The decina posted on Rasenna’s walls was as pointless a gesture as the decrepit battlements. They heard before they saw the solitary horse race out of the mist.
The Herald pointedly halted within arrow range and proclaimed: “Burghers of Rasenna, Concord approaches. Prepare Tribute.”
As there was only one possible answer, he scorned to wait, turning immediately and returning to the mist. Rasenna held its breath as the double gates were raised. There was a long silence, worse than a scream. Mothers in every tower prayed and hushed their fractious babes. The Wave’s thunder still sounded in the town’s nightmares, and now they were coming: the Flood Makers.
Proudly wearing the gonfaloniere’s chains of office, the Doctor left the Signoria. He found them on the bridge.
“Bracing morning, Captain! Sofia, I’ve been waiting to tell you the good news. The wedding’s off!”
“Valerius is dead.”
The Doctor smiled as if it might be a joke, then took a step back. “Madonna! What have you done?”
“Valerius killed Marcus,” said Sofia.
“No, no—that was Valentino Morello.”
“Why would he?” Giovanni asked.
“Because he’s mad, because he hates Concord. When the bridge came under my protection, the boy was a convenient alternative.”
Giovanni shook his head. “Concord’s just an excuse. The Morello only want to rule Rasenna, like you, Doctor. You knew from the start the bridge could help you consolidate your power and contrived a strategy of tension to make me seek your protection.”
“Nobody made you do anything.”
“The Morello had nothing to do with Frog’s murder.”
Sofia looked at Giovanni, then at the Doctor. “Say it’s not true!”
“It was necessary,” the Doctor said, walking toward her. “I wanted to protect you from all this.”
“By murdering your own? Burning families? Protect me from what?”
“People like me, I suppose,” he said softly. “What now, Captain?”
“If Concord doesn’t have a culprit for both murders, they’ll take Rasenna apart brick by brick. You can blame the Morello for Marcus’s death but not for Valerius too.” He took a breath. “Take me.”
“What are you saying?” Sofia cried.
“Say Valerius’s blood is on my hands—mine alone.”
The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked at the engineer. “Could work, I suppose. You’ll confess to Luparelli?”
“Giovanni, no!”
“Yes, I will.”
“Good boy!” The Doctor laughed and grabbed him. “That makes everything so much easier. Sofia, return to the workshop.”
“They’ll kill you!”
“Do as he says, Sofia,” said Giovanni. “I know what I’m doing.”
He was certain now why he’d been sent to Rasenna: only he could prevent war. The rest were either powerless to stop it or mad enough to want it.
As their steps echoed across the empty piazza, the Doctor tried explaining himself to his silent prisoner. “I only want to protect her.”
“As do I, Doctor.”
“If you mean that, you’ll confirm every word of my story. Trouble is, that little bastard was General Luparelli’s son, so there’s no telling what he’ll do. Play your part and there might still be a town for her to inherit tomorrow.”
Looking down at the Herod’s Sword she had given him, Giovanni said, “I won’t contradict you.”
In the bloody aftermath of the celebrations the players fled Rasenna, abandoning their stage and props. The Doctor picked up the Morello puppet and deftly made it dance a tarantella. He laughed and threw it aside when he heard the distant rumble. “Here they come!”
While the first wave of infantry was still squeezing through the north gate, the cavalry rode ahead though the streets and thundered across the bridge without ceremony.
The Doctor glanced at Giovanni. “It’s done its work, Captain. Congratulations.”
The cavalry passed unchecked though Piazza Luna to the single straight road that led to the southern gate. Though the legion sent to confront the Hawk’s Company was Concord’s smallest, it was vast beyond the Doctor’s comprehension. He thanked the Virgin that he was not John Acuto.
The Doctor ordered Sofia to return to the workshop, so she did exactly that.
“Bandieratori, flags up!”
The students looked at her uncertainly.
Secondo said, “Doc ordered us to stay put.”
“Get up or they’ll burn Rasenna down around us!”
“Your loyalty is to the Scaligeri,” Sofia snapped, struggling to sound imperious and not desperate. “If you love Rasenna, follow me.”
Mule stood. “Let’s go!”
Secondo held on to his brother’s sleeve. “His orders were explicit. The first rule is obedience, remember?”
Mule turned to Sofia. “Maybe we should—?”
“Secondo was the one who did Frog,” she said loudly. “Weren’t you?”
Secondo looked around. Now the students were focused on him. “Shut up, Sofia!”
“Make me.” She glared at him—and Secondo keeled over suddenly, whacked in the back of the head by his twin.
“How’s that for explicit? Bandieratori, you heard the Contessa. Let’s move!”
The last cavalry squadron halted in the piazza and divided to form a guard as the infantry crossed the bridge.
“Doctor Bardini, it’s been a long time.”
The Doctor smiled solemnly. “General Luparelli.”
A dozen years had passed, but the Doctor easily recognized the boy he had taught in the man. Another cherub, like Valerius, but grown large, with scrubbed pink skin bulging between joints of polished armor.
“That’s what these swine call me, Doc, but you can always call me Luparino!”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Madonna, I remember it like yesterday. I remember I didn’t want to leave at the end of it.”
“You wanted to be a Rasenneisi.”
“The things that matter to young men! I became worried that Concord wasn’t on the side of the angels. Now I’m certain it isn’t, and it doesn’t bother me a bit, ha! Ah, wonderful time for me, wonderful. Expect Valerius is just the same.”
“Of course he is. We’ll let the infantry pass before we get down to it, shall we?”
The Doctor smiled fixedly.
The din of the legion’s passage disturbed even the Baptistery’s silence.
The water in the glass trembled. Knowing her end was close, the Reverend Mother had expected the final vision—but not its violence. It had her now, and she understood at last how great the power flowing through Rasenna was: so much larger than the squabbles of the Families, more important than the coming war. With an effort of will she put her imminent death aside: ego’s huge powers of distortion could prevent her from seeing, and one life was a small matter, after all. The water began to boil. The vision clarified and fell
The engineer
The horse
The arrow falling
Water
Sofia screaming
Two men hanging
Dreams are not to be commanded by dreamers, but she must be sure who was hanging here . . . She’d expected resistance, but the vision shifted easily enough. It was something Water needed her to see.
She saw Quintus Morello and Doctor Bardini before the glass shattered.
After a moment, she turned to her acolyte. “Lucia, I’m relying on you now. The Virgin will give you grace.”
“Don’t leave!”
The nun leaped up. “I must—it wouldn’t do to keep Death waiting.”