The Boy Who Wept Blood

by Den Patrick

  Anea stepped down from the dais, cutting a route through the slack-jawed functionaries and courtiers. The nobles had the good grace to bow their heads as she passed. Virmyre followed, face inscrutable.

  There was a minute of hushed incredulity in the Ravenscourt following Anea’s exit. Russo looked pale on the dais, gaze unfocused, attempting to keep the frown from her face. Duke and Duchess Fontein wasted no time in retiring from the chamber, locked in animated discussion with Duchess Prospero. The capo trailed after them, apparently too stunned to speak. Maestro Cherubini imparted a few words to Russo before he too left. Stephania approached and curtsied to Dino.

  ‘Did you have any …’

  ‘None at all.’ Dino shrugged. ‘An adjournment does make a certain amount of sense.’

  ‘But now? And for three months?’

  ‘There’s nothing here that can’t be done by Russo. I can’t say I blame her. Not after the other night.’

  Stephania nodded. ‘No wonder she wants to lose herself in her work.’

  ‘She always wants to lose herself in her work; Angelo Allattamento just provided the excuse.’

  ‘Keep safe, my lord.’

  ‘You don’t have to call me lord.’ Dino struggled not to roll his eyes.

  ‘We are in the Ravenscourt: we should act accordingly.’

  ‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’

  ‘Send word if you should need me.’ Stephania curtsied and withdrew.

  Gradually, in groups of threes and fours, the chamber emptied. Even the guards departed after a time, until only Russo and Dino remained, flanked on every side by thick white stone columns. The Ravenscourt darkened as the sun passed behind a cloud. Dino drifted toward the dais and retrieved the dropped fan.

  ‘Judging by the look on your face, I’d guess Anea didn’t tell you about the adjournment beforehand?’ He opened the fan slowly, noting tiny prints of birds in dark silver. Ravens, of course.

  Russo shook her head. ‘Even after all this time she’s still unpredictable.’ Every syllable was weighted with anger barely held in check. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘Of course not. We briefly discussed recruiting new soldiers but …’ Dino folded the fan, sliding it into his sleeve.

  ‘Ten years I’ve been working for her, Dino.’ Russo’s brow creased. ‘Ten years I’ve been working with her. You’d think she’d keep me informed of something this important. Suddenly I have the whole of Landfall entrusted to me.’

  ‘It’s because she trusts you that she’s turned Landfall over to you.’

  ‘Really? Because I don’t feel trusted.’ Russo bowed her head as if humbled or shamed. ‘She tells Virmyre everything. Some days I’m not even granted an audience, just messengers bringing me hurried scrawls.’ Russo looked down, fingers squeezed tight around the silver staff, lips pressed into a thin line.

  ‘She’s obsessed with those machines,’ said Dino softly. ‘She always has been’.

  ‘And now with the attempted assassination …’ said Russo, meeting his eyes for the first time.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  She looked at him blankly, then cast her eyes across the chamber and up to the gallery. For a second he’d thought she’d calmed down.

  ‘I’m going to make sure none of those bastards disturb her work. I already have an idea forming.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Dino forced a smile. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He looked up to the dome. The clouds had thickened, the room descending into a deeper darkness.

  ‘No.’ There was a faraway cast to her eye. ‘But I have other uses for you. You’re going to keep an eye and an ear on those self-serving pigs.’ She indicated the doorway through which the nobles had departed. ‘I want to know where they sleep and what they eat.’ She stepped down from the dais, addressing the double doors: ‘I want to know where their money goes and who they employ. I’ll have copies of their accounts and access to their correspondence. They won’t be able to bed their mistresses without me knowing. I’ll make them regret plotting against Demesne. I’ll make them regret being born.’

  She turned to him, breathing hard, the silver staff in her hand looking less of a symbol of office than a weapon. There was a steely look to the Domina’s eyes that Dino hadn’t seen before. Tiredness had etched deep lines into the corners of her eyes and mouth. The hem of her red robe was frayed at the front, its sleeves worn.

  ‘You’re going to help me rid Demesne of treason and corruption, Dino.’

  ‘That sounds like a good deal of work,’ he replied, uncomfortable with the low monotone she spoke in, ‘and more than I can do alone.’

