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The sound of silence was a deafening one.
The absence of screams should have comforted Laelia. Screams meant torture and that thought had Laelia's heart hammering against her ribs so hard she thought they would break. But now that they had reached the door and there was nothing but grave silence, her heart froze to a dead lump in her chest.
Screams at least would have meant Marius was still alive. That there was something left to scream. Something left to save.
A gate loomed over them, its pointed arch almost touching the ceiling. The gleaming ebony doors were carved to resemble two actual wings, the long feathers at the ends overlapping and intersecting, locking them out. Laelia expected them to stretch open, revealing an ancient raven with yellow-glowing eyes, screeching at the intruders.
Amand's jaw clenched, as if he had to fight with every fiber of his being to not rip at the giant feathers with his bare hands until his fingers bled and he could wrench his way through. The servant moved and the heavy gate creaked open, groaning as if it indeed was alive, awoken from a century's slumber. Amand stormed through the second the gap was wide enough. Laelia was right on his heels, tripping over her heavy skirts.
The wings boomed shut behind them, ripping them both to a sudden halt. Unease gripped Laelia when she slowly turned, finding herself and Amand alone. The servant hadn't followed them into ... where were they?
Amand craned his neck, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of white hair, a wisp of black robes, anything. But they were trapped by rows and rows of giant shelves, rising high above them like labyrinthine walls. They were the same dark wood of the door and filled to the brim with leather-bound volumes.
The orange glow of candlelight seeped through and beneath the shelves. Someone was here. Laelia's stomach churned. Marius? Or someone else...
The smell of ink and paper and leather wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She could feel herself relax, sinking into the scent of knowledge. The scent of Antonio and his ink stained fingertips. Shaking herself, Laelia banished these thoughts.
She turned around, gaze spiraling higher and higher. The hall was three stories high and from what Laelia could see above the shelves, a perfect hexagon. A pointed cupola spanned over them, the ribs supporting it seeming to grow out of giant pillars guarding each corner of the room.
Laelia could only see their tips above the shelves blocking her view: black marble capitals, carved into leaves and flowers like ancient Corinthian columns. No... She sucked in a sharp breath.
It wasn't wine and acanthus leaves, no little wild roses. It was bouquets of poison. If Laelia squinted, she could even make out tiny berries and needles on yew branches, nestled between the leaves of poison oak and hemlock flowers. And they were all pure black, the white veins in the marble striking her as lightning cutting the night sky.
"What?" Amand pressed, at her side in an instant, "What is it?"
Laelia tried to remain calm, to battle the ice flooding her veins: "The Lady Medici's chambers."
Amand's hand settled on the heavy cross around his neck. "Then Marius..."
Laelia's hope dwindled. She had clung to the illusion that if Marius was here, not the prison, he was safe. But the Medici didn't need risk staining their riches with his blood, carving to Marius'secrets with iron instruments, when they had their Lady to rip him apart from the inside.
Her mother had told her of the Medici women. There was no girl born from a Medici womb that couldn't kill kings by the age of ten. The Lady was born a Tornabouni, old Tuscan nobility -- she had been destined for Piero since her birth. Like Laelia and Antonio. Her heart gave an angry tug. Laelia forced it down. The Lady must have been raised like a Medici, masters of poison.
"Do you think they've locked us in here?" Laelia eyed the heavy gate behind them.
"They wouldn't dare," Amand gritted. "Steno and Giacinto are out there."
Laelia wrung her hands. "What if they got them too?"
"Alessandro's so annoying they'll hand him back within a day." Amand managed a smile down at her, though she could see the worry gnawing at him. "Or maybe they'll never find him among all those statues. They certainly look more lively than him."
Laelia giggled. "And Gio knows the Lady." She nodded heartily. "Yes. They're fine. We're fine. Marius must be here."
"Or so help me god."
There were no windows. Only rows of black wood, thick leather and golden letters gleaming at the backs of the books. Laelia read titles in Latin, Greek and Arabian, French and German. They slipped from her mind the moment she was past them, eaten by the worry about Marius. It consumed everything.
Amand's voice boomed through the hall. "Marius!"
Nothing answered.
"Marius!" Laelia joined Amand, their shouts ringing emptily back from the dome towering above them. The raven had swallowed them whole.
