The Boy Who Wept Blood (24 page)

44

Slaves to Duty
–
28 Agosto
325

The day after the riot was a day of tense silences. No words of consolation could salve what had befallen Santa Maria. Dino stalked the corridors of Demesne with a hand on the hilt of his blade. Myrmidons stood at the main gates of the great houses and the Central Keep. There was no way to determine just how many of the armoured soldiers existed. All individuality was scoured away, faces unseen beneath curving helms. They barely registered Dino’s passing, adding to his pique.

The Orfano killed two long hours training with the new blade, the drake-headed hilt a comfort in his hand, onyx eyes amid the silver scales. Dino paused to catch his breath, sweat a bright sheen across his torso. Massimo had partnered him the last time he’d ventured to the abandoned practice room; now his killers guarded Demesne.

Massimo.

The name continued to weigh heavy on his heart. He lashed out with the sword, striking through the very thought, turning away from it. He began working through the steps, just as he’d done the day he’d sparred with the Contadino swordsman. The simple stances and slashes of novices evolved into the parries and feints of the adept. Finally he practised the combinations and ripostes of the master swordsman. All of his awareness was consumed by the weight of the steel, the balance of the blade, the rise and fall of his breath. Individual movements became an extended fluid motion, weaving a nimbus of destruction about him. Grief abated, frustration diminished, the drake looked back from the pommel and glittered. If death should find him tonight he would be ready for it.

The door opened with a creak of protesting hinges, announcing Nardo.

‘I went up to the rooftops looking for you,’ said the messenger.

‘Thought I should practise. I can’t lose my edge at a time like this.’

‘Huh. I think we’ve all lost our edge of late.’ Nardo checked the corridor, then closed and locked the door. ‘I feel like there’s some greater force at work.’

‘There is,’ said Dino sheathing his sword.

‘Want to share what you know?’

Dino recounted what he knew of Erebus, how he used
tinctura
to buy influence with the Domina, how Duke Fontein’s assassination had been the express wish of the Domina’s mystery correspondent.

‘You’ve been playing this close to your chest.’

‘Sorry.’ Dino shrugged. ‘I asked Stephania and Massimo for help first; I should have included you.’

‘What does Stephania make of it all?’

‘Not much, just speculation.’

‘And Anea knows all of this?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve not spoken to her in weeks. Longer than weeks, in fact.’

‘Well there’s an opportunity to change that. I’ve had word the House Fontein maids have been cleaning a room all morning. Her furniture is being moved over there as we speak. Tailors and seamstresses from House Prospero have have been summoned.’

‘Anea’s moving to House Fontein?’

The messenger nodded. ‘The Domina is on the move also.’

Dino advanced toward the door, full of purpose. Nardo laid one hand against his chest lightly.

‘Slow down. She’s surrounded. They’re all there – the Domina, a
dottore
, that veiled bastard, a couple of Myrmidons guarding the door. Viscount Datini and Simonetti appear to be part of the cabal too.’

‘I need to speak to Anea.’

‘Huh. Better you speak to her alone, if you can.’

Dino nodded, then let out a frustrated sigh.

‘Wait until nightfall.’ The messenger clapped him on the shoulder. ‘And keep that thing sharp.’ Nardo gestured at the sword. ‘You’re going to need it.’

Dino spent the afternoon slumped in an armchair in one corner of the Contadino apartment. Maria went about her chores and the children played quietly or read from books; neither of them spared the Orfano much interest. Dino was grateful. He dozed in the chair with his sword across his lap, the drake slumbering on his shoulder. Camelia arrived, making a fuss, before the five of them took an awkward meal together. Luc and Isabella remained silent throughout. Maria and Camelia spoke of mundane things so as to not upset them. It was a vain effort; everyone at the table knew how dire their situation was. Dino counted off the hours, waiting for his chance to see Anea.

‘You’re up to something,’ said Camelia as they cleared the dishes away.

‘Everyone in Demesne is up to something,’ replied Dino. Achilles flicked out a black tongue.

‘Do you want a clip round the ear?’

