For what seemed like a very long time the old man stared down at the table and the sparkling jewels adorning his ugly, clawlike fingers. At last he muttered, 'No. I don't see any way at all. How close to the girl was Gonzaga?'
'He had his filthy hands on her,' Hamish said grimly. 'And for that he ought to die several times.'
'If he had achieved that much two nights ago, he will surely have found Blanche by now.'
'You risked your life to warn her once, old man! So you told us. Are you too old to do it again?'
The hexer looked up sharply, glared at him, then seemed to shrink into his black robe like a frightened turtle. 'She knows I was bespelled. Just the sight of me will frighten her to death.'
'That would be a merciful end compared to what Nevil would do to her. We must try to rescue her.' Hamish slapped the table.
'Oh, must we?' Fischart sprayed spit in his indignation. 'Well, it isn't possible. Unless the girl can direct us to the house, we'd need a whole legion of demons to search the city. The tutelary would never allow it.'
'Flames! Lisa, I would go if I could do any good. And so would Maestro Fischart, if there was any way. Wouldn't you, Maestro?'
The old man shrugged. 'Yes. But there isn't.'
Hamish turned to Lisa, and she was shocked to see that he was smirking. 'You have that kerchief?'
So now he would deign to tell her what the importance of the scarf was! She fumbled at her neck for it. He took it and spread it out for the others to see — a square of cheap cotton, not silk, ruined by two holes.
'She made a mask for Carnival. Lisa, I am presuming that you did this in your mother's house? Where are the pieces you cut out?'
Apparently he was serious. 'On the floor of my room, I suppose. Frieda may have picked them up and burned them by now, or thrown them out with the trash.'
Hamish cocked his head at the adept. 'Two days ago? There should be enough residual propinquity for gramarye to locate the part from the whole, shouldn't there?'
'Oh, so now we have another hexer in the Company do we?' The adept was not amused.
Longdirk was, and suppressed a grin.
'Just trying to be helpful.' Hamish thought he had been clever, but gramarye was a dangerous business to meddle with.
'If the scraps have been burned, it won't work,' Maestro Fischart growled.
'Of course not. But if they're under the bed or out in the gutter?'
'Yes,' he admitted, baring his teeth. 'But have you any idea what you're asking? Suppose I just provide the demons and let you go alone?' Was that merely anger he was showing, or fear as well?
Hamish shrugged. 'Teach me, and I'll try. We must be quick.'
'How risky?' Longdirk demanded.
'Very!' Fischart wrung his hands a few times. 'Suicide for him if he goes alone. Together we'll have a chance.'
This was what Hamish had foreseen all along. This was why he had wanted Lisa out of the way when he spoke to his friends. Demons did terrible things to people — tortured them, maimed them, ate their souls.
'You must not!' she said. 'Not if it's dangerous.'
'I'm afraid they must,' Longdirk told her. 'Any risk is worth taking to save your mother from falling into Nevil's hands.'
She had not heard him volunteering! 'I'll come with you.'
'No you won't,' Hamish said, with none of the respect due a queen. 'I had to work too hard to get you out the first time.' He added a smile, but it died young. 'Tonight, Baron?'
'Don't call me that. If it's possible. Late… preparations…' Mumbling, the hexer heaved himself upright as if to leave, but his shoulders stayed bowed. He wrung his hands. 'Come to the adytum now, and we'll do a divination. No use trying it if it's hopeless.' He was older than she had realized.
'Wait.' Longdirk rose also, which was a different matter — he dominated the courtyard. 'Hamish, who else knows about Her Majesty?'
'Carlo and Rinaldo know that she's an English lady in distress. But a thousand people saw us ride in together.'
The big man nodded. 'My lady, we must keep your identity a secret — which is just about impossible in this country. Hamish?'
'You're Mistress Lisa Campbell, my little sister,' Hamish retorted, speaking as if reciting something he'd memorized. 'In 1519, just before I left Scotland, you were fostered out to our aunt Meg. That's not uncommon for Highland families with too many children. Meg moved to the Continent under circumstances you may decline to discuss. Two years ago she placed you with the Countess of Ely as lady's maid. The countess was visiting relatives in Nice, and when she heard you had a brother in Florence, she decided to visit Italy.' He smiled, and she wondered what he was reading on her face. 'You don't have to run round the camp telling this tale to everyone. You may never need to use it, but now it's there if you do. We'll work out the rest of the details later.' When he was pleased with himself, it showed.
'Yes, sir.'
Longdirk said, 'Ma'am, you are quite safe here at the moment, but if word gets out that you are the Queen of England, then I don't know what will happen.'
'I doubt if anyone would believe it, because I don't.' She did not like this oversize warrior. In spite of his gentle manner, he was too much a bull in a pasture, lording over everyone — bulls were slow and quiet until they began pawing the turf. He frightened her, and she was quite convinced that he would
She jumped as the condottiere's sword flashed out from its scabbard. He stepped around the end of the table and dropped to one knee. Even then, his eyes were little lower than hers.
'Your Majesty, I cannot admit that you are Queen of Scotland. And my first loyalty is to the Republic of Florence. Excepting those two caveats, I pledge my life and honor in your service as rightful Queen of England.' He kissed the blade.
Well! Maybe she had misjudged him. No knight had ever pledged his sword to her before. It must be time for her to wake up and the dream to end, but until it did she could only play her part. She responded with what she hoped was a regal nod. 'I am honored to accept your allegiance, Constable Longdirk.' She did not rise as the giant strode out, with the hexer shuffling alongside him. When they had gone, she risked a sideways glance at Hamish, not sure whether to grin or stay solemn.
He was watching her with an oddly wistful expression. 'I'm sorry.'
'It was a bit of a shock.' Was that the understatement of the millennium or just of the sixteenth century?
'I wasn't sure, truly I wasn't — not until I saw how the baron stared at you. I didn't know he knew your mother.' But he had probably guessed that it was likely. Master Campbell was creepily well informed about almost everything.
'Next time warn me, will you?'
He laughed and clasped her hand in both of his. 'Tomorrow I hail you as Sultana of the Turks. Tuesday afternoon you become Empress of Cathay. Believe me, you're safer here with Longdirk than with anyone, truly!'
It was odd to be sitting so close when they were the only people in the courtyard. 'Safer with you!' she said, and suddenly she had her arms around him and his arms were around her, crushing her. A bristly cheek brushed hers; her lips turned to his. He was a friend, the only one she had or had ever had, a true, trustworthy friend, and now he was going to leave her and return to Siena, go into danger—
'Oh, demons!' Hamish let go and leapt to his feet, tripping against his stool and almost overbalancing. 'Lisa, we mustn't!'
'Mustn't what?'
'Fall in love! I've been there, Lisa, I know the feeling. We must stop! You're a queen, and I'm a nothing.'
'Oh!' she said. Oh, demons!
He should have warned her about that sooner.
