The Staff was apparently welded to the figure that held it, and indeed as Ezio tried to pry it loose, the figure seemed to tighten its grip, glowing, as did the Runic inscriptions on the walls of the Vault.
Ezio had remembered that no human hand should ever touch the Apple unprotected. The figures then turned away and sank into the ground, leaving the Vault void of anything save the great sarcophagus and its surrounding statues.
Ezio stepped back, looking around briefly and hesitating before taking what he instinctively knew would be his final leave of this place. What was he expecting? Was he hoping that Minerva would once again manifest herself to him? But hadn’t she told him all there was to tell—or at least all there was that it was safe for him to know? The Apple had been vouchsafed him. In combination with the Apple, the other Pieces of Eden would have accorded the supremacy Rodrigo craved, and Ezio understood in the fullness of his years that such united power was too dangerous for the hands of Man.
“All right?” Mario’s voice, still untypically nervous, floated down to him.
“All’s well,” replied Ezio, making his way back to the light with a curious reluctance.
Once reunited with his uncle, Ezio wordlessly showed him the Apple.
“And the Staff?”
Ezio shook his head.
“Better in the hands of the Earth than in the hands of Man,” said Mario, with immediate understanding. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” He shuddered visibly. “Come on! We can’t linger.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Everything’s the hurry. Do you think Rodrigo is just going to sit back and let us stroll out of here?”
“I left him for dead.”
“Not quite the same as leaving him
They made their way out of the Vault then, as quickly as they could; and a cold wind seemed to follow them as they did so.
TWO
“Where did the others go?” Ezio, his mind still reeling from his recent experiences, asked Mario as they made their way back to the great nave of the Sistine Chapel. The gathered Assassins were no longer there.
“I told them to go. Paola has returned to Florence. Teodora and Antonio, to Venice. We need to keep ourselves covered in all Italy. The Templars are broken but not destroyed. They will regroup if our Assassins’ Brotherhood is not vigilant. Eternally vigilant. The rest of our company have gone ahead and will await us at our headquarters in Monteriggioni.”
“They were keeping watch.”
“So they were. But they knew when their duty was done. Ezio, there is no time to waste. We all know that.” Mario’s face was earnest.
“I should have made sure of Rodrigo Borgia.”
“Did he harm you in the fight?”
“My armor protected me.”
Mario clapped his nephew on the back. “I spoke hastily before. I think you were right to decide not to kill needlessly. I have always advised moderation. You thought him as good as dead, by his own hand. Who knows? Perhaps he was faking—or perhaps he genuinely failed to give himself a fatal dose of poison. Either way, we must deal with the situation as it is now and not waste energy pondering what we might have done. In any case, we sent you—one man against an entire army of Templars. You’ve done more than your part. And I am still your old uncle, and I’ve been worried about you. Come on, Ezio. We have to get out of here. We have work to do, and the last thing we need is to get cornered by Borgia guards.”
“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen, Uncle.”
“Just be sure to stay alive, then, that I may hear of them. Listen: I’ve stabled some horses just beyond Saint Peter’s, outside the precincts of the Vatican. Once we reach them, we’ll be able to make our way safely from here.”
“The Borgia will try to stop us, I expect.”
Mario flashed a broad grin. “Of course they will—and
In the chapel, Ezio and his uncle were surprised to find themselves faced with a number of priests, who had returned to complete the Mass interrupted by Ezio’s confrontation with the Pope, as he and Rodrigo had battled for control of the Pieces of Eden they had discovered.
The priests confronted them angrily, surrounding them and clamoring:
“
As Mario and Ezio pushed their way through the angry throng, the bells of Saint Peter’s began to ring the alarm.
“You condemn what you do not understand,” said Ezio to a priest who was trying to bar their way. The softness of the man’s body repelled him. He shoved him aside as gently as possible.
“We must go, Ezio,” said Mario urgently.
“His is the voice of the Devil!” another priest’s voice rang out.
And another: “Turn away from them!”
Ezio and Mario pushed their way through the mob and out into the great courtyard of the church. There, they were confronted by a sea of red robes. It seemed that the entire College of Cardinals was assembled, confused, but still under the dominion of Pope Alexander VI—the Spaniard, as he was known—and also as Rodrigo Borgia, captain of the Order of the Templars.
“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood,” the cardinals were chanting, “but against Principalities, against Powers, against the Rulers of the Darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, and the shield of Faith, wherewith you shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the Wicked.”
“What’s the matter with them?” Ezio asked.
“They are confused. They seek guidance,” Mario replied grimly. “Come on. We must get away before the Borgia guards take notice of our presence.” He looked back toward the Vatican. There was a glitter of armor in the sunlight.
“Too late. Here they come. Hurry!”
THREE
The sea of red, the billowing vestments of the cardinals, parted as four Borgia guards pushed through in pursuit of Ezio and Mario. Panic took over the crowd as the cardinals started shouting in fear and alarm. Ezio and his uncle found themselves encircled by a human arena—the cardinals, not knowing where to turn, had inadvertently formed a barrier; perhaps their courage had been unconsciously bolstered by the arrival of the heavily armored guards, breastplates gleaming in the sunlight. The four Borgia soldiers had unsheathed their swords and