‘I always forget how direct you are.’ Dino grinned.

‘I’m more than happy to remind you.’ Camelia smiled back.

‘I’m going to try and speak to Anea tonight.’

‘Oh,’ said Camelia, stopping her chores.

‘Yes. Oh.’

‘What will you say?’

‘I want to find out who’s manipulating her. There’s someone behind the scenes with an agenda and I mean to unmask them.’

‘Do you have any suspicions?’

‘I did wonder if Lady Allattamento might be the culprit, but she’s left the castle. Duke Fontein is dead, but his wife could be responsible.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘No.’ He plucked at his lip. ‘I did wonder if Salvaza might be the problem, but she wouldn’t order the death of Duke Fontein. It doesn’t make any sense, you know?’

‘Things stopped making sense months ago.’

‘True enough.’ Dino drew in a breath, feeling the tension in his shoulders. ‘It can’t be the
capo.
’

Camelia snorted in disdain. ‘He only thinks with his britches.’

‘Perhaps it’s someone we’re not aware of, or someone who’s been away from Demesne for a few years.’

‘You can’t mean Lucien.’ Camelia frowned.

Dino blinked and shook his head. ‘No, of course not. Why would he seek power here when he has power enough in San Marino?’

‘You should send word to him. He’d come and help.’

‘I already have, but the messenger hasn’t been seen in weeks.’

‘Promise me something.’ The cook circled the table and drew close. She smoothed back his hair, tucking some stray strands behind one ear as if he were no more than seven or eight years old.

‘What is it?’

‘This person you’re hunting, are they responsible for Lord Contadino’s murder?’

‘I’m not sure. That finger seems to point toward Salvaza.’

‘Well, when you do know who is responsible …’ Camelia hesitated ‘… make sure you kill them.’

Dino nodded, Camelia’s request had all the hallmarks of an assassination about it. It would be a just killing, but a killing all the same.

Evening had darkened the streets of Santa Maria, the west side of the town caught in the deepening shadows of Demesne itself. The window revealed a horizon the colour of an angry wound. Dino waited for the land to scab over with darkness. The stars appeared only dimly, witness to an unhappy town cowed by the violence of the riots. The brightest of them shone amethyst, a vengeful eye in the firmament.

Anea passed from her sitting room to the bedroom, a slump to her shoulders telling of a day loaded with frustrations. She had dismissed her maids some hours earlier. The tailors and seamstresses had departed with measurements and a good deal of coin. Anea had grown weary of the Domina too, who had insisted on lingering late into the night. This much Dino had determined by lurking on the windowsill, an ear pressed to the lead-latticed glass.

The door to the apartment was guarded by two Myrmidons. Dino had passed along the corridor earlier, disguised as a Fontein messenger. A hat and a tabard was all it took. A further two Myrmidons patrolled the corridor itself, pausing at the tops of the staircases, deterrents to any who might loiter.

Anea stood by her bed. A single candelabrum held five waxy columns, each bearing a tongue of flame. The Silent Queen moved to regard herself in the full-length looking glass, turning her head this way and that as if looking for some blemish. Dino found her at once familiar and unknown. There was something new about her, some intangible change that he could not pin down. She reached her hands to the nape of her neck, preparing to untie the veil hiding the lower part of her face. All these years and Dino had never enquired, never discovered what lay beneath. They’d been close, but it seemed that relationship had been discarded as if it were no more than a soiled rag. It was then that she spotted him behind the door of her chamber. Dino had lain in wait for over an hour. He pushed the door closed, a sidestep and a twist of the wrist locking it shut.

‘It seems you and I have a few matters to discuss.’

Dino caught sight of himself in the looking glass: the drake-headed pommel reflected the candlelight; everything else about the Orfano was darkness.

Anea hadn’t turned to face him, but was tracking his progress by reflection. Her arms slid together across the gentle curve of her stomach. Her eyes were drab olive, not the brilliant jade he remembered. Had nostalgia cast her in a more favourable light?

‘I see your pet Myrmidons are guarding your door.’

A single nod.

