This Rough Magic

* * *

If Benito had remembered he had it, in the early days after Caesare turned out to be as false a hero as possible, he would have burned it. But it had stayed tucked away somewhere in his gear at the Casa Dorma. He certainly wouldn't have brought it along to Corfu. But, as he'd been sitting in jail, some anonymous servant had packed it along with just about anything he owned that was reasonably presentable. So, it had come into the governor's palace in the Citadel, along with a corded bag of other clothes and bags of grain and spare weaponry and whatever else he could carry easily. He'd seen it while looking for spare stuff Maria could cut up to make winter clothes for Alessia. The fabrics that the Casa Dorma had clad the younger Valdosta ward in were the absolute finest. Finer than Maria could dream of buying. And, damn her pride, she wouldn't take money.

When he'd found the silk scarf, he'd decided that he wouldn't give that to Alessia. Some residual trace of Aldanto might cling to it. Maria might just recognize it, too. She noticed clothes. And if she wouldn't take money from Benito . . . she certainly would have nothing to do with Caesare, in any shape or form.

But Benito remembered how Luciano Marina had used Maria's scarf to give them some idea whether she was alive or dead. Perhaps Eneko Lopez could do the same. With the scarf in a pocket, Benito went in search of the Basque priest.

He wasn't at the Hypatian chapel. In fact, it took Benito some time to track him down. He spotted Father Francis first. He was trying to be unobtrusive, but definitely up to something. Benito didn't disturb him in whatever it was. He walked on, and ran into another of the tight-knit group; this time it was Diego. And around the third corner, Lopez.

'Father Lopez, you don't do this well,' said Benito calmly, as he walked past.

Eneko Lopez was a man of deep faith and great patience. So he didn't swear at Benito. He did turn around and let his breath hiss between his teeth. He gave Benito a look that would have turned many a man's wavering footsteps back to the paths of righteousness.

'Valdosta! This is difficult—and we're trying to be unobtrusive.'

Benito looked about calmly, and pretended to catch sight of something on one of the rooftops. He leaned back casually against the wall and stared at it, while speaking very quietly out of the corner of his mouth. 'Well, Father Eneko, it looks like I'd better teach you how to do that. It's something bad men do well. Good men, by the looks of it, do it badly. I was taught by one of the worst. I think you all need lessons and I'd be glad to help.'

Eneko Lopez sighed. 'Let me get the others, Benito. We may as well go back to the chapel. You may have a point. And what we're hunting is not just bad, but evil to the core.'

'I'll see you there.'

* * *

Back at the Hypatian chapel Benito explained. 'If you look like you belong, no one looks twice at you. If you look like you're doing something perfectly ordinary, for a reason anyone can figure out without even thinking about it, no one is interested. On the other hand, if you skulk, all in the same habits, and look at a building furtively while muttering, you stand out like a bunch of daisies in a coal scuttle. At least one of you needs to move out of these clothes. Become a seller of something. Beads perhaps.'

They all looked dubious. He sighed. 'Let's work this out. How long does this—whatever it is that you're doing—take you?'

Francis answered immediately. 'About three hundred heart-beats, to detect sorcerers. Perhaps a little less, in the case of the female one we're after. She's powerful and skilled, but careless.'

'The night-soil cart.'

All four of them blinked at him in confusion. 'What?' asked Eneko, after a moment. 'Can you explain that rather remarkable statement?'

'It trundles along all the streets, stops, people load their buckets, and it trundles on. Easy to stop it in the right spot. It stinks, so no one stays near it longer than they have to. It's the perfect cover for anything one of you wants to do. As for the other two of you—one of you should get a shill and argue religion with him. Stop and argue at whatever point you need to stop. The shill can argue, loudly, drawing as much attention to himself as possible. You do your ritual, while you just nod and frown.'

'And the third?' Eneko asked.

'Ah, the third one can stop and preach at passersby; say something a little bizarre, or preach about the end of the world coming soon. Then he can do a few moments in prayer. He'll look like any other religious lunatic, and no one ever pays any notice of them.'

'It appears Aldanto taught you well,' said Eneko, dryly.

'Yeah. Well, he was using us for his work, or he wouldn't have. He was like that. Look, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.' He pulled the scarf out of his pocket. 'Can you tell me if the owner of this is on the island?'

Eneko Lopez looked at the scarf. 'It is possible. It requires the same spells we use to trace anything that was once the property of someone else. Why? Who does it belong to?'

'Caesare Aldanto.' His voice was flat.

Lopez looked askance at Benito. 'I thought he had drowned, young man.'

'He's been reliably reported as alive. In fact, I think I recognized him myself, today, at a distance. He was also reported heading back to Odessa. I want to know if he's really here. If he is here, Manfred, Francesca and Eberhard will want to know for the implications that it will have on the situation.'

'Odessa!'

Father Francis looked at the piece of bright cloth. 'It would explain the Chernobog traces, Eneko. Perhaps he is an emissary.'

'I thought he was just an opportunist and a traitor,' said Eneko, slowly. 'I thought we'd dealt directly with all of the demon's vessels. Why do you think he's here?'