Erik, Manfred, and Von Gherens, now dismounted, formed a phalanx of steel around Lopez and Father Pierre. As they began to advance, lightnings crackled off the steel. Behind them, Eric heard Lopez saying: 'Let that which cannot abide the name of Jesus, begone.'
And somehow . . . the resistance eased. They continued plodding forward. Etten came up to join them. 'Father Diego is too dazed from his fall,' he muttered to Erik. 'We won't have his help.'
Erik saw that Sister Ursula was ordering the monks to lower the casket to the ground. As they drew closer, he could see that the casket no longer carried its heavy chains and securing locks. Nothing held the lid down beyond its own weight.
They were ten yards away, now. Ursula stood next to the casket at the center of the circle she had scrawled, her staff held upright in one hand, with the four monks standing like guardian statues at the cardinal points. The circle seemed to sparkle.
The nun's wimple had fallen and her hair was revealed: a great mane of it, in a dark corona around her white face. The face itself seemed to bear no expression at all. It might have been the face of a statue, if marble could blink its eyes and move its lips.
'You cannot prevail, Vessel of Chernobog!' said Lopez. 'Repent and save your soul. I am Eneko Lopez, Legate of the Grand Metropolitan and master of Holy magic. You cannot prevail. Let your darkness begone! Fiat lux!'
Light leapt even from the stones . . . Except inside the circle.
Ursula laughed. The sound was mocking, but empty--as if an actress were feigning an emotion she had never understood, or had forgotten. 'I might even be afraid, Lopez. Lucrezia told me that she failed to find the chink that most men have in their armor. Foolish woman. She thought she was as powerful as I. Impossible, when she refused to join herself fully with the Great Lord.'
Erik's flesh crawled. Everything about the way the woman spoke was empty. The nun's habit fell aside. The body that was revealed wore clinging black silk. The half-transparent silk hid little; in fact, it seemed designed to tantalize rather than to conceal. But, again, the display was empty. There was no woman there to give the shapely flesh any real allure. Erik finally understood how completely Chernobog had consumed the creature.
She reached forward, and tapped the casket. 'And I have my little friend here.'
'Servants of the Holy Trinity, see what you have in your midst!' shouted Lopez.
The monks didn't move. They stood like statues, arms outstretched, warding.
'They are mine, body and soul,' said Ursula. 'Unlike Lucrezia I insist on total control.'
'She stinks of ice and Chernobog,' said Pierre.
It was true, thought Erik. That was what the smell reminded him of. Breaking sea ice, with a sickly sweetness over it. It was very strong now.
Suddenly, the Savoyard priest clutched at his crucifix and sat down, gasping. A moment later his eyes rolled back and he slumped on his side, unconscious.
Manfred ignored Pierre's collapse. He glanced at Erik and said lazily, 'I heard she was fat as a sow when she joined the order. Sold her soul for a pair of tits.'
Erik realized what Manfred was doing: Exactly what the Venetian swordmaster, Giuliano, had taught them. Unbalance your enemy, make them angry. It was a dangerous game. Erik was not prepared to leave him to play it alone. 'She got cheated,' he sneered. 'She's still too ugly to get customers anywhere except the docks.'
But the gibes seemed to have no effect on Ursula at all. Erik caught the tiny, tell-tale signs of Manfred tensing. When he lunged forward, so did Erik. So did Von Gherens and Etten.
Erik's sword struck the air above the circle. It was like hitting a wall. He caught a glimpse of Ursula swinging her staff. A huge and shadowy hand swung towards him. It didn't actually make contact, but fear and pain washed though Erik. He wanted to scream, to turn and run. Von Gherens stumbled and fell; Etten whimpered; Manfred grunted and tried to press forward--but was driven back.
Ursula shrieked words Erik did not recognize. Small biting, pinching imps leapt out of the air. They turned to ashes as they struck armor, but there were so many it impossible to see or move.
Then Lopez shouted: 'Reverse your swords! Hold them like a crucifix! And ground the tips in the honest earth.'
Erik and Manfred immediately obeyed. Staggering back onto his feet, so did Von Gherens. Etten tried, but the sword slipped out of his hands. Lopez began to chant in Latin. Immediately, the imps were immobilized in the air, then began to shrink, then vanish into wisps of smoke. The monk guardians began to crumple.
