The Shadow Master (22 page)

He then looked across to the large mechanical model of the world in the corner of the room. It was an intriguing piece of machinery, and looked like something Galileo might have built, with bright bronze cogged wheels within cogged wheels within cogged wheels. He imaged the inner wheels would turn more rapidly as they were smaller and the larger outer wheels would turn slowly, rotating the whole globe at the pace of one rotation a day. It was probably fanciful to imagine that the planet was a giant machine, run on cogs within cogs, but it was also not impossible to believe.

He looked across the table and saw the Duke was now staring at the mechanical globe too. He probably coveted it as much as Cosimo did. He frowned. He could imagine them coming to blows over it. The Duke's reach was probably larger than his own, but Cosimo's grasp would be stronger, and he'd wrestle the man's arms from the globe. The Duke's witch of a wife would join in undoubtedly, trying to restrain him while her husband took control of the world. Then their advisers and guardsmen would join in, with the City Council calling vainly for order, and then they would be spilling blood. But that would not do. They had all just taken a vow that no blood would be spilled in this room. That was one of the conditions for the meeting.

Cosimo turned his attention back to the table. He would ask one of the councillors to demonstrate how the globe worked before they left the Council chamber. If the meeting went well, that was.

The Duke also turned his attention away from the globe of the world. He was thinking that the logical thing to do would be take the many maps of the world off the walls and make a skin for the globe showing how all the parts fitted together. No need to see all the cogs beneath. More important to see the overall shape of the continents. The ornate wooden walls of the chamber were covered in closely-fitting golden frames, each with a map of a different part of the world, portrayed in golden continents on dark blue seas. He suspected that some of the maps were actually more imaginative than real, for so much of the world was unknown, but they were said to be based on surviving texts of the ancients and it was believed the ancients had mapped the entire world. He shrugged. That was a question for another day. They were here to address a peace accord and ensure Lucia's freedom. He placed a hand on his wife's and gave it a small squeeze. He knew they had the upper hand today, otherwise Cosimo Medici would never have requested this urgent midnight meeting. His wife said it was not prudent to agree at such short notice, but the Duke's curiosity was aroused.

The Duke looked across at Cosimo and met him eye to eye. He wanted to see him blink and turn away. Wanted to see his indecision or lack of courage or whatever it was that had led him to propose this peace meeting. He had written that he wanted to return things to the state they had been before. They both knew that meant a submission, but he had to save some face. The Duke would allow him that, even though his wife wanted to crush him and humiliate him. They had to ensure Lucia's safety, after all. There would be time to crush and humiliate him later. And more.

The Head Councillor then looked to both families and said, “Next let me acknowledge that you have both agreed to place your palms open on the table, regardless of what decision the Council makes as to how you should bend your knee and open your purse to the City.”

Cosimo and the Duke both broke their gaze at the same time and stared at the councillor. “What is he talking about?” the Duchess whispered into her husband's ear. He shook his head a little. “And we are pleased that you have agreed to have your armies lay down their swords and axes, and allow the City Guard to be the only men thus seen on the streets once more,” Signor Pacciani added.

The Duchess put her hand on her husband's arm, giving him a warning squeeze. He looked back at Cosimo Medici, but he was staring at the councillor still, a look of rage growing upon his face as his steward leaned across to whisper something in his ear.

“The Council have discussed this matter and feel the bend of the knee and the depth of the open purse must be extreme to deter such follies in the future,” Signor Pacciani said. “And to reassert the primacy of the Council as that which governs the order of how letters are placed to spell out peace throughout the city.”

Cosimo Medici now looked across at the Duke. He was not going to remain here and be made a fool of for the Lorraine's pleasure. This was too much! They must have their daughter back safely and had come upon this ploy as a way of mocking him. He would make them pay for this insolence. But the Duke just looked back at him and said, “Do you mock us?”

“You mock yourself through this thin excuse of theatre,” said Cosimo.

The Head Councillor looked up. He was following a closely written speech and kept one finger on the line he had been at so as to return to it. But looking at the two angry men before him, he had a sudden feeling that he was not going to get to read any more.

“Me?” asked the Duke. “You are the one who wrote to me pleading for a meeting.”

“No,” said Cosimo. “You wrote to me!” And his steward cast a letter onto the table. The Duke could see the Lorraine coat of arms on the top of it. The Duke's wife snatched it up. “A clever forgery!” she declared, and snapped her fingers. Their steward lay down another letter with the six balls of the Medici coat of arms on it. The Head Councillor was having trouble keeping up with what was happening. “But you wrote a joint letter to the City Council,” he said. “You asked us to moderate this meeting. Said you desired peace.” And he wondered if he had misunderstood some of the complex metaphors in the letter.

The Duke's wife whispered one word into his ear. “Enigma!” Their personal code word for a trap. He looked around the room but nobody was making a hostile move against them. The city guardsmen seemed as confused as anyone. Then one of the lesser councillors, a man named Sforza, with eyes that never seemed to be both staring in the same direction, stood up and slowly walked across to the large mechanical globe of the world. He reached his hand inside it and turned something with a loud mechanical click.

Then the many framed maps on the walls inexplicably swung open on hinges. Everyone in the room except Signor Sforza stared in surprise as men in hessian hoods leapt out of the spaces behind them. Each was armed with a dagger and they fell upon the city guards first, stabbing them viciously and easily overpowering them by their superior numbers and the element of surprise. Then they lifted their bloodied daggers and advanced on those seated at the table.

 

 

 

XLII

The Nameless One had dreamt of death and it filled him with fear. He paced up and down the corridor outside Lucia's room, as if it was his own prison, trying to decide what to do. In the dream he had put a pillow over his wife's face and smothered her, and then ridden away into the hills with Lucia to live a new life with her where there was no plague or wasting diseases or ageing. He had woken in a sweat and reached across to touch his wife, afraid that he had actually done it. Afraid he would find her dead.

