"She made a mask for Carnival. Lisa, I am presuming that you did this in your mother's house? Where are the pieces you cut out?"
Apparently he was serious. "On the floor of my room, I suppose. Frieda may have picked them up and burned them by now, or thrown them out with the trash."
Hamish cocked his head at the adept. "Two days ago? There should be enough residual propinquity for gramarye to locate the part from the whole, shouldn't there?"
"Oh, so now we have another hexer in the Company do we?" The adept was not amused.
Longdirk was, and suppressed a grin.
"Just trying to be helpful." Hamish thought he had been clever, but gramarye was a dangerous business to meddle with.
"If the scraps have been burned, it won't work," Maestro Fischart growled.
"Of course not. But if they're under the bed or out in the gutter?"
"Yes," he admitted, baring his teeth. "But have you any idea what you're asking? Suppose I just provide the demons and let you go alone?" Was that merely anger he was showing, or fear as well?
Hamish shrugged. "Teach me, and I'll try. We must be quick."
"How risky?" Longdirk demanded.
"Very!" Fischart wrung his hands a few times. "Suicide for him if he goes alone. Together we'll have a chance."
This was what Hamish had foreseen all along. This was why he had wanted Lisa out of the way when he spoke to his friends. Demons did terrible things to people — tortured them, maimed them, ate their souls.
"You must not!" she said. "Not if it's dangerous."
"I'm afraid they must," Longdirk told her. "Any risk is worth taking to save your mother from falling into Nevil's hands."
She had not heard him volunteering! "I'll come with you."
"No you won't," Hamish said, with none of the respect due a queen. "I had to work too hard to get you out the first time." He added a smile, but it died young. "Tonight, Baron?"
"Don't call me that. If it's possible. Late… preparations…" Mumbling, the hexer heaved himself upright as if to leave, but his shoulders stayed bowed. He wrung his hands. "Come to the adytum now, and we'll do a divination. No use trying it if it's hopeless." He was older than she had realized.
"Wait." Longdirk rose also, which was a different matter — he dominated the courtyard. "Hamish, who else knows about Her Majesty?"
"Carlo and Rinaldo know that she's an English lady in distress. But a thousand people saw us ride in together."
The big man nodded. "My lady, we must keep your identity a secret — which is just about impossible in this country. Hamish?"
"You're Mistress Lisa Campbell, my little sister," Hamish retorted, speaking as if reciting something he'd memorized. "In 1519, just before I left Scotland, you were fostered out to our aunt Meg. That's not uncommon for Highland families with too many children. Meg moved to the Continent under circumstances you may decline to discuss. Two years ago she placed you with the Countess of Ely as lady's maid. The countess was visiting relatives in Nice, and when she heard you had a brother in Florence, she decided to visit Italy." He smiled, and she wondered what he was reading on her face. "You don't have to run round the camp telling this tale to everyone. You may never need to use it, but now it's there if you do. We'll work out the rest of the details later." When he was pleased with himself, it showed.
"Yes, sir."
Longdirk said, "Ma'am, you are quite safe here at the moment, but if word gets out that you are the Queen of England, then I don't know what will happen."
"I doubt if anyone would believe it, because I don't." She did not like this oversize warrior. In spite of his gentle manner, he was too much a bull in a pasture, lording over everyone — bulls were slow and quiet until they began pawing the turf. He frightened her, and she was quite convinced that he would use her politically if he ever got the chance, no matter what Hamish had said.
She jumped as the condottiere's sword flashed out from its scabbard. He stepped around the end of the table and dropped to one knee. Even then, his eyes were little lower than hers.
"Your Majesty, I cannot admit that you are Queen of Scotland. And my first loyalty is to the Republic of Florence. Excepting those two caveats, I pledge my life and honor in your service as rightful Queen of England." He kissed the blade.
Well! Maybe she had misjudged him. No knight had ever pledged his sword to her before. It must be time for her to wake up and the dream to end, but until it did she could only play her part. She responded with what she hoped was a regal nod. "I am honored to accept your allegiance, Constable Longdirk." She did not rise as the giant strode out, with the hexer shuffling alongside him. When they had gone, she risked a sideways glance at Hamish, not sure whether to grin or stay solemn.
He was watching her with an oddly wistful expression. "I'm sorry."
"It was a bit of a shock." Was that the understatement of the millennium or just of the sixteenth century?
"I wasn't sure, truly I wasn't — not until I saw how the baron stared at you. I didn't know he knew your mother." But he had probably guessed that it was likely. Master Campbell was creepily well informed about almost everything.
"Next time warn me, will you?"
He laughed and clasped her hand in both of his. "Tomorrow I hail you as Sultana of the Turks. Tuesday afternoon you become Empress of Cathay. Believe me, you're safer here with Longdirk than with anyone, truly!"
It was odd to be sitting so close when they were the only people in the courtyard. "Safer with you!" she said, and suddenly she had her arms around him and his arms were around her, crushing her. A bristly cheek brushed hers; her lips turned to his. He was a friend, the only one she had or had ever had, a true, trustworthy friend, and now he was going to leave her and return to Siena, go into danger—
"Oh, demons!" Hamish let go and leapt to his feet, tripping against his stool and almost overbalancing. "Lisa, we mustn't!"
"Mustn't what?"
"Fall in love! I've been there, Lisa, I know the feeling. We must stop! You're a queen, and I'm a nothing."
"Oh!" she said. Oh, demons!
He should have warned her about that sooner.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"This is as close as I want to come," Toby said. "Good luck. Take care."
He was a massive, indeterminate shape in the starlight, but on those words he would have held out a hand to shake. Hoping his own was not too shamefully sweaty on this chilly evening, Hamish reached for it, found it, and endured the familiar forceful squeeze. An owl hooted derisively, sweeping overhead on silent wings.
"I always take care."
"Not so I ever noticed." Longdirk's tone deepened, grew more serious. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? You think Fischart is crazy. Do you want to trust him on a demon ride?"
Sure? The only thing Hamish was sure of was that if he could think of a way out of tonight's escapade, he would cheerfully give up his wisdom teeth to take it — they obviously weren't doing him any good. He'd done his share of roughhousing in the past and even slain some worthy opponents, but he preferred the pen to the sword. Derring-do was not his style.
"I've done demon rides before."
"You've also experienced a broken jaw and being run through with a sword, and you told me those were more fun."
True, but alas, he had promised the lovely Lisa he would tread this measure for her, and the music was about to start. "I didn't say the maestro's crazy. I just said I can't think how anyone else could have taken that gold."
Toby grunted. "You're a stubborn idiot, you know that? A pretty girl smiles at you, and you roll over like a puppy every time."
"I like getting my belly rubbed. We'll be back before dawn." He hoped.