The Boy Who Wept Blood (29 page)

‘Fairly important then?’ She raised her eyebrows, smirked, then sketched a bow before placing the tricorn upon her head. Dino nodded, unsure of where she was taking this line of conversation. Stephania opened the doors to a second lacquered wardrobe. It was not filled with clothes. It was not filled with anything as far as Dino could see. The future Duchess Prospero hauled up a trapdoor set in its base. She turned to him, looking about as smug as he’d ever seen her.

‘So it stands to reason I can escape my own chamber by means less obvious than the front door. Don’t you think?’

‘I think I love you, Stephania.’

‘Only if you weren’t
invertito
.’ He knew she’d said in jest but it stung all the same. ‘Sorry. Love is love.’ She embraced him once more, a light kiss on his cheek to complete the apology, and then they were fleeing down a ladder, wondering if they’d survive the dawn.

52

The Faces of Messengers
–
30 Agosto
325

The secret route from Stephania’s chamber descended through cobweb and darkness. It was a place of tight corners and rough stone, a graveyard for dust, a repository for whispers long forgotten. How many secrets and arguments had echoed in these places between walls? Dino’s nerves were frayed from being hunted, the feeling persisting even here. They were in a hidden place, obscured from view yet far from safe. They climbed down ladders or else used the ancient timbers of Demesne to take them ever lower, following a route unremembered by all except by ancient architects.

And Stephania.

‘How do you know this place so well?’ asked Dino.

‘My father showed me. He said the great houses were a good deal more hostile toward each other during my grandfather’s rule. This route is from that time.’

They emerged into the empty kitchens of House Prospero, yet to awaken to the day’s labours. Only the scurrying of mice across floorboards broke the silence. Dino imagined he could hear the endless crawl of a thousand ants, infesting every corner of Demesne, searching out every crumb of comfort.

‘We should take something for the road,’ said Stephania. They searched the pantries and took a small selection of food. The desire to leave pressed upon them.

‘Where did you get that thing from?’ enquired Dino, tapping the scabbard attached to her belt with an index finger. The sword had a swept hilt of admirable craftsmanship, but the metal was dull and grimy. The canvas of the scabbard was worn and bare, the chape loose. Much like the weapon I gave Speranza, he thought.

‘It was my father’s,’ replied Stephania. ‘He was never much of a soldier. I found it in his office one day and begged him to let me have it.’ She brushed her fingers over the hilt, tender as a lover. ‘He could never deny me anything.’

‘Do you know how to use it?’

‘I had some lessons, but my mother found out and made me stop.’

‘When?’

‘Shortly before I was sixteen.’ Stephania raised an eyebrow. ‘She said it was unladylike.’

‘Show me,’ said Dino, withdrawing a few steps.

‘What here? In the kitchen?’ Stephania pouted.

‘You don’t go looking for the fight; the fight comes looking for you. And it doesn’t care too much for the when or the where.’

She drew, holding out the sword with an arm that hadn’t lifted anything heavier than a quill for some time.

‘Again, but bend your knees. Try not to turn out your feet out so much. This isn’t ballet.’

‘Thanks for the reminder.’ She re-sheathed the sword and tried again, drew perfectly. A slash, a thrust.

He caught the tip of the blade in a gloved hand and flashed a grin at her. ‘You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’

‘Let’s hope I don’t actually have to use it,’ she replied.

Soon they were stalking through House Prospero, entering the circuitous corridor that embraced the Ravenscourt. Dino pushed a gloved hand into Stephania’s. She squeezed, though whether it was meant as reassurance or came from anxiety wasn’t clear. They hurried onward.

‘Have you seen Anea?’ Stephania whispered.

‘Yes.’ How could one word be so hard to say? As if a hand had clamped around his throat.

‘Did you speak to her?’

‘I tried. She’s not the person I knew.’ Thoughts of Anea’s betrayal were a phantom that haunted every shadowed corner. ‘I think …’ The words faltered. He knew what he wanted to say, just couldn’t stand the speaking of them. ‘I think one of the Myrmidons has influence over her.’ Perhaps Anea had seen something of herself in Marchetti. Perhaps she’d been lost to the ravages of
tinctura
.

‘This Erebus you mentioned?’

‘No, he’s called Marchetti. The man who killed Fiorenza.’ A thought occurred. ‘It’s not inconceivable that they’re the same person. It would explain a few things.’ Dino felt his hate for the Myrmidon swell until he could barely breathe.

‘This Marchetti would have to be some sort of genius.’

‘He’s a genius with the blade,’ admitted Dino, ‘but I’m not sure I see him as an expert on intrigue and subterfuge. Perhaps I underestimate him.’

