The Shadow Master (27 page)

The warmth in her chest grew larger, and she was certain that was a term that he had used with her many times before, though she knew she was hearing it for the first time only. “Light of my life,” she replied. He smiled and she reached out and grabbed him. Kissed him. This boy who would climb high towers and tunnel through the earth for her. How could she not? And she felt for a moment that surely the touch of their lips would transform them both into some creature that would fly them back to the surface. She could feel the pressure rising inside her chest, flowing into him as something of him flowed into her once more. Felt something transforming them. But a sharp cry from Galileo to Lorenzo broke the kiss and they turned their heads to see the puce priest forcing the old man down one of the tunnels ahead of him at knife point.

Lorenzo looked back at her, and she saw the distress in his eyes. She could see the painful choice he had to make and she knew she had to make the decision. “Go,” she said. “Save him first.”

 

 

LIV

The priest pushed Galileo down the tunnels ahead of him, cursing himself for not having slain the old man at once. This was not how it should have been! His vision was coming undone. The heretic Galileo had to be behind this all somehow. He had conjured that cursed man-beast abomination using his science! He should be flung into a pit of flames to see if his foul arts would serve him then. But, he mumbled to himself, he needed him for the moment. He could still turn things in his favour. His divine mission would not be thwarted.

Galileo stumbled as the priest pressed him ever onwards, first pushing him too hard and then pulling him back to his feet to stop him falling, hissing into his ear each time, “Faster.” The tunnels ahead of them branched in many directions, with the lanterns on the walls illuminating the way only faintly, but the priest never paused at each new turning, pushing the old man steadily ahead of him. Now and then he threw a quick glance back over his shoulder to see if he could see the man-beast pursuing him, for he was surely coming after him, and he wondered if it might be easier to just cut the old man's throat and leave him. Or better still, he might slash the back of Galileo's legs as the man-beast had done to the priest's own followers, and that would slow him in his pursuit while he stopped to help the old man along.

But there was time for that yet, he thought. So many options, like the branches of the tunnels, and he needed to make sure he was choosing the right ones. This was surely a test, he told himself. A test of his worthiness. He had to show he had the strength of will to rise above these setbacks. That thought filled him with renewed confidence and he urged Galileo on faster still. He knew just what he had to do now. It was as simple as ignoring all the wrong turnings. They were distractions. They were put in his path to test him. But he would not be deterred.

Galileo stumbled again, and fell heavily to the ground. The priest put his knife to the back of Galileo's neck and said, “Stand up or die.”

“I suspect if I stand up I will die anyway,” the old man replied. The priest growled and hauled him back up to his feet with great effort. And when he pointed him forward again, he saw a flickering light ahead of them that he had not seen there a moment before. He hissed in the old man's ear. “Silence now.” He pushed Galileo forward more slowly and soon could hear the moans and calls of wounded men writhing on the ground. The priest stepped out into the chamber cautiously, looking at his followers bleeding on the ground, grasping their wounds. “They have been tested and found wanting,” he said softly. “They were not worthy.”

He scanned the chamber carefully for the man-beast. He was not there. But the young woman was, staring down the tunnel he had fled along. He smiled. She did not even see him there, she was so preoccupied with expecting to see her man-beast returning with him and Galileo from that direction. She was not even looking around to see if one of the wounded men would somehow find the strength and will to crawl across to her and enact some vengeance on her.

He strode across to her quickly and seized her by the hair. She was so startled she screamed, but he had his dagger at her face and said, “Silence!” She closed her mouth. Now another choice had been placed before him. He could only take one of the two non-believers with him, but which one was it to be? Who was the most valuable? Who would ensure his success and who would not? He looked from Lucia to the scientist. The old man was puffing from the exertion of hurrying down the tunnels. He could not walk much further. The girl was young and light. He could even carry her if he needed to. But the old man was the Medici's scientist. He could be a bargaining tool. And the young girl was… Yes, who was she? He tugged at her hair to turn her face to better see her in the fire light. She looked at his face and he saw the surprise there as he recognised the face she looked at. Her own face. And then he knew her. She was the Duke's daughter. He smiled again. His path was now very clear.