Laelia could see Amand breaking apart, loosing bits and pieces of himself as he checked every aisle, every alcove in dark walls, every nook and cranny behind giant globes, bronze astrolabes and lonely desks. Nothing. There was no trace of the priest. She could see it tearing at Amand, face twisting -- torn between hope and desperation with each corner they rounded. He grew more and more frantic, charging around every corner and returning empty handed.
Laelia gasped. "Look!" The shelves had morphed into cabinets, the wood carved into a forest, glass planes held by a frame of blossoms and leaves. All poisonous. But Laelia couldn't study them, gaze pulled past as if by a magnet. She started running, bursting from shelf to shelf, marvelling and cowering at the same time: dried herbs changed into blood and bones. The glass vials grew in size, entombing preserved specimen. A frog floated in yellow liquid, large eyes staring at Laelia.
Light glinted from the blades of scalpels, instruments of the feared science all lined up like a regiment of soldiers, waiting to tear into enemy lines.
Amand was falling apart next to her. He kept his face harsh and cold, but there was so much pain in his eyes, Laelia expected to see cracks splitting his skin as he shattered on his fear. "Where are you," Amand whispered. His voice cracked. "Mar."
Laelia tugged at his sleeve, nudging him on wards. The answering silence would only mock them. Instead, a muffled cry. Right behind that shelf.
Amand ripped himself free. Laelia struggled to keep up with him, cursing Medicis and skirts. She stumbled out into the open when shelves ending abruptly in another hall. Laelia saw none of it, eyes zoning in on the man slumped in the chair in the very middle. Marius.
Amand fell to his knees, desperately clutching Marius' face with both hands. His head rolled forward, white hair hanging limply over his eyes. "Mar," Amand breathed. He brushed a white strand back behind his ear, whispering to the priest.
He was alive. Laelia could feel the weight dropping off her shoulders and she staggered, relief overwhelming her. He wasn't well, eyes hazy and unfocused, a trickle of blood running down his temple, but he was alive.
As much as she wanted to hug Marius and dance around these strange halls -- she couldn't bring herself to interrupt them. Marius had struggled to take one of Amand's hands, pressing it against his heart, the bishop still cradling his face. Amand was kneeling, looking up at the battered priest like a man who had found his religion. A wide grin spread across Laelia's face.
Now she could finally observe this hall. It was a common man's nightmare. It was Laelia's dream. Long tables overflowed with piles of books and scattered parchment. Brass scales tipped under the weight of powders. She wanted to throw herself behind one of those tables, snatch a scale and pour powders and liquids until they bubbled like the excitement in her chest.
Another perfect hexagon. A symbol of harmony, the divine and the mundane! How clever! Each side was formed by shelves, the corners left free, passageways into the world of deadly knowledge. They were guarded by head-high candelabras.
Then the shadows started moving.
Laelia's breath caught in her throat. A dozen guards materialized in the shadows of the shelves. The iron studs lining their leather torsos gleamed dangerously in the flames. The Medici's shadow soldiers. Laelia recognized the Captain's scarred face. "Amand," she whispered. Slow steps echoed behind them.
The Lady Medici. Every eye in the room gravitated to her, pulled in by the irresistible draw of her presence. Her gaze cut the air like a whip. She had drowned in gleaming black ink. The silk clinging to her long body simmered in the candle light like midnight water, her sleeves so wide they trailed on the floor, a puddle of black to her feet. Her raven hair was in elaborate braids and curls. An iron crown sat atop it, tines razor sharp.
Her face was empty and blank, a pale mask. Only her eyes were snapped into eerie focus: red paint trailed from her lower lid down her cheeks in a sharp line, starting broad and ending in a long, thin point near the corners of her mouth. She looked like a jester crying bloody tears.
The bishop seethed with rage. "You will pay for this."
"I already did." The Lady's voice was sharp, but Laelia could hear the pain in her words. She wore black, mourning. But no veil, breaking tradition-- her grief did not blind her.
"Who spilled his blood?" Amand's voice had changed. This was something darker, deeper, something deadly. This was what had survived the french court and rose through the ranks of the church. None of the guards answered.
Amand turned in a slow circle, eyes narrowing on each of the guards. "No one. Shame," he smiled, "I'll just have to burn your lady instead."
The hungry hiss of swords rushed through the hall. Laelia's hand flew up, fist closed around another pulver. Only Amand and the Lady stayed eerily calm.