‘It would have been nice to know about their formation ahead of time. I am the
superiore
after all; the soldiers answer to me.’

Not my idea.
The gestures were basic, the words roughly sketched in the air.
The Domina told me we could not trust you after the death of Massimo.

Dino clenched his fists. ‘She has that much right, at least.’

The Domina suggested we employ the raiders … rather than fight them. I could see no outcome that would not leave … scores of dead.

‘We have scores of dead. From the riots.’ His words were like a slap. Anea shivered in the silence that followed. ‘We had scores of dead from their raids. People, innocent people.’

It would have been far worse if we had tried to fight them.

Dino failed to keep the sneer from his face. Anea refused to turn, as if conversing with his reflection might lessen his anger. He’d expected a more spirited discussion than this. Her responses were placating, not the forthright intelligent ripostes of the Ravenscourt.

‘Why come back at all? The Domina is running the place – into the ground in my opinion. An army of armoured murderers, the
nobili
in disarray: perfect for the coming of your new republic.’

I came back to rule.

‘You call this ruling?’ His anger seethed with each syllable, burned with each word.

Remember the Majordomo?

Dino couldn’t easily forget the Majordomo, the Domina’s predecessor. A looming giant of a man wrapped in grey robes no better than rags, the droning voice of the Majordomo had conveyed the will of the king since time unremembered.

‘You know I do.’

Remember how the king was absent, a recluse? Remember how it felt like the Majordomo was the … authority? How none spoke against him, how everyone … scurried to do his bidding?

‘He was repulsive. People were afraid of him.’

But in time we forgot the king. He became an abstract, a concept.

‘Lucien wouldn’t agree; he saw him with his own eyes.’

And what did Lucien say?

‘That he was a changeling, a monstrous changeling, demented by his paranoia, corrupted by power.’

That is why I came back. I am not an abstract … I will not fester in the dark. I will rule, and the way in which I do so may not be to everyone’s taste.

This at last was beginning to sound like the Anea he’d once known, even if the silent language she used was stilted. It was as if she had only recently learned the many gestures, signing at half speed, pauses overlong.

‘I’m surprised you could drag yourself away from your beloved machines to spare us the time.’

A person could waste a lifetime trying to … decipher the king’s secrets. We have advances enough for the time being.

Dino raised an incredulous eyebrow. The Anea he had known would never have been satisfied.

‘What caused this sudden change?’

What do you mean?

‘You’ve been researching those machines, uncovering their secrets, for a decade. Now you’re asking me to believe you’re going to abandon them, just like that.’

I have Virmyre to tend to the sciences. He is no doubt shackled to the king’s machines as we speak.

‘Where is he?’

I do not know.
She made the words slowly, as if unsure how, or what to say.
In the
sanatorio
, I expect. Where else?

‘Turn around.’ The words were not to be dismissed or disobeyed. ‘I said turn around.’

The Anea he knew hated the word
sanatorio
, hated the associations with that building. She hated the dark history that overshadowed her precious library. The woman in front of Dino turned. She was the right height, her eyes the right colour; certainly she retained the frosty countenance Anea was famous for. She thrust out her chin, eyes hardening above the veil.

Any other questions, or are you quite finished?

‘Just one actually.’ He stepped closer to her, and closer still. She wore the same perfume, her hair the same sun-drenched blond, caught in a plait that reached down her spine. And yet a difference lingered at the limit of his senses, some indefinable quality, a maddening ambiguity.

‘Who is Erebus?’

Anea’s eyes widened in shock for a second before she feigned a puzzled frown.

‘He’s the author of some letters to the Domina. And he’s not shy of making demands.’

I do not know that name.
Her fingers trembled as she signed the words. She swallowed, her breathing quickening.

‘You’re lying.’

I do not know—

‘You’re lying!’

Dino raised his hand to grab her, to shake her by the shoulders, then pulled back at the last second.

I swear to you.
She took a step back.

‘Erebus funded your army of killers. Did you think the Domina financed that many weapons, that much armour, simply by raising taxes?’

What else do you know about this Erebus?