‘Dino.’ Stephania squeezed his hand. ‘Up ahead.’

Two Myrmidons stood to either side of the Contadino gatehouse.

Stephania paused and tugged his hand. ‘Let’s find another way.’

But the Myrmidons had seen them, raising blunt-faced helms to the messengers, who stood hand in hand with a sack of plundered food. Dino held his breath and heard the thick pounding of his heart. His instinct was to reach for his blade, but his hand gripped Stephania’s instead.

The Myrmidons nodded, made no attempt to accost them. The disguises had done their work. The messengers hurried on, safely wrapped in tabards of purple and black, heads bowed beneath the peaks of their three-cornered hats.

The rose garden was a balm after the stark and haunted corridors of Demesne. The night’s darkness had not yet relented, soothed by the soft light of the sickle blade moon.

‘You don’t seem concerned about leaving,’ whispered Dino as they passed through the blooms of red and white.

‘I have
so much
to stay for.’ Stephania flashed a crooked smile.

‘Difficult to argue with that logic.’ Hadn’t he too yearned to be away from here for months, even years? Hadn’t he wanted to leave with Cherubini upon his expulsion? Surely any trials in San Marino would feel like blessings after the nightmares of Demesne.

They were halfway across the rose garden, circling the statue of Santa Maria, when the voice called out to them. Dino’s hand went to the hilt of his blade; Stephania lurched back in surprise.

‘Think I know the faces of every messenger in Demesne, and yet I’ve not met these two before. Huh.’ This from one night-shadowed corner. A tiny spark of light seethed orange, moonleaf in the bowl of Nardo’s pipe.

‘We must stop meeting like this. People will talk.’ Dino flicked out a lazy salute, unable to keep a smile of relief from his face.

‘They’ll talk about you,’ replied Nardo, standing. ‘I’m married.’

‘They already talk about me,’ said Dino, no bitterness, just matter of fact. Nardo nodded to Stephania and she favoured him with a smile.

‘Found new employment, my lady?’

‘Dino has taken me on as his apprentice. We’re off to seek our fortunes in San Marino.’

‘Can’t say I blame you.’

‘And why are you awake so late?’ she asked.

‘Got something for you,’ said the messenger, holding out a sack. Dino took it, felt the contents shift and writhe.

‘What in nine hells?’ He reached into the sack and broke into a smile. ‘Achilles, you little bastard!’

‘Huh. Bastard difficult to catch too, especially after the Myrmidons had ransacked your apartment. I hoped you’d come this way.’

‘Best to keep him in there for now,’ said Stephania, peering into the sack. Beady black eyes stared back, as unimpressed as Dino had ever seen them. The moment of their departure stretched, became leaden with so many unsaid words.

‘You’re … you’re not going to talk me out of it?’ said Dino.

‘Hell of thing to be accused of murdering your maid. I think it best you flee now and come back some other time. You might want to come back with Lucien and a few score armed men.’

‘I’ll be sure to pass that on to him,’ replied Dino, trying to imagine war between the two towns.

‘What will you do?’ pressed Stephania.

‘Same as always. Keep my head down, look out for Medea and the children. I’ll try and persuade her to move to House Albero once she’s well, then send word to you. But for now there’s no reasoning with her.’ The messenger eyed the pair, stony-faced as ever, then coughed and gestured Dino closer with one finger. ‘Come here.’

Nardo swept the Orfano up in a burly hug he’d never have expected.

‘Get your scrawny
invertito
arse to the coast and keep out of trouble, if you’re able. I’ll see you again.’

Dino nodded, unable to reply. Stephania kissed the veteran messenger on each cheek and led Dino inside. After a time they emerged into the courtyard beyond.

Four horses waited in the shadows of the Contadino granaries. Speranza was mounted, shoulders hunched from the pre-dawn chill or tense with prospect of discovery. Likely the latter, Dino guessed. She had changed her clothes, dressed in a riding skirt and travel cloak, better to escape the notice of those looking for a Fontein messenger.

Dino walked as casually as he dared, every instinct urging him to run. Speranza soothed her mount toward the gates of House Contadino without a pause, hoof beats echoing from the walls. Either she hadn’t recognised them or had no wish to take her chances with the escaping Orfano. It mattered not. She paused for a moment at the well and cast a glance over her shoulder, but Dino failed to decipher the expression on her face. The Myrmidons at the gate hefted the cross bar and tugged on the handles. Santa Maria waited beyond the walls, townhouses shuttered to keep out the night. A solitary lantern hung from a shop sign, a beacon of warmth threatening to gutter out. Speranza passed under the arch of the gatehouse, nodding to the Myrmidons as she left. They made no gesture, returning to the light of a brazier which threw long shadows over the cobbles like clutching fingers.