Then he had jumped out of bed and fled to the corridor. He had to confront Lucia. Had to end this. But the closer he got to her chamber the more his resolve left him. He knew that when he was with her he would choose her. He should go and climb back into bed with his wife and wake her and tell her that he loved her. Embrace her and make love to her and not think of anybody but her.

He stood there in the hallway, halfway between his own chamber where his wife was, and Lucia's chamber, and stared into a mirror. There were three of them along the wall here. Each showed a slightly different image, depending on the flaws in the mirror work. He looked at the troubled face before him in the first mirror. It was him, but not quite fully him. He had heard of eastern scientists who had found a way to free a person's reflection from a mirror. He wished he had the knowledge of that, for he would free one of the three reflections here before him, and one of them could go back to his wife while the other went to Lucia. He moved to face the second mirror and looked at the next reflection. It was subtlely different from the first. The face distorted a little in slightly different ways. What might this reflection be like if freed? Would it be crueller? Weaker? Which should go back to his wife and which on to Lucia?

He had a sudden desire that one of his reflections might climb from the mirror now and challenge him. Tell him he could not go back to his wife, or perhaps that he could not go on to Lucia. That would make things easier. He would refuse to be told what he should do and would pit his strength against this other him. He would challenge him and refuse to be denied. That would decide the choice for him. He would finally be facing somebody just as strong as himself, who he could only beat by superior will and determination.

He looked again at the second mirror. In his mind this reflection was a little uglier than the other two. This is the man he would like to fight. There seemed a cruel twist to his lip. He would grapple with him and overpower him, throw him to the ground. Or might this other him actually defeat him? He should know the answer to that, he thought, since he had been wrestling with himself since kidnapping Lucia.

He slumped down against the wall and put his head in his hands. He was a prisoner of his own making. Whatever he chose to do now would haunt him. It was enough to make him laugh. He had murdered men and committed atrocities that had never worried him. He had taken pride in how he had killed them. He was an artist of assassination. But now he was haunted by an act of violence that he had not even committed.

A more superstitious man might think it some kind of retribution for his past life. He stood upright again and stared at his own face in the mirror once more. He needed to steel himself for a difficult decision. He needed to be strong and brave, but he felt that he could never be braver than either his wife or Lucia. And that shamed him. He looked at a weak ageing man in the mirror who was playing at still being young. Who dreamed fanciful dreams that turned around and became nightmares.

He stepped to the third mirror and looked at that reflection. What did he see in that face? He fancied he saw a man who was somehow better than himself? That's who was needed now, he thought. Someone more able to make the right decision, and strong enough not to waver. Surely there was some science that could allow him to trade places with that reflection of himself. That would free him of the responsibility of having to do what he needed to do to free himself of this torment. He looked down at his hands again and flexed the fingers. He was still strong enough to do this.

He turned from the mirror and strode down the hallway. When he got to Lucia's chamber he allowed himself a momentary glimpse through one of the peep holes. She was still sitting up on the bed, like she had not slept at all, waiting, ready to defy him again. He clenched his fists and opened them again, striding up and down in the thin corridor. He needed to be as brave as her for this. He stepped away from the peep hole and unlocked the door, stepped into the room and walked straight across to where she sat on the bed. He grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. She looked closely into his face and he saw no fear there. Then he saw her lift her hand. She had a weapon in it. He recognised it. It was a spoon. The spoon he had left her. He could see she saw the mockery in his eyes and a blaze of anger filled hers and then he saw something quite amazing. The metal spoon began bending and reshaping itself, melding with her very skin and becoming a long talon.

He felt the slash across his check and he fell back, as much in surprise as to protect himself. Then she turned and thrust the metal talon into the secret door in the wall and struggled with it. He could have reached out then and grabbed her. Could have held her from behind. Forced her onto the bed. Seen what strange thing she had done to her hand. He could do anything he chose to.

But then, almost impossibly, she had the door open. He saw her disappear into the tunnels and heard the tinkle of metal falling to the ground. He looked down and saw two halves of a bent and broken spoon where she had been standing. “Go,” he said in a pained voice, trying to still the frantic working of his jaw. “The little bird has her wish. You can go free.”

 

 

XLIII

Lorenzo's head was spinning. Barely had the Shadow Master let him explore some of the secrets of the ancients in the large cavern, than he was pulling him towards a small chamber, telling him, “We are out of time. Come.”

But Lorenzo could not. He wanted to spend hours walking around the vast machines around them, trying to understand how they worked. They were enormous. They were of a scale he had never imagined. Stone blocks and copper pipes and metal cogs were everywhere. It was like he had shrunk to the size of an insect and was walking around the insides of a vast and complicated machine. And all around them were statues of the ancients, like in the city above. But these were not mounted on pillars. They were standing about them, like people who had become petrified where they worked. What did they signify?

But the Shadow Master did not give him any more time to ponder it. He dragged him into the small chamber and Lorenzo saw there were controls of some kind on the wall in front of them. The Shadow Master manipulated them a moment and then said, “Ready yourself.”

“For what?”

“A life altering experience. And you'd better put that spring-punch glove of yours back on. You might need it.

As ever, Lorenzo didn't quite understand what he meant, but then he felt his body growing. Not like he was turning into a giant, it was more like he was stretching, becoming thinner and thinner and climbing higher and higher. “It is disconcerting the first time,” said the Shadow Master. Lorenzo looked down at his hands, but they were already far, far down below him somewhere. He looked and saw the Shadow Master's face had become so thin it no longer resembled a face.