  ‘We have money, and everyone has their price. I’ll stop any plots against me before they’ve even begun.’

  ‘You mean Anea. You’ll stop plots against Anea.’

  She turned to him, took a breath and blinked a few times.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said.’ The Domina nodded once and swept from the room, robes flowing behind her. Dino retrieved the fan from his sleeve and opened it once more, regarding the silver ravens on the black silk.

  ‘No, that’s not what you said at all,’ he whispered.

  11

  A Lesson Remembered

  – 22 Giugno 325

  ‘You’re in bright spirits today,’ said Stephania looking out across Landfall. They stood on an old balcony projecting from the outer wall of House Prospero. Dino followed her gaze to the gentle swell of golden fields. Far beyond were the thatched buildings of the Di Toro estate, tiny smudges of white and fawn in the distance. Dino cast a glance over the edge of the balcony, marvelling at the town beneath. In just ten short years Anea had conjured a halo of townhouses nurturing numerous shops and tradesmen around Demesne.

  ‘It’s an impressive view from up here,’ he said.

  ‘Strange to think the town didn’t exist when we were children.’

  ‘And it’s not just change down there, either,’ said Dino with a meaningful glance at the doors they’d passed through. Stephania had renovated the abandoned seventh floor of House Prospero a room at a time. She’d opened offices and created workshops for tailors and seamstresses, all free of her mother’s influence. It was a house within a house, and she was proving just as adroit at business as her father had been.

  ‘I’d guess it’s not the view that’s making you smile.’

  ‘A week in one’s own bed, at night, is nothing short of a miracle.’ Dino cradled a cup of coffee in both hands, regarding the dark richness of it.

  ‘They can only grow it on one estate, you know.’

  ‘What?’ said Dino, looking up. It was still early.

  ‘Coffee. They can only grow it on the House Previdente estate far to the south. The right mixture of climate and soil and skill, apparently.’

  ‘They have the monopoly, then?’

  ‘Yes, so make sure you finish it. It’s much too expensive to waste.’

  Dino sipped, enjoying the bitterness and the fresh morning air. ‘Did you have a reason to send for me, or did you just want to show off your good taste?’

  Stephania smiled. ‘I do have very good taste, but I wanted to ask you a few things.’

  ‘If I know I’ll tell you.’ He paused. ‘Within reason.’

  ‘How is the adjournment going?’ She stepped closer.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve resumed my role as superiore for the last week. It’s been bliss. No politics, no breaches of etiquette, no endless carping from Duchess Prospero.’ He stopped and his eyes widened a fraction. ‘Sorry, I forget sometimes that she’s your mother, as strange as that sounds.’

  Stephania smiled. ‘She does carp. Long and loudly.’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘People are claiming the adjournment will ruin them if it continues.’

  ‘Is it ruining you?’

  ‘Me?’ Stephania held her coffee to her mouth, savouring the smell rather than sipping it. ‘Well, no. Not at all.’

  ‘Because?’

&nbs
p; ‘Because people always need clothes, and uniforms. Those are my main lines of business. Just because a few dozen nobles aren’t apoplectic in the Ravenscourt doesn’t mean life around Demesne stops.’

  Dino smiled. ‘So is it possible the people complaining about being ruined are …’

  ‘Carping like an old duchess.’

  Dino sniggered and Stephania looked pleased with herself.

  ‘But three months?’ she said after a pause. ‘Is that wise?’

  ‘That’s three months of stability without any laws changing, three months without Fontein buying up votes to overturn whatever displeases them.’

  ‘You have to admit it’s strange.’

  ‘The king adjourned the court for over a hundred years; I don’t think three months will hurt.’ Dino drank the coffee, wondering just how much it cost. ‘I think the adjournment will focus people’s minds. We can get on with running Demesne rather than arguing about it. And I can get on with doing what I do best – teaching.’

  ‘I thought you were best at fighting?’ Stephania smiled.

  ‘I have many talents. And I need to be on my way. It’s bad form if the teacher arrives later than the students.’

  ‘Perhaps you can teach me one day?’

