Dessert and Assassins

The medical ward in my family’s home was surprisingly large and smelled strongly of caustic antiseptic and herbs that made my nose itch. The doorway was large enough to accommodate a large-framed bed if necessary, and I saw a series of wardings. They made me frown in thought – Tiziano had never made mention of a defaulted warding against a shade’s return. I didn’t like it. If this had been common, I would never have had a chance to say proper goodbyes to Tiziano, and I’d only warded against Captain Dumas because we didn’t have the time or chance for proper accommodation.

The wardings were around the ceiling of the room, carved into the stone, and large wards were lacquered into the wooden frames of each bed. Odd. Otherwise, it was like any other medical room I’d seen. Beds with clean linens, buckets of sand in every corner, trays of tools, a desk for any nurse or attending surgeon on duty.

Prevot took the dessert and dismissed the servant before we entered, and then led the way to Tiago’s bed by the window. A four-branch candle tree sat on the sill to light the space. He was sitting upright and smiled brightly to see us. His guard, Lieutenant Filippo, gave us privacy, exiting to a nearby room.

I located a second chair and helped Prevot to sit first. She presented the dessert to Tiago, whose face lit with wonder and excitement.

“It looks delicious, my lady, thank you!”

“You are most welcome, darling. We’ll tell you of our day while you eat, and you can do the same when you finish.”

He nodded eagerly and carefully spooned a mouthful. The lack of his left arm, amputated at the shoulder, was obvious in his care – he had no way to steady the tall, glass bowl. The sleeve of his linen shirt was pinned up neatly.

I listened with half an ear as Prevot told Tiago of the day’s activities. “I wrote to your mai-am, as I promised I would, and explained the circumstances we discussed.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “I expect to hear from her soon if the weather is clear.”

“I know she will understand,” Tiago said softly. His eyes found mine and then darted back to Prevot’s. “It is a well laid plan, and will bring my family, our families, good fortune.”

She went on to tell him about the conversations at dinner in great detail. He seemed to drink in her words. I expected it was boring to sit about all day, waiting to recover from so gruesome a surgery.

“Does it hurt?” I asked softly.

Tiago shook his head. “Not anymore,” he answered. “The surgery did, and after, but it’s calmed now, so long as I take my medicine in time and do not move about too much. The medico says I can soon walk the grounds with an escort.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Tiago.”

His eyebrows rose and he looked to Prevot for guidance. “It is not your fault, Principe. I did not understand the severity of injuries, and I should have ensured that the mud stayed on every part of me. It is only the fault of the stinging insect who cursed me, and the poor herbs the medico used to treat me.”

I nodded mutely, still filled with shame and guilt.

“My day was much the same as yesterday,” Tiago told us sheepishly. “I enjoy reading, learning, but I ache to ride and run.” He frowned and glanced at the window, then shook his head. “I thought I heard something – must be a guard walking rounds.”

A glance back showed that Captain Collo stood in the doorway. I hardly noticed her now, my silent shadow. She didn’t speak to me as Dumas had, and I regretted my outburst – she was a professional, and quite good at her job.

“Do you get many visitors?” I asked, keenly aware of my absence since we arrived.

“Some,” he nodded. “The Conte’s sons and daughters and the other children in the manse have come to visit me. They tell me of their homes and of the games they play. Sometimes they try to teach me, or we play lesser ansil, or make new games that I can play from my bed. Stefano reads to me. The medicines make me tired, however.”

“Do you want us to leave you to rest?” Prevot asked.

“No, no,” he insisted. “I am glad you’ve come.”

“When-” I stopped at a discordant sound: metal on glass. We all looked at the window for a moment before it shattered inward.

I fell backward in my chair before rolling to find my feet. Tiago had shrunk back in his bed, sheltering his stitched shoulder and I watched as Prevot, a cut from the glass on her cheek, wrenched a pillow from the boy’s bed to beat out the flames from the fallen candle tree, already spreading across his linens.

The secondary movement in the room drew my attention immediately. A slender form, dressed in a motley assortment of dark greens, grays, browns, and blacks was running at me with a short sword. I ducked and turned out of the way, calling for Captain Collo, but I heard the sounds of fighting from the hallway – she was otherwise engaged and there was no sign of Lieutenant Filippo.