‘Where is she going?’ whispered Stephania.

‘To join D’arzenta, most likely. And Giolla di Leona too, I’d guess.’

‘Giolla? Who is she?’

‘No one.’ The Orfano shook his head. ‘No one who matters.’

Dino walked to their mounts and checked them over, Stephania did likewise. The smell of leather and horse was thick on the air as Dino watched the Myrmidons with a surreptitious eye. The gate remained open, awaiting their departure. Stephania said nothing, pushing her wealth of tresses under her tricorn lest they reveal her. The staccato of hooves faded as Speranza passed through the town, leaving Dino with the sound of his heart, now loud in his ears. At least the messenger of Fontein would escape the death that stalked the corridors of Demesne so freely. Dino hoped D’arzenta would treat the woman well.

The Orfano pressed Duke Fontein’s stiletto into Stephania’s hand, gold etched writing gleaming in the darkness.

‘I already have a sword. What am I supposed to do with this?’ she said with obvious distaste.

‘Use it. On them, or yourself if you want to avoid being captured alive.’

‘Interesting.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s not much of choice.’

‘Choices are the luxury of those in power.’

‘Dino, I’ve never killed anyone before.’ This in a voice made small by the quiet.

‘With any fortune you won’t have to. Here,’ he handed her the sack, ‘Take Achilles. Come on.
Avanti
.’

They mounted as one. Dino spent a second regarding the spare horse meant for Virmyre. It would likely be standing here still come the dawn. He couldn’t worry about that now; escape was at hand. The horses carried them across the courtyard. With each
clip
and every
clop
Dino yearned to remove himself from the malign influence of Erebus. Stephania lowered her chin, the tip of the tricorn throwing a darker shadow over her face. The Myrmidons made no move from their place at the brazier. The horses were just feet from the gate. Dino’s hands were tight on the reins, jaw clenched, stomach a coil of anxiety.

A crowd had gathered outside the gates, indistinct in the darkness. The lantern above the shop sign had guttered out. Dino flicked his gaze to the Myrmidons at the brazier, who roused themselves but made no move to apprehend the disguised Orfano, instead troubling themselves with the bar that would secure the gates once the riders had passed.

‘Dino,’ hissed Stephania. The Orfano glanced up and felt his heart sink. The crowd beyond the gates was no crowd at all. A dozen Myrmidons levelled halberds at the horses. The
capo
stood at their centre, raising a lantern to his perfect, smirking face.

‘Going somewhere?’

53

Fiorenza’s Requiem
–
30 Agosto
325

The only light issued from the man who held up a lantern as if it were a crown. Guido di Fontein,
capo de custodia
, grinned.

‘My Lord Erudito.’

‘Guido. Strange to see you awake at this hour.’

‘I take my duties very seriously.’ The
capo
preened.

‘Perhaps the Domina’s abed with some other bravo tonight?’

Guido’s smile slipped before he pushed back his shoulders. ‘Lady Prospero.’ The
capo
inclined his head. ‘It would seem I won’t be carrying out that inspection of your apartment after all.’

‘I’m sure you’ll survive the disappointment.’ Her words were acid. ‘It’s not as if you’re unfamiliar with the bedrooms of House Prospero, is it?’

The
capo
winced. ‘I’ll need to ask you both to dismount. You’re no doubt aware I am to apprehend you for the murders of Duke Fontein and your maid, Dino. What was her name?’

‘You
know
what her name was, just as you know it was Marchetti who killed her.’

‘Oh yes. Her name.’ The
capo
smirked. ‘Uh, Fiorella?’

‘Her name was Fiorenza. Did you give Marchetti the order or was that the Domina?’

‘Such lies.’ The
capo
scowled. ‘I knew you were pathetic, Dino; I never thought you’d stoop to killing women.’

‘I don’t know.’ The Orfano flashed an unfriendly smile. ‘I could stoop to killing you.’

The Myrmidons advanced with their halberds, causing the horses to rear. Dino regained control of his steed with gritted teeth, Stephania turned her mount expertly, trotting back to the courtyard, hooves clattering on the cobbles. The Myrmidons passed through the gate, fanning out into a semicircle, halberds pointed at their quarry, dull spikes in the gloom of the courtyard. The gatekeepers waited until their kin had passed through, then pushed the heavy studded doors closed. Dino swore as the bar fell into place with a dull thump. There would be no escape now. The
capo
passed the lantern to a subordinate and drew his blade.

‘If you will not dismount we will kill the horses.’