  ‘Perhaps, but your wits are sharper than any sword I’ve seen.’ He flashed a grin. ‘I dare say you can survive with those.’

  ‘Flattery, my lord?’

  ‘Flattery is insincere; I was paying you a compliment. Thanks for the coffee.’ Dino bowed and headed from the balcony.

  He hoped Massimo would be at practice, even if Lord Contadino could only spare him for an hour. ‘Back again, my lord?’ D’arzenta stood to one side of the training yard with the capo. Mornings were given to the novices, who were drilled en masse outside during the summer. Intermediate and advanced students were trained in smaller numbers during the afternoons in one of the many circular training chambers.

  ‘Did you miss me, Maestro?’ Dino tried for an insouciant smile, but in truth he was tiring of D’arzenta’s barbs. They’d been easy to ignore at first but a week of them had worn at Dino’s patience.

  ‘We’ve not had the chance to miss you – you were here just yesterday.’

  ‘And the day before, and the day before, and so on,’ said Dino, shedding any pretence at friendliness. ‘Lucien always spoke most highly of you, Maestro, yet I’m having trouble deciding why.’

  ‘You’ve no right to speak to him that way,’ said the capo, squaring up to the Orfano, puffing out his chest.

  ‘And you’ve no right telling the superiore his business. I’ll kindly ask you to leave my training yard, unless you’ve come for an early lesson?’

  The capo drew five inches of steel before D’arzenta pressed a hand down on the man’s forearm, stalling the motion. The capo looked affronted but turned his attention back to Dino.

  ‘I’ve not forgotten the day of Angelicola’s funeral,’ he sneered.

  ‘And I’ve not forgotten you threatening the life of my sister,’ said Dino, taking a step closer. They were at a range to trade blows, only D’arzenta’s presence prevented them. ‘We call that treason, you know. Perhaps you’d like to excuse yourself to the library and look up the word’s meaning.’

  ‘I know full well the meaning—’

  But the capo got no further. The doors to the training yard disgorged the students, a rabble of smartly dressed, arrogant, spoilt boys. A few girls formed a knot among them. Dino didn’t take his eyes from the capo, his countenance wintry. A hush settled over the novices as Ruggeri followed the last of them into the yard.

  ‘Shall we begin?’ said Dino to D’arzenta, ‘or would you prefer to stand in the shade, conspiring with your friend?’

  The pupils looked from one teacher to the other, surprised at the superiore’s rebuke.

  ‘I’ll be back for that lesson soon.’ The capo slunk from the training yard with a sour look.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ said Dino, flipping him a lazy salute.

  It was just before noon as they prepared to dismiss the last class of novices when the question came. The boy was a thickset oaf from House Di Toro. He’d spent the greater part of the class wiping his nose on his sleeve or pushing the other boys around when he thought Dino’s back was turned. He had heavy shoulders and a stoop that put Dino of mind of Golia.

  ‘Who is the best swordsman in Demesne, Superiore?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure.’ Dino glanced around to find D’arzenta within earshot. ‘I’d say there are perhaps ten men who are equal to the maestri.’

  ‘But you’re the best; you’re the superiore.’

  ‘All have their strengths.’ Dino glanced at D’arzenta again. ‘All have their weaknesses, just as you novices do.’

  ‘But who is the best?’ persisted the boy.

  ‘The best is whoever is left standing when steel is drawn in anger.’ Dino approached the boy. ‘Until that time everything else is just theory and practice.’

  A bell chimed from a high tower of Fontein, ringing over and over. The boys and girls fell into rows, almost neat, waiting for their teachers to give the order. Dino nodded to Ruggeri and the pupils were dismissed, chattering and pushing toward the doors and the promise of food.

  ‘I’d have thought you would claim to be the best swordsman, Superiore?’ said D’arzenta. Dino couldn’t miss the hint of challenge in his voice. ‘Better than even the capo.’

  ‘I suppose we’ll never know –’ Dino wiped his brow with a cloth ‘– until we draw our blades in anger, will we?’

  D’arzenta nodded and exited the yard, stepping around Massimo, coming in from the opposite direction.

  ‘You’re late for class,’ said Dino, mock stern.