Without letting go of Lucia's hair he dragged her back across towards Galileo and said, “For your sins.” And he stabbed him with his knife. He felt the blade enter the old man's stomach easily and saw him slump to the ground. It was so easy he would have liked to pull him to his feet and do it again. “No,” the girl called but he pulled her head back and put the blade to her throat, and said, “And for your sins.” Then he noticed for the first time the scars along her neck, as if she had survived having her neck cut many times already. That thought shook him a little, as did the stubborn look on her face. She should have been whimpering for her life, but refused to. He wondered if she had arcane science at her disposal too, and almost loosened his grip, but then he saw the fear in her eyes. And he smiled. It was just another test of him. “We'll see how well you survive another cutting of your neck,” he said. “Unless you are very, very quiet.” Then he turned and pushed her before him, down another tunnel, the bloodied knife dripping by her throat.

 

 

LV

Lucia wanted to turn her head around and see Lorenzo there behind them, his sword drawn, striding quickly to overtake them. But she was just as certain that he would not be there. He was off down another tunnel searching vainly for the priest and Galileo. The priest jerked her hair, turning her head forward again. She wanted to call out to Lorenzo, to let him know which tunnel they had gone down, but she feared the mad priest's wrath. He had killed Galileo and would surely kill her just as easily if she angered him. It just wasn't fair, to have to expect another miraculous rescue, she thought. She would do better to wait for her chance to escape.

This high priest was muttering some strange curses at her, or at Lorenzo, or at himself, as they went on, and he ignored her when she protested that he was hurting her. He just pushed her along, going down several tunnels that were lit with the small lanterns and up several winding stone staircases. They were small and awkward, and with the priest holding her hair it was hard to precede him. She had to twist her body into difficult positions to be able to climb, and the thought filled her that it might be her best chance to escape. She could fall backwards on top of him as they ascended and her weight would knock him backwards. With luck he would bash his head on the stairs and his body would protect her from too much harm. But she might fall onto his dagger. She might injure herself worse than she injured him. And even if she broke free, could she find her way back along the tunnels to Lorenzo?

She decided that as they were going steadily upwards, they would undoubtedly emerge in the city somewhere soon. That had to be good. She would wait until they were in the city and then she would find a way to escape him. She would endure the tugging of his fat fingers in her hair until then. She had escaped the Nameless One and she would escape from this priest too.

They were in a level tunnel now and had just turned a corner when Lucia bumped straight into someone, and felt hands grabbing at her. She gave a short scream, at first thinking it was one of the disfigured plague people again. Then she wondered if it might somehow be Lorenzo. But now she saw the face in front of her. It was the Nameless One. She blinked and tried to push him away. He had to be in league with the priest and his madmen. And she would be his captive again.

But then he dropped his hands from her, took a step back and drew his sword. “Release her,” he said to the priest. It was not said as a threat, but in a tone of one who expected no refusal.

“Who are you?” the priest asked. “I have just saved this young woman from the grasps of madmen. I am going to take her back to the safety of her father.”

Lucia tired to protest but felt the dagger press into the back of her neck in warning. “My name is not important,” the Nameless One said. “But my mission is. I am here to ensure no harm comes to her.” The priest did not move. “And I am not a man to be trifled with,” the Nameless One said. “Release her at once.”

“My apologies,” said the priest, “You clearly know her identity then, but how do I know you are acting in her service? You might be taking the Medici coin and I should not like to release her into your care to see her enslaved again.”

The Nameless One looked at Lucia and said, “I wish to see her free.”

“Can I believe you, old man?” the priest asked.

Lucia saw the Nameless One lower his sword a little as he said, still looking at Lucia, “I speak from my heart.”

“How can one believe a masked stranger?” the priest asked.

