The Wind Dancer (28 page)

She didn't wait for a reply or issue a farewell but swept majestically from the room.

Sanchia sighed in relief. She felt as if she had been pummeled. It hadn't been easy to face
Lion's noble mother as an equal when she was accustomed to behaving with a show of
servility even to shopkeepers. This new life into which she had been tossed had a
bewildering number of threats and challenges with which she had to learn to contend, and
today she had been confronted with too many of them.

She didn't want to be thrust into the tortured relations of the Andreas family. She didn't
want to have to face intimidating women like Caterina while she was still so unsure of
herself. She didn't want to be Lorenzo's pawn or Lady Caterina's nemesis.

And dear lord, most of all, she didn't want to be held captive to Lion Andreas by a child
within her womb.

"I like her." Caterina wrapped the quilt around her nakedness and slipped out of bed. She
padded barefoot over to the table and poured wine into a goblet with one hand while she
clutched the quilt to her breasts with the other. "She's no fool."

"She has strength." Lorenzo sat up and leaned back against the carved mahogany
headboard. "I thought you'd appreciate Sanchia."

"It means nothing, of course. She still leaves Mandara." Caterina lifted the goblet to her
lips and smiled at him over the rim. "She told me she would leave as soon as possible."

"Then I'm sure she'll make the attempt. I've always found Sanchia to be truthful."

Caterina's smile faded. "She also said there were considerations to ponder. Which smacks
of your interference."

"Does it?"

She took another sip of wine and strolled back to him. "You're a rogue, Lorenzo." She
handed him the goblet and sat down on the side of the bed. "If I were wise, I'd put
hemlock in this cup instead of good Mandara wine."

"You are wise." Lorenzo sipped the wine. "Though hemlock is far too obvious a poison
for me not to recognize. If you wish to murder me, you must be more subtle, Caterina. I
am, after all, a master of the art."

Caterina tried to hide her start of surprise. In all the years she had known him, Lorenzo
had never once mentioned his former profession to her. She took the goblet from him,
drank a little and returned it to him. "Poison?"

He shrugged. "At times. It's cleaner than most methods and relatively safe. However,
there are so many ignorant and bungling practitioners in Italy today that it's no wonder
most noblemen and men of means have tasters."

"But you're no bungler."

He met her gaze with eyes as clear and cold as polished stone. "I'm the angel of death
himself, my dear Caterina. I am superb."

She drew the blanket more closely around her to shut out the sudden chill. "You're no
longer an assassin. You haven't been one for a long time."

"You're wrong. We always remain what we are no matter how our circumstances change.
If you lost everything, you would still be a great lady. If I became the pope, I'd still be an
assassin."

"Nonsense."

His long slender Fingers caressed the raised design on the silver goblet. "Truth. Why are
you so belligerent? Does it bother you that you've taken a murderer to your bed? A
reformed assassin is acceptable, but a--"

"Why are we talking about this?" she interrupted abruptly. "What you were before you
came to Mandara makes no difference to me. It's what you do in this bed that's
important."

"What I am makes a difference to many women. It fills some with horror." He smiled.
"And it fills others with lust. It's not every woman who's permitted to fornicate with the
angel of death and live to boast of it. When you first came to my bed, I thought perhaps
you might be one of those women. I admit I was disappointed, for I had great admiration
for your strength and courage."

"Then why did you accept me?"

"I'm only a man and you are very beautiful."

"I'm not beautiful. My face is as long as a horse's and I'm as tall as a man."

"If strength and courage have beauty then there's no one more beautiful on this earth than
you, Caterina."

She felt uncomfortable with his sudden gravity. "And I was not driven to you by some
vile fascination. I came to you because you're clever and amuse me, and I lusted after
you. No other reasons."

"One other reason."

She frowned in puzzlement. "What is that?"

"I offered no threat to you or to Mandara either through marriage or a wagging tongue.
You were and are safe with me."

"Yes." She bent suddenly and put her lips to his forehead. "I do feel safe with you,
Lorenzo. Safer than I have ever felt with any man. I wonder why?"

