At Lopez's cocked eyebrow, Diego elaborated. 'I have discovered the identity of that boy you asked about. The local healer who also works for Caesare Aldanto. His name--so it is said, at least--is 'Marco Felluci.' And he doesn't simply work for Aldanto, he lives with him. He and another boy named Benito. Along with Aldanto's woman, a canaler by the name of Maria Garavelli.'
Lopez's eyes widened a bit. 'Are the two boys related? Brothers, perhaps?'
Diego shook his head. 'Not according to the information I've been able to collect. The other's last name is Oro. And I've seen him, once. He doesn't resemble Marco in the least. The only similarity between the two boys is that, according to rumor, they are both orphans.'
Lopez studied him for a moment. 'But . . . you are, I suspect, wondering the same thing that I am.'
Diego nodded. 'It seems odd, yes. For Aldanto to take two boys under his wing . . . and he just spent a large sum rescuing the boy Marco.'
'From what?'
Pierre chuckled. 'From an absurd romantic complication.' He proceeded to give Lopez a quick sketch of what he and Diego had learned from local canalers about what had quickly become a rather famous little episode.
Eneko smiled. 'Love poems, eh?' Slowly, he sat down on the chair. 'It is odd. Why should a mercenary like Aldanto go to such lengths to shelter two waifs? Two orphans--presumably penniless. One of whom, at least, does not seem to have the temperament one would expect from a protege of Aldanto. Healing poor children--for no payment--love poems. Even leaving aside that angel face.'
'And the names,' added Diego. Eneko nodded. 'Yes. Marco and Benito are common names, of course. Still . . .'
'One moment,' said Diego. He left the room and returned shortly with a scarf in his hand. 'I obtained this from the little girl whom we saw the boy treat that time. She was reluctant to part with it, but . . .'
Lopez couldn't refrain from wincing. Another coin gone, from the few they had in their possession. But he did not utter any protest. Like Diego, he thought the money well spent.
'Yes,' he said forcefully. 'With that scarf, we can discover the boy's past. As much, at least, as that scarf was a part of it.'
Pierre, unlike his two companions, was not well versed in sacred magic. 'Unreliable . . .' he murmured. 'Possibly even risky.'
Diego shook his head. 'Not in the least, Pierre. This is not like scrying, which another mage could detect and distort. Nor is it as difficult--almost impossible, really--as foretelling the future. The past is done, immutable. What Eneko proposes is simply an aspect of--' Diego, who had a bit of the pedant in him, began what was clearly going to be a long-winded description of the principles of contagion as applied to sacred magic. But Eneko cut him short.
'Enough!' he chuckled. 'Pierre wants to hear it less than I do.' To Pierre: 'It can be done. Trust me. Will you join us in prayer?' He cast his eyes about their new home. 'Since I am going to be living here, working here--' He raised his eyebrow significantly. '--and worshipping here, it should be cleansed first. And Diego, you may pretend ignorance, but you know very well how to ritually cleanse a dwelling.'
Diego groaned. 'I'll get a broom.'
'A prayer of intention, first,' Pierre said, with a laugh of his own.
* * *
The ritual cleansing didn't take long; to be honest, although the room was physically filthy, there wasn't much in the way of negativity to chase from it, and nothing at all of evil. The smells might be dreadful, but the spiritual atmosphere was clean. There was a practicality to a ritual cleansing--following the principle of 'as above, so below,' you cleaned; you cleaned everything, floor to ceiling, in order to set a barrier of protection permanently in place, but you cleaned with intention, prayer, and the magic to flush away the 'dirt' you couldn't see along with what you could. Diego was very good at floors.
One of the reasons Eneko had chosen this particular room was because of a peculiarity of alignment: the four corners were exactly pointing to the four cardinal directions. By nailing a bit of wood into each corner to serve as a shelf for the tiny statues of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel he had brought, he recreated, in miniature, a ritual chapel. Like Hagia Sophia on the other side of town, like the ritual chapels of Hypatians everywhere, by the time he and Pierre finished blessing it, setting up the boundary-spells, blessing it again, this was sacred ground, protected from evil.
'Ah!' Eneko said, stretching his arms and shaking out his hands when they were done. 'I much prefer this sort of comfort to anything Casa Brunelli offered.'
'I can't say as I blame you,' Pierre replied. Diego just shrugged and picked up the scarf, which they had left lying on the cot.