‘If you so much as touch my horse I will string you up, you perfumed fop,’ said Stephania.

Orfano and noblewoman stepped down from the stirrups, chagrin weighing on them as feet alighted on cobbles. Stephania clutched the sack containing Achilles to her chest. A Myrmidon closed and drew a sword.

‘Leave them!’ The
capo
managed a note of command he’d never master with more human soldiers. ‘The Orfano killed my duke. I will have my revenge on him in person.’ He drew his blade to reinforce his intent.

‘The Domina ordered the duke to be killed, you idiot.’

‘Dino should receive a trial,’ called out Stephania.

‘We’re long past the sanctuary of law,’ grated the Orfano.

The Myrmidons had the sense to back off, spreading out to let the
capo
have his entertainment.

‘I’ve been training for this moment a long time.’ The
capo
smiled.

‘I rather hope so, for your sake’ said Stephania sweetly.

Dino pushed the messenger’s tabard over his head, knocking the tricorn off in the process. He drew a knife from his boot and cut through the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his bandaged forearms. Two more jerking cuts and the bandages lay in pools of spooling fabric.

‘Showing your true colours?’ sneered the
capo.
Dino looked down at the dark blue tines growing from each forearm. How many mornings he’d bound them so as not to draw attention to his otherness.

‘They’re sharp, you know,’ said Dino calmly. He tested one tine with his finger . ‘You might say I’ve been dealing with pricks my whole life.’ He smiled at the
capo
. ‘I really can’t see why you’d give me any trouble.’

The
capo
surged forward, two slashes the same tempo followed by a thrust that was sudden but not unexpected. Dino stepped beyond the range of the first two attacks and parried the third with his dagger, every sense intent on Guido: his footwork, the set of his shoulders, the direction of his eyes, his grip on the hilt and the positioning of his blade. He drew his own sword, the silver drake pommel now familiar under his gloved fingers. Dino flashed a terrible smile, eager for the violence to come. It was all for nothing, of course. Even if he defeated the
capo
he’d be cut down by the Myrmidons, just as Emilio had been. This thought leaked through his mind and caught fire like oil from a lantern.

The
capo
turned aside his opening thrust but almost lost his footing such was Dino’s fury, a slash threatening to remove one leg at the knee. Guido flinched away with widening eyes. He batted off another slash that would have opened his face and bisected his pretty nose. A grunt, a curse, a flash of steel. The fighters parted and circled each other. The
capo
drew a dagger from his belt and rolled his shoulders. Dino snorted a derisive laugh; Guido was struggling to find his rhythm.

‘I’ve always hated you. You, Lucien, Anea, even Golia. All so smug and sure of yourselves. Eradicating the Orfani is an ambition I’ve long nurtured.’

‘I’ve often found ambition exceeds ability. In your case doubly so.’

The
capo
thrust. Dino responded with a low slash at his front leg, easily avoided. They stumbled past each other, the backhanded swing that would have opened Guido’s vitals deflected by a dagger. The fighters pivoted and came about. A thrust at the
capo
’s face. This deserved a full parry with the sword; everyone knew how handsome Guido was, not least himself. Dino took advantage, landing a solid kick between the
capo
’s legs. He was rewarded with a muffled cough. It was a petty move but a deserved one.

‘
Strega
scum.’ Guido staggered back with tears in his eyes.

And then Dino fell on him like a raven, threatening to rip the
capo
apart in tiny increments.

‘You can’t eradicate the Orfani, you idiot.’ Dino thrust again, found his blade turned aside by the dagger once more. ‘Myrmidons, Orfani; they’re all one and the same.’ A slash, opening the
capo
across one shoulder, jacket tearing, resistance as the blade met leather beneath. ‘All twisted ancestry from the same source.’ The blade found its mark again, sank deeper. ‘Only the titles make us different.’

‘The Myrmidons answer to us,’ sneered the
capo
; ‘they answer to the throne.’ He slashed back, but it was a reckless backhanded strike. Dino ducked beneath it, then parried the returning slash as if it were no more than practice.

‘They answer to humans,’ sneered Guido. ‘They know their place.’

Dino’s mouth twisted. Demesne hated difference. The nobility sneered at the
cittadini
; those fully human were unnerved by the Orfani; women were treated as slaves or objects by men; the majority felt disgust for Cherubini and his preference. All were united in their hatred of the Myrmidons, and the Myrmidons no doubt harboured their own grudges. Landfall did not encourage difference, did not welcome individuals. Soon it would be as uniform as any ant colony. A colony designed by Erebus.