  The Contadino swordsman embraced him and laughed. ‘Seems like D’arzenta is in need of a lesson more than most.’ He had clearly caught the last of the exchange between the two men.

  ‘Are you here to give it to him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Shame,’ said Dino.

  ‘I’m here under orders. I’m to escort you to House Contadino.’

  ‘Is there trouble?’ Dino’s mouth went dry.

  ‘Yes. It’s serious.’ Massimo grinned. ‘There’s a large quantity of lunch that needs consuming. Virmyre says you’re just the man for the job.’

  Dino sighed. ‘Well, that does sound serious. Lead on then, faithful escort.’

  It was too stifling to eat inside comfortably, yet the sun was strong enough to force people under cover. Nardo had pulled up some barrels, forming a crescent at one side of the Contadino courtyard. A spare wheel from a wagon had been pressed into service as a table, resting atop a larger barrel. The high walls provided shade.

  ‘It’s a touch rustic for my refined tastes,’ intoned Virmyre, ‘but I suppose I shall dine with you ruffians.’

  ‘I think you’ll find we’re the very finest of ruffians,’ replied Dino.

  ‘The finest in all of Landfall.’ Massimo smiled as he poured the wine.

  ‘I think I’ll promote myself,’ said Dino.

  ‘To what?’ asked Virmyre, hands resting on his stick.

  ‘High Scoundrel.’

  ‘Huh. Sounds about right,’ said Nardo, eliciting a few chuckles.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Virmyre, ‘your health.’ The men raised their wooden cups and took a sip. ‘And to Dino. It’s good to have you back among the living, not sequestered away each night and sleeping by day.’

  ‘I’ll happily drink to that.’ Dino removed his jacket, shirt still damp with sweat from the morning’s trials.

  ‘The thing I don’t understand,’ said Massimo after the hungry men had eaten their fill, ‘is that Anea is just as at risk in the old sanatorio as she was here in Demesne. Shouldn’t you be guarding her?’

  ‘Anea told me to go back to teaching.’ Dino picked at the last olives. ‘So that’s what I did.’

  Of the meats and cheeses there was nothing left; only breadcrumbs remained
of the two loaves. The single bottle of wine had not stretched far between four men.

  ‘The old sanatorio is rather chaotic on the upper levels,’ explained Virmyre. ‘Our Silent Queen has hidden herself in a maze. One she knows exceedingly well.’

  ‘And there are guards at the entrance,’ said Dino, ‘at least until someone buys them.’

  ‘Fonteins,’ grunted Nardo.

  Virmyre gestured to his sleeve and Dino shook his head, confused. The professore made the same gesture again and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Dino,’ whispered Massimo. ‘Your tines. One of them has pierced your shirt.’

  Dino looked down and saw dark blue chitin poking through the fabric of his sleeve.

  ‘Figlio di puttana.’ He covered the tine with his spare hand and felt himself grow hot, unable to make eye contact with Massimo.

  ‘Do you need help wrapping your arm?’ offered the swordsman. Dino shook his head but said nothing.

  ‘Careful not to hurt yourself,’ warned Virmyre.

  ‘It’s not as if I can poison myself, is it?’ Dino snapped. There was an uncomfortable second of silence. ‘Sorry, Virmyre. Excuse me.’

  Dino left the improvised table and his friends, cursing his Orfano heritage as he headed into the Contadino kitchens. It took a while to rewrap the hated tines in a quiet pantry, free from inquisitive glances. Dino’s mood darkened as the afternoon dragged on with class after class of sword-wielding boys and girls. The students asked questions warily when they did so at all. The day’s teaching ended and the Orfano began the winding walk through Demesne from House Fontein to Erudito, a nagging tension in his muscles he longed to be rid of.

  He pushed the key into the lock of his apartment to find the door already open. Grey eyes flashed silver as he kicked the door wide, sword free of its scabbard. He was already lunging across the sitting room before he realised it was friend rather than foe who had infiltrated his quarters. Dino flicked the blade to one side before sheathing it with a flourish.

  ‘Are you trying to get yourself killed?’

  The Domina looked at him, haughty and unimpressed. It was clear she didn’t blame herself for the brush with mortality.