Demon Knight

ago.

'Toby?' The single word was both a croak and a whisper, but very welcome.

'Yes. What do you need?' He was still supporting her in the crook of his arm.

She did not answer for a while. Then her tiny hands pulled her dress closed over her miniature breasts. 'Were you looking?'

'Yes. Very pretty.'

She smiled at that. 'Why do you not open the door so I can see?'

'I'll have to lay you down.'

She struggled feebly. 'Cannot I sit?'

He eased her back so she could lean against the headboard, then went and opened the door. Chabi came in with a rush, circled the room, and soared up to a rafter. Toby scooped up the fallen hat and blindfold and went back to kneel beside the bed and offer them to the shaman. 'Feeling better?'

She hastened to cover her ruined eyes, but he took the chance to run fingers through her hair. Short though it was, it was thick, and its coarseness made it heavy and somehow sensuous. She smiled at him.

'Why do you look so worried?' She was flattered by his concern.

'Are you not my friend? Should I not then be worried?'

'Are you learning bad habits from me, answering questions with questions?'

'Probably. But since we are friends, will you not tell me the truth now? The prince did not send you. He's never heard of you, has he?'

She shook her head, apparently looking down at her knees.

'Then where did you come from?'

Her tiny hand tried to close on his huge one and settled for squeezing one finger. 'How well do you know the Caucasus, Little One?'

'Only that it… er, they… they are very far away.' He could ask Hamish. 'How did you come?'

'When I arrived, was I not limping?'

'You walked? How long did it take you? Who sent you?'

She seemed willing to tell him her story now, but her inability to speak anything other than questions made the process difficult. As far as he could tell, she had walked for the best part of two years to reach Florence — or to reach him, for it seemed that he had been her goal. She must have set out about the time he arrived in Italy to become a soldier of fortune, and she had certainly been only a child then. Why? Because the spirits had called her, of course. Hamish had mentioned that shamans were always called; the spirits gave them no choice. Of her family or what had happened to her eyes she did not speak, and he did not ask.

'You must rest now,' he said. 'But one more question. Tonight you traveled in the spirit world. What did you find there?'

Her mouth twisted as if in pain. Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'Know you anthills, Little Boy? Myriads and myriads of ants? By a lake, do you see?' She moaned and swayed. He sat on the edge of the bed again and held her. She leaned into his bulk, seeking comfort. 'You know Lemanus and the Mount of Jove, Little One?'

'No.'

She made a sound like a sob. 'What else can we do? Am I not trying my best?'

'You are doing your best, and it is more than enough. I know who will tell me of those names. Now you must sleep, Sorghie. Will you eat first? Drink more?'

'Drink?' she murmured, and he gave her the beaker to sip again. He kissed her cheek and stood up.

She demanded her drum and insisted she wanted nothing more. When he opened the door to leave, Chabi hurtled by him and vanished into the dawn. He sprinted for the villa and returned with water, and bread, and oil, but she was already asleep, clutching the drum and sucking her thumb like a child.

* * *

Hamish lay on his pallet in exactly the same position as before, head on arms, snoring like a water mill. He was going to have horrible pins and needles. Toby poked him.

'Hamish! The Mount of Jove — where is it? Hamish, wake up! Lemanus! Where is the Mount of Jove? And a lake. Lake Garda? Como? Maggiore?'

He grunted a series of, 'Who? What?' noises. His eyes opened, wavering. He tried to move an arm and grimaced.

'Where is the Mount of Jove?' Toby shouted.

'Uh? What's the matter?' Hamish brought his eyes into focus like an archer aiming an arrow. 'Toby? What time is it? Demons, my shoulders! Go roll in the honey pits.'

'Answer me! Where is the Mount of Jove? And Lemanus?'

'Mount of Jove is the pass of Gran San Bernardo. And the road goes by Lacus Lemanus, Lake Geneva. Why the Latin? Why are you asking?'

Toby sank back on his haunches with a sigh. 'Because that's how he's coming — the Fiend. He's on his way.' It was to be Turin and Milan.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Before the city roosters fell silent, Toby was in Florence, beating on doors. The don, the Chevalier, the Magnificent, Prince Sartaq, even doddery old Carisendi, chairman of the Ten — he tried to warn all of them that the Fiend was on his way. Not one of them would believe that any shaman or hexer could see as far as the Great Saint Bernard Pass, let alone Lake Geneva. They all seemed much more interested in the grand public reception that was to be held for the young Queen of England.

When it was duly held, three days later, it was a very elaborate affair indeed. No one actually said that it might be the last one ever to be held in the Palace of the Signory, but that implication overhung it like a rain cloud heading for a picnic. The don wore his silver helmet and was almost ignored. Every flunky and officeholder and his wife crammed into the banquet hall, and most of them delivered speeches. All the rest of Florence turned out just to catch a glimpse of the two English queens arriving in their coach and then to shed a tear over their dramatic and tragic tale — and perhaps also to savor a frisson of dread that with the terrible Fiend poised to invade Italy at any moment here were his wife and daughter in the flesh. It was a stunning civic triumph, and it took all day.

Captain-General Don Ramon and his deputy had been standing in a packed and suffocatingly stuffy hall for almost two hours before they even caught a glimpse of the guests of honor, to whom in due course they would have a chance to pay their respects. Blanche looked like a well-decorated corpse, or a puppet on strings. Lisa was… was Lisa. Someone with exquisite taste had robed her in torrents of pale blue silk and sprinkled jewels all over her, and any man would have cheerfully fallen at her feet. Knowing her as he did, Toby could tell that she was nervous and upset, but she was hiding it with an aplomb far beyond her years, smiling, acknowledging, thanking. She was displaying a truly royal grace he had not seen in her before — was that an inherited trait she had never bothered to reveal, or was she just enjoying being the center of attention? This was not the spoiled, self-centered brat he had known for the last two months. She was barely a woman, still some days short of sixteen, and yet her aura filled the hall. Had Hamish been present, he would have died of longing.

The don, never patient, was fretful but would control his temper because he was waiting on royalty. Mostly he passed the time accepting adulation from lesser folk brought into his proximity by the slow shuffle of the line as it wound snakelike about the hall, but once he turned to Toby and demanded:

'Have you established yet who betrayed our guests?'

Until the scene at Cafaggiolo, he had believed like everyone else that Lisa was Hamish's sister. Toby had expected him to raise a tempest over that deception, but this was the first time he had mentioned the subject.

'No, senor. When I do, I will break every bone in his body.'

Don Ramon smiled. 'Let me know in advance. I shall enjoy watching.'

'Si, senor. Do you wish me to save you a rib or two?'

'No. I would not hinder you in any way.' After a moment he added, 'But I was constantly amazed that we were able to keep the secret as long as we did.'