“That’s lunacy,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Erasmo took a terrible risk.”
“No. The very idea of…of other Earths is madness.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “All I know is that he returned with the Black Death, which he released in Perugia. The millions of dead-you’ve seen the results. Erasmo and his cohorts now possess a dreadful sorcery, and through it, they reshape men as if they were wax.”
“Erasmo must die,” I said. “Where is the Tower of the East?”
“He built it on the ruins of Venice.”
I swayed. Great Venice with its mighty arsenal, its merchant galleys and sea captains and its maze of canals was gone?
“How did that happen?” I asked.
Lorelei nodded. “Erasmo and the other Lords of Night are reshaping our world. The how is related to his single journey. Yet he lacked the sorcerous power-he plans to return there.”
“Return where?” I asked.
“The door lies in Perugia. I’m certain of it. I think Erasmo moves sooner than he wanted. Your appearance has frightened him. The priestess agrees with that. This time he desires help, the reason why he summoned Orlando Furioso. The destroyed Earth is reputed to be a grim place. The journey is perilous, yet the rewards for Erasmo are apparently tremendous.”
“You wanted me in Perugia,” I said.
“You hate Erasmo, yes?”
“Are you the Moon Lady in disguise?”
“I wish it were so,” she said, “for my sake. No. I am the third way, as I told you before.”
“I saw the black knight in Velluti,” I said. “He came to collect creatures called lycanthropes.”
Her spirit paled, becoming fainter so I could see through her.
“Erasmo is mad, as you suggest. Lycanthropes,” she shook her head. “Erasmo seeks the Trumpet of Blood. He needs it for his Grand Conjuration. If he can complete it, we, you, the Earth is doomed with him as its new god.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“I’ve heard the oracles,” she said. “Listen and you’ll understand. ‘The first angel sounded his trumpet and there came hail and fire mixed with blood, and it was hurled down upon the Earth. A third of the Earth was burned up, a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.’ Erasmo seeks the trumpet used on the dead Earth, the one where Armageddon has already taken place. He must believe he has sufficient sorcerous strength to bring the dread object into our world. How he thinks he could wind it here-”
Lorelei’s spirit clutched my wrist, or she tried. Her hand passed through me, although a numbing sensation caused me to drop the silver dagger. She faded as the blade hit wood.
I snatched up the dagger.
“That almost broke the spell,” she whispered, her spirit solidifying by degrees. “Don’t drop it again.”
“Where’s my wife? What happened to my children?”
Lorelei turned her head and looked at something I couldn’t see. Fear washed over her elfin features. She turned back to me.
“You must stop, Erasmo, or these terrible changes to our world will become permanent.”
Lorelei twisted around, raised her arms and spoke a harsh word. The knife grew hot. I let go, and as it fell, I saw Lorelei as she stood in a small room. A door opened there. I think it was in the castle that grew. I glimpsed a silver robe. Then the dagger clunked onto the table and Lorelei, the room and the image of the moon priestess vanished.
***
I climbed rotted stairs and seemed to have developed a sense for which ones would creak. Those I avoided. It was slow going, but soon I reached a trapdoor. I pushed, and winced as the hinges s-q-u-e-a-l-e-d. Above me, a startled bat flapped away.
I crawled into a watchtower that was moldy with bat guano. Floorboards groaned at my weight. I reached an arch filthy with webs. In the corner, a spider bit the thorax of a squirming bug. I concentrated on the road outside Perugia’s main gate.
The black knight had hobbled his horse there and tended a fire. Strange creatures crouched nearby, although farther away from the flames. Two lay like lions, curled in sleep. A third hunched like a primitive man and gnawed on a bone.
Lorelei’s spirit…could I believe her? I believed the black knight knew the whereabouts of my wife and children. I would trail him and await my opportunity to touch him with my knife and learn exactly where Laura was. And if Erasmo arrived, I’d kill him.
I wondered if the ruins frightened them enough so they waited until daylight to enter. Their actions seemed to say I was the evil creature that haunted Perugia. I studied the stars. There was less than an hour of night left. I decided to in the tower during the day.
Soon, the knight took off his armor and stretched out on a cloak. The lycanthropes slunk into nearby thickets. Then I knew no more, forced under my cloak as the sun rose.
— 18-
A bat stretched furry wings and let go of its perch. Because it had slept hanging upside-down, the little creature dropped. Before it struck the floorboards, it shot out the arch and into the starry night.
I eased up and peered toward the city gate.
The black knight saddled his horse. Half again larger than lions, the lycanthropes paced. One growled what sounded like words. The distance made it impossible to understand his speech.
The knight hoisted himself into the saddle. It was the first time I’d really seen him move. He mounted with grace, with strength, as the real Orlando might have done. He flicked the reins and cantered toward the gate. The lycanthropes slunk after him.
I hurried down the stairs. Maybe an hour later, I heard the knight and his horse and I climbed a pitted wall. Like a vulture, I crouched on a slate roof, hidden by a gargoyle statue.
The lycanthropes padded into view. They were thinner than lions, but had a big cat’s silky way of trotting. They sniffed wolf-like and growled among themselves, giving off the sense of speech. The knight followed on his horse. He held his morningstar and a triangular black shield. His hellish eyes glowed with sinister purpose and he glanced back and forth. The clop of hooves echoed in the ruins, and they passed underneath my gargoyle, the lycanthropes first.
I tensed and slowly drew my deathblade. I could drop like a vampire onto the knight, knock him off the horse and stab between the bars of his visor. But the armor looked sturdy, and I dreaded the idea of snapping my knife against it. Suppose he turned his head, or suppose he was really Orlando Furioso, the world’s greatest knight. The fight might take time. Would the lycanthropes simply watch?
The horse clopped past my hiding spot. The spike on the knight’s helmet looked sharp. I sheathed the deathblade. After they turned the corner, I dropped onto the street and hurried after them. I would have to whittle down the odds before I faced the black knight.
It galled me to slink like a thief in my own city, but I trailed them. I knew the shortcuts. That helped. I wanted to ring the city bells and call out the guard, but the guards were dead and someone had stolen the bells. So I peered around corners, climbed buildings and watched from glassless windows.
Once, the lycanthropes howled in chorus. I lay on a roof across from the Golden Inn. An eight-foot giant with a grotesque face and great hairy shoulders slunk out of the inn. His apish arms almost dangled to his knees. He would be a formidable foe. He held the silver knife, Lorelei’s keepsake. He held it by the end of the hilt as if it was poisonous. He flung it so it clattered onto paving.
“Who held it?” asked the knight.
The giant shrugged furry shoulders. Was he a lycanthrope? Were they shape-changers?
“Did a man or a woman hold it?” the knight asked.
The primitive giant cast a hateful glance at the knife. The lycanthropes, the other two, kept far from it. I suspected then that it was true what people said about silver weapons. They had a deadlier effect on such creatures than regular iron.