Amand tsked. "Rumors are such fickle things. Today Marius is a murderer. Tomorrow, you die a witch."
"I am no witch," the Lady said.
"Oh, I know," Amand replied. "But the people don't. You must have a dictionary among all these books. Just what, ma chérie, would you find under woman with knowledge of herbs and medical skills who speaks her mind?"
The Lady gritted her teeth.
"Exactly." Amand clapped. "Witch. And what do we do with witches? We burn them."
"If you leave alive."
Laelia swallowed hard, praying her voice wouldn't tremble. "Let us go. Or you die with us." She opened her fist, revealing the powder.
There was no fear in the Lady's coal eyes, brimming bright with fascination. " You are your mother's daughter." She sniffed. "Cyanide. Highly concentrated. And so fine... one blow and it'd spread through the entire room. We'd all be dead in less than a minute." The soldiers shifted, shrinking back into the shadows. Amand didn't move an inch from Marius' side.
"Brilliant, brutal darling," the Lady mused. "But I don't fear death. He already took my heart, he may stop it now."
"I'm sorry," Laelia whispered.
The Lady smiled. "Me too." Her dark eyes were so deep, so full of love for the man no longer alive.
Laelia's heart wrenched. "He's innocent."
"He's innocent when I say he is." Her face hardened again, voice rough and cold. Some people were destroyed by grief, some destroyed with it. And the Lady Medici wielded her grief like an executioner's sword.
"Marius is my archdeacon. You raise your hand against him," Amand's voice was a low hiss, a serpent ready to strike. "You raise it against me. You raise it against me, you raise it against the pope." His gaze turned to steel and Laelia shivered.
"And an attack on the pope is an attack on god. And that..." A gleaming smile bared his teeth and in it grinned a thousand devils. "... warrants excommunication."
A shiver ran over Laelia. But the Lady held her head high. "The pope will not move against the Medici."
"Aww, because you're his trusted bankers?" Amand laughed. "He owes you money, wrench. A chance to declare you enemies of the church? He will thank me."
"Let him try. He's old," the Lady let her fingers brush over the brass scale, wandering to one end and slowly tipped it down. "And a fool if he thinks he can erase the Medici."
Laelia wasn't sure who had the upper hand here. Amand and his wicked smile? Or the Lady and her deadly calm? They may smile and chat like friends over dinner, but on another dimension, they clashed in a bloody battle. Two titans each well spoken in the language of power, each ready to pave the way to their end with the other's body.
Her thoughts bounced around her head in a frenzy, chasing that one little thing that had nagged her ever since she had seen the Captain. What would Alessandro do? Think! She just had to connect the dots. It was right there.
"He won't have to," Amand said, voice as pleasant as if he were tasting an exquisite wine. "I think the Pazzi will be happy to do so for him. Or maybe the Baroncelli will be first. Don't forget the Salviati. The old elite hates you, my Lady. And with your husband dead..."
Come on... Laelia narrowed her eyes at the Captain. Connect the dots.
"My son--"
Connect the dots. "It was him!"
The entire room held its breath. Even the flames seemed to still as all eyes followed Laelia's finger -- pointing right at the Captain of the Shadow Guard. The man stared at her, eyes darkening. He waved two lazy fingers over his shoulders, two of his men marching at Laelia. Her stomach twisted. If she had been wrong...
The Lady stopped her guards. "You forget this little Lady can kill all of us."
The Captain's glance sent daggers through her heart. "She's a girl," he spat. "She is soft. Take her." The guards hesitated. The Captain shoved them aside, striding towards her himself. Her legs wouldn't move. Her eyes widened. She was done for.
He was right. Laelia had trusted the Lady would recognize the cyanide and keep her guards still. She couldn't kill! But the Captain never reached her, thrown back by vicious purple. Amand towered in front of her.
The Captain drew his sword, bringing it down in a brutal blow. Laelia screamed. Marius tried getting to his feet, only to crumple right back onto the ground. But the blade never hit -- ripped from his leather gloves by a swirl of gold, the men clashing in a storm of black and purple. A shout tore through the guards as their Captain was flung to the ground like a weightless boy, Amands boot coming down on his chest so hard Laelia heard the sick crunch of bones breaking.
The men surged forward -- but the Lady had them turn to stone with a flick of her wirst. "Let her speak."
Laelia's eyes flickered to Amand, the priest calmly sheathing his dagger. The cross around his neck! It had been a concealed blade.
