"Valdosta! This is difficult—and we're trying to be unobtrusive."
Benito looked about calmly, and pretended to catch sight of something on one of the rooftops. He leaned back casually against the wall and stared at it, while speaking very quietly out of the corner of his mouth. "Well, Father Eneko, it looks like I'd better teach you how to do that. It's something bad men do well. Good men, by the looks of it, do it badly. I was taught by one of the worst. I think you all need lessons and I'd be glad to help."
Eneko Lopez sighed. "Let me get the others, Benito. We may as well go back to the chapel. You may have a point. And what we're hunting is not just bad, but evil to the core."
"I'll see you there."
* * *
Back at the Hypatian chapel Benito explained. "If you look like you belong, no one looks twice at you. If you look like you're doing something perfectly ordinary, for a reason anyone can figure out without even thinking about it, no one is interested. On the other hand, if you skulk, all in the same habits, and look at a building furtively while muttering, you stand out like a bunch of daisies in a coal scuttle. At least one of you needs to move out of these clothes. Become a seller of something. Beads perhaps."
They all looked dubious. He sighed. "Let's work this out. How long does this—whatever it is that you're doing—take you?"
Francis answered immediately. "About three hundred heart-beats, to detect sorcerers. Perhaps a little less, in the case of the female one we're after. She's powerful and skilled, but careless."
"The night-soil cart."
All four of them blinked at him in confusion. "What?" asked Eneko, after a moment. "Can you explain that rather remarkable statement?"
"It trundles along all the streets, stops, people load their buckets, and it trundles on. Easy to stop it in the right spot. It stinks, so no one stays near it longer than they have to. It's the perfect cover for anything one of you wants to do. As for the other two of you—one of you should get a shill and argue religion with him. Stop and argue at whatever point you need to stop. The shill can argue, loudly, drawing as much attention to himself as possible. You do your ritual, while you just nod and frown."
"And the third?" Eneko asked.
"Ah, the third one can stop and preach at passersby; say something a little bizarre, or preach about the end of the world coming soon. Then he can do a few moments in prayer. He'll look like any other religious lunatic, and no one ever pays any notice of them."
"It appears Aldanto taught you well," said Eneko, dryly.
"Yeah. Well, he was using us for his work, or he wouldn't have. He was like that. Look, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." He pulled the scarf out of his pocket. "Can you tell me if the owner of this is on the island?"
Eneko Lopez looked at the scarf. "It is possible. It requires the same spells we use to trace anything that was once the property of someone else. Why? Who does it belong to?"
"Caesare Aldanto." His voice was flat.
Lopez looked askance at Benito. "I thought he had drowned, young man."
"He's been reliably reported as alive. In fact, I think I recognized him myself, today, at a distance. He was also reported heading back to Odessa. I want to know if he's really here. If he is here, Manfred, Francesca and Eberhard will want to know for the implications that it will have on the situation."
"Odessa!"
Father Francis looked at the piece of bright cloth. "It would explain the Chernobog traces, Eneko. Perhaps he is an emissary."
"I thought he was just an opportunist and a traitor," said Eneko, slowly. "I thought we'd dealt directly with all of the demon's vessels. Why do you think he's here?"
"We think we saw him from the battlements. Hard to tell . . . but the way he walked, the posture, the head-color, and the fact that he was seen in Constantinople some months before all this blew up." Benito shrugged. "That's why I'm asking."
Eneko took up the scarf. "This could be exceptionally dangerous. We're deprived of some of our usual protections. Still . . . we know that we have come here to confront him. Let us try this thing, taking courage in faith."
* * *
Benito watched as they prepared. The scarf was placed over a chalice of holy water. The wards placed . . . Uriel too. Even if the archangel did not respond, he would still be there. Then, all of the priests placed a hand on the cloth.
Benito's Latin did not extend to much beyond "Deus," so he didn't recognize anything they were chanting.
Suddenly, the scarf burst into flames. Not ordinary flames, either; these were greenish, and altogether nasty-looking.
The only sign of alarm was in the widening of their eyes. The priests fell back a step, and began chanting something different; it sounded different, too, harsher, and confrontational— Benito got the impression of swords being drawn, though no weapon was in sight. The water in the chalice vaporized with a violent hiss, as the flame changed color, this time to a dark, glowing purple. At this point, a horrible scalp-crawling howl arose from the flame itself, a howl that cut right through Benito's head.
The chalice melted in part, and the burning shred abruptly gathered itself into a ball. Then it started moving; it bounced off the table and rolled rapidly out of the door.
"Stop it!" yelled Eneko.
As soon as it was outside, the flames gathered new life, and the ball doubled in size in the blink of an eye. Without thinking, simply obeying the priest, Benito did one of the most stupid things he'd done in a lifetime of doing stupid things. He stamped on it, grinding it into the earth.
The Saint Arsenius medal on his chest grew hot, briefly. Then Benito stepped back from the ash fragments. The dead ash fragments.
Eneko grabbed him with one hand, holding up a relic in the other. "Let that which cannot abide the name of Christ depart!" he commanded.
"It has already gone, Eneko," said Diego. He looked wonderingly at Benito. "You are both a very crazy and a very lucky young man. You just stood on a demonic emissary of Chernobog."
"It must have been weakened and limited by the holy place, by the holy water and the blessed vessel," said Francis in a shaky voice.
Benito examined the soles of his footwear and shrugged. "Well, my holy medal got hot, but I can't say it even scorched my boots."
Eneko held out a hand. "Let's see this medal," he said grimly.
Benito took it out from next to his skin. Eneko examined it as did the others.
"It is an old one . . . and undoubtedly genuine," said Eneko, thoughtfully. "How did you get a real Saint's relic, Benito?"
He raised his eyebrows. "It was given to me by the Hypatian monks in Messina, after I did them that little favor."
"I don't think they realized what a valuable gift they gave you," said Diego, "or what a powerful one."
"Or how well it would serve the church," said Eneko, exhaling a little sigh of relief. "Forgive me, Benito. 'Stop it' was meant for my comrades, not for you."
Benito shrugged. He was quite certain that the Hypatians of Messina knew exactly what they had given him; after all, it was meant to reward someone—even a thief—for returning some rather valuable property. And just perhaps, because you never knew with the Hypatian magicians, they might have gotten an inkling that he would be going into spiritual and magical danger. "It worked. And I'm the one who got you to try this in the first place."