other guards, swordsmen, after recovering from their initial shock-for they'd assumed that their companions with the guns would have made short work of the Assassin-closed in quickly, wielding heavy falchions. Ezio, almost dancing among them as he avoided their clumsy blows-the swords were too heavy for fast work or much maneuverability-released the newly recrafted poison-blade and drew his own sword. Knowing he didn't have much time to engage these men before Cesare made a move, Ezio's fighting technique was more sparse and efficient than usual-he preferred to lock each opponent's blade with his own sword and call into effect his poison-blade to finish the job. The first two fell without a whisper-at which point the remaining three decided their best attack was all at once. Ezio pulled back five quick paces, extending his sword up full and high, and charged forward at the nearest of the three oncoming guards. As he drew into range, Ezio skidded to his knees-sliding across the ground, under the blade of the baffled guard. The poison-blade nicked the man's thigh-but only as Ezio was skidding past, barreling toward the remaining guards, his sword slashing at the tendons of their lower legs. Both men shrieked as Ezio's blade tore through, and the men fell, their legs useless.
Cesare had been watching all this in quiet disbelief; but as Ezio had careened across toward these last three guards, Cesare had decided not to wait for the rest of the fight. He recovered himself enough to turn and flee.
Hemmed in by the guards and unable to follow, Ezio had watched him go out of the corner of his eye.
But he still had the Apple. And he remembered enough of its power-how could he forget?-to use it, after the melee was over, to guide him back through the Vatican by a different route from that by which he'd come- reckoning as he did that Cesare would have wasted no time in securing the Passetto di Borgo. Glowing from within the leather bag, the Apple indicated on its surface a way through the high, painted halls and chambers of the offices of the Vatican toward the Sistine Chapel, and thence by a southward-leading corridor into Saint Peter's itself. Its power was such that passing monks and priests within the Vatican turned away from Ezio, avoiding him, and papal guards remained rigidly at their posts.
Ezio wondered how soon the news of the Pope's death would filter down through the hierarchy of the Vatican to these people. The confusion that would follow in its wake would need a strong hand to control, and he prayed that Cesare would not have the opportunity to take advantage of any uncertainty to stake his own claim, if not to the Papacy itself, for that was out of even his reach, then at least by influencing the election in order to place a new Pope, friendly to his ambitions, on Saint Peter's throne.
Passing young Michelangelo's brilliant new sculpture of the Pieta on his left, Ezio left the basilica and blended into the crowds milling about in the rather shabby old square that lay in front of the east entrance.
FORTY-FIVE
By the time he had reached the Assassins' hideout on Tiber Island, church bells had begun to ring out all over Rome. They were sounding the death knell.
He found his friends waiting for him.
'Rodrigo is dead,' he announced.
'We guessed as much from the bells,' said Machiavelli. 'Magnificent work!'
'It was not by my hand-but Cesare's.'
It took a moment for this to sink in. Then Machiavelli spoke again. 'And what of Cesare?'
'He lives-though the Pope tried to poison him.'
'The serpent is biting its own tail,' said La Volpe.
'Then the day is saved!' cried Claudia.
'No!' said Machiavelli. 'If he's freed himself of the restraint of his father, Cesare may yet regain the ground he has lost. We must not allow him to assemble his remaining supporters. The coming weeks will be critical!'
'With your aid I will hunt him down,' said Ezio firmly.
'Niccolo is right-we must act fast,' La Volpe put in. 'Do you hear those trumpets? They are a summons to the Borgia forces to gather.'
'Do you also know where?' asked Bartolomeo.
'It's likely that they'll rally their troops in the piazza in front of Cesare's palace in Trastevere.'
'My men will patrol the city,' said Bartolomeo, 'but we'd need a full army to do it properly.'
Ezio carefully produced the Apple from its bag. It glowed dully. 'We have one,' he said. 'Or at least, something as good.'
'Do you know what to do?' asked Machiavelli.
'I remember enough from when Leonardo experimented with it long ago in Venice,' replied Ezio. He held the strange artifact aloft and, concentrating, tried to project his thoughts at it.
There was no response for several minutes, and he was about to give up, when, slowly at first, and then with increasing energy, the Apple began to glow more and more brightly, until the light emanating from it made them cover their eyes.
'Stand back!' bawled Bartolomeo, as Claudia gasped in alarm, and even La Volpe started back.
'No,' said Machiavelli. 'Science-but something out of our reach.' He looked at Ezio. 'If only Leonardo were here!'
'As long as it serves our purpose,' said Ezio.
'Look!' said La Volpe. 'It's showing us the campanile of Santa Maria in Trastevere! That's where Cesare must be!'
'You were right!' cried Bartolomeo. 'But look at the number of troops he still seems to have!'
'I'm going. Now,' said Ezio, as the projected scene faded and the Apple became inert.
'We're coming with you.'
'No!' Ezio held up a hand. 'Claudia-I want you to go back to the Rosa in Fiore. Get your girls to find out all they can about Cesare's plans. And mobilize our recruits. Gilberto, please get your thieves to fan out all over the city and bring word of any Templar chapters that may be reorganizing. Our enemies are fighting for their very lives! Bartolomeo, organize your men and have them ready to move at a moment's notice.'
He turned to Machiavelli. 'Niccolo. Get over to the Vatican. The College of Cardinals will be going into conclave soon, to elect a new Pope.'
'Indeed. And Cesare will certainly try to use what influence he has left to elevate a candidate favorable to him to the papal throne-or at least someone he can manipulate.'
'But Cardinal della Rovere wields great authority now. And he is the Borgia's implacable enemy, as you know. If only-'
'I will go and talk to the cardinal camerlengo. The election may be long and drawn out.'
'We must take every advantage we can of the interregnum. Thank you, Niccolo.'
'How will you manage on your own, Ezio?'
'I'm not on my own,' said Ezio, gently replacing the Apple in its bag. 'I'm taking this with me.'
'Just as long as you know how to keep it under control,' said Bartolomeo mistrustfully. 'Ask me, it's a creation straight out of Beelzebub's workshop.'
'In the wrong hands, perhaps. But as long as we have it-'
'Then don't let it out of your grasp, let alone your sight!'
They broke up then, each hastening away to attend to the duties Ezio had assigned them. Ezio himself crossed to the west bank of the river and sprinted the short distance to the church La Volpe had recognized in the vision accorded them by the Apple.
The scene had changed by the time he reached it, though he saw units of soldiers in Cesare's livery making their way out of the square in organized groups as if under orders. These were disciplined men who understood that failure would spell their ruin.
There was no sign of Cesare, but Ezio knew that he must still be sick from the effects of the poison. His rallying call to the troops must have taken it out of him. There was only one place he'd think of retreating to-his own fortified palazzo, not far off. Ezio set off in its direction.
He joined a group of Borgia attendants, whom he recognized from Cesare's crest, which they wore on the