"No more than I wonder. The knowledge that you trust me fills me with incredulity. No
one has felt safe with me since I was a young boy."

"Move over. I'm cold." She took the goblet from him and set it on the floor. "I'm coming
back to bed."

She curled up spoon fashion with her back to him, her gaze on the embers glowing in the
fireplace across the room. "How young a boy?"

"When I became the angel of death? Eleven. Though I didn't really reach that exalted
status without years of practice in my trade. I was quite clumsy at first."

"I don't want to know about your rise in your 'profession,' " she said impatiently. "I want
to know why."

"Greed."

"I don't believe that."

"It's the truth. Oh, perhaps not the first one."

"Who was the the first one?"

"Vito Martinado. But don't ask me the name of the last man I killed. I don't remember."

"Who was this Vito Martinado?"

"He was the captain of a merchant ship, a very unpleasant man. He had a fondness for
young boys and he picked me up on the dock and took me to his room at the inn and used
me for a week or so."

"Used you?"

"It wasn't the first time I had been so used. When you're alone on the streets of Naples,
you expect to become prey. If you're lucky they feed and clothe you for a while before
they find a new child with which to toy."

The matter-of-factness of his tone touched Caterina far more than any outburst of
emotion would have. She felt a painful tightness in her throat.

"But the good captain had the same tastes as Damari. He liked to hurt me."

"Couldn't you run away?"

"He kept me locked in the room when he wasn't at the inn. He must have realized what a
unique treasure I was." His hand moved to her throat and began to stroke gently. "You
have a magnificent throat. Long and graceful--"

"And you had to kill him to get away?"

"He was hired to captain a galleon going to Bombay and decided to take me with him on
the voyage, a decision with which I wasn't in agreement for obvious reasons. I objected.
We struggled. I grabbed his knife and stabbed him in the heart." He kissed her behind the
ear. "Your hair smells of flowers."

"I washed it today. You weren't punished for it?"

"In Naples? Murder is more common than not on the streets of that illustrious city." He
sniffed again. "Lavender?"

"Yes." She swallowed hard. "What did you do then?"

"I had a most unfortunate aversion to being touched with intimacy for quite some time
after that, and I had to eat. I decided since I'd committed a mortal sin and was damned to
hell anyway I might as well reap the benefits of the trade. Murder was as profitable as it
was common and I had great confidence in myself even then. I knew when I'd mastered
my trade, no one would practice it with equal intelligence and ingenuity." His fingers
moved up the long line of her jaw. "Lavender is delightful, but I think one of the scents
from Arabia would suit you even better. They have something of the exotic about them, a
maturity that--" He broke off and was silent a moment. "Tears?"

"The chimney must not be drawing well. The smoke... "

His Fingertips brushed her cheek with a motion that was almost but not quite a caress.
"Yes, that must be it. Smoke. For you're far too sensible to weep for a rogue like me."

"Far too sensible."

"And you're far too hardened to feel sympathy for the boy who died in that inn over thirty
years ago."

"Far too hardened." She was silent a moment. "Did he die, Lorenzo?"

"Yes, there are some experiences that destroy what we are. Ask Sanchia. She went
through that fire at Solinari, but she was born again. I was not. I was too earthbound to
rise like the phoenix from the flames. The fire raged through and devoured me and left
me empty. And each year that passed I grew more and more hollow until now I
sometimes wonder why anyone who looks at me can't see through me as if I were clear
water."

Two fingers gently touched her damp lash. "And you've suffered too much not to realize
that though we must take what pleasure we can to alleviate the emptiness, we can never
really fill it."

Was it a warning or a plea for understanding? She doubted if he would admit to either,
and she didn't know if she would dare to answer if he did. "Yes, of course, I know that."
Another tear brimmed and then slowly rolled down her cheek. "As I said, it's only the
smoke... "

Lion returned to Mandara seven days later.

Sanchia was sitting on the balcony enjoying the afternoon sun when she saw Tabron
picking his way down the twisting street toward her house. Her gaze rose from horse to
master, and she felt a surge of emotion so strong she was dizzy with it. It couldn't be joy.
Please God, it mustn't be joy. It had to be relief that Lion had suffered no harm from
Caprino.

