Stephen tried to say something in return, but he faltered. Hands shaking, he raised the weapon.
“Ride away, Aspar White,” he said. “I’ll do my best to keep them back.”
“I wouldn’t get far,” Aspar replied. “I might as well die here as anyplace.”
“Then do me a favor,” Stephen said. “Stick that arrow of yours in my heart if they take a step toward me.”
“This is very touching,” Spendlove said. He suddenly bared his teeth, and Stephen felt something like a hot wind pass him. Aspar White gasped in agony and the arrow he was holding dropped to the ground.
“There,” Spendlove said. “And now …”
He looked down at a sudden movement near his feet. It was the fratrex, pushing himself up on his palms, reaching toward the wall of the monastery.
“Spendlove, betrayer, heretic,” the old man murmured, just barely loud enough to hear.
Suddenly cracks spidered up the stone walls of the nave, multiplying, and in an instant, with a gritting roar, the entire face of the building collapsed. Spendlove and his men vanished behind the rubble and dust.
“Ride, damn you,” Aspar shouted, even before the stones settled.
“But I—” Stephen started helplessly toward the collapsing building.
“Ride and we may live to fight later. Stay and today we’ll die.”
Stephen hesitated an instant longer, then spun on his toe and leapt up on Angel’s back. Together, the two men rode as if all the dark saints were at their backs.
As perhaps they were.
13
A Meeting
Cazio rested his hand on the pommel of Caspator and leaned against a pomegranate tree. The girl in the pool saw him, and with an audible gasp sank suddenly to her chin, which was disappointing. Though he’d only been teased by the view of her slim white body in the water, her neck had been shapely enough, and now even that was hidden.
He smiled and picked at her pile of clothes with the tip of his sword.
“Thank you,” he said, in a carrying voice, directing his face at the sky. “Thank you, Lady Erenda, patroness of lovers, for granting my wish.”
“I am not your wish,” the girl snapped angrily. “You must leave immediately, whoever you are.” She spoke with a lilt as foreign and exotic as the color of her hair. This girl was growing more interesting all of the time. Of course, she was also the first girl he had seen in weeks, since he and z’Acatto had accepted the hospitality of the countess Orchaevia. The countess preferred male servants, and the nearest village was a full day’s walk. But here, only a league’s ramble from the mansion, he’d happened on a bit of luck.
“And I am not your slave, lady,” Cazio replied. “I do not answer to your orders.” He waggled a finger at her. “Anyway, who are you to know what I do or do not wish? As I was walking along, just now, I said to our lady Erenda, ‘Lady, this world is full of ugliness and pain. It is a dismal domain of woe, and my trials have taught me to despise it. As a result, I, Cazio Pachiomadio da Chiovattio, who once loved life, now weary of it. Lady Erenda—’ I prayed this. ‘—if you could show me but one instant of the most perfect beauty imaginable, just a single glimpse, I could find the strength to forge on, to bear the burdens a man such as myself is fated to bear.’ Only a moment later I heard the sound of this water, saw this pool, and in it the answer to my prayer.”
That wasn’t entirely a lie. He had been hoping steadily for female company, but hadn’t actually addressed the lady of love, at least not formally.
The girl frowned a little deeper. “Are Vitellian girls more stupid than the usual sort? Or do you think me dense because I am from another land?”
“Stupid? Not at all. I can see the intelligence in your eyes. You have, perhaps, been careless, to bathe in a pool frequented by highwaymen and other scoundrels of low repute, but I’m certain it’s only because you don’t know the area.”
“I’m learning it quickly enough,” the girl replied. “I’ve been here only a few moments and already I’ve met someone of ill repute.”
“Now you try to wound me,” Cazio said mournfully.
“Leave, so I may dress.”
“I cannot,” Cazio said regretfully. “My heart will not let me. Not until I know your name.”
“My name? My name is … Fiene.”
“An intriguing name.”
“Yes, and now you have it, so begone.”
“A musical name. Already my heart is singing it. From what distant land comes that name, lady?”
“Liery, you graceless oaf. Will you go now?”
Cazio blinked at her. “You’re smiling at me, Fiena.”
“Fiene. And I’m not. Or if I am, it’s because you’re so absurd. And it’s pronounced Fee-en-uh.”
“Don’t you want to know my name?”
“You already said. Cashew, something like that.”
“Ca-tsee-oh,” he corrected.
“Cazio. Cazio, you must leave now.”
Cazio nodded and sat down on the gnarled root of a willow.
“Certainly I must,” he agreed. It suddenly struck him that the pile of clothes was a habit. “Are you a nun?” he asked.
“No,” the girl said. “I found one and killed her and took her clothes. What do you think, you lout, with the Abode of Graces right up the hill?”
Cazio looked up and around. “There’s a coven nearby?”
“On the other side of the hill.”
“A whole house full of women as lovely as you? Lady Erenda must indeed be pleased with me.”
“Yes, you’d better hurry and court them,” Fiene said. “They’re all quite naked as I am.”
“It would be a waste of time,” Cazio said, trying to sound mournful. “I’ve already seen the loveliest of them. I’d have to go up around that hill just to come back here. Which raises a question—why are you here? Something tells me you aren’t supposed to be.”
“Are you a highwayman?” the girl demanded suddenly. “Are you a rogue?”
“I am at your command,” Cazio answered. “If you want a rogue, I can certainly be that.”
“I want a gentleman who will allow me to get dressed.”
“This gentleman will allow that,” Cazio replied, patting the clothes.
“Not while you’re watching.”
“But the sight of you was granted me by a goddess. Who am I to deny her will?”
“You didn’t see me,” Fiene corrected, though her tone betrayed some doubt. “I was submerged.”
Cazio peered over his nose. “I admit, I’ve not viewed the undistorted image. The rippling of the water might mask defects in figure. I’m starting to wonder if you could actually be as beautiful as I imagine.”
“Figs!” Fiene replied. “I don’t have to take such a slight. Here, you judge whether there are any defects.”
So saying she began to rise from the water—but when the water rested across her breastbone, she snorted derisively and sank back down. “I repeat,” Fiene said, “why do you think I’m stupid?”
Cazio drooped his head. “I’m the stupid one. I already know that your beauty is perfect.”
Fiene rolled her eyes, then settled them boldly on him. “I am betrothed, sir,” she said. “I don’t care whether you find me perfect or perfectly ugly.”
“Ah. Then you are not a nun.”
“I have been sent here for my education, that is all.”
“Praised be every lord and lady in the night sky and under earth,” Cazio said. “For now I have at least a slim hope.”
“Hope? For you and me?” She laughed. “There’s no hope of that, unless you intend to kill me and abominate my body. After that you can look forward to your own death at the hands of my betrothed, Roderick.”
“Roderick? That is an unwholesome name. It sounds of pimples and deception.”
“He is noble and good, and he would never take advantage of a lady’s distress, as you do.”