her sibling’s long blonde hair. “Silly thing, you know we are never really parted from one another.”

  Lavinia gently enveloped her sister’s hand with hers. “It is not the same as sharing the same room, smelling your hair, or… holding your hand. That is what matters.”

  They were in a high-ceilinged bedchamber of the sprawling palace that adjoined the Ara monastery. It rose up in the shadow of the Temple Majoris, its myriad spires all clad in gold, shining like some huge crown set upon the brow of the stone mount upon which Livorna had been founded. Compared with the High Priest’s palace, the far older Temple looked brutish and cold, all sharp angles and soulless columns of marble and grey stone. The chamber was welcoming, covered in rich velvet draperies and bright tapestries, a great four-poster feather bed and curtains against the far wall. Unlike the cold stone tiles that floored most of the receiving rooms in the palace, this chamber had polished inlaid oak floors, warm to the touch of bare feet.

  Lucinda patted Lavinia’s hand and rose, moving to a side table. She took a fig from a plate and carefully peeled it. “You know you will be able to see further than me, and you will always know exactly where in Valdur I am. You just reach out, like you’ve always done.”

  Lavinia’s face broke into a mischievous grin. “Has he spoken to you again?”

  Lucinda raised a forefinger to her lips. “You mustn’t mention him. You know that, my love.”

  Lavinia’s perfect mouth pouted. “You always say that, and you never really tell me what he… what the message is.” She turned to look out the large double-arched window. “And I don’t understand why you were chosen. I can see farther.”

  Lucinda popped the fig into her mouth, took and peeled another as she chewed, and brought that to her sister. “It is not for us to ask such questions. It is enough that we are part of something so much greater. That we can use the gifts we have been given.”

  Lavinia’s voice became little more than a soft exhalation. “The wound. Does it pain you? Will I have one soon?”

  Lucinda’s face grew dark and she swiftly grasped her sister’s pointy chin. “You must never mention that. That is the rule.” And as quickly she pulled her hand back and stroked the girl’s hair. Her voice was quiet, reassuring. “It would endanger us both. They would not understand.”

  Lavinia nodded, for that was most definitely true. Their distinctiveness had always been a danger to themselves. People feared such things.

  “Imagine what the Magister would make of such intelligence,” Lucinda said, reaching for the veil and circlet upon the table. “It would put him into a difficult position.” She arranged the white gossamer veil upon her sister’s head, pleated a fold on either side, and gently placed the circlet upon it. “Now, do we have to go over again what you are to tell him about the monk’s whereabouts?”

  Lavinia pulled away slightly. “I don’t like it when you treat me like a child. I know exactly what we will tell him.” She paused. “But I remember you once told me that everyone would be told everything. When the time was right. Told the truth about the Lord’s great purpose. Freed from the old lies.”

  Lucinda leaned over and touched Lavinia’s shoulders as she spoke into her ear. “Yes, my love. That is still very much what will happen. But not until the time is right.”

  “Father did not believe what you told him. And now he’s gone.” Lavinia absently played with the veil about her shoulders. “Why would the others behave differently?”

  Lucinda knelt next to her sister and grasped her hand. “They will. It will be very different when the time is right.”

  There was a hesitant knock upon the door. Lucinda gave her sister’s hand one last squeeze and went to open it. A young maidservant curtsied in the doorway.

  “The Magister is without and wishes to join you. May I send him in?”

  “Tell him to come through.”

  Kodoris entered and made a brief sweeping bow. “My ladies. I trust that these accommodations have been comfortable? We often place guests in this part of the palace —pilgrims and such — and over time I like to think we have managed ourselves as a good hostelry. The Duke of Saivona stayed in these very apartments not two months gone by.”

  Lucinda laughed. “Magister, this is far better than we are accustomed to at Saint Dionei’s. We might not wish to ever leave!”

  Kodoris bowed his head. “And though I would have you stay as long as you desire, we all know that time is not with us. Shall we go out into the gardens on such a golden morning? It will make our business more pleasant.”

  When they passed through the red sandstone portico at the rear of the palace, they entered a world of carefully cultivated greenery and delicate yellow and orange fruits that hung over their heads. The branches that interlaced above them, as well as the hedges that bordered the garden, were fair alive with birdsong.

  The hem of Kodoris’s burgundy robes wafted in a warm gust that suddenly blew past. “It is always better to be in the outside air when needing to discuss heavy affairs. It opens the mind as well as the lungs.”

  The canonesses joined hands and walked at his side as they went deeper into the verdant bower, sun shafts piercing in a hundred places. Kodoris smiled. He felt a slight stirring in his aging loins as he looked on the sisters. So beautiful, almost too perfect. But, as a starling knows to leave untouched the most colourful caterpillar, so too was he wary of their strangeness, and their gifts.