The two men clashed, coming together and drawing apart, circling, then lunging again with awful intensity. Guido’s dagger, the instrument of many parries, gouged Dino’s side beneath his ribs. Stephania cried out, her voice rising above even the pitch of the clashing steel. The Orfano staggered back, throwing up an arm protectively at the sword falling toward him in a blur. The steel slashed down at a shallow angle onto the blue tines of his forearm, snapping them, smashing through, but not cutting the flesh beneath.

Dino chewed off a curse.

The
capo
struck again, shocked his blade hadn’t severed Dino’s arm; the attack he launched hasty and ill prepared. Dino took the hilt of his blade in both hands, steel clashed upon steel before he made a circling motion ending in a sharp flick. The
capo
’s sword was wrenched free, skittering across the cobbles. Guido stood before the Orfano empty-handed.

‘Her name was Fiorenza,’ hissed Dino.

Dino’s overhead strike was caught on the flat of Guido’s dagger. The metal snapped and the
capo
was forced to his knees. A seasoned fighter, he used the opportunity to draw another knife from his boot, surging to his feet. Dino raised his left arm and backhanded the noble across the face, rending pretty skin with tines. Guido stepped back in horror then slumped to his knees, a whimper escaping his shivering lips. His grip on the knife slackened in numb fingers.

‘Witchcraft,’ whispered the
capo
, lips turning blue.

‘Perhaps,’ said Dino, breathing heavily, ‘although I tend to call it poison.’

The
capo
clutched at his throat as it began to constrict, each breath more tortured than the last.

‘My maid’s name. What was it?’

‘
Vai al diavolo
,’ wheezed Guido.

Dino ran him through the chest with his sword and watched the man’s eyes widen in shock.

‘Her name.’

‘
Puttana.
’

Dino drew his blade from the
capo
’s chest, a wet rasp in the awful silence. He twisted the steel as it came loose, eliciting a shriek from the defeated
capo
. The Orfano leaned in close. ‘Her name was Fiorenza, you fuck.’

The
capo
tried to stab him in the chest with the dagger, the strike weak and unfocused.

Dino caught his wrist with ease. ‘Say it.’

Still the
capo
tried to stab him, face purple, veins blue against his skin. Dino’s grip was absolute. The dagger trembled but came no closer to its prize.

‘Her name was Fiorenza.’

‘Just another whore,’ wheezed the
capo
, ‘in a maid’s uniform. They’re all whores, Dino.’ He flashed a look of hatred at Stephania. ‘Salvaza, the Domina, all of them.’ He clawed down another breath. ‘But you wouldn’t know. You’ve been too busy fucking men.’

‘Duty makes whores of us all,’ whispered Dino. He stepped back from the
capo
and watched him die. Watched the poison surge through every vein.

The Myrmidons showed little concern for the loss of the
capo
but remained in a loose semicircle around the fugitives.

Stephania pressed herself to the Orfano and looked down at his forearm, eyes rich with concern, mouth a twist of worry. She took his arm and regarded the smashed and broken tines.

‘Don’t worry about those,’ he said wearily. ‘They always grow back. How is Achilles?’

‘Still wriggling,’ she replied, hefting the sack. He picked up his tabard, pulling it on under the blank gaze of the Myrmidons and their curving helms. Stephania took his hand and thrust out her chin.

‘I command you to stand down.’ They made no move, might have been carved from granite for all of her imperiousness.

Stephania attempted to lead Dino toward the gates, but the points of halberds prevented her. They found themselves pressed up against the well, the Myrmidons closing in around them.

‘Won’t you let us go? We just want to leave,’ she pleaded. No response, but neither did the Myrmidons seek to harm them. ‘Why aren’t they attacking?’ she whispered.

‘Because they know what I know,’ said Dino. ‘Them and me, we’re not so different. Just on different sides.’

It was then that the Domina appeared with Marchetti at her side. Dino felt his blood run cold. He eyed the veiled Myrmidon and saw someone whose anger eclipsed his own, someone eager to carry out any atrocity, someone with no compunctions, someone prepared to kill women. The Domina muttered to the assassin, and Marchetti nodded then drew his blade and crossed the courtyard.

‘We don’t have to stay and fight,’ whispered Stephania.

‘What are you talking about?’ replied Dino, not taking his eyes from the assassin.

‘There are tunnels beneath Demesne; we can find another way.’

Dino eyed Stephania, remembering the promise he’d made to her mother. Marchetti was close now, perhaps twenty feet away. The moon shone from his blade, his eyes reflected silver.

‘Are you ready?’ said Dino.

‘Of course.’

The Orfano lifted Lady Stephania Prospero over the side of the well and dropped her, throwing himself after.