As the sun set on their second day on the road to Zaragoza, Lorenzo watched the tiny black line of the northern mountains with an eager eye. The loss of his journal had been as personally devastating as it was politically terrifying, and the appearance of the Mazigh refugees had been as unexpected as it was annoying, but now… now I’m on the road. All of the anxiety and anger and fear seemed so far away, so unimportant. Every hour brought him closer to the mountains, closer to the stone.
Ariel’s stone. Our stone. The skyfire stone. A piece of heaven fallen to earth. A holy relic that burns like molten gold and sings like a hundred thousand choirs of angels.
It was out there. It was real. And when he brought it back to the world and showed it to the quailing hearts of Espani men and women, they would remember who and what they were, and what God meant them to be, and a bright new future would be born.
It will.
It has to.
They had made good time from Alovera, even without the horse that the Italian woman had disappeared on. The sky had glowered at them throughout the day, but withheld its icy sleet and hail and snow, keeping the roads firm and clear all the way to Algora. When they arrived in the village it had taken a bit of effort to find enough beds for nine people and accommodations for four horses and a giant bird, but shortly after sunset everyone was settled either at the inn by the main road or a large farmhouse just up the lane. Qhora had suggested that the foreigners stay at the farm, farther out of sight and thus less likely to attract attention from anyone until long after they had left the next morning. And that left him, his wife, and his students to enjoy the quiet little inn. Qhora seemed to particularly enjoy the enormous fireplace.
Supper was still nearly an hour away, but no one was in the mood to do anything productive. The boys were in their rooms, probably sleeping if history was any indication. Lorenzo appreciated their ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice at almost any time, in any place, in any position. It was something he himself had learned in the army and had often wished his wife had picked up as well. There were quite a few mornings when she woke up not entirely prepared to face the day with a smile. And sometimes she liked to tell him about it.
“I guess I should go check on Atoq,” Qhora said from her seat by the fire. A small mountain of blankets hid her from view, from her shoulders down to her feet. She sighed quietly. She didn’t move.
“I’ll take care of it,” Lorenzo said.
“Are you sure? You shouldn’t have to go back out there for me.” Qhora glanced at him with wide, dark eyes. She still didn’t move.
He smiled. “You’re getting a little too good at this routine.”
She smiled back. “I said that I would try to be more of a proper Espani lady. So I thought it only appropriate to learn how to cajole and manipulate you as any Espani lady would.”
Lorenzo chuckled as he stood up. “Full marks for execution and style. Bravo.”
“Are you really going to find Atoq, or shall I?”
“Neither,” he said with a frown. “After all, we’re a respectable Espani couple. We’ll make the boys do it. Gaspar! Enrique!”
After a moment he heard a door creak and several tired feet thumped in the back hallway. The two boys emerged with hair standing at strange angles but otherwise looking alert. “Yes, Don Lorenzo?”
“I need you two to go out and take a quick circuit around the village to look for Atoq.” Lorenzo saw the boys’ faces fall a bit. “It’s not that bad. Just do one lap around the village and call for him every few minutes. He’s nearby. Even if you don’t see him, he’ll hear you and know where we are. That’s all. Now go on. Supper will be soon.”
Gaspar and Enrique nodded and went back to their room for their coats and boots, and a minute later they shuffled through the room again and out the front door.
Lorenzo settled back into his seat and resumed scratching and scribbling at his loose pages of notes. Last night he had begun reconstructing his maps and directions from memory as best he could and during the day’s ride he had remembered a few more details. Sister Ariel had conducted numerous interviews with witnesses across the northern provinces in her attempts to identify the angle of the stone’s plummet from the sky to better estimate its exact position. He was trying to recall those interviews now. Reports and descriptions from the townsmen of Zaragoza, the farmers outside Huesca, and miners near Bielsa.
It fell above the tree line.
It crossed from the east to the northwest.
It fell in summer.
Some details were certain. Others weren’t. And as much as that uncertainty troubled him, it comforted him more. Every missing detail was an obstacle to Faleiro and Magellan. Each conflicting report was a reason to think that the military wasn’t going to go looking for the stone any time soon. And even if they had his notes, he still had the source. He had Ariel.
It has to be near Yesero. It has to be.
He was startled out of his work by the innkeeper’s wife setting the table for supper and making small talk with Qhora. Alonso and Hector shuffled out of their room looking equally disheveled and ravenous, exhausted by the road and yet mysteriously invigorated by the prospect of food.
Lorenzo glanced at the door. How long have the other boys been gone? How long should it take them to come back? And when exactly should I be concerned?
To his immense relief, the door opened at just that moment and Gaspar appeared in the entrance. Lorenzo set his papers aside and crossed over to the table as he said, “Were you able to find Atoq?”
“Don Lorenzo.” Gaspar hurried toward him. “He’s got Enrique. I didn’t know what to do. We didn’t have our swords. I’m sorry, I was stupid.”
“Wait, stop. Where is Enrique?” Lorenzo grabbed the boy’s shoulders and tried to lock eyes with him. He was terrified and breathless, shaking as much from the cold as from fright.
“At the bottom of the hill, by the covered bridge we crossed. He’s holding him. He wants to see you. Right now.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know. He sounded Italian.”
“Was it the boy I dueled? Silvio de Medici?”
“No. Someone else. Someone older.”
Lorenzo pushed Gaspar aside and dashed to his room for his coat and gloves. With his espada belted over his hip, the hidalgo strode back across the common room. “Alonso, Hector, get your swords and protect the door. Qhora, stay back there by the fire. Gaspar, stay by her.”
“I’ll come with you,” Hector said. The young diestro was not as tall as Alonso, but he had shown more confidence and aggression in his lessons, if not as much skill.
For a moment, Lorenzo considered it. “No, everyone stay here. I’ll deal with the Italian.” He managed a smile. “Won’t be a minute. Keep supper warm for us.”
Outside he found that night had fully fallen and ten thousand stars burned overhead with a chilling white light. The village sat in silence, wrapped and swaddled beneath its blankets of snow and ice that glowed with reflected starlight. Lorenzo moved quickly down the road, the frozen mud crunching and snapping beneath his boots. He wanted to run, but he knew better.
Only moments after leaving the inn he could see the dark shape of the covered bridge at the bottom of the hill. There were no lights, no fires or torches or candles to betray where the Italian and his captive might be. All he could see were the silvery snow drifts, the gleaming icicles, and the black shadows oozing around the edges of the trees and rocks.
Halfway down the hill, he saw the first flicker of movement, a waver of shadow-within-shadow inside the covered bridge. And as he reached the level bank at the entrance to the bridge, he could see clearly through it to the bright snow on the far bank, and against that blue-white slope there stood two black figures.
“Enrique!” Lorenzo continued forward. He could see everything now, certainly well enough to know that there were no other men hiding behind the skeletal trees or the knee-high rocks along the creek’s edge. They were alone. “Enrique!”
“Yes,” the boy answered softly. “It’s me.”
The two figures on the bridge parted abruptly and Lorenzo stood in the open starlight as the smaller person walked out of the shadows toward him. Enrique tilted his head back to reveal the thin black streams of blood on his