The assassin kicked me in the chest and I staggered backward, tripping over Prevot’s discarded chair and tangling my legs with its own. Instead of pursuing me, however, the assassin turned toward Prevot.

I saw her eyes narrow and her body tense. She still held the burned and blackened pillow in hand. The sword lunged for her lazily and she, like me, turned and twisted but, instead of away, she moved toward the killer. Their surprise showed in a moment of wide eyes before their movements changed to accommodate.

“Tiago!” I yelled.

The boy looked at me and I gestured fiercely as I worked to find my feet.

“Get up, we must go!”

I looked back at Prevot – she had disarmed the assassin, catching the blade point-first in her pillow like it was a shield, and wrenched the sword away. They engaged hand-to-hand and I had little doubt Prevot could hold her own long enough for me to find a guard to hand off Tiago.

Captain Collo limped in at the best run she could manage. I saw blood leaking through the thigh of her uniform, but she still had her short sword and moved to put herself between me and the assassin.

Prevot shouted in warning as a dagger flew from the assassin’s hand, aimed at Tiago. Captain Collo batted it out of the air with her sword, the sound ringing like a sanctuary bell.

Tiago was unsteady on his feet but got behind me. I held the chair like a shield and indicated the door Lieutenant Filippo had disappeared into. We moved in a wide arc around the ongoing fight and when Tiago pushed through the door, he gasped and backed into me. Filippo was dead on the floor in a puddle of blood. His sword was half-drawn, but his throat was slit from ear to ear.

Soon enough, I heard an engaged snarl of pain and anger and looked back at the fight. Captain Collo had the assassin pinned to the bedframe, her sword deep in their shoulder, but I saw Prevot drive one of Viscontessa Greco’s three-edged knives into their temple.

The snarling stopped short.

For a moment, the only sound was panting, and a cool wind rushing through the broken window.

“Damn,” Prevot said, looking at the blood on her hands. She turned wide eyes to me and to Collo.

“Pietro,” she said quickly. I dropped the chair and rushed to her, but she stopped and put her hands out to me. I hesitated and she gestured impatiently, smearing the blood from her own palms onto mine and gripping them tightly as she leaned into my chest. I rested my chin on her head, thoroughly confused.

When Eduardo and three of his guards rushed into the room, his eyes took in the scene lightning quick.

“Find the medico,” he ordered. One guard ran off immediately and he strode to my side.

Prevot had dampened my shoulder with sudden tears, but she turned to Eduardo now. “Uncle,” she breathed. “Pietro was so brave – he killed the assassin. You’re not hurt?” she asked desperately, her bloody hands patting me down. She stared at her hands and then took mine and scrunched her face in another bout of tears. I was impressed with the performance, ready to believe it myself.

Eduardo looked at me appraisingly. “Your son?”

I saw Tiago standing with his back to the wall by the door.

“He’s unhurt, but needs attention in case the movement damaged his stitchings,” I said firmly.

“Send for the village doctor,” Eduardo ordered to the room at large. Another guard disappeared to obey and the third was conferring in low tones with Captain Collo.

“I have never known a guest to treat another in this way,” Prevot choked from a tight throat.

Eduardo’s attention snapped to her. “You believe Renaud did this?”

Prevot’s lip curled. “You think he didn’t? The assassin was after my son.”

“Is this true?” my uncle asked.

I nodded. It had seemed that way.

His face darkened and I saw him take a deep, slow breath.

“I cannot accuse my guest of murder, attempted or otherwise, without proof.” He nodded to the corpse against the bedframe. “This one cannot confess the name of their master, nor can the one in the hall. We have yet to locate any others, but I have called for a search of the house and grounds. We’ll find anyone left to be seen.”

Prevot let out a shuddering breath. “I want Tiago with me tonight.”

“Of course,” Eduardo assured her. “I will place my personal guards at your door. You must try to get some rest,” he said tenderly. “An ordeal like this can turn the stomach and bring fever.”

She nodded hesitantly and reached for Tiago. He fell into her arms, shaking and shivering. They turned toward the door to the corridor, and she reached a hand back toward me. I took it, my palm still sticky with blood and gave Eduardo another look.

“Someone must answer for this, Uncle,” I said.

He nodded, examining the window frame and all the scattered glass. “Be assured of that.”