  “Something you told me at the priory has been weighing on me heavily,” he said, slowing and stopping. “Lavinia, you said something about the greyrobe having discovered the conscience of Elded. What do you think he found?”

  Lavinia’s fingers played with the tissue of her veil. “It was so very faint. Just a fleeting moment that filled me with an image of the Lawgiver.”

  “And since… nothing more?”

  Lavinia stared into the middle distance as she recalled what she had felt.

  “It was something tangible. Something that the greyrobe held in his hand. And then the image was gone from my mind.”

  Lucind
a looked at Kodoris. “Do you know what this might be? Some object?”

  “I do not, mistress.” And she knew he told the truth.

  She nodded. “My sister has been challenged with this Seeking. We do not know why. It is almost as if…” She shook her head as if not quite believing herself. “Almost as if something is shielding him from the Sight. But Lavinia thinks she knows where he is or at least where he is bound.”

  Lavinia spoke up. “I have seen a town on the coast. Fishing boats and warships both. It is built upon a slope. Much like this place.”

  “Palestro,” muttered Kodoris. “That must be where the mercenaries were going. That would make sense. The Black Rose is out of Maresto and Maresto is in alliance with the pirate fleet of Danamis.”

  “Then that will be my destination,” said Lucinda. “Is Captain Flauros ready to ride out on the morrow?”

  “He is. He has hand-picked five men to accompany him. You will be in safe hands.”

  Lucinda smiled again. “I’m sure we will be in no danger. We will merely be on pilgrimage to the shrines and temples along the way.” She looped her arm in her sister’s. “And Lavinia will be guiding me.”

  “And what of your art, mistress? What do your feelings tell you about his location, and who he is with? I am anxious to know whom he has spoken to.”

  “Magister,” she replied, as if talking to a boy. “It is Lavinia who sees things from afar. I, on the other hand, compel people to do things.”

  Kodoris gave a little bow. “I remember, my good lady.”

  Lavinia patted her sister’s hand. “She can see some things, some of the time, just not as far as I can. But she has other gifts.”

  Lucinda looked directly at Lavinia, her face expressionless. But Kodoris almost knew for sure that they were exchanging thoughts without words. Almost as if Lavinia had revealed too much.

  Such beauty. And such coldness. But they were all he had. He had to get the greyrobe back before the truth could be sowed, and doubt take root.

  A NIGHTINGALE SANG in the tree outside the open window. Lavinia sat up in bed, throwing off her coverlet. Her long hair tumbled about her shoulders as she rubbed a hand across her eyes. She pulled her chemise closer to her neck even though the air in the bedchamber was warm. She sat still for a moment, the dream playing again in her mind’s eye, and then she reached over and shook her sleeping sister.

  “Lucinda! Wake, please wake.”

  Lucinda opened her eyes and sat up. She was instantly alert and unperturbed by the awakening, blue eyes wide in the moonlit room. “Yes, sister. I am here.”

  “I have seen a large ship. A ship at sea. He is on it.”

  Lucinda reached out to Lavinia. “At sea? But how can you see him when before you could not?”

  “I can’t see the greyrobe but there are others talking about him. Thinking about him. They are on the ship. He must be with them too.”

  “But headed to where?”

  Lavinia shook her head. “I can’t tell! There’s nothing to show me. Just endless ocean.”

  Lucinda stroked her gently curling locks. “Perhaps the mirror will reveal more. Shall we consult it now? Can you do that?”

  The girl nodded. “Yes, let us go and sit at the window.”

  “In the moonlight.”

  “Where it works best.” And Lavinia’s teeth shone as she smiled in the darkness.

  Silently, they slid out of the huge bed and padded over to the wide stone sill of the casement window. They saw that the moon was now low in the night sky but still pouring its rays strongly against the palace wall, and spilling into their chamber.

  “I will retrieve the mirror,” whispered Lavinia, and she moved quickly to the table, her chemise flowing out behind her. She returned in a heartbeat, clutching a flat black disc the size of a man’s palm. It was polished jet, and as she sat next to her sister on the window ledge, she gently moved her fingers over its smooth surface. It shone like ice, reflecting the moon, but to Lavinia, it was like some deep dark well, black water glistening on the surface, and when she peered into it, she would always have to fight the feeling that she was falling.

  She smiled at her sister. “It’s pulling me again.” And she brought it to within a foot of her face.

  “Concentrate, sister!” whispered Lucinda. And as she watched, Lavinia’s face was illuminated by a bluish glow; a light more colourful than that reflected by the pale disc of the moon. She watched as her sister’s eyes widened, her pupils so huge that she looked like a cat. Lavinia’s neck bent forward slightly and she leaned further into the mirror. Her eyes were fixed now, staring into the black vastness of the polished stone. Her breaths became more rapid and shallow.