Lion raised his head and saw her. He reined in Tabron, his expression unreadable as he
gazed at her for a long moment. "I've brought you a present." He jerked his head at
someone riding behind him. "Though God knows why you would want him. He has the
obstinacy of the mule he rides. He would scarcely let me stop to eat or rest in his
eagerness to get to you."

Her gaze flew to the small figure mounted on the mule Lion was leading. "Piero?" she
whispered in disbelief. "Piero!" She jumped to her feet and ran toward the doors of the
balcony, down the steps and out the front door. By the time she reached the gate Piero
was squirming on the small mule's back, obviously trying to figure out how to dismount.

"Hold," Lion said as he slid to the ground. "I didn't bring you all this way to have you
crack your stubborn head open on the flagstones." He reached up, plucked Piero from the
saddle and set him down. "What good is a present if it's broken?"

Piero hurled himself into Sanchia's arms and held on with all his might. "Sanchia, I want
to stay." He added with the fierce tenaciousness she knew so well, "I'm going to stay."

"I told you he was stubborn. He'll probably cling to you like a barnacle." Lion smiled
faintly as he stood gazing at the two of them. "Just as he clung to that mule all the way
from Florence."

"Piero... " Tears were running down Sanchia's cheeks as her palm caressed the little boy's
fair hair. She hugged Piero's small, sturdy body closer as she looked over his head at
Lion. "Why?"

"You care for him. Is that not reason enough?"

She started to speak, but he went on quickly. "Elizabet is now wed and seems content.
Your Bartolomeo is fired with the desire to become the best printer in all of Florence and
the signorappears well pleased with him."

"You went to see them?" she asked, surprise coloring her voice.

He scowled. "I knew you would want word of them. And after I finished my business I
had time to spare to inquire."

"Caprino?"

"Lorenzo told you?" Lion shrugged. "He will no longer trouble you. As I said, the
business is finished."

He meant that Caprino was dead. After years of fear Caprino's threat to her was now
ended. Strangely, the knowledge brought no feeling of relief only an enormous
weariness.

"He betrayed us." Lion's gaze was on her face. "He deserved to die. He was as guilty as
Damari."

"What happened at Solinari is over. At first I was so angry I thought I wanted revenge,
but now I wish only to forget about it."

"I'm not so gentle-natured. I told you I returned good for good and evil for evil. Solinari
will be over when all who are responsible for what happened to you are punished." He
swung onto Tabron's back. "I'll visit you this evening. There are things I wish to discuss."
He glanced over his shoulder as he turned his horse and tightened his grip on the mule's
lead rope. "You'd better feed the boy. He's eaten scarcely a morsel since we set out."

"I will." Her voice was still muffled with tears. "Lion?"

He reined in and looked back at her. "Why?"

His gaze met hers, his expression impassive. "Solinari."

He turned and rode down the street in the direction of the castle.

"Sanchia." Piero was stepping back, wriggling out of her arms. "I'm staying, Sanchia. He
said I could stay, but even if he hadn't, I'd stay anyway. I'm not going back to Elizabet."

"Shh, it's all right." Her palm cupped his cheek. She had forgotten how soft and warm a
child's cheek could be. "You don't have to go back. But weren't you happy there? You
look well." She grinned. "I can tell you've been living with a baker. You've grown plump
as a pigeon since last I saw you."

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on her face. "I didn't belong there. I belong with you. I told
him so when he asked me."

"Lion?"

"Lord Andreas asked if I'd be willing to come to you. He said that you'd been hurt and
were lonely for me. Have you been lonely, Sanchia?"

"Yes." She hadn't realized how lonely until she had seen Piero on that mule coming
toward her. "I've missed you, too."

"It's because you belong to me and we should be together. That's what I told Lord
Andreas," he said solemnly.

"And what did he say?" She lovingly smoothed Piero's hair back from his face.

"He said he understood and that I was going with him to Mandara."