“Unless to do so would be to betray me to an enemy, in which case, the dual pressure would kill him.”
Setting the jar in the middle of the dissecting table, he closed and locked the cask once more.
“He has until the duc’s funeral as requested. In the meantime, find out everything you can about the men he marked and what they might have had in common.”
Standing to one side, Piero bowed but said nothing.
The next three days passed without further incident and Riamo began to breathe a little easier. One by one, the ducs of Montecino, Rocasta, Calegro, Pisario, and Cerchicava arrived. The added security made unobtrusive movement in the city difficult, but Piero still managed to uncover the link between Spoleto, Farnese, and Ascanio. A single name. Dante Corsini.
The morning of Johanni Gagio’s funeral dawned cold and wet; the wind whipping through the tree-lined avenues of the city promised a violent winter to come. Every sconce, lamp, and candelabra in the San Salvadore Cathedral was alight when Luca took his place along the western wall in the pew reserved for foreign nobility. Drey was nowhere to be found and, eyes narrowed, Luca scanned the crowds of people, watching as the prosperous citizens of Riamo began to take their seats, most staring unabashedly at the exotic foreign dignitaries in their midst. For many, this was their first glimpse of a world outside the narrow confines of their shops and counting houses and once again Luca found himself grinding his teeth in contemptuous impatience.
Across the quire, he saw Alesandro take his solitary place in the Albergo family pew, and forcibly schooled his expression. A quiet, soft-spoken young man, Alesandro had accepted his new civic responsibilities with all the prudence and piety expected of a man of his class, but it seemed to be taking a heavy toll on him these last few months. His face was pale and his usually open countenance cloudy. As the Corsini family passed by on the way to their own pew, Dante paused to speak with him and Alesandro started uneasily. Luca’s eyes narrowed.
Drey and Alesandro had been ten-year-old boys when Luca had married Vallenza Albergo, the widow of a successful goldsmith. Despite their vastly divergent upbringings the two new brothers had become inseparable companions and continued to spend time together as adults. Luca was surprised that Alesandro didn’t turn to see if his brother had taken his place beside his stepfather. As the Gagio family took their seats before Johanni’s ornate casket and the signal for the great double doors to be closed was given, Alesandro met Luca’s gaze with a supplicant expression and Luca nodded.
The funeral was a long and dull affair dominated by the bishop who, taking advantage of a captive audience, extolled the virtues of Johanni Gagio and his administration until even the most devout eye was glazed over with boredom. When the congregation was finally released several hours later, they dispersed rapidly, heading for the city’s taverns and alehouses with an obvious air of relief. Directing Piero to wait for him, Luca made his way unhurriedly across the sturdy marble bridge that linked the cathedral grounds to the tidy, well-kept merchant’s cemetery to the west. Standing before the modestly decorated Albergo mausoleum as if taking a moment for a quiet prayer, he stared down at the bronze plaque that bore Vallenza’s name and waited for her son to join him.
“You seem disturbed,” he said without preamble.
Alesandro nodded unhappily. “It’s Dom,” he replied with some hesitation. “He sent me to fetch you. He’s in trouble.”
The tiny orphanage of San Jorge had been abandoned long before Luca had come to Riamo. The children and the priests who’d cared for them had moved to larger quarters when the last plague had swelled the orphans’ numbers beyond what the small building could contain and it had never been reoccupied. Luca strode up the overgrown walkway with an air of bored disinterest while maintaining an almost painful scrutiny of every aspect of his surroundings. When Drey emerged from the open doorway, his lean face devoid of expression, Luca almost snarled at him.
“Just what do you think you’re playing at?” he demanded.
“I couldn’t risk returning right away, but I knew you would be getting impatient.” Resetting the wards on the orphanage door, Drey leaned against the wall of the main entrance hall with a calm expression.
He explained his absence to his father in as few words as possible. The duc of Cerchicava had been his original candidate as expected but the same Coll Svedali who had aided the duc in destroying the trade in that city had intervened again, throwing a strange combined magic at Drey that had taken him completely by surprise. It had left a pale, white scar across his cheek which was only now beginning to fade. That Drey and Coll had been contemporaries at the Svedali Innocenti Foundling Home together and that Drey had encountered him at least once before without killing him made Luca’s eyes darken dangerously.
“So, you allow yourself to be marked…” The Death Mage showed his teeth at Drey’s response to the necromantic word, “… with a locate spell of unknown magic, you leave the marker alive, you come home, and you send for your civilian brother.”
“I needed to get a message to you. It was the safest way.”
“And how did you explain your inability to return home to him?”
“I told him I had the clap.”
“And do you?” Luca echoed Drey’s responding expression. “I ask only because something’s obviously addled your brains. You deliberately put Alesandro at risk.”
Drey’s calm demeanor did not change. “Not at all. The spell is one of location only and it had already begun to fade when I sent for him.”
“How can you know that? You said the spell casting was new.”
“The spell casting is new. The components are conventional.”
“There’s nothing conventional about this threat in Cerchicava.”
“Coll’s only a threat to the few Death Mages remaining there and anything that weakens them strengthens us. When you’re ready to step in, Coll can be removed without causing any kind of stir.”
“We will set your presumptuous and naive assessment of that situation aside for the moment,” Luca snarled at him. “In the meantime you will explain to me why you chose to mark the duc of Riamo.”
Drey shrugged. “There was opportunity?”
“And then,” Luca continued, throwing him a warning look, “decided to further destabilize the situation here by marking three Riamo merchants just to pass the time? Don’t even think to deny it,” he snapped when the younger man gave him a patently false wide-eyed look. “Their deaths have the Huntsman written all over them.”
Drey shrugged. “The Huntsman’s habits are well known. Anyone could copy them.”
“Really?” Luca locked eyes with his son. “I have Farnese’s corpse on my table as we speak. Do you really want me to cast an identify spell of my own brand of conventional magic upon it? Should the perpetrator wear my binding spell the results would be dramatic.”
“I had private reasons to mark them,” Drey answered a little to quickly.
“What reasons?”
Drey looked away. “They’re not mine to tell,” he said at last.
“Than whose are they?”
“Alesandro’s.”
“What?”
“I got into some trouble.”
The other man had been waiting in the back garden for Drey to fetch him in. When Luca signaled curtly for him to explain, he ran a hand through his sandy-colored hair with a helpless gesture. “I borrowed heavily to invest in a ship bound for the far east. It was supposed to return with a cargo of gold of unsurpassed quality. When it sank, the moneylender I borrowed the original investment from called in his debt.”