  “What do you see, sister?”

  “It is a woman,” hissed Lavinia, eyes not wavering and still hundreds of miles away. “She is not high-born and sits with others. She is upset. Upset that she has lost something. She does not want to go where they are going! Maresto or Perusia. Maresto or Perusia, she thinks.”

  Lucinda’s hand reached forward but she dared not disturb her sister.

  “Her heart is so very sad,” Lavinia said quietly. “Acquel is more soldier than monk. Not a confessor. She needs him. He looks at her now with a different eye.” The corners of her mouth drew up, revealing her teeth. “She must not encourage him. But he is a man. And he finds her… desirable.”

  “Maresto or Perusia?”Lucinda whispered.

  Lavinia was still smiling, lost in the musings of Timandra Pandarus. “Should rejoin the Black Rose, she says. Before it’s too late.”

  Lucinda’s nails dug into Lavinia’s wrist. The mirror wobbled. “Maresto or Perusia?”

  Lavinia’s mouth opened, her eyebrows raised in concern. “Captain Danamis decides. I can do nothing.”

  Lucinda reached out and took the mirror from Lavinia’s hands. Lavinia drew a sharp breath and her eyes flickered as she beheld her sister once again. “He is there with this woman. On a ship of war.”

  Lucinda looked out of the window and across the shadow-laden gardens. “You will have to try again tomorrow, my love. You need to find out which city they sail to.”

  Lavinia saw that one of the four little half-moons on her wrist, left by Lucinda’s grasp, was bleeding. She brushed her fingers over the wounds. “It is like I am looking through some great grey fog that has descended upon me.”

  Lucinda turned and embraced her. “Fear not, sister. We cannot see the greyrobe but we can see those around him. Those who care for him. They will lead us to him as the bee does to the flower.”

  Thirteen

  DANAMIS SAT IN the near gloom of his airless stern cabin, a cramped space that even a short man would barely be able to stand up in. The small half-moon openings carved into the planks barely let in any of the rapidly dissipating sunlight. Elbows on his chart table, his head rested in his hands as he fought back tears.

  One fucking ship. Half a crew.

  He sucked in a long breath of frustration, tearing at his black sweaty curls as they slid through his fingers.

  So goddamned blind.

  A knock sounded on the cabin door. He sat up and ran a grubby sleeve across his face. “Come!”

  It was one of the ship’s boys, come to light the lanterns. He struck flint to the tinderbox and wordlessly brought light into the cabin as each tallow candle sputtered into life.

  “Boy, tell the master I want to see him.”

  The lad put a thumb to his forehead and scuttled out the passageway. Danamis heard the unsteady tramp of boots in the adjoining cabin. The woollen curtain parted as Strykar scraped against the bulkhead that was obviously holding him upright. His arming doublet was stained with dried blood and rust.

  “Julianus! You fool,” Danamis gasped. “What the hell are you doing out of your berth?”

  The mercenary grumbled something under his breath and touched at the rag wrapped around his head. “I got tired of puking my guts out. Don’t know if it’s my head or your goddamned ship.”


  “Get back to your rack. You ought to be dead by anyone’s reckoning.”

  “Something must have broken my fall,” he slurred.

  “It was my deck.”

  Strykar coughed and then winced. “You bastard.”

  Danamis swore and moved to help him over to a bench. He reached for a mug of ale that was holding down the grubby chart on the table and shoved it into Strykar’s hands.

  “You were the last man off the tower. We managed to pull ourselves out past the chain and raise sail. Salamander blocked the exit behind us as she caught fire, but you bought us the time we needed.”

  “It’s going to cost you.” Strykar drained the cup and then pulled off his bandage, touching the purple egg on his forehead. “A lot.”

  Danamis looked down at his chart. “I’ve put us on a heading due south. Until I can decide where we should go. I don’t want to chance Tetch intercepting us if we stand in sight of the coast.”

  Strykar raised his head. “South? Surely we sail west for Maresto. What else can you do? I’ve given orders for the company to return there, which they’ve undoubtedly done by now if Tetch hasn’t had a go at them.”

  Danamis’s pale grey eyes turned to the mercenary. “I am in your debt. I know that. But I will decide the course of my ship.”

  Strykar pushed back the little bench and rose unsteadily, nearly bumping his head on a beam. “It’s your ship, my friend, but there’s only one place we’re headed and that’s Maresto. So let’s not fuck around concerning that.”

  Danamis leaned back. “There’s more I haven’t told you yet. We managed to pick up a few of Salamander’s men that jumped ship when she caught fire, including her captain. He tells an interesting tale.”

  “Not my worry, Danamis.”

  “Hear out Bassinio. I trust his word. We’re going to sit tight here for the night so you’ve got the time.”