Her hands trembled. Amand had trusted her in an instant. If she was wrong... "Your Captain," Laelia licked her lips, mouth suddenly going dry, "said because Marius was the last to speak to him, he was a suspect and brought in for questioning."
The Lady nodded slowly.
"But Marius wasn't the last to speak to Piero."
"Lies!" rasped the Captain, wheezing through his broken ribs. "I'm the Captain of the Shadow Guard. She's a desperate girl!"
"Truth is not tied to titles." The Lady's cold gaze froze the next words on his lips. "She is a master. Respect her."
Laelia swallowed hard. "There was a banker, with a scheduled meeting with Piero." Luca had said he had a meeting at the Medici palace. He had been with her moments before she had went inside the church to see Marius -- that meant the priest had already been back. "The banker is an assassin. It's the Captain's duty to check the background of anyone requesting a private audience with Master Medici."
"Liar!"
The Shadow Guard was drawn from the strongest and hardest, then brutally trained until their steel broke or they were forged into indestructible weapons of their masters. But their Captain wasn't one of them. It had only struck Laelia when she had seen him enter -- he wore a silver coin with the council's sigil pinned to his cloak. She remembered now, Lorenzo telling her stories about his travels years ago: The council of Florence had feared the Medici use their soldier guard against them in a coup -- and had settled in a truce: the guard stayed, but their Captain was elected by the council. None of the guards would betray their masters, but his ties to the Medici were weaker. Easier to sever.
"The meeting was official, he had been announced, otherwise the guards at the gate wouldn't have let him in. And if they knew, so should he. More so, he would have to stand guard at any private meeting. So why would he say Marius was the last to be seen with Piero?"
The Captain didn't cry 'liar' again. He laid on the ground, eyes trained to the ceiling above them, breath ragged. "You have no idea who you are up against," he growled. "You will all die!"
"You coward," Amand growled, pressing his heel down until the other man twisted in pain. "You tried to kill my friend. I will walk you into hell myself."
The Lady smiled, stepping closer. "My poor Tomaso. He threatened you, didn't he? Your family?" The Shadow Guard had no family. Only each other -- no one to use against them. But the Captain... he had been the perfect target for the Reaper. "Stand."
Amand hesitated, then hurled the guard to his feet. The Captain staggered, hand pressed to his ribs.
"Brilliant darling," the Lady said to Laelia. "Your mother can be proud. I owe you my heart. There is a Venetian ambassador at my court, claiming the lives of your friends as traitors. His spies will be taken care of. You have never been in Florence, but I think my cousin might have seen you in Milano, no?" She sent Laelia a conspiratorial wink. "Poisoner's honor. Your priest is free to go."
Marius clung to Amand's arm, barely able to stand. Amand swept him into a tight hug, uncaring for their audience, Marius managing a shaky laugh as the bishop kissed his temple.
Laelia wanted to faint with relief. She could feel her head spin, all strength leaving her. She did it.
"As for you," the Lady said to her Captain, drawing closer and closer like a hawk. "You always served me well. I will relieve you of your fear."
His eyes widened. "Thank you --"
The Lady plunged a blade right through his heart. "Forever."
The guards stood still like stone when their Captain stumbled to his knees, clutching his chest. He swayed, then fell forward. Blood seeped out from under him, spreading over the marble tiles. Laelia couldn't move, even when it reached her, when she felt wet warmth oozing through her silken shoes.
She couldn't move when the Lady beckoned another guard forward, tall and broad shouldered, brown locks framing a strong jaw. Her fingers dripped with the Captain's blood. She drew a cross on the guard's forehead, right between his eyes. He didn't flinch. "The council will scheme against us now that Piero is dead. The truce is broken, Captain."
The guard dropped to his knee and everywhere around the room his brothers followed. Laelia's feet were swimming in their little silken slippers, in blood. She couldn't cry. She couldn't scream. She couldn't move.
"Fide ultra mortem," the new Captain bowed his head, his words echoing back from every single guard.
With loyalty beyond death.
So long. I'll sit in the corner now. But I wrestled it down from originally almost 4000 words.
Who are the monsters, who the men... The Captain just a scared man, the Lady and Amand the elegant monsters?
What do you think of Amand and Marius?
Special chapter ahead — Antonio, Daniele and a mythical order from the desert.
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Avis