“You are masked too,” said the Nameless One.

“Then I will reveal my identity to you, and you can decide who should possess her.” Lucia felt the lantern come close to her face as the priest reached up to remove his mask. She saw the look of astonishment on the Nameless One's face.

“No,” he said. “It cannot be.”

“Take her,” the priest said and pushed Lucia towards him. He pushed her hard so that she stumbled. The Nameless One was fast, though, and turned his body to catch her fully with one arm, the other still holding his sword. She looked into his eyes and thought that in the darkness she saw a terrible sadness in them. Then his mouth opened in a gasp. She felt his grip on her tighten and then loosen as his legs buckled beneath him. She fell with him, first to his knees and then to the ground. He lay half on top of her, one hand still on his sword, his face so close to hers that she could see blood and spittle on his lips as he tried to say something to her. But she never heard it. The priest grabbed her hair in a painful grasp again, and pulled her to her feet. “Fool,” he hissed waving his newly-bloodied dagger at the Nameless One. It had gone up under his ribcage and into his tortured heart.

Lucia tried to turn her head back to look at him, willing him to climb back to his feet and pick up his sword again. To not be dead. But the priest twisted her hair viciously and pushed her forwards again. And then a quiet rage filled her like she had never known. She vowed that the Nameless One would be the last person this priest slew. He would not kill her and he would not kill anyone else. She knew what she would do, if she could just be granted the opportunity.

 

 

 

LVI

The night glasses that Leonardo had devised made it easy to for Lorenzo to find his way along the tunnels, but they didn't help him in finding the right direction to take. Eventually he backtracked, following the cries of the wounded men, using the hearing horn that Galileo had developed. He stepped back into the chamber, and looked around the plaintive crying bodies there, to see that Lucia was gone and Galileo was lying on the ground, seriously wounded.

Lorenzo rushed across to him and lifted his head. The old man opened his eyes and tried to say something. Lorenzo saw the blood seeping across his tunic and ripped it open. There was a deep stab wound in his stomach. His mentor was dying. “Don't move,” he told him and reached into his tunic. He pulled out a small glass cup, bound with brass to protect it.

Galileo lifted his head, trying to tell Lorenzo something, but his breath was coming in short panting bursts. “Lucia,” he finally said. “The priest.”

But Lorenzo already knew that. He could somehow feel Lucia's fear as the mad priest pushed her along the tunnels ahead of himself. “I will catch him,” Lorenzo said, a quiet rage filling him. “But I must tend to you first.” Galileo lay his head back once more. “This is going to hurt,” he told Galileo, wondering if a dying man needed to be warned about more pain. At least he hadn't told him that he didn't quite know how the device worked, or even if it would have any effect on internal injuries.

He laid the glass cup on Galileo's stomach and looked up at him. The old man looked back with a mix of curiosity and surprise. “It's one of Leonardo's things,” Lorenzo said. The old man lifted his head forward again. Clearly he didn't want to miss seeing what it would do.

Lorenzo concentrated, trying to remember what he had quickly read in Leonardo's coded description of the device. He had written his notes backwards, which Lorenzo had quickly recognised and read them in a mirror. There had been so many devices in his workshop, but he only took the ones that he thought might be useful and looked like they were beyond experimental stage. Like this cup.

He placed one hand on top of the glass and with the other he carefully wound a small key in the side of the brass fitting. He then let go and watched the mechanism within move. An arm sprang and struck a flint that ignited some chemical inside the cup and there was a brilliant flash of flame. Lorenzo felt the cup suddenly grow hot and took his hand away quickly. Galileo groaned and Lorenzo felt his body shudder.

The cup was full of cloudy smoke and Lorenzo slowly lifted it away, using cloth from Galileo's tunic to hold it. There was a foul smell of sulphur and burning flesh. Lorenzo waved his hand to clear the smoke and then saw that Galileo's stab wound was now closed, the flesh seared together. He looked up at Galileo who had his teeth